Header Photo: HMS Burghead Bay in Hope Bay – Copyright John Allan
HMS Burghead Bay – Naval Diplomacy with John Biscoe at Hope Bay, 1952 – Syd Philp
In October 1951 I joined the frigate HMS Burghead Bay, as a Fifth Class Ordinance Artificer. It was the start of what would be a thirteen month trip and within a week of my return I would marry my fiancee, Margaret.
Life at sea, after a shore training establishment, was refreshing. I had found conditions harsh, the navy was still brutal, bullying and downright cruelty. An ordinance artificer could turn his hand to anything when it came to working metals, copper smithing and welding. We were skilled tradesmen working with the guns, large and small. We fitted somewhere between an officer and the ordinary ranks. As a result we sometimes felt their envy.
We sailed from the UK bound, initially, for a point in the mid Atlantic. Princess Elizabeth was due to visit Canada and our role was to maintain position just in case her plane should fall from the sky.
Continuing from John Biscoe I page
The weather was appalling and we were forced seven hundred miles further north to remain under her flightpath on 8th October. The ship became badly battered and we ended up in dry dock in Halifax. As a result we actually got to see the Princess after we were instructed to line the streets in the rain. I was a royalist and didn’t curse the young Princess; many of my compatriots did.
All of us cursed the Commanding Officer, J.A. Ivors. At best he was a remote man. Originally from the Fleet Air Arm, he was posted aboard our ship to gain command experience before promotion to Rear Admiral. The mentality was ”Go away, take this little ship out to the West Indies and when you come back we’ll make you an Admiral”. The events that followed down south resulted in something rather different, I suspect.
We sailed southward, through the West Indies, crossing the line with all the dressing up and larking around and on down the South American coast showing the flag, stopping in La Plata, Argentina, for five days. We couldn’t have wished for a better reception, the Argentinians were very hospitable, delightful people. Then, across the river to Montevideo, where we picked up a group of Fids, took water and bunkers. I remember seeing quite clearly the scuttled wreck of the German cruiser, Graf Spee in the river Plate.
We arrived in the Falklands as the guard ship on the 15th January, 1952. My first impressions were how bleak it all looked. I can’t recall seeing any trees and years later realised it looked something like the Orkney Islands here. I saw the S.S. Great Britain in Sparrow Cove and we went ashore visiting the few pubs. We were prepared mentally to be a guard ship but we really didn’t know who we were guarding against. Life aboard was still very unhappy. The Captain was so aloof and took no interest in anyone, he was just there as a figurehead, or so it seemed. That was bad enough but his Number 2, First Lieutenant David O’Sullivan, was a madman. One day my mate and I were stripping down a bofors gun for routine maintenance and had the pieces laid out on a cloth on a bench that had been painted when this man came hurtling round and asked what we thought we were doing. He yelled “Get it off, it’s damaging the paintwork”. Then, picking up the pieces he began chucking them over the side.
(Copywrite: John Allan)
On 30th January 1952 it was reported that three Argentinian ships were in Hope Bay where Fids were planning to build a base. We were also told there were two troop ships with 500 troops aboard and a supply ship, although I don’t know how true that part was. The John Biscoe had arrived in Hope Bay earlier and witnessed the Argentinians building a base camp.
A while later the Biscoe went aground, which must have really embarrassed them with all those Argentinians around. I understand a certain amount of ”Noting Protest” went on from both the British and the Argentinian sides. Later, apparently, the Argentinians opened fire on the Fids, firing rounds over their heads.
30th Jan 1952. (Copyright John Allen)
Things started moving fast because by the 2nd February we had embarked Sir Miles Clifford, the Governor of the Falkland Islands and the man very much in charge of Fids down south and the military in the region so we embarked a group of marines. Suddenly, we were instructed to make ready to leave harbour. This was real gunboat diplomacy. We were used to being a guard ship but really had no idea about what was coming next. Well, for a start that madman O’Sullivan had the ratings polish the steel decks so they were like a skating rink whilst the ship was steaming flat out at 19 knots through the icy waters with a vast number of bergs around. A sardine can comes to mind, really. Naval ships were very fragile in those days, I don’t think they’re much better today.
Next thing we know, the First Lieutenant has us all working in Tropical routine, that means up at 5 am and work till 1pm, then call it a day. He made it a very unhappy ship and because he was slightly barmy this affected everyone, but the Captain took no notice. This was a great shame because there’s nothing worse than an unhappy ship and it remained unhappy all trip.
We headed south with our main armaments loaded and even had a go at icebergs for practice. What do you think happened? Yes, the shells just bounced off.
By the time we arrived at Hope Bay on the 4th the Argentinians had decided they’d be better off back in La Plata and had started to withdraw. The Governor went ashore and the incident was eventually settled diplomatically. The Argentinians later admitted the matter was their fault. So, really there was no action on our part except we got to join in the fun helping the John Biscoe crew and the Fids build their huts. We had an additional shipwright on board and he was able to lend a hand too. The Biscoe was still aground when we arrived and we assisted with a diving party.
After a couple of days helping with the base work we were instructed to leave. It was on our return we and the nation learnt King George V1 had died on 6th February. In accordance with naval tradition we fired a 56 gun salute, one round for every year of his life at one minute intervals and following that a Royal Salute in rapid succession for the accession of Queen Elizabeth. For an hour we stood in freezing conditions on the upper deck. We were thousands of miles from anywhere. I never forgot February 6th 1952. As a result of firing over 70 rounds standing behind that gun I must have developed some concussion in my ear drums as I’ve suffered tinnitus ever since.
We continued our tour of guard duty, we went aground at Deception, one of the officers drove the ship into the jetty at South Georgia, apparently the worse for wear and at the end of the trip there was eventually a court martial, clearly not what that martinet, Commanding Officer Ivers, was looking for. But, what an experience. Antarctica remained the only place I truly would have liked to revisit.
Syd Philp – Ordinance artificer: HMS Burghead Bay, 1952
Article Abstracted by Jack Tolson, who adds:
Syd remained in the navy until he was 40. He then took a job with British Aerospace in Bristol. Here he was to work on the Rapier guided missile system, which saw its first action in the Falklands war of 1982, exactly 30 years after his first engagement with Argentina. That first day it was not a success as the designers had failed to appreciate that in the hilly country, where the systems were sited they were higher than the low level flying being carried out and they could not be sighted and fired downward. Within a couple of days this was sorted and the Rapier became a great success in the Falklands war, later seeing service all over the world.