Thirty years ago today I was just off the Falklands Islands on a
ship which was under attack from Argentine missiles. We turned into the threat
as Exocet missiles were approaching, the ship’s company were ordered to ‘hit
the deck’ and take cover. One of the missiles passed us and hit the Atlantic
Conveyor two miles away. A few minutes later another, low, fast contact was
detected and we fired three salvoes of Sea Dart missiles at it in quick
succession whilst it closed.
I had just left the Main Communications Office when the order to
‘hit the deck’ was given. When you’re lying on the deck covering your head trying
to protect yourself from a missile that you’re never going to see coming, a
million and one thoughts are going through your head - I was still clutching
the telegram that I had just picked up saying that my son was born two days
ago. At the time, the thought most at the front of my mind was “will I get to
get to see my new baby.”
After the attack, when the ship’s company started recovering from
the recumbent positions in which they had ‘hit the deck’ it was realised that
it was the speed of the attack that was so striking. Gradually life returned to
normal, heart beats slowed down, voices came down an octave, and everything
happened a little more slowly. Everyone felt relieved – each one of us a little
older, and a little greyer.
