When I worked at the pharmaceutical company, one of the guys I worked with thought I had always been a Pongo and I thought he had been, so we did not talk much about our service time. After I had known him about 15 years, I got the job of Deputy Parade Commander on Remembrance Sunday over at Margate.

As I stood in my allocated position I could see a couple of guys wearing the white Arctic Convoys beret, both with a chest full of medals, standing up at the location of the cross, but because of their age they did not march to the saluting or dismissal location.  I asked after them and got told they would be up at the Legion, so I made my way up there.  When I walked in, sitting there with his white beret and medals was my workmate, Dennis Whitehead, on our next night shift very little work got done as we sat and swung the lamp.

Dennis was an 18 year old AB, RC3 Gunnery rating on the Cassandra, they were about to sail on the outward convoy JW62, to Murmansk and were in Iceland forming up when their skipper was taken ill and rushed to hospital. With no time to get a replacement the Jimmy, a Lieutenant G Leslie RN, took command and they sailed, however no longer a senior ship, but tail end Charlie. The trip was fairly routine with the usual air attacks and U Boat skirmishes, so they arrived in Kola Inlet safely.

The return journey, RA62 sailed on 10th December1944 and cleared the inlet safely. Dennis had the morning watch in the TS, turning up just before 0400, relieved his mate and told him what a lucky B he was going to get in his hammock, not knowing he would never see him again.  The watch went well until at 0603 on 11th December the ship seemed to stagger, there was a sort of thump and all the lights went out.  Dennis is not sure how long after he came to his senses having apparently hit his head on the deckhead, the lights were still out and no emergency lights had come on. He worked his way around the bulkheads until he found the door (sic) and managed to get into the port passageway.

Needing to get his lifebelt he started off to the mess deck door, going forward to the mess, when a hand shot out of the dark stopping him and a voice said "Not this way son, go out to the upper deck", that person saved his life as the forward messdeck had gone, through the open door (sic) was the sea and several men had already made that mistake.  In fact 62 men had perished in the last few minutes.

The men mustered near the funnel but had to be careful as there was a crack in the deck some 4 inches wide and the two sides were moving in opposite directions, a Stoker PO organised a Damage Control party and set off to do what was needed, in Dennis’ opinion that man saved the ship during that morning. 

Dennis started to get dizzy spells and was helped to the Wardroom which was now serving as a Sick Bay. He was due to be transferred to another ship which came alongside but the sea was too rough to attempt this.  Eventually a Canadian Frigate managed to get a line across to them and they were towed, very gingerly, back to Kola Inlet. Christmas at home was now a no-no and they were allowed to send a cable home but only saying they were safe and well, Merry Christmas, see you soon; under no circumstance were they to give the ships name, what happened and where they were.

Eventually sometime in the new year a berth was found for him on a ship going back with another convoy, which was very welcome, but when she sailed there was no way he would go to the messdeck, he found a spot near the radar office and slept there until they arrived home.

On arrival they looked like a bunch of Merchant Seamen, with no RN uniform, just a box with bits of clothing in it that he had scrounged. Having got the basics of a uniform issued he was to be given three weeks survivors leave, but had to appear before the Commander to be granted it.

An officer refused to let him appear before the Commander until he got a haircut, he could have killed him, not pleased he found the Chief for advice who said "Forget it" and passed him on to the next stage.

 He finally got the leave and arrived home the next day.  When he had finished hugging everybody his mother asked what Murmansk was like, how did she know that? Oh it was stamped on the cable she replied.

Dennis was a good buddy and told me many stories when we were together on night shifts.  Sadly he died last year.