The sinking of the Atlantic conveyor brings to mind an old Scottish oppo of mine, Jock Muirhead, who left HMS Yarmouth some time before the conflict broke out. He'd spent forever telling us how pissed off he was with the Navy, how he wanted out and how he'd slammed his notice in ages ago. Civvy Street was beckoning and he was proud to answer that call. When he left us we didn't see him for dust. He joined another ship and then in April ‘82 turned up at HMS Nelson, the main shore base in Portsmouth. Here he would spend a week doing his leaving routine, throwing his kit back and getting his exit chit stamped by each department before saying his goodbyes. But he never got the chance. He was intercepted and his escape route blocked by some anonymous, high-up busybody. He was kept in, and for good measure, drafted to the Atlantic conveyor before it set sail for the South Atlantic.
See above for the events of 25th May 1982, when the Atlantic Conveyor was hit by an Exocet. Unlike 12 of his crewmates, Jock survived the Exocet attack, abandoned ship, plunged into the deep, unholy chill of the South Atlantic, and had just minutes to find a liferaft, clamber onto it and live.
As we finally sailed into Rosyth in July, the first happy face we recognised in the massive, welcoming crowd was Jock Muirhead, jumping about in a frenzy and frantically waving his arms at us. I haven't met him since, but I hope to catch up with him again one day. And I hope you're watching this now, Jock.
Video recorded on 1st July 2022
