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Listen to Tony's BBC Radio 4 interview with Libby Purves and her fancination with The Blow Up Doll!

E.O.D what is that? "Explosive Ordnance Disposal"

"We the unwilling, lead by the unknowing are doing the impossible, for the ungrateful, we have done so much, for so long, with so little, we are now qualified to do absolutely everything, with nothing!"

diving underwater scuba photographs book military

Mick O'Leary wearing the 'bubble-less' CDBA. In my ten years in Her Majesty’s Royal Navy, there was never a boring moment. I joined at the tender age of seventeen, and had qualified for basic diver by the age of 18. Having been sent to sea, my term aboard one of the Navy’s mine hunters, HMS Kirkliston, was cut short. I was accused of being a modern day Fletcher Christian and cast out as a mutineer then sent back to diving school with my tail between

To punish me, the Navy saw fit to fly me halfway around the world to an island paradise in the South Pacific, with orders to blow parts of it up. Every boy’s (and man’s) dream. Thank you!

Funafuti (Where?) E.O.D clips from the book.

‘We will be going to a group of South Pacific Islands called Tuvalu.’ Wow!

‘We will be leaving in August 1977 and will be gone for about three months.’ Crikey!

‘Stopping off at Gander in Canada, Hawaii, San Francisco, and Fiji on the way.’ Blimey!

Tepuka, one of the atoll islands. Flying in a C130 (Hercules) a group of islands hove into view. None of the islands looked big enough to land this 70 ton flying beast on. A 400-meter-wide seven-mile-long island in the vastness of the Pacific Ocean looks tiny indeed. The island flashed beneath us in just a few seconds. The RAF crew then banked hard left, and we went over the outer islands and over the beautiful turquoise-blue shallow lagoon, which contrasted starkly with the majestic, dark blue of the deep Pacific on the outside.

The 'Hurc' having just landed, fully ladened with exlosives on a coral runway!

These gentle Polynesian people were always friendly and very generous to us. They lived almost completely on what the islands and the sea would give them; they truly lived off what they could gather. They would decorate their hair with flowers, and wear necklaces of tiny little shells. Shoes had not really been embraced by the locals; flip-flops were worn at dances, but seemed a bit excessive. We had three month on this idyllic island paradise.

Mine searching, Pacific-style

Joe Kennedy getting ready to be sharky's lunch!

Back in 1977 these islands were still a British colony. They were being given back their independence, but you can’t really do that if the islands are ringed in mines. The Americans mined them in 1942 to stop the Japanese from using the islands as a base or a landing strip. Therefore, our task was to give them back with a clean bill of health. It was to be my first spot of EOD, Explosive Ordnance Disposal. Where to start the seaward search was easy. You would simply drive the boat out of the lagoon between two of the coral islands.

Placing two 4lb Plastic Explosive Packs on a Mk 13 American magnetic ground mine. Funafuti atol 1977.

Being swept along in the current , the water would instantly go from light blue, inside the lagoon where you are in reality surmounting the crest of a long dormant volcano, with its head just edging close, and sometimes just above the waves – to the dark blue, seemingly bottomless Pacific Ocean in only a mater of meters of horizontal travel. Mk 13 American Magnetic ground mine. As it would've looked in 1942.

Sharks and mines.

A Mako. Lythe and very fast when angry. During our first days and indeed weeks, we were a bit twitchy and you could say nervous. We did have a right to be, though, as there were sharks everywhere.

At first, whenever we saw a big one or an overly inquisitive one, we would call the boat over and be out of the water. As the weeks wore on, we got a lot more confident around them

Our eyes were constantly in ‘two watches’, one eye out for sharks, one for mines. On one occasion, we had to move on, and not come back for days, because the biggest shark I had, or have, ever seen, took umbrage at us for exploding mines in his area. He was so upset he tried to eat the best meal we had, our tallest diver, Darby Allen, and was very nearly successful. More on that in the book...

We started finding mines straight away. They were mostly Mark 13 American ground mines. These were air-dropped magnetic mines, and could be used as bombs if need be. They weighed just over 1,000 lb and used either a TNT charge or the highly effective torpex explosive of some 700 lb. On our searches we also found the sinkers to buoyant mines. Where the buoyant and exploding part of these ended up is anyone’s guess, but they’re out there in the Pacific region somewhere.

Us in the forground. Whilst snorkeling along on our swim line of divers, we could spot anything man-made a long way off. Straight lines, circles, or the rust colour, stand out a mile in nature. Therefore, you may be swimming along on your lines of search for days and find nothing.

Then one day, maybe after you have been in the water for hours, something at the edge of your vision grabs your interest. It may be an unusual colour change in the coral, or some irregularity in the seabed. Whatever it is, it doesn’t look natural, as in not made by nature. It may or may not be a mine; we had already found much wartime paraphernalia, including aircraft engines, shipwrecks, even an old army jeep in the middle of one channel.

In the forground to the right is us in the Gemini. We were a tad closer than planned!

Now, having spotted something worthy of further investigation, you increase your hyperventilation (large gulps of air, quite quickly), thus flushing out carbon dioxide from your system.

Then you calm yourself, and take in large breaths and hold it, for say 30 seconds at a time. Then as the current takes you closer to your target, you take the biggest breath you can manage.

Your head goes down, your fins go up and you make your hopefully long, unhurried descent to the bottom, or as near as you can get to it, to make your positive identification.

You soon learn that it is no good thrashing your way to the bottom with rapid fin movements. You may get there quickly, but your body will use all the oxygen you have stored in your blood and lungs, and you will have to turn straight round and rush back to the surface. Furious activity is no sure sign of progress.

Free-for-all

We told the islanders when the first mines would be detonated. This was usually on a Saturday morning, for their benefit.

We then turned up on the first bang day, to be greeted with a veritable flotilla of dugout canoes, excuses for boats and everything and anything that would float, some barely.

I thought they were just keen to see these mines go off, but they had ulterior motives. Trying to get them to stay back before we lit the fuses was an absolute nightmare. In the end, we told them it would be called off and done without any of them present if they didn’t stay back.

Eventually we gained some sort of authority and kept them at bay during the countdown. The first bang was huge. It was a shock to the locals. They now understood why they had to stay back. The sea lifts in a dome shape, then, out of the middle comes a huge plume of water over 30 meters high into the air.

As soon as the water came down, the race would begin. The ones with outboard motors obviously had the edge; some even had them on dugout canoes. In some of these boats were whole generations, and they were all here for one thing. Not to watch the explosions, but to pick up the hundreds of dead fish that would float up afterwards.

It was a manic free-for-all. First come, first served. No rules, and no holds barred. By the time they had finished, some of the canoes would be alarmingly low in the water, but they would smile, wave and thank us as they paddled off with their free booty, sometimes, with a ten-mile trip back to Funafuti..

The Fleet Clearance Diving Team

The team’s primary role is to provide an immediate-response, worldwide clearance diving facility for the Commander-in-Chief Fleet. To this end, their responsibilities and capabilities were:

Because of the 'Special' nature of some of the team, their identities have been have been hidden for reasons of national security.

(1) 75-meter oxy-helium diving from inflatable dinghies for nuclear weapons recovery, and ship, aircraft or other emergency tasks.

(2) Afloat dome and propeller changes, worldwide.

(3) Underwater demolition, IED and EOD tasks, worldwide.

(4) Provide attacking underwater saboteur forces for ships exercising or work up.

(5) Provide backup to command CD teams as necessary.

(6) Being the UK CD commitment to NATO, to participate in NATO and National Mine Warfare exercises, particularly in the team’s war role, unknown mine investigation and recovery.

Deep work up Guernsey. I quickly learnt that it was imperative to have a packed bag and my passport with me at all times. One of the chiefs would sometimes come down the stairs and say something along the lines of, ‘Right, who’s got their passports?’ You had to be in the right place, and quick. You could dip in, with a short hop to Bermuda for a screw change, or dip out with a dive up harbour in Portsmouth. We managed to cover just about everything on our list of tasks – except, I’m glad to say, recovery of nuclear weapons. We also covered quite few that weren’t on the list. Like ‘body jobs’.

We were tasked to do everything in my time. An armed robbery team that had driven into the sea, with all the cash. We swam about searching for the cash, not the criminals. Fighter jets, trawlers, choppers, weapons etc. Missing children were the worst. Sad if you find them, sad if you don't.

The Sikorsky being recovered to the Clansmans deck. One chopper incedent was the tragic loss of a Sikorsky S-61 helicopter just off of the Scilly Isles on 16 July 1983. The Clansman (crewed by divers) was tasked to recover the bodies (20 in all) and lift the helicopter. These people clearly had absolutely no warning of their impending disaster, as most were still wearing their seat belts when recovered. Only six survived, including the two pilots.

Phil Kearns was one of the divers, in his first ever sat outside of training. What a first dive it would turn out to be. Most divers will try to make light of doing stressful dives like this. Phil is a straight-up sort of bloke, you know where you are with him, he tells the truth. These are his words.

On coming out of the diving bell I was relieved to see that the visibility was pretty good at maybe ten or fifteen meters. . I turned round to check my umbilical and make sure it was leading directly to-wards the bell when, there it was! In all its horrific glory. Lying on its side and only a couple of meters away, with my diver’s umbilical running hard up against it. I am not able to fully convey the shock I felt at that instant. Even though I knew what I was looking for and having only the year before come back from the Falklands conflict, where I had seen my share of dead bodies. At the best of times, there is something unnerving about seeing an aircraft or even a car lying on the seabed. It shouldn't’ be there – it doesn’t look right!

This is another result of it all going wrong in a chopper. The Sea-king to the left was hovering in thick fog waiting to land on the Ark Royal just off the Isle of Wight. The chopper to the right came out of the fog at around 80 knots and they collided. I think two survived from one but none got out of the other. .

The worst ones for me are the Chinooks. Whilst flying hundreds of miles in one accross the South Atlantic, I had a lot of time to study all the open, moving parts in them. Two rotors just doesn't seem right, it's even more 'un-natural' to me.

The navy's Bomb Wagon. This is a bomb wagon, as described in the book. We spent many and hour in these vehicles traveling the country and parts of Europe.

Note the blue police light for emergency bomb jobs.

This picture was taken at Orford ness range, where we would take any ordinace we had been to pick up. We would then prepare the detonators and plastic explosive and then do the fun bit. Blow the S**t out of it!

The trailer would usually carry diving gear and gas.

PROJECT VERNON – THE DIVING AND MINEWARFARE MONUMENT

Diver Monument. Aprox size. A common theme running throughout the research for my book was how the Navy's underwater activities are often under-recognised.

I believe something long overdue is a public exhibit of some sorts, to make a permanent record of the activities of Royal Navy diving and minewarfare types. This new project, to place a suitable statue in the old HMS Vernon site, now has real momentum.

I look forward to seeing the final design and visiting Gunwharf Quays once it's been installed! Never thought I'd volunteer to just go and look at "a diver at work in Vernon Creek"! Click on either picture to visit the website...

http://www.vernon-monument.org/

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