HMS Skipjack - Bill Silby

My Grandad John (Bill) Silby joined the RNVR in 1938 as a Chatham sailor, aged 19. Although his name was John he had been, and was, known all his life as Bill. A nickname given to him by his father, after the London bus 'Ole Bill' which brought his father back from the trenches of the First World War.

He trained as a torpeod-man and was posted to the Fighting Halcyons a Minesweeper Flotilla. Intially when war broke out he volunteered as a anti-aircraft gunner for merchant ships. His first ship from the end of Southend-on-Sea Pier was his first brush with fate. He swapped ships with a fellow rating, also acting as a AA gunner who didn't want to dirty his kit onboard his detailed boat, a ship carrying coal, they swapped. My Grandad later learnt the other ship was lost with all hands.

AT Dunkirk he was onboard the Minesweeper HMS Skipjack, ferrying troops in the ships boats. Having just picked up hundreds of troops, a bomb went straight down the funnel of the Skipjack and blew her apart. My Grandad ended up in the water for 12 hours before being picked up himself by a destroyer returning to England. He was 1 of 8 of the Skipjack's crew that survived. On disembarking a RN Petty Officer checked the soldiers names and units. On seeing my Grandad in his Royal Navy jersey he inquired "Where do think you're going?" to which my Grandad replied "I'm a survivor!", "No you're not. Go a stand over there!". A rag tag crew was assembled out of the displaced sailors and sent straight back to the beaches crewing a civilian vessel.

On this journey he recalled a 'Death or Glory' captain who wanted to beach the vessel, load her up with troops and winch her back out to sea - one of the boats hands slung the anchor over the side to prevent it. Apperently the officer went berserk threating to have the guilty sailor clapped in irons. Though, had the vessel beached they would have stuck, and the beach was being heavily machine-gunned at the time by German aircraft.

He survived that trip and was given a few hours leave on returning to England, and could remember his mum ushering him quickly into the north London home when he came walking back down their street, lest the neighbours see the mess he looked, all covered in oil.

He went back again and continued onboard other ships until the evacuation was halted. In that time he was hit in the back by a 'spent' bullet, knocking him to the deck - but not injuring him seriously. Then at later time he found his boots to be uncomfortably sticky, and on removing one found that blood had trickled down the inside of his legs filling them up. He had been shot across his stomach, a bullet just grazing him without notice.

All this at 21 in 1940. He went on to serve in the Battle of the Atlantic and the Russian Convoys, he worked on Midget subs and Motor Torpedo Boats, and was onbard HMS Sharpeshooter when they rammed and sunk a U-Boat. He twice declined officer training, preferring to stay with the ratings.

He survived the war de-mobbing from the Navy in 1946 only to join the Army in 1947 until 1960. Eventually ending his military career as Acting Sergeant Major on medical grounds - flat feet.

His stories remained untold until his three grandsons were old enough to understand, on our Sunday morning walks along Southend Pier.

They government taxed him on his Service pension until he died on New Years Day 1998 aged 78.

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