Alan Loveday (1967- 2001)

Alan Loveday has been a big influence on a number of people in the Royal Navy.  He has had a fulfilling career, made many good friends and visited most parts of the world.  Here he tells us about the people who have influenced him, his career as a sonar man and the runs ashore that have rounded off a great career.  Why is he called ‘Big Al’?  Read on and find out. 

I Joined the RN in May 1967 much to the dismay of my parents. All my fathers’ side had been in the army and my own father retired as a Regimental Sgt Major in the Suffolk Regiment. I could march before I could walk as a toddler.

Before joining, I had two years as a waster on the streets of Northampton; you can’t get much further from the sea than that. My hair was down to my backside so I thought I had better get it cut to make an impression. The week before joining I went to the barbers twice thinking the Navy would be happy with my efforts wrong!

My 15 weeks at St Vincent in Gosport was interrupted by 35 days number 9 punishment, (surely a record). I ended up extremely fit and my 303 drill would put a PO GI to shame. Selecting the branch that had the biggest badge, I joined HMS VERNON to start training on Sonar’s 164/176/177.  I was a natural; I must have been subconsciously learning all the sonar drills from the tuppeny bloods I read as a lad.

My first ship was the Argonaut; brand new and on its 2nd sea week at Portland. What a ‘mistaker’ to ‘maker’. I never made it to the heads once and spent half the ASW serials scrubbing out the Ops room; they never did get rid of the smell of sick until the final week.  A period of Londonderry squadron and STANAVFORLANT in 1968 was the hard work required before 11 months sailing around the world in 69 with the Jaguar, Captains Command, 2 exercises, and no camera. Bliss, this was what I joined up for.

Two’s course in 1970, (Reg Townley was the only person that could beat me at table football on sea training) then to Achilles out of build, another brand new ship. Work up and an impending trip to New Zealand, with much promise of Grippo’s from the NZ Achilles association, was scuppered by a badly broken leg playing footie a week before deploying. 16 months P7R in Vernon, I was CPO’s mess man working for Ted Kitchen, the mess manager. Involved in the running of the Vernon club this junior ranks club was such a success due to the hard work of Bill Bailey and the rest of the team, it became the place to be in Portsmouth. By the way, Big Al is not what you think.  I got the nickname because I was the smallest person on the committee and the divers were always picking on me.

1972 saw me finally off crutches and heading for the Arethusa and my first mentor in the RN, Mick Legg. It was Mick who decided that I was worth spending a bit of time on and he kicked my butt to better myself. I held Mick in high esteem and he was a great influence throughout the early part of my career.

A short period as a tour guide on HMS VICTORY (the best draft I ever had) was a pre-cursor to a return to Achilles as a killick in 74 where I met Pete Brierley, a future best buddy. Pete had just returned from Petty Officers course and this is definitely the last time I will tell everybody the story of how you lost the Gemini down the Clyde again Pete….. Life on the Achilles was a blast - Christmas in Mombasa, played football with Rod Stewart who we found on the beach with Dee Harrington. Poor old Rod - Big Mac McGreevy didn’t care what he was worth.

Rod had skipped around most of our team on his way to goal when Mac took his legs out. Who me Ref says Mack? Rod wasn’t too impressed.

Double headers in Singers, saved Pete’s life in the Terror club when 3 Para were going to rip his arms and legs off after anointing one of them with his beer still connected to the glass, totally accidental of course. Pete’s reward to me was his stretch of QM whilst he disappeared to have his hand sewn back together after the melee. Achilles life was cut short in 76 when I had my first dice with death. Having  only just finished painting crests in the paint shop at midnight, we ploughed into the side of the world’s 3rd largest tanker in the channel at 15 knots in dense fog. Good job the fog lookout took his time getting up to the eyes. We limped back to Portsmouth under our own steam trailing a wake a 4-screw battleship would have been proud of. My confidence in Leander's to survive went up 10 fold after that.  A relaxing time in dock prising the paint shop and forward reel store out of the mess with crowbars was followed by a draft to Vernon during the wonderful summer of 76.

As a newly promoted PO, my career rejoined with Mick Legg’s as he dragged me kicking and screaming through ASWD’s course, what is this computer stuff?  This will never catch on, can’t beat the old greasy pencil. Streaky Bacon bought a boat, Peter B a guest house and bar in Southsea and we spent an ideal summer learning, sailing and partying. 

Somebody must have thought that I had got the hang of ADAWS 5 so I joined the trainer in Vernon after course prior to its lift and shift to Dryad.

 A draft to bring the good ship DIDO out of IKARA ** refit in 78 was a sobering experience. There cannot be to many things worse for a young PO who is head of the department of an empty, purely ASW ship, to bring it up to a state ready for Portland. This was when we had the demolitions and depth charges and the Chief had his hands full as the buffer with his own problems

I can never thank Jess Owen, Mick Legg, Rod Blanche and Pete Brierley enough for the help that they gave me during this very steep learning curve. Well you were rubbish fella’s. Do you realise you still got 73 pick up items on the first staff sea check, more than the entire WE division put together. The next eight weeks were sheer madness but we breezed through the final staff sea check. After slumping across the plot with weariness at the end of our Thursday war inspection I will never forget the immortal words of Ginge Prince, ‘depth charge, fully rigged, quarterdeck, 45 minutes’.  These were almost the last words he ever spoke.  Portland over, we were up and running for the next four years, my life ruled by FCD 3 returns and ASW records.

This was also a sad period.  The Falklands kicked off during Spring Train in the Gibraltar areas and I had to detail my lads off to join the Glasgow to bring her up to a war complement. The fleet sailed south and DIDO turned north as the IKARA's  were required to maintain the NATO ASW commitment.  As we know, some never came back and some came back with bad injuries. Pete (Jonah) Brierley refused to go down with his ship and got himself a cushy number in the Canberra’s laundry on its return to the UK.
After 2 summers in the Med with active sonar ranges of 2 feet and some shiny new buttons on my arm, I decided that the up and coming passive branch was the place for me in 1982.

16 weeks of intense instruction, (the old grey matter did not click in until week 7) was followed by my first introduction to IUSS and 2 years at RAF Brawdy working with our colonial cousins. This was a tremendous experience and was to set the course of my remaining career in the RN.

1984 saw me relieve Freddie Fox as the Squadron Chops (S) on Cleopatra, where another 4 years was spent in force 47 gales up in the Gaps. Where has the sun gone? These were the days before reactive ops and we were there because the FOP said we were supposed to be there. Being fixed in dry dock back in Guzz always followed 4-week patrols in the gaps. The highlight had to be New York in 86 for the re-dedication of the Statue of Liberty. Without a doubt the best firework display I have ever seen.  My time ended on Cleo in 88 with my selection for Warrant and 10 years more life in a blue suit if I wanted.

Graciously accepting and a short stint in the TAAU in SM2 saw me joining FOF1 as the first General Service Towed Array sea rider. This was my first introduction to my new radar sea riding partner, Paddy Shine, and my second brush with death. We had decided to have a beer in a pub in Glasgow before picking up a ship in Greenock. Breezing into a packed pub with 5 minutes to go before the Rangers v Celtic cup final, Paddy walked up to the TV and switched channels to watch the English cup final. Within a minute Paddy had them eating out of his hand and buying us beer, without doubt a remarkable man and great fun if not a little dangerous to work with.

The next 4 years of sea riding was a great experience and gave me tremendous job satisfaction.  

Jan 93 and I was heading for my first foreign draft to Gibraltar to work in operations there. Paddling in the sea in Marbella in Jan? Do TAS rates get this lucky? I loved it. Fun in the sun combined with the continental way of life (and a few duties of course) recharged my batteries to return to UK in 95. Switching on the lights at a brand new IUSS facility at RAF St Mawgan, the next 3 years seem to be continuous calibrations, trials, exercises and taking the occasional sea ride as the IUSS Liaison Officer.  

My next natural progression was to CTF 320 as a watch keeper where I thought I would be put out to grass. But no, a 1 year extension returning to St Mawgan to keep the seat warm while the Appointer’s crystal ball cleared.  This has me only 4 miles from home and in a good position to leave the Navy in November this year.

I look back on it all and wonder whether I would have done anything different. Hell no! I have never had a job I did not like, (hail the power of C240’s). Made some great friends and acquaintances, have visited most countries in the world, made most of the mistakes you can make; but only once, worked and played hard and enjoyed my sport. What more could you want. Well I could have got luckier with that girl in…........

 Above all, I hope I have been of some value to the younger guys coming up behind me, just like the great people who have had a direct bearing on my career.

 

 

 

** Webmaster Anecdote: When IKARA [Named from an aboriginal Throwing Stick] was first introduced to the RN, we had a few RAN personnel given us training on the weapon.  It was not long before some wit decided the acronym, stood for Insufficient Knowledge And Random Administration. It really p***** the Aussie instructors off...cannot understand why!

This item first appeared in the May 2000 Seamaster.

Service History