HMCS Okanagan v RFA Grey Rover
28th July 1973
By the 1st Officer of RFA Grey Rover
I joined this ship where she was lying at anchor off the tiny harbour of Campbeltown, on the Mull of Kintyre, following a marathon 24-hour journey from my home at Plymouth. It all began with a four-hour train journey from Plymouth to London, to catch an overnight sleeper to Glasgow. The following morning I caught a local train down the north bank of the River Clyde to Helensburgh, from where I got a taxi to take me to the submarine base at Faslane. After a couple of hours delay and a bite of lunch, a 'tilly' (utility van), took me the last 103 miles to Campbeltown, driving through glens, past mountains and along the western coast of the Mull. It was all extremely scenic. A final boat trip took me out to the ship, which was anchored in Campbeltown loch, where I gratefully dumped my heavy suitcases in my cabin, in time for the evening meal.
RFA Grey Rover
As 1st Officer here, I was the senior bridge watchkeeper, on the 4-8 watch at sea. My duties were as the navigator/operations officer, sharing a bit of flight deck work with the Chief Officer. We were employed initially by "Comclyde", the Flag Officer responsible for naval activity in and around the Clyde area. This activity consisted mainly of exercises and trials involving nuclear and conventional submarines, operating out of their specialised base, "HMS Neptune", at Faslane on the Gairloch.
Our frequent role was to act as a target ship for their training exercises and the commanding officer qualifying courses known as 'Coqexes' or 'Perishers'. The ship would be asked to steam up and down the Firth of Clyde in zig-zag patterns or on a straight course, whilst the submarine would lay in wait and simulate torpedo attacks. If the sea was calm enough it was possible to detect the periscope on radar or even see it visually. If within the rules of the exercise, we were then free to steer towards our threat, to try to narrow the target profile or force the submarine to abandon the attack and go deep. Clearly these exercises did not involve the large strategic missile boats, who were not normally expected to attack shipping but remain hidden at all times.
Just eleven days after joining this ship I was involved in my only collision at sea, which involved a Canadian conventional submarine called "Okanagan". She was an Oberon class diesel powered boat built at Chatham Dockyard in 1963. On this occasion she was going through her 'passing out' inspection with "Comclyde" staff, prior to returning to Canada and rejoining their fleet.
We had been with her the previous day, carrying out all the high-speed exercises where we were her target for several torpedo attacks. Overnight we had sailed around the back of the island of Arran, northwards through the Kilbrannan Sound, around the top of the island and east through the Sound of Bute. In the gathering dawn we were moving at a steady four knots on a south-easterly course down the Clyde estuary, passing about four miles off Brodick Bay. Somewhere in this area, "Okanagan" was to sneak up on us and film our underwater fittings through her periscope. At about 0730 and whilst I was still on watch, I spotted a periscope, still some way off, coming towards us out of Brodick Bay. I maintained a steady course and speed as required by the exercise orders and watched the tip of the periscope pop up every now and again as it got closer.
The Captain had come to the bridge for his morning stroll and I pointed the periscope out to him as it approached from just forward of the starboard beam on a steady bearing. It seemed to me that the submarine was getting quite close and from an unexpected angle. My thoughts were that it would have approached from astern, diving deeper in good time to take whatever pictures were required. Still it kept coming and at the same angle. The Captain and I went out onto the starboard bridge wing and we could actually see the dark shape of the submarine under the water as it came right up to us.
Suddenly there was an almighty thump, as the conning tower of the submarine struck our hull, almost below where we were standing. The stern of the "Grey Rover" was shunted round a few degrees to port and the bow to starboard. On the bridge we were in shock for a few moments with the realisation of what had happened. The propeller was quickly declutched from the engine and I took a position of our ship. The engineers below, who must have had an awful fright, were told what had happened and checked that we had not been holed.
A couple of hundred yards away, the "Okanagan" rapidly surfaced and we could see that she had lost a large piece of her conning tower. After getting in contact with her it appeared that her periscopes and other top sensors were a write-off but otherwise she was okay. Fortunately her conning tower was made of glass-fibre, which had taken the brunt of the impact and we had not been holed. We both proceeded directly back to Faslane naval base, where there followed a Board of Enquiry. At the end of this investigation we were absolved completely of any responsibility for the collision.
A couple of days later we were ordered to take the ship to a dry-dock at Govan, where we underwent repairs to a massive indentation in the shell plating on the starboard side of the engine room and replaced a blade on our controllable pitch propeller.
We were so lucky not to have been holed. Had the conning tower of the "Okanagan" been made of something more robust than glass-fibre it could have been a very different story. When we returned to Faslane the "Okanagan" was still there and looking a rather sorry sight. We invited the officers across to us for a few drinks and a bite to eat. It was then that they presented us with a piece of their conning tower as a memento of the event!
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