THE night HMS Truculent was plunged into the Thames Estuary 69 years ago, naval man Fred Henley remembers waiting an hour to be rescued from freezing cold waters.

The 95-year-old saw lights emanating from the other ship and a red light on its masthead moments before their submarine swept across its path on January 12 1950.

It was a catastrophic mistake on behalf of Truculent's commander, Lieutenant Charles Bowers, who should have waited for Swedish tanker, the merchant Dvina, to pass.

Sixty-four people onboard the Truculent died, leaving just 15 survivors including Fred, who was rescued by a Dutch ship.

Speaking from his home in Walton, where there are proud photos of him receiving medals of honour from the Royals and Russian president Vladimir Putin, he is remarkably matter-of-fact about the tragedy.

He said:"Unknown to us the ship was coming out at quite a fast speed. It crashed into us and tore a big hole in the bow.

"In that collision, ten men who were in the compartment drowned.

"I was in the control room and a message came from the bridge - "Bring a Seamanship Manual up!"

"I took it up, handed it to the officer and the next minute there was a terrific crash.

"The submarine heeled and righted itself and then plunged to the bottom."

Gazette:

The submarine's engine room where 25 people escaped from

Somehow Fred, who joined the Truculent in1949, managed to get off the submarine and float to the surface.

The Dvina's crew heard the men shouting and threw a life belt overboard.

"There was all of us, hanging on this life belt. Below, they managed to seal off the engine room and most of the men got into there," he said.

But only ten of those 40-plus men survived the escape.

"The other five of us were floating out on the ebb tide. We went quite a distance and then we saw the lights of this ship approaching so when it got near we started yelling for help.

"They heard us and put a search light on from the bridge and picked us up from the water.

"As you can imagine in the January weather, we were freezing. We had hypothermia - we couldn't speak.

"One of the officers asked us what ship we were from. When I said we were a submarine, he was quite surprised, and went dashing off.

"That was when the authorities knew anything about the collision."

An investigation into the collision attributed 75 per cent of the blame to Lt Bowers who was seriously at fault and "court martialled for negligence," Fred explained, but not dismissed from service.

After the tragedy, the Truculent light was introduced on British submarines to make them more visible on the surface.

More gripping details and memories of Fred's 15 years' service with the Royal Navy are contained within the book, They Were Just Skulls, written by former Merchant Navy officer, John Johnson-Allen, who lives near Norwich.

He spent hours interviewing the great-grandfather, who is originally from Gillingham in Kent, and comes from a long line of ex-servicemen dating back to 1870.

Gazette:

HMS Truculent

Fred said: "Three months later I was serving on another submarine in Chatham when they were raising the Truculent. I was sent out to where they were lifting to identify bodies still in the submarine.

"When they got them out, they called me over to identify. Their faces were just skulls.

"I identified them by the clothing because they had their names in them like most in the Navy."

Back then post-traumatic stress was not recognised and no counselling was offered to any of the survivors.

If any of them did feel a sense of survivor's guilt, Fred has found a way to deal with it.

"It's a thing of the past," he said frankly but with reverence, having joined the Navy at 16.

"I just thought myself lucky to have survived."

It was Fred's interest in ships which led him quite naturally to join the Navy.

Before his retirement in 1954, he returned to general service as a petty officer, serving on a class of ship called destroyers.

Life then took him up north to Yorkshire where he became a coal miner.

"It was a job," he said, but he also had a "Yorkshire wife" - Lillian, who he was married to for 55 years before she died about 17 years ago.

She travelled wherever Mr Henley was stationed, including Malta, and together they had two daughters and two sons - one of which is a BEM recipient and served in the Army for 25 years - nine grandchildren and 12 great-grandchildren.

Most of Mr Henley's shipmates are no longer alive.

Recalling such a distinguished career, which saw him receive the Arctic Star medal for his role in the Arctic convoys of World War Two, it is difficult to reel off the highlights.

Stuck for words, he replied: "I can't say really."

"I've visited every country in the Mediterranean and saw Mount Vesuvius erupt," he said, before taking a long pause.

"I was at the landings in north Africa, Sicily and southern France and served off the Greek coast - that was really interesting."

Would Mr Henley say being in the Navy has made him who he is? "Probably."

They Were Just Skulls (Whittles Publishing) is available to buy now.