Colin Davies
"Sit vis nobiscum."
Membership Level: Full
Posts: 1543
Status: Offline | Stabbed at Sea
I’ve bumped into a few people lately that have reminded me of various incidents that occurred while I was serving in the RAF Marine Branch.
I was contacted by an ex marine branch colleague who asked if I was the Colin Davies who was stabbed in the leg while serving on HMAFV Seal, as I was the only Colin Davies who served in the marine branch there was a more than a good possibility that it was me. I did correct him on that incident as it was me who managed to stab myself in the leg with a Stanley knife.
The stabbing was one incident on a detail that if it could go wrong, it did.
It was February 1982 and at one point the temperature off the North East coast dropped to -18C. We were working out of Blyth and waiting five miles off New Biggin point for a Wessex from Boulmer for a wet winching exercise. The RV was supposed to be at 10:00 at 10:10 the skipper contacted Boulmer ATC asking where our Playmate was. There were profuse apologies from ATC for not informing us, but the aircraft could not take off because of the weather conditions.
This got us wondering, although it was b****y cold, the sky was blue and the sea glass calm, a fine day.
Skipper to ATC “ I thought that the Wessex was an all weather aircraft”
ATC “It is, the hangar doors have frozen shut and we cannot get the A/C out of the hangar, but it should be with you in about 45mins.”
It was at this point that, my incident occurred, I was watch keeper in the engine room and as I was going to have an extra 45 minutes to kill before the helicopter arrived. We needed a new gash bin for the engine control room, so I nipped to the galley saw the cook and perloined an empty plastic 25lt cooking oil drum and took it to the engine room. I knelt down with the drum in front of me plunged the Stanley into the drum to cut the top off, the boat rolled, the knife slipped and ended up buried in my thigh half way between my knee and hip. Blood everywhere sprayed all over the front of the Port engine and deckplates. All I was wearing was shreddies, overalls and plimsoles. Needing to apply pressure to the wound I grabbed the first thing that came to hand to use as a compress, a handfull of cotton waste, disappeared into the control room dropped my overalls and applied the cotton waste.
As bad as this was it was about to descend into farce, I got onto the intercom and called the wheelhouse, calls from the engine room were not always distinct, because of the noise, the conversation went something like this, “wheelhouse!”, “Steve it’s Colin, I’ve stabbed myself above the knee could you send somebody down”, “O.K.mate!”
To collect the medical kit and get to the engine room should not take longer than one minute.
After five minutes, back on the intecom, “Wheelhouse!” “Steve! Is anybody coming down to the engine room?”. “yeh! Robin will be there in a minute”: “Robin! What you sending the cook for?: “He’s making the tea!” : “Why do I need a cup of tea?” : “’Cos you asked for one”: “I said , I’ve stabbed myself above the knee, not I want a cup of tea”
Within thirty seconds I had two Master Coxswains, two deckhands, and the 1st Lt in the engine room. None of whom had thought to bring a sticking plaster let alone a medical kit!! Shortly after the 2nd eng turned up with the medical kit.
Steve one of the coxswains from the wheelhouse, decided to take a look, he removed my hand , still clutching the cotton waste compress, and took a look at the wound, (it had stopped bleeding by then) put a thumb either side of the 1 ½ in gash and prised it apart. He then plunged his right index finger into the wound and declared, “ I can feel your bone”. “get your dirty finger out of my leg”.
At this point the helicopter winchman appeared on the scene, “that needs stitching I’ll have a word with your skipper and get you to hospital, one live lift is better than ten practices.”
It was decided that it would be better if I went to get stitched after we made landfall, you can just see the reaction after it gets out that an RAF Corporal is flown by helicopter to hospital with a scratch.
In the great scheme of things flying me to hospital would have been a bit over the top, the wound was finally stitched at Newcastle.
Shortly after this Steve the coxswain was promoted and posted and I didn’t see him again until about 20years later at a reunion, and greeted me with a “Hello Colin, hows the leg” “OK, How’s your finger”.
Last edited by Colin Davies
Last edited by Colin Davies
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