Last updated 14:46, Wednesday, 29 October 2008

IT'S nearly 70 years since Arnold Foxon survived a torpedo hit during the Siege of Malta, bu o him the events of that fateful day remain as clear as yesterday. On Remembrance Day the 90-year-old will wear his medals with pride in honour of his fallen comrades and the courageous men who survived. Reporter JO DAVIES learns the siginificance of his medals, including the one that justifies the sacrifice they made

Title
Author
Copyright

Description

FIFTY years after surviving a torpedo hit, Arnold Foxon opened his bible to read.

“He sent from above, he took me, he drew me out of many waters. He delivered me from my strong enemy, and from them which hated me: for they were too strong for me.

“They prevented me in the day of my calamity: but the Lord was my stay.”

The prophetic words of Psalm 18 struck such a chord that Mr Foxon broke down.

Throughout his adult life he had suppressed feelings of anger and guilt, but he found peace in his faith.

“That was his daily reading and that just healed it,” said his wife, Sheila. “It finished it off. It was 50 years to the date and time. He was sat there crying.”

Sixty seven years ago, leading seaman Foxon was part of the Malta Convoy battling the Axis Powers for naval control of the Mediterranean during the Second World War.

Operation Substance set out from Gibraltar on July 21 to the strategically important island of Malta.

Mr Foxon, a Royal Navy gunner, was on HMS Fearless, one of the destroyers reinforcing Force H.

On July 23 1941, south of Sardinia, the convoy suffered sustained air attacks. The cruiser HMS Manchester was hit and then Fearless came under attack.

Mr Foxon was operating the Oerlikon single-barrelled cannon, a free-swinging gun on a fixed pedestal.

He was attached to the weapon on the platform.

“We were the first line of defence,” recalls Mr Foxon.

“It was the Germans bombing us, using Italian aircraft.

“Ours (weaponry) was superior, but there’s nothing you can do about a torpedo. I was on the platform on the Oerlikon.

“On the upper deck were the torpedo men. There were about seven of them and they were loading the magazines up for me. When I saw this plane coming in I shouted ‘down’, meaning I wanted them to angle the gun down so I could aim at the torpedo and blow it up before it hit the ship. But when I said ‘down’ the young torpedo man went down on the ground.

“I could see the top of the torpedo coming out of the water. I put my arms up and that’s how my sleeves got burnt.”

Mr Foxon was blown into the air and landed on the deck.

“The port propeller was damaged in the attack so it stopped,” he explained.

“The starboard propeller was sending the ship to port in amongst the convoy and endangering the convoy.

“We had to use our own initiative and sink the ship.

“It was becoming a danger to the convoy. Our own ship torpedoed it.

“I didn’t know much about the explosion but I know where it took me. We were swimming and dodging bullets in the water, which was alight. You’re praying at the time. The first thing I can remember was a bright light and this effervescence from the screws (the propeller).

“I remember everything upside down. I had managed to release myself and I was in the water near the propeller.

“I was on a splinter mattress in the water. Being in the water I swallowed a lot of oil.”

Mr Foxon and the other survivors were picked up by HMS Forester after about half an hour in the water.

But Forester had to remain with the convoy.

It was three days before the survivors arrived at the Military Hospital in Gibraltar, where he spent the next three months.

Mr Foxon suffered burns to his face, hands, wrists and forearms and all his hair had burnt off.

“It was one of the first times they used maggots to treat wounds,” he said.

“They were in the splints. I saw one on my little finger. I said to the nurse: “Get these off” and she said: “Son, they’re doing more good than we ever could.”

After three months in the Military Hospital Mr Foxon was transferred to Cholmonderly Hospital for a further six months’ recuperation. The day after his release on April 2 1942, he joined the destroyer HMS Wolverine and then got posted on to HMS Drake as a gunnery instructor. He left active service in 1947 and joined the Navy’s Minewatching Service.

In 1962 he went to Royal Navy Auxiliary Service, coordinating the movement of shipping in the Falklands, among other duties. His Royal Navy career spanned an impressive 53 years and seven months. At 70 he was told “to walk the plank or retire”.

The horrors of the conflict remained largely unspoken until 2002 when Mr Foxon and his wife joined his fellow servicemen in Malta for the 60th anniversary of the siege.

The Foxons, of Priory Road, Ulverston, are choked with emotion as they recall that poignant final meeting and the sacrifice these men made. Mrs Foxon, 66, said: “You couldn’t walk 2ft without somebody shaking your hand and saying: ‘We wouldn’t be here if you hadn’t come’.

“We even had a jeweller coming out of his shop giving us Maltese crosses on a chain, saying: ‘These are for you’. There were a lot of men there during the celebrations sat with each other in the hotel, and they talked to each other and cried.

“They did a lot of healing. They were talking to people who knew what they were talking about.

“He’s never talked much about it because how can you discuss the things you’ve seen?”

Mr Foxon lost 28 comrades in 1941.

The couple could not hold back the tears as Mr Foxon said: “On Remembrance Day I switch off and think of the people we lost – because they were all young.”

Mr Foxon has earned all 11 of his medals and his family is still committed to the forces.

Mrs Foxon’s youngest two sons have served in Bosnia, Iraq and the Gulf.

Displaying his medals proudly Mr Foxon explained: “The fruits of those labours (the top layer) are depicted in this one, the Peace Medal. That’s what it was all about.”