12/07/2026
CANBERRA SAILS INTO SOUTHHAMPTON: WE ARE HOME!
From my diary and my book ‘The Band That Went To War’.
Sunday11 July 1982, yet another day that cannot be forgotten. Like children at Christmas, we were all up early, packed and ready for the final day many hours before we really needed to be. There may have been some weary eyes and thick heads from the night before, but that was all forgotten as up on deck we could clearly see the coast getting ever closer and the Isle of Wight ahead. We knew that once around the island it was a short run into Southampton. The ship slowed a little to meet her 1100 hrs docking time and also to allow a stream of visitors. Prince Charles flew aboard in his naval uniform, along with several other VIPs and dignitaries. It was also to their credit that they all flew off again before we entered port so as not to detract from our homecoming.
We were buzzed by a few civilian planes, news helicopters and a couple of larger yachts as we passed by the Isle of Wight, but as we turned around the island we were met by a huge flotilla of boats and craft of all shapes and sizes that had come out to greet us. A strange and unusual noise floated on the breeze, until eventually we could make out that it was the sound of hundreds of ships’ and boats’ horns being sounded around us and along the Solent. Even from our position high on the forward deck the cheering among the horns could still be heard.
The band was formed up on the forward helicopter deck as it was our final duty and pleasure to play Canberra into port. We had done this many times on Royal Navy ships – known as ‘Procedure Alpha’ but this was something special and completely off the scale. We played our normal selection of sailing tunes, but I doubt whether anyone could hear us over the cacophony of noise being produced by the vessels alongside and also along the shore, where thousands had gathered and were joining in with car horns and cheering. Several of the small boats came alongside with kind ladies aboard, proving they were not concealing anything by lifting their tops and showing their suntans, each of the young bared breasts producing a rousing cheer from the thousands of Marines lining Canberra’s rails. One cheer mid-flow instantly turned to a groan, the noise sounding like a football crowd at a missed penalty. The cause of the OOOHHH ! was an older lady who carried away by the moment joined in the b**b flashing, adding her own saggy salute to the task force and an etched memory, that to this day is hard to erase.
With the mass of boats encroaching ever closer to the point of being dangerous, our official police and admiralty es**rt boats moved in and kept the flotilla at a safe distance. As we passed several of the larger cruise ships at their berths, each of them saluted with their ship’s horns and Canberra replied in turn. Slowly edging up the Solent towards her home port and own berth, Canberra was also joined and saluted by fireboats spraying a water salute high into the air.
We continued to play music until we were virtually alongside the dock and mooring lines thrown to the jetty before the boss gave the final cut-off with his baton and with the last note played our last duty was done, we were finally finished. On the jetty was one of our fellow Royal Marine bands which took over the duty of playing Rule Britannia and we were stood down. Moving to the edge of the deck, we looked down at the tens of thousands of people lining the dockside. The police had predicted that 15,000 might show up but had stopped counting after 35,000 people passed through the barriers to the port!
We soaked up the atmosphere and enjoyed the spectacle, even managing to catch the eye of and wave to some of our colleagues in the RM band below. It would be hours before we would eventually get off the ship, so we enjoyed what we could of these last few memories aboard. I could not help but think how very different our reception was compared to the Argentines we had taken home just a few weeks ago. ‘To the victor the spoils’ came to mind. Ours was one of victorious celebration and tumultuous welcome; theirs one of quiet defeat and being slipped in through the back door out of the glare of any publicity. I preferred our way.
It took several frustrating hours before it was our turn to go down the gangway. We were cheered by the crowds, given flowers, kisses, beer and even nips from hip flasks, but what we really wanted was to see our families. Our band support from Stonehouse, Dick Ward and Don Lloyd had done a great job and organized all the wives who wanted to be here with the transport to meet us. When we found them, it was of course an emotional and physical reconnection, one that we had all been looking forward to for so long. However, it was when someone commented ‘Ah look, that little girl is looking for her dad, how sad’ that I tried to reply ‘No, I will tell you what’s sad…’ but I never finished that sentence as the emotions of the last three months overwhelmed me and I broke down in tears thinking of the people who would not be coming back and the children who, like me, no longer had a father.
We all got aboard the convoy of coaches and ebbed slowly through the throng of people in the docks, heading back to where we really belonged, Plymouth. The journey was slow, not because of traffic but because of the sheer numbers of people lining the route and inadvertently [or deliberately] blocking the roads. We had a police es**rt, but there was little they could do and so we made the best of it. Other than wanting to be home, there was nothing else to do but soak up this once-in-a-lifetime experience and enjoy some of the beer being pushed onto the bus by well-wishers as we stopped in traffic. Once back at Stonehouse barracks, we quickly stowed our equipment and were then told to go home. After all we had been through and the people we had shared it with, suddenly leaving the barracks and heading home with your family brought on the strangest of feelings, but it was a good feeling!
After ninety-four days and 25,245 nautical miles; from equatorial heat to the southern hemisphere winter; through air attacks and submarines scares, from witness the dead and wounded of both sides, despite everything thrown at us, Canberra had brought us safely home!
