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The Face of World War Two

Published Wednesday 6th July 2005

Frank Kettle (RN Retired) at his home, looking over WWII 60th Anniversary information in the run up to National Commemoration Week

Frank Kettle is one of the faces on the front of much of the PR material being produced by the MOD WWII Team

Frank Kettle (RN Retired) with his wife Bet outside his home

Frank Kettle really is the man on the Clapham omnibus. The face of this Second World War veteran graces 60th anniversary posters on buses and buildings around the capital. He told his story to Lorraine McBride, deputy editor of FOCUS, the newspaper of the Ministry of Defence.

WAR made you think like a man. I was 15-years-old when I took the King's shilling. Before the war, I was a sea cadet and I decided if it did come to the push and the war lasted a bit, I'd join the navy. Mother said: "It's up to you son, if you want to go."

At Lambert House I met this old torpedo chief and said: "I've come to join the Navy, sir." He thought I was a bit young but invited me in, took me into a dark room and told me to describe what I saw when he flicked a switch.

"I can see a white masthead light, a port light and a starboard light."

"Hmmm," he said, impressed, "Clever."

After a medical, I signed up for 12 years, held my hand out and someone put a shilling in it with the King's head on the back.

Just after my 16th birthday, I got a letter asking me to join HMS St George on the Isle of Man. At Douglas, a Royal Marine band played, we all fell in and they marched us to Cunningham Holiday Camp. For the next 12 weeks, we were Nozzers – that's new entrants. We did 26 weeks in training.

My first pay packet felt like a fortune. I took my hat off and recited my number. They put the shilling in my hat, I'd put my hat back on and disappeared to buy a stamp and write to my mum.

After training, I had to stay behind to teach the next set of Nozzers. Other boys were sent to HMS Royalist or the Submarine Service. Most went down on the Royalist when she got torpedoed off Italy. I could have been one of them.

By 1941, the war was well underway and my new ship HMS Sheffield was sent to Malta to support the fleet with our heavy guns.

At Salerno, we opened fire on the top of the mountains and wiped out a few German tanks and infantry. Then we headed for Naples. My job was in B Turret. As shells dropped in the tray, we rammed them in.
Next we followed a convoy to Russia. On 20 December, Rear Admiral Burnett sent a signal that he'd heard that the Scharnhorst was at sea and he hoped we'd sink it.

On Christmas Eve, we were closed up in the turrets all day. On Christmas morning at 10.30, we spotted them on radar.

HMS Belfast illuminated Scharnhorst, opened fire and knocked out her radar. Christmas lunch was a cup of soup. On Boxing Day, we finally picked her up and she was heading straight for us. We opened fire. The Duke of York fired from 22 miles away, hit her and the Scharnhorst turned turtle.

The only time we thought about danger was when a ship called the Glowworm sunk and we picked up only 30 survivors from over 2,000. Back at Scapa, the whole British fleet cheered us. Camaraderie was good and we'd chat about our runs ashore, the ships we'd served or the birds we met.

Later, I joined a ship called Swiftsure which was still being built in Newcastle. I had to find lodgings, but the first four places I went to didn't allow smoking, drinking or girls and everyone had to be in by 10 o'clock. I went to have a pint, and me a dear old lady who said she had a spare room while her son was in Canada. She said I could use it. I called her Ma and she provided me with beautiful breakfasts. At work on the ship, I had to follow the welders around with a fire extinguisher. At the end of the day, we sat down and she lifted her mask up and I thought: "It's a bloody woman." I had to laugh.

During leave, I met my future wife Bet at a sea cadet dinner and dance. I helped her wash up, took her to see Fred Astaire in Top Hat and we've been married 56 years.

Our ship visited Nagasaki 10 days after the bomb fell. We could see miles of devastation. Factories had toppled like packs of cards. I'll always remember seeing the imprint of a man praying burnt into stone by the blast. Bodies lay all over the place and the smell was awful.

When we came back from war in August 1947, Bet didn't recognise me. I walked down the gangway right up to them and said, "It's me." We went to the PO's mess and had tea before going home.

Since retirement, I've got more involved with the Royal Navy Association and the Burma Star Association. I go every weekend have a beer with the boys and "swing the lamp". We all talk about the navy.

Now I'm working on a laptop trying to record my story from childhood up to the present for my grandkids. I didn't want to but they insisted and eventually they wore me down.

Related articles:

Commemoration of the 60th Anniversary of the end of World War Two

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