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This story was submitted to the People’s War site by Elizabeth Perez of Stockport Libraries on behalf of Sydney Johnson and has been added to the site with his permission. He fully understands the site’s terms and conditions.

I have a very good reason for remembering Thursday 26 September 1940. It was on this day that a young colleague of mine (aged about 19) lost both his legs in an horrendous explosion. We were employees of a shipbuilding firm that designed and built motor torpedo boats for the Royal Navy. We worked in the Drawing Office of this firm (which had been moved to a small country village near Fareham on the South Coast. I was at this time Assistant Chief Draughtsman-in-Charge of sixteen or more designers and draughtsmen, with two or three apprentices, who had moved up from the engineering works. A young apprentice named Cyril Hartridge is the subject of this story.

It was customary before a boat was handed over to the Admiralty to send a draughtsman and engineer to obtain details of any last minute modifications that had taken place for the Drawing Office records. An M.T.B. had just finished all its trials and was anchored in Flathouse Yard – a small docking area situated in Portsmouth Harbour, some four or five miles from the Drawing Office. It was to be handed over to the Admiralty. Subcontractor’s employees – gun specialists and fitters etc were aboard on this day making adjustments and alterations as requested to prepare the boat for sea and subsequent action.

It was a fine day and there was no enemy action as I could remember, so I delegated Cyril to go to Flathouse Yard for the day. He went early on Thursday morning and I informed him I would join him later in the day. I decided to join him about 2pm, it was always a break to get away from the office and for a change of routine. I could have made the journey by car, but as it was a fine day and to save fuel, which was in very short supply, I decided to go by bicycle. It would probably take me about three-quarters of an hour. Whilst cycling and after I had travelled about two miles when approaching the inner reaches of Portsmouth Harbour, there was a horrific explosion in the harbour. My first reaction was that it was a mine or torpedo exploding. There were no visual signs that could give the site of the explosion and I cycled on oblivious of what might be in store. We seemed to be immune from immediate worry in those days in those days – explosions, bombs, gunfire were commonplace – we never worried unless they were near!

As I neared Flathouse Yard I could see something was seriously wrong, ambulances, fire engines and support services around and about the Yard and smoke rising up behind nearby buildings. When I arrived at the entrance to Flathouse Yard it was cordoned off and police stopped me going any further. I was then told a M.T.B. which was being refuelled at the time had exploded. There were several casualties. I was frantic with worry and appealed to the Police to let me into the yard all to no avail. I subsequently found that my young colleague, who had been on deck at the time of the explosion, had been rushed to hospital with smashed legs (later amputated) and with burns to his face and hands. Casualties were two killed.

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