My year as a commercial bell diver on the E.W. Thornton was one of the most memorable of my diving career. The Thornton was a historic, large twin-hull catamaran offshore drilling rig built for Reading & Bates Exploration Co., operating in the Gulf of Thailand.It was my very first offshore commercial diving job, and stepping onto that rig marked the beginning of a completely new chapter in my life. The work was demanding, the conditions could be unforgiving, and every day brought new challenges and lessons.Our rotation began every two weeks with a fixed-wing flight from the old Changi Military Airport in Singapore to Songkhla, Thailand. From there, we would travel offshore to the rig, where we lived and worked for the duration of our hitch.That year aboard the E.W. Thornton gave me enough stories to last a lifetime.Over the coming weeks, I’ll be sharing the true experiences of my first year as an offshore commercial bell diver in the Gulf of Thailand. Some are funny, some are unbelievable, and a few are genuinely harrowing—but every one of them happened.The series will include:* The day my supervisor was caught with drugs at Singapore Airport.* Swimming alongside a whale shark.* Witnessing the Vietnamese boat people and the heartbreaking scenes that have stayed with me ever since.* Removing a boat that became trapped beneath our twin hulls.* Swimming with giant remoras that seemed determined to follow divers everywhere.* Bell diving with TriMix and diver recoveries.* Deep air dives where nitrogen narcosis left me feeling dangerously drunk.* Life aboard one of the world’s most unusual drilling rigs.* Stabbed in the leg with a Buck knife and a deep cut on my hand * And many more stories from a year spent living and working offshore.Commercial diving in the early 1980s was a different world. Safety standards were improving, but the work remained demanding, the environment unforgiving, and every dive carried real risks. These are my memories of that remarkable year—told exactly as I remember them.

After leaving the Royal Navy and while waiting to head offshore, I worked as a salvage diver recovering armour plate from the wreck of HMS Argyll at the Bell Rock, off Arbroath.HMS Argyll was a Royal Navy cruiser that ran aground on the Bell Rock reef in October 1915. Although it wasn’t my first wreck—I had worked on several during my time in the Royal Navy—it was certainly one of the most memorable.The wreck lay close to the famous Bell Rock Lighthouse, and I even had the privilege of going inside for a cup of tea. The lighthouse keepers were always pleased to see us, especially when we brought them newspapers from the mainland.Each day we sailed from Tayport aboard a trawler, towing a large barge fitted with a crane. The barge had been converted to lift the heavy armour plate from the seabed and store it in its hull before returning to port.Our job was to place explosive charges to separate the thick armour plate from its steel backing. The first few dives after each blast were always the same—the seabed would be littered with dead fish. Before long, though, the fish seemed to learn and kept well away whenever we were working.Although HMS Argyll lies in relatively shallow water, the strong tides and unpredictable North Sea weather made it demanding work. Every dive required careful timing and respect for the conditions.One day we were lifting a massive 12-ton armour plate from the wreck. As the crane swung it towards the barge, a large swell rolled through and the plate suddenly moved beyond the edge of the hold. The weight hanging over the side was enough to start pulling the entire barge over. For a few terrifying moments, it looked as though we were going to capsize.Fortunately, our crane driver reacted instinctively. He released the crane cable to save the barge, but as the cable paid out it came to a violent stop on the winch drum. The enormous force caused the cast-iron drum to explode, sending shards of metal flying in every direction around the crane driver. It was nothing short of a miracle that he wasn’t struck. Had he hesitated for even a second, we could have lost the barge—and possibly lives.One of the highlights came when I managed to gain access to one of the ship’s storerooms. It was like stepping back in time. Inside were white metal bearings, silverware, pocket watches and tiny brass padlocks of every size, all lying exactly where they had been left more than sixty years earlier. It felt as though the crew had only just walked away.The days were long, the work was physically hard, and the North Sea rarely gave us an easy shift. But I thoroughly enjoyed it. It was a unique chapter between my military career and my years working offshore as a commercial diver.Looking back, I feel incredibly fortunate to have been part of the salvage of HMS Argyll. It wasn’t just another diving job—it was an opportunity to work on a remarkable piece of British naval history, and get an opportunity to visit one of the oldest lighthouses it’s an experience I’ll never forget.

I thought I’d tell you the story of my final days in the Royal Navy, serving aboard HMS Reclaim.For those who don’t know, HMS Reclaim was the Royal Navy’s deep diving and salvage ship. She was also the oldest serving ship in the Navy at the time, and she had a long and distinguished history. For a Clearance Diver, serving on Reclaim was something special.Like every ship, though, she had her characters.Our skipper decided one day that he wanted to inspect the ship’s hull himself. Now, considering he had a team of highly trained Royal Navy Clearance Divers on board, you’d think he’d simply ask one of us to do it.But no…He decided he was going to dive himself.Well… it didn’t exactly go according to plan.Before long he’d managed to lose his weight belt, his diving knife, and by the time he climbed back aboard, he’d lost most of his dignity as well.I remember thinking, “That’s why you leave the diving to the divers.”To be honest, I never rated him very highly. In my opinion he was a bit of a buffoon, and that episode certainly didn’t improve my opinion.Then came the day I was leaving the ship.I was called to the skippers office he as I was leaving he called someone from personnel and said something along the lines of, Harte is leaving “Open another box of baby divers and send one across.”I suppose he thought it was funny, but I found it pretty unprofessional. After years of training and operational service, reducing someone to a throwaway joke as they leave wasn’t exactly the send-off I’d expected.Not long afterwards I discovered something that completely changed the direction of my life.I’d always believed I’d signed on for six years in the Royal Navy.It turned out I’d actually only signed for three.That meant I had a choice. I could sign on again… or I could leave.After giving it some thought, I decided it was time for a new challenge.Leaving the Navy was a much bigger adjustment than I’d expected.One day you’re part of a close-knit team with a clear purpose. The next, you’re a civilian trying to work out what comes next.To be honest, I felt a bit lost.The offshore diving industry was quiet at the time, so there wasn’t much work available. To pay the bills I ended up doing civil engineering work. It was a world away from the Navy, and let’s just say there were a few interesting moments—including one day when we almost managed to blow up a jetty!Thankfully, things eventually began to change.An opportunity came along to work on the salvage of the wreck of HMS Argyll at the Bell Rock Lighthouse. That job marked the real beginning of my commercial diving career and led to some incredible adventures.But that’s a story for the next episode.If you’ve enjoyed hearing about life as a Royal Navy Clearance Diver and the transition into commercial diving, don’t forget to like, subscribe and leave a comment. I’d love to hear your thoughts, and I’ll see you next time for the story of salvaging HMS Argyll at Bell Rock.