Real stories Bombs, Wrecks and Oil Rigs

Stephen Harte
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Hello and welcome. My name is Stephen, and over the years I’ve worked as a Royal Navy Clearance Diver, Salvage Diver, and Offshore Commercial Diver. In these podcasts, I’ll be sharing true stories from a life spent above and below the waterline. Some stories are funny, some are challenging, and some are frightening, but every one of them is true. So sit back, and join me as I take you through a lifetime of my adventures. Thanks for listening

  1. 3d ago

    Saturation Diving Sharks Sea Snakes Close Calls E9

    From the E.W. Thornton to Saturation Diving:In this episode 9 , I continue my diving stories after leaving the E.W. Thornton and joining Oceaneering, where my diving career took me into some very different and sometimes dangerous situations.I start with a deep Heliox (Helium and Oxygen) surface dive, where I encounter a grouper while being told there are tiger sharks close by. Things get rather more uncomfortable when I’m smacked in the nuts by a thickness meter, before having to swim through an area full of sea snakes!I then join the diving support vessel YUYO off Sarawak, East Malaysia. One dive nearly turns into a disaster when I almost lose my dive partner and there are plenty of barracuda around to add to the excitement.Then comes my first saturation dive. It starts with heat, thirst and the uncomfortable reality of spending long periods living and working under pressure. My bell partner also manages to lose a sizeable patch of skin during the job.There are long days of airlifting mud in complete darkness for 6hrs a very surreal feeling. A damaged BOPs to clean, and sharks swimming around the worksite. At one point I even fall asleep on the job only for the ROV to spot me and report it to the supervisor!After 21 days I’m feeling rough, suffering from a skin infection and more than ready to get out.Finally, I tell the story of a particularly bad dive in the Middle East, where the bell wasn’t working properly. I refused to lock out under those conditions a decision that could have had very serious consequences. But led to myself and my bell partner being sacked.These are the real stories behind commercial and saturation diving: long hours, extreme conditions, close calls, strange encounters and plenty of moments you simply don’t forget.

  2. Oct 15

    Bell Bounce Diving

    In this additional Episode, I explain what bell-bounce diving actually was and what it was like to experience it for the first time as a working commercial diver.I cover how the diving bell was used to transport divers to the seabed, how we left the bell to carry out the work, the importance of the umbilical and support team, and the procedures involved in getting back to the surface.I then tell the story of my very first working bell-bounce dive — the descent, reaching the Blowout Preventer, leaving the bell and suddenly finding myself in a real working environment rather than a training exercise.For someone coming from Royal Navy clearance diving, commercial bell-bounce diving was a very different experience, and this dive was the start of discovering just how demanding offshore commercial diving could be. It also led me to my first Saturation dive.

  3. Sep 20

    Whale Shark Beneath the Rig first year offshore

    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.

  4. Sep 13

    Salvage Armour Plate from HMS Argyll Wreck

    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.

    Salvage Armour Plate from HMS Argyll Wreck

  5. Aug 30

    Leaving the Royal Navy, HMS Reclaim and why I was glad to leave

    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.

    Leaving the Royal Navy, HMS Reclaim and why I was glad to leave

  6. Aug 16

    Bomb Disposal Diver Stories: Mines, IEDs & Mishaps

    In this episode, I look back on my time serving with the Scotland and Northern Ireland Clearance Diving Team based at Rosyth, Scotland. It was a busy and varied posting, where no two days were ever the same. From dealing with wartime mines and suspected terrorist devices to the less glamorous jobs that every military diver knows all too well, there’s plenty of action and a few laughs along the way.Some of the stories featured include:* An overview of life on the Scotland and Northern Ireland Clearance Diving Team.* The day I accidentally left the bomb wagon unlocked.* Disposing of the Port Seton ground mine.* A sea mine that began crystallising while sitting on the jetty.* Two suspected IED call-outs—one of which turned out to be nothing more than a Christmas cake!* Our regular “milk runs” collecting out-of-date pyrotechnics from Coastguard stations around Scotland and destroying them.* Harbour jobs, including jumping between ships’ fenders and searching through thick mud to recover lost keys.* The major demolition operation to break up the wreck of HMS Natal to deepen the area for shipping.* Why our Chief decided we were getting soft and made us run seven miles every morning before starting the day’s diving jobs.If you’ve ever wondered what life was really like as a Royal Navy Clearance Diver during peacetime, this episode gives an honest look at the unusual, dangerous and sometimes hilarious jobs that came with the role.Don’t forget to like, subscribe and share if you enjoy hearing real stories from a Royal Navy Clearance Diver.

  7. Aug 10

    Night Attacks, Rope Climbs on to Ships and Searching for Mines

    During my Royal Navy Clearance Diver course, one of the more demanding exercises was learning how to climb from the water onto a ship during simulated night attacks. It was a vital skill, as we also trained in underwater hull searches for mines and other covert operations. A thick rope would be lowered from the focsle of the ship, hanging around 30 to 40 feet down the side. Starting in the water, you had to climb it using the old locked-leg technique wrap the rope with your legs, stand up on the lock, reach as high as you could, grab, then sit back into the lock and repeat. It sounds simple, but it was exhausting. Most of the time you could only manage it once before your arms and legs were completely finished.The hardest part came near the top. The rope would be tight against the ship’s hull, making it impossible to continue climbing normally. At that point, you had to make a leap of faith—push yourself away from the rope, reach up, and try to grab the ship’s stanchion or guard rail. If you managed to get one hand on, you had to quickly get the other hand up and haul yourself onto the deck.Not everyone made it. But there was one piece of advice the instructors drilled into us: if you miss, just let go and fall into the water. Never try to grab the rope on the way down. It wouldn’t stop your fall; it would only strip the skin from your hands as you slid back down. As tough as it was, I actually loved it. There was a real sense of achievement when you made it onto the deck after such a demanding climb.We also carried out night attacks and underwater hull searches for training mines on the same ships. At the time, there were Saudi divers training alongside us, but they refused to go into the water at night. For us, though, operating in darkness was all part of becoming a Royal Navy Clearance Diver.

    Night Attacks, Rope Climbs on to Ships and Searching for Mines

  8. Aug 7

    The Mine Raining Lumps of Steel Very Close Call

    One story from my time on a Royal Navy Clearance Diving Team has always stayed with me.We were called out to the Isle of Arran after reports that a buoyant naval mine had washed ashore.Under police escort, we raced to the island. When we arrived, the local police had cordoned off the area, but it was a glorious summer’s day. Families were still enjoying the beach only a couple of hundred metres away.Had the mine been live, they would have stood no chance. Depending on the type, buoyant mines could carry between 400 and 500 pounds of high explosive.To make matters worse, every incoming wave slammed the mine against the rocks. If it had contained explosives, each impact was another reason to be concerned.As we got closer, we breathed a sigh of relief. It wasn’t a live mine after all—it was a practice mine, filled with sand and used for training mine-laying crews.The danger wasn’t over, though. We couldn’t simply leave it there. The next tide could refloat it and carry it to another beach, causing panic all over again.Another diver and I geared up and prepared two 4-pound demolition charges. We towed the mine offshore, attached the charges, connected the Cordtex and detonator, lit the safety fuse and powered away in our boat.Then everything changed.The engine died.Instantly, we found ourselves drifting back towards the demolition charges with the safety fuse burning down.The engine cover came off in seconds as we desperately searched for the fault. Every passing second felt like a minute. Nobody said much—we all knew exactly what was at stake.Finally, one of the lads spotted the problem: a broken throttle cable. With nothing to lose, he grabbed it with both hands and yanked it hard enough to get the engine revving again.The boat surged forward, pulling us away from the charges.Then came the explosion.An enormous bang echoed across the water as pieces of the shattered mine rained down around us. Thankfully, none of the debris hit the boat.Back on the beach, a police officer walked over, shook his head and said,“You lads are brave… you were bloody close when that went off.”Trying to sound calm, I smiled and replied,“It was all under control… it always looks closer from the shore.”Then I walked straight past him in search of the nearest toilet… and after that, the nearest pub.Looking back, I learned a lot from that job. Explosive Ordnance Disposal isn’t just about technical knowledge or following procedures. You have to expect the unexpected, stay calm under pressure, trust your teammates, and remember that even the simplest job can change in an instant.Sometimes the biggest danger isn’t the explosive itself—it’s everything else that can go wrong before it explodes.

    The Mine Raining Lumps of Steel Very Close Call
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About

Hello and welcome. My name is Stephen, and over the years I’ve worked as a Royal Navy Clearance Diver, Salvage Diver, and Offshore Commercial Diver. In these podcasts, I’ll be sharing true stories from a life spent above and below the waterline. Some stories are funny, some are challenging, and some are frightening, but every one of them is true. So sit back, and join me as I take you through a lifetime of my adventures. Thanks for listening

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