Every dive was emotional – it was so easy to put myself in the place of the sailors who worked, manned and stood in the places which we recognised. While there was much of the armaments and mechanics of warfare, what affected me most were the human aspects of life onboard. The bowls, dining wear, shoe soles, door hinges, desk fan etc. were all a reminder of the day to day lives of the sailors who lived and died on the ship. I found myself thinking of the men all the time, where they would have stood or slept at that moment of death and destruction. However, on a positive side, I could not imagine a more beautiful and fitting place for them to rest. The sea life which teamed and obscured the wreck was wonderful, a real “octopus’s garden”, colourful, quiet and peaceful – a fitting memorial in its own place.

As a professional mariner I am acutely aware of the perils of a life at sea. To then understand that men went to war at sea fills me with a respect for the sailors that served on HMS Exemouth. The site itself is a technical challenge: 2 hours steam out of Wick and then an additional 60m underwater in a tricky dive. There is no doubt that the dive itself is a pleasure with clear water, the excitement of pushing personal limits and the fun of scuba diving in the company of friends. Likewise, the wrecksite is an interesting puzzle, a time capsule jumbled across the seafloor that requires concentration, observation and contemplation to unravel.

I have a good knowledge of boats so to see so many components scattered about on the seabed appealed to the engineering geek in me. But the mood that pervaded all the time in the water was the memory of the men who had been lost that day, Their ship was on brutal display, destroyed in bellicose anger and the memory of their lives scattered across the seabed, a thousand artefacts, forever on display in memorial to their last moment.
I feel a compulsion now to say what I saw and to keep the memory alive. It feels a small obligation in service of those who gave so much.

Shipwrecks provide a unique lens through which to view the past. As divers we are in a fortunate position to see maritime history through the remaining naval architecture of trade and war. Yet it is not something that it is easy to do, and it is often hard to interpret what remains on the seabed without a lot of research effort. I feel immensely privileged to have visited HMS Exmouth to help record her remains.

It is hard to imagine the horror of her sinking but we sometime get a glimpse. On one dive I found a small piece of burnt timber. I looked up and the team had moved on. For a few seconds I felt completely alone on the wreck. A long way from the surface my blood ran cold. A few seconds later I had reoriented and re-joined the others, but this was an unnerving moment.

It is times like this on a shipwreck that bring a connection to the sailors who went down with her, and what they could have felt in the final moments. It is not an easy thing to consider. Today recording the site and preserving their memory is all that we can do, but it is an important and worthwhile task nonetheless.

The sinking Exmouth is a somewhat “forgotten” event at the very early stages of WW2. In order to prepare ourselves Jen and Rich send us a big information package which also contained the transcripts of the enquiries done immediately after the disappearance of the Exmouth.

Reading the transcripts of the hearings does give one some preparation of what’s coming. Going over the statements of the Master, maybe even more those of the Chief Officer, and the rest of the crew of the Cyprian Prince sends a chill down your spine realising the events happing during that night. Diving, but especially wreck diving is challenging. This was a particularly challenging dive, both due to geographical location, and the as we found the state of the wreck.

Once the project started rolling, digging into the history of the wreck is really needed to understand what happened and what one is looking for, but also to bring the story alive. Without a story it really is just a pile of old metal, and the Exmouth certainly doesn’t deserve this label.

From the start it is was somehow clear that this is not an ordinary wreck. She went down on a chilly January morning and was lost will all hands. Some survivors were heard in the water after she went down by the crew of the Cyprian Prince, and whilst we were steaming to the location one cannot help but wonder about the poor sailors who ended up in the water there, only to see their only hope of survival, after a very brief stop, sailing away again. Once can only imaging the cries for help echoing over the water. (in some other documentation it is speculated that the Tekla, which was sunk later that day by the U22 came to help after the mayday calls which were sent that night – but that aside).

As I was new to North Sea wreck diving, the experience was calm and serene once one gets into the water. The greenish hue of the water somehow reflects a natural calmness during the descent to wreck. During every descent the realisation came that one is descending to something extraordinary, the final resting place of the souls lost that night, who gave their lives whilst defending Europe against tyranny.

Landing above the wreck a certain calmness takes over, the wreck itself looks extremely peaceful. Though the wreck itself doesn’t have a part almost in the original place, it radiates an almost zen like state. Where-ever one looks, there is life. Fish, colourful anemones, crustaceans and other life, have made the Exmouth their permanent home.
Having a maritime background very quickly a lot of parts start to make some sense, whilst, others, destroyer or deformed by the explosions(s) don’t make any sense at all. One thing remained, however. Up to that faithful night of the 21st of January 1940, the Exmouth was a living, breathing thing, manned by 180 men who had hopes and dreams, desires and wishes.

Every time I landed on the wreck; I took a short moment to remember them. This is still their home. Whenever you see a valve, part of machinery or some utensil, you can’t help but wonder that someone has worked with that part. That we might only see it again for the first time after all those years on the bottom of the cold North Sea. Each and every dive remained as impressive and loaded with healthy anticipation of being honoured to be able and allowed to dive this impressive wreck. And to remember those who paid the ultimate price. For me it’s one of the main reasons to dive, and to join projects such as these whenever possible. It is an impressive, very humbling experience. Specially in a time when both wars are slowly moving towards the background as we are losing the last survivors of World War 2. We need projects like these to keep the memories of those who fell alive. To tell their stories. To not forget why they fell.