Way back in 1950, as National Service was coming to an end, the last consignment of Royal Navy recruits were assembled at Victory barracks Portsmouth prior to their two year engagement.

After collecting ill fitting uniforms and a visit to the demon barber, next on the agenda was an intelligence test. It was here we realised that we had amongst our group either a total nut case or a man of genius!

O'Toole, a budding newspaper reporter from Yorkshire was given a series of wooden pegs, some round and some square. The idea was to fit the round pegs in the round holes etc. Not Peter! In front of the RN shrink and keeping a staight face, he spent about half an hour trying to force the square pegs in the round holes. Other officers were called to witness this feat and only when they had given up in despair, and called off the test, a hugh grin appeared on O'Tooles face.

Petula Clarke was appearing at the theatre at Southsea during our initial training and as I had met her prior to joining the RN, Peter and I turned up at the stage door and managed to get front row seats. During the performance, she left the stage, sat in between us and sang "Sailor" her No 1 hit at the time. I often wonder if this prompted O'Toole into his future thespian activities!

After the initial six weeks basic training, all the signalmen and telegraphists were sent to HMS Mercury near to Petersfield in Hampshire. Mercury was a land station situated on a Roman Camp site. Apart from a very large mansion (officers only) it had a scattering of Nissen Huts and about a thousand acres of woods.

Very few stories about O'Toole came out of Mercury and it was not until the course completed and we both turned up on HMS Montlclare at Rothesay on the Isle of Bute did things start to hum!

O'Toole joined HMS Montclare sometime in 1951. She was sister ship to the Montcalme which received notoriety as the ship on which Crippen was arrested before the war. Depot ship for No. 4 submarine flotilla, she sat in Rothesay harbour with "T" and "S" class submarines tied alongside. O'Toole loved women and Rothesay had it's fair share. Somehow he found out in the early days that if one was in possession of a certain piece of paper signed by the boat officer it would be possible to borrow a sailing dingy in which to take the local girls on picnics on the loch! To obtain this document you had to prove that you could sail the boat around Montclare. For someone with no knowledge of seamanship this was nigh impossible. Undaunted, O'Toole climbed into the dingy under the watchful eye of the Boat Officer and when his back was turned he literally dragged the boat around Montclare using whatever ropes and tackle were hanging over the side appearing sometime later from whence he had started.

O'Toole was the only member of the ships company to be allowed to go ashore in anything other than boots. Keeping a straight face, he explained to the ships doctor that he had a hereditary ingrowing toe nail and as such he could be injured for life if he had to wear boots. At a later stage, he aquired an imaginary curvature of the spine and was allowed to sleep in a camp bed rather than the conventional hammock.

When off watch, he could be found reading Shaw and Shakespeare when all others were getting their education from "The Razzle" and similar magazines. It was O'Toole who indroduced me to Stephen Potter!

Edward Grahame Godfrey (EGG) mentioned in O'Toole's biography is alive and well and sends his regards to the man! He can remember the many games of Rugby that they played whilst in Rothesay and also the Pygmalian attempt by O'Toole in trying to teach a young geordie signalman to speak the Queen's English with "How now brown cow" ! Next episode includes the visit to Sweden...!

As as radio operaters, EGG and I were never quite certain what "Flag-waggers" like O'Toole did when on watch. All we seemed to do was to send the football results by morse code to the submarines on excercise under the arctic ice caps. I hope he did not get the blame for the Montclare's missing white ensign, that came back to Leicestershire in my kit bag !

It was always understood that the Montclare had been anchored in Rothesay Bay for so long that she could not possibly move due the large amount of empty bean cans underneath her hull! However, the Admiralty decided in a moment of madness that she should put to sea and after a few circuits of the Isle of Arran in the Irish Sea, head off in the direction of Copenhagen where she eventually tied up with four subs alongside the Little Mermaid. Our time ashore was spent either at the Tivolli Garden fairground or visiting the local breweries where O'Toole could be seen sampling the various nectars.

Leaving Copenhagen, we made our way to Karlskrona in Sweden. Visibility was so bad that we had to lay off shore for several days. Eventually, O'Toole and I were sent in the Captain's pinnace which was guided into the small harbour by the Montclair's radar. I was receiving directions by radio, passing them to O'Toole who then shouted instructions to the coxswain of the pinnace. When we got ashore, we gave ourselves a days survivors leave and spent most of it unashamably staring at the wonderful Swedish girls in the town. As night should have fallen, but this was Sweden and it was still broard daylight at midnight, it was party time in the hills. Music, dancing unhibited Swedish blondes and as much illegal liquor as you could consume. O'Toole was in his element and all was well with the world.

We sailed to Stockholm a few days later where we had a hero's welcome! We were the first British warship to enter the harbour since the second world war. It seemed that the whole of the city turned out to see our boats and every one wanted to invite a British sailor to their homes. The Swedish Navy sent out an invitation to the ships crew to join them in the town hall for a hugh banquet with dance music supplied by the Marines' band. It was here that O'Toole met a very atractive dark haired girl. Being the perfect gentleman, he walked her home at the end of the dance and after being introduced to her parents, he stayed the night and at breakfast it transpired that her father who owned one of the largest shoe shops in Stockholm was so impressed with O'Tooles manners that he took him to the store and gave him six new pairs of his most expensive shoes. A large photograph of O'Toole and the girl appeared in the Stockholm newspaper and may still be in the archives.