Ronnie

Gentle, tall Ronnie has earned his peace now—he rests after a life quietly devoted to others: his service, his work, his friends, and above all, his devotion to his family. His pain, and suffering, though softened by Pat’s gracious care and love, is now in the past.

Today, as I prepare for the final reunion of the Hong Kong Flotilla, my mind is filled with memories of happy times spent with Ronnie, my Leading Seaman Shipmate. Our much-loved and popular Chairman, Ronnie wasn’t overly concerned with meetings or organization, but he was deeply interested in his shipmates. He loved recalling shared adventures and reliving the fun times of their youth.

If I have one memory that stands above all others, it’s of Ron sitting quietly, sometimes smiling, quietly amused by the people and world around him. He always seemed relaxed, as though he found the whole business of life both amusing and endearing.

Those Inglewood and Trouville Flotilla weekend parties were quite extraordinary—"full on," as they say today. They were like Royal Navy rave parties for older folks! Ron and Pat led the line dancing, set the pace, organised games, and made many in their later years feel young again. Their fun and joy lifted everyone’s spirits, helping them forget their loneliness, and they left each reunion longing for the next one.

Today, we see that same mixture of Ron and Pat’s love in their children and family, especially as they come together through recent pain and this present loss. In the Flotilla, when we think of Ron, it’s impossible to separate him from Pat. Their names go together, never apart—a marvellous blend of love that continues in their children, grandchildren, and family. Ron and Pat created their ‘mixtures’ of Ron and Pat and they all sit together there in the front seats “The Mixtures” . 

I am deeply sorry I can’t be there today to celebrate Ronnie’s life. There is so much to celebrate. Ron will be with us in spirit in Bournemouth, and when we remember him, as we all will, we shall raise a toast with "up spirits" and sing "Sailing" as we too embark on our last reunion.

We, the Flotilla, are a generation of wartime kids. Growing up during that time was so different from today. Leaving our homes in a dull, blitzed, and damaged Britain, as Ron and Pat did, we joined an austere but proud Royal Navy. We are privileged to share a common heritage—one which shaped us by the Navy when we were young. It gave us discipline, duty, and a sense of adventure—we truly thought we were invincible.

Ronnie, as a young Leading Seaman on Motor Launch 1329, faced death and destruction in September 1953. His boat was the first on the scene when Motor Launch 1323, crippled and shelled by a Communist gunboat, returned with seven dead and dying crew members. Ron’s quiet and controlled demeanour, as remembered by his late shipmate Richard Davies, brought calm amidst the chaos.

Later, in 1956, again as a Leading Hand aboard a Ton-class Minesweeper during the invasion of Suez at Port Said, Ron helped clear the seas. When he discovered a sunken ship beneath his boat, which damaged his own vessel, Ron, ever the leader, took charge, instructed his crew, and made even this dangerous moment seem like a bit of fun.

There are very few shipmates left now. At this final reunion, with their families, only two "Boat Boys" remain able to attend. There’s something special about the sailors of the Hong Kong Flotilla, of which Ron was a leader. Of all the drafts in all the world, we made Hong Kong our home of lasting memories. Though our patrols were dangerous and we faced a ruthless enemy, our time ashore was legendary.

We few, we happy few, we band of brothers—those of us who survived those dangerous days came safely home, but those we left behind never grew old. Their sacrifice gave us the freedom to be here today. 

Ron set the benchmark—a terrific chum who made us smile then, and whose memory makes us smile now. His message was always to "pack up our troubles and smile."

It was a bonus for Brenda and me to know Ron and Pat in our later years. My daughters adore them both, and they always made our family happy. As I write this and remember Ron, I’m doing what he would want—remembering, smiling, and being happy.

Finally, I can picture Ron now, now on West patrol, young and invincible, at the wheel, with the breeze in his face and the White Ensign flying high—blue skies, blue seas, and, of course, that smile.

Able Seaman Peter Yeates for his beloved Shipmate Leading Seaman Ron Renshaw Royal Navy HMS Tamar Her Majesty’s Motor Launch 1329