Blossom of a life cut short

A magnolia tree stands in the grounds of Emsworth's Roman Catholic church dedicated to the memory of a former alter boy who perished in the South Atlantic.

It flowers in May - the same month that the blossoming career and life of Paul Callus was tragically cut short by the ferocity of an Argentinian air attack on HMS Coventry.

  'At that stage the names of the ships weren't released but we both had a terrible feeling.'

Marine Engineering Artificer (Mechanical) Paul, 24, was in the engine room of the Portsmouth-based Type 42 destroyer on the afternoon of May 25 when three 1,000 pound bombs tore through the ship killing 19 crew members.

The cruel irony of the tragedy is that Paul should not have been on the ship. `He had been on HMS Coventry for two and a half years and was due to leave the ship,' recalled his mother June. `His relief was already on board, but was not completely au fait with the job, so Paul stayed on a little while longer and they ended up both going down to the Falklands.'

During his time in the South Atlantic, letters from their son revealed optimism turning to fear, especially upon the loss of HMS Sheffield. In a letter which arrived after his death he confided that he and his comrades were `scared witless.'

It continued `please don't worry about me, as I think they are not posing too much of a threat to us and I cannot see them resisting an invasion once our troops have landed, if South Georgia is anything to go by.'

But after a career in the Royal Navy spanning 35 years, Paul's father Brian Callus was well armed with technical information, had mentally assessed the risks and was apprehensive about Britain's prospects in the conflict.

He knew the Argentinian air force posed a grave threat with wave skimming fighter bombers and lightning sorties screaming out from behind land cover. But nothing could prepare him for the devastating news that Paul - the youngest of his three sons - had been killed.

Mr and Mrs Callus were living in Africa when the conflict flared in the South Atlantic in 1982. Brian Callus, who had retired from the Royal Navy in 1974 with the rank of Lieutenant Commander, was working as the electrical engineering manager of the Zambia Sugar Company.

`We were listening to the BBC World Service and picked up the news that two destroyers had been hit,' recounted Brian. `At that stage the names of the ships weren't released but we both had a terrible feeling.

`Then they disclosed that one of the ships was a sister ship of HMS Sheffield. Well that narrowed it down to HMS Coventry or HMS Glasgow. Then on a much later bulletin they said it was Coventry and at that time we had absolutely no way of knowing whether Paul was a survivor or not,' he said.

  'I would be looking at people celebrating their survival. I didn't begrudge them that - but I didn't find it easy to cope with.'

The couple's hopes were raised only to be later dashed when a telex initially did not have their son on the list of casualties. `I still had a pretty bad feeling about it,' confided Brian. `The following morning when I went to work the general manager came into my office with a piece of paper and I could see from his face that it was bad news.'

The casualty list had been revised and the last name on it was Paul's.

Brian drove back to his house, where his wife June was playing tennis in the cool of the Zambian morning. She only needed to take one look at her husband to know her worst fears had been confirmed.

The couple immediately flew back to their Emsworth home to comfort their two other sons, Stephen and Peter, who had arrived from Miami, and Paul's young American widow Cindy.

A memorial service was held for Paul and about 400 people packed the church at Emsworth. A magnolia tree was planted in his memory and a commemorative plaque was made at HMS Collingwood.

It was to be a particularly harrowing time for Mr Callus as within a week of his son's death he received word that this mother had died, and on returning to Africa he was further traumatised when he disturbed a burglar in his home.

He had returned to Zambia three weeks afterwards as he found the media attention too oppressive, and he couldn't bear to watch the televised tumultuous homecoming welcome for the survivors. `I would be looking at people celebrating their survival. I didn't begrudge them that - but I didn't find it easy to cope with.'

And now, 15 years after Paul's death Brian and June Callus are still tormented by the illogical feelings of guilt. `Paul had spoken about leaving the navy and I wanted him to stay on longer to gain more experience,' said Brian, 72.

`When he was a young apprentice I remember him saying that he felt he was being well paid for what he was doing. And I remember telling him that one day he might well have to pay for it.'

Mr and Mrs Callus, who are now both retired, live in the Dorset village of Winterbourne Whitechurch, and have asked us to convey their heartfelt thanks to all those who sent messages of condolence following Paul's death.

‘Too good for this earth’

Two weeks before the bombing of HMS Coventry, June Callus had an uncanny premonition of her son's death.

She was in the lounge of her Zambian home when she said out loud to a guest `Paul's not coming out of this alive'.

`Of course, she told me I was just being silly, but I could not rid myself of the feeling,' said June.

It was not to be the first time she had feared for the safety of her youngest son, a former pupil of St John's College, Southsea - whose birthday, January 10, was to coincidentally become Margaret Thatcher Day in the Falkland Islands.

`As he was growing up I sometimes looked at him and felt that he did not have long for this earth. There was no medical evidence to support this - I suppose it was just intuition.'

She added, `He was such a lovely boy - too good for this earth.'

Premier’s words of solace for a family

Within days of his son's death Brian Callus wrote to Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher urging her to make sure the Falklands campaign was successfully completed so that Paul's sacrifice should not be in vain, and offering his support.

He received a reply on official Downing Street stationery, which had been written on June 14 - the day of the Argentinian forces' surrender.

Her letter read as follows:

`Dear Commander Callus,
Thank you so much for your inspiring letter of 5 June. I know that nothing I say will make up for the loss of your son. But he gave his life for very important principles, and that will never be forgotten. I am determined that Argentina should not profit from its aggression, and your prayers and support mean a lot. With all my sympathies.'

Added to this was a handwritten paragraph which stated:

`And today we have received the news we have been waiting for and it is all due to men like Paul. A sad, but proud day for you.

Yours sincerely,
Margaret Thatcher.'

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