The wind cuts across the flight deck of HMS Prince of Wales with the kind of force that carries more than sea spray—it carries meaning.
The smell of jet fuel mixes with salt and steel. Forklifts whine, chains rattle against the hull, and orders rise above the din. The ship is alive, humming with purpose.
Carrier Strike Group 25, Operationa HIGHMAST, the United Kingdom’s most significant naval deployment in recent years, will stretch from the High North to the Indo-Pacific. At the centre of it all is this vessel—HMS Prince of Wales—and the crew who now call her home.
But this isn’t the story of a warship alone. It’s the story of the people on board, those about to leave everything behind.
“My job is to get this incredible machine, and these incredible people, ready,” Captain Will Blackett tells me, his voice firm yet reflective as we speak atop the ship’s towering structure, the roar of preparation echoing around us. “Five days’ notice. Any mission. This time, it’s Operation High Mast.”
His words aren’t rehearsed—they’re lived. He’s describing the moment we’re both standing in.
The last time I met him, the ship was in Liverpool. That weekend, families and friends had come aboard, wandering the hangar in awe, parents clapping sailors on the back. The mood then was one of open excitement. But now, the tone has shifted. The excitement has matured into something deeper—something weighted with responsibility and emotion.
“Now it’s all added up to this,” he says, pausing for breath. “We’re about to leave. We’re not coming home till just before Christmas.”
There’s no easy way to describe that. There’s pride, certainly. But also sacrifice. The kind that doesn’t make headlines but changes lives.
“My own family are going through the emotions,” Blackett admits. “That’s sadness. That’s anticipation. That’s the challenge of being away eight months. But… I joined the Navy to do this. And now I get to command a key part of the most high-profile thing the Navy’s done in a long time. Professionally? It’s incredibly satisfying.”
He doesn’t need to say it—but I see it in his eyes. He’s ready. The crew are, too.
Everywhere I turn, I see that quiet readiness. Sailors checking stores, engineers inspecting kit for the third or fourth time. And then—just as often—I see moments that catch in the throat: a shared laugh, a photograph being slipped into a pocket, a brief glance toward the horizon.
Later in the morning, I meet ET Davis and ET Thompson, both Weapons Engineers. Young, focused, and surprisingly open, they speak with an energy that’s hard to miss. Davis will be working sensors for the first half of the deployment, then transitioning to upward communications later. Thompson, also a WE, grins when asked about the months ahead.
“It feels good,” Davis says simply. “We’ve known about this for a while now, so it’s nice to actually kick it off.”
Thompson nods in agreement. “Planning after planning after planning… it’s been stressful. But now things are moving. It’s happening. That’s a good feeling.”
When asked what they’re most looking forward to, the answer comes fast and in unison: “Japan.”
“It’s a place not a lot of people get to go to. It can be expensive, it’s far—so to be paid to go there? That’s rare for us,” Davis adds, smiling. You can feel the anticipation in their voices—not just for the travel, but for the meaning behind it. It’s a deployment. A chance to represent their country abroad, to show the world what Britain’s Navy can do.
These sailors won’t just be loading kit and manning systems. They’ll be ambassadors in uniform, quietly projecting power, discipline, and capability in places far from home.
I ask Captain Blackett what message this strike group sends—not just to allies, but to adversaries. He turns and gestures to the flight deck, stretching behind him.
“Potency,” he says. “That’s the word. This is a potent capability. From high-end combat ops to soft power defence engagement—we’re ready.”
Then he smiles slightly, as if he already knows what I’m thinking. “You tell me—how’s it feel to stand here? It’s impressive, isn’t it? That feeling is what I want to inspire. Whether people come to this ship for good reasons or bad ones—they need to see that we mean business.”
And they will.
Because while the jets and missiles matter, what matters most is this: the people who keep them flying, keep them fuelled, keep them moving—day and night, thousands of miles from the world they left behind.
When I was onboard, HMS Prince of Wales was still in the water. But the energy aboard her isn’t still at all. Ahead of her sailing today, it’s a rising tide of momentum, courage, and something more ancient: duty.
When she sails, she will carry more than just aircraft and armaments. She will carry a piece of everyone left standing on the quayside, waving goodbye. And she will carry forward the quiet promise that no matter how far, no matter how long—they’ll be back.
Good article George. The day of sailing is an emotional day. Excitement. Sadness of saying goodbye to loved ones for so long. Getting one last opportunity to speak to your girlfriend before you are out of mobile phone range. Getting everything ready for sea. Trepidation of what might be store ahead over the months. And you generally come back a slightly different person. Especially if it is your first long deployment.
Hi folks hope all is well.
Let’s hope they keep safe and in the event of any skirm, as ever no doubt they will prevail and deal with in the most professional way as always by our magnificent military!
Cheers
George
This “moderation” issue is becoming tiresome. How can posts offering to earn money be allowed, when my post is awaiting moderation?
Cheers
George
George, notice how the spam posts have gone away?
The moderation is the temporary solution.
What about the Submariners? I guess such deployment timescales are standard fayre.