It was Albert’s good luck to have sailed on the Group 1 T-class submarine between the two disasters.

But he served with many of the crew who died in the second sinking, and their loss still grieves him.

His time at sea also saw one sub he was on targeted and presumed sunk by "friendly fire", and another in a high-speed collision with an enemy submarine.

Then there was the time he might have joined a sub that was lost very shortly afterwards.

HMS Thetis had not even gone into active service when she sank during sea trials in Liverpool Bay in June 1939, with the loss of 99 lives.

Just four of those aboard survived.

The sub was salvaged, repaired and recommisioned as the Thunderbolt – and "Knocker" White found himself drafted as a member of her first crew.

"In fairness to the Admiralty, we were all given the chance to pull out," says Albert, who will be 90 in November.

"But of course, none of us did.

"This was a challenge, and the chance for a bit of excitement, and we weren’t going to pass that up."

His hairiest time on Thunderbolt was when she was escorting convoys across the Atlantic.

The weather was so rough that a torpedo attack from a German U-boat seemed unlikely, so the sub simply ploughed on on the surface with the rest of the flotilla.

This had near-fatal consequences when a trigger-happy gunner on a British armed merchant cruiser opened fire on her.

He knew there were U-boats in the area, and his plan was to shoot first and ask questions later.

"You’re nobody’s friend if you’re a submarine," Albert shrugs.

"But we dived out of danger’s way, and that was that until we got a message from the Admiralty asking if we were all right.

"The ship that fired on us had reported ‘Have engaged and believe hit a U-boat’, and then given our exact position.

"That set alarm bells ringing back at base."

Happily, the Thunderbolt sailed serenely on to Halifax, Nova Scotia, where the lads felt almost blinded by the bright lights after the blackouts of home.

With submarines being lost at an alarming rate, Albert was transferred from the Thunderbolt to help train incoming crews.

Life was cheap in the Senior Service at that time, but Albert was still stricken when he heard of the loss of the sub with all hands in the Mediterranean in March 1943.

"I’m not ashamed to say I cried," he says.

"There were still quite a few of the originals on board, including the captain and chief petty officer.

"She was a noble vessel, manned by the finest officers and crew of the submarine service.

"I think we all believed we had been hand-picked to serve on her after she had been recommissioned from the wreck of the Thetis.

Albert served on several submarines after that – the P511, "a load of rubbish" on loan from the United States, HMS Seraph, another favourite, and then the Statesman and Shalamar.

It was on the Seraph that Albert used up yet another of his lives.

"One night, off Italy, we were on the surface when our navigating officer spotted an Italian sub.

"Dive! Dive! Dive! With our klaxon blaring, we crash-dived and turned.

The problem was, the Italian sub did just the same thing, and while we were still going full speed into the dive, at 300ft we crashed solidly into her.

"There was not exactly panic, but we couldn’t claim to be cool, either.

Our bow was severely damaged, and it took a lot of skill to get her back under control.

The good thing was that we weren’t holed, so after a time-lapse we surfaced and hightailed it away."

They reached Bone, Algiers, where Albert had yet another lucky escape.

"We were told that damage to the Seraph was pretty bad, and the crew would have to be sent home," he recalls.

"Of course, the prospect of leave is always music to any seaman’s ears, but the sub HMS Tigris was also there at Bone, and my opposite number aboard her begged and begged me to swap with him.

"He said ‘I’m married and want to get home to my wife.

"You’re not, so it’s not as important for you."

"But I wasn’t going to give up the chance of a passage home.

"Sad to say, Tigris was sunk by a German torpedo chaser off Capri in February 1943.

"Of course I felt sorry for that chap, and his wife as well – but I was still here."

Albert, who became a boy sailor 73 years ago, in 1936, was born and brought up in Widcombe, Bath, and swears he never saw a ship before he joined up.

Not even in Bristol?

"Not even in Bristol," he laughs. "But I made up for it after that!