Prince William

by Penny Junor

  ‘It doesn’t sound very many shifts,’ says one of the team, ‘but it’s very stressful because it’s foul weather and you have to work out in double quick time how you’re going to get there, how you’re going to make your fuel last, how long you can stay over the target area, how many people you can carry, how many you have to rescue, what you strip out, etc. They tend to group them in three watches, so three lots of three, or two of three, and that will be twenty-four hours on, twenty-four hours off, so it lasts for a short week, then a gap for three or four days to have a rest, concentrate on your other work, do your helicopter training – training flights continue where you practise with the mountain rescue teams – and then you go back on watch for three days.’

  When the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh came to visit RAF Valley in April 2011, William gave them a personal tour of a Sea King – and his grandmother nearly had her hat blown off in the 50 mph wind. The media followed and he spoke about the job: ‘It’s definitely advanced flying and it’s rewarding, so put the two together and it’s a fantastic job. It’s rewarding because every day you come into work you don’t quite know what’s going to happen, it’s quite exciting in that sense, it’s unpredictable. But at the same time it’s great that you get to go out and actually save someone’s life, hopefully, or at least make a difference to somebody; when you know that they are in trouble, you do everything you can to get there.’ The team, he said, was a ‘big family in the sky’ and he felt ‘very privileged to be flying with some of the best pilots, I think, in the world. The guys do a fantastic job and they are very happy to do it. It’s a job but it’s emotional, it’s physical and it’s very demanding.’ At times it could get ‘hairy – especially with someone like me at the controls,’ he quipped. But more seriously, what was hairy, he said, was ‘flying at night in 40-knot winds over Snowdonia with the cloud at 200 feet searching for someone with a broken leg.’

  William has been involved in dozens of rescue missions during his time at Valley – search and rescue teams are called out five to six times a day. But perhaps the most dramatic and dangerous was in November 2011 when the Swanland, a cargo ship with a Russian crew of eight, started to break up and sink in the Irish Sea. It was about twenty miles off the coast, carrying 3,000 tons of limestone, when it was hit by a massive wave in a force 8 storm. The ship’s back was broken by the wave and it was taking on water when the captain put out a Mayday call at 2 a.m. on a Sunday morning. The crew scrambled from base shortly afterwards, as did crews from elsewhere, including the Irish Republic and several lifeboats and an Irish naval vessel. Two other cargo ships also went to the rescue. The Valley team was the first to reach the scene, by which time all that was left of the ship was a scattering of debris and an inflatable life raft with two sailors clinging to it. Sadly six men lost their lives that night, but William played a vital role in saving the lives of two of the crew members. While their Sea King struggled in the strong winds to hover overhead, with 40-foot waves beneath them, William and his team plucked the two men from the icy water, winched them to safety and took them back to Valley.

  It’s not hard to see why William has been so happy living on Anglesey. ‘He’s loving it, wallowing in it,’ says one of the Household. The job gives him immense satisfaction. And it is another small and protective community that allows him to live a normal life, as St Andrews did. He and Kate can go for long walks across the fields – and now they have a little black cocker spaniel to take with them (the offspring of the Middletons’ dog). They can do all the normal things the rest of us take for granted. They can wander into shops, browse in galleries, drink in pubs, eat in restaurants, pick up groceries in the supermarket, go to see a film and, for the most part, no one turns a hair. It is six to seven hours from London and outstandingly beautiful. He has been renting a very modest cottage off the base, hidden away in the countryside, which is completely private. He lived there on his own initially, doing all his own shopping and cooking and, apart from a cleaner coming in to tidy up, was looking after himself. Friends came to stay and Kate was a frequent visitor and, since their marriage, it has been their principal home.

  KEEPING THE MEMORY ALIVE

  It must have been about five years ago. William and his old friend Thomas van Straubenzee were chatting. His parents, Alex and Claire, were thinking about setting up a charity in the name of their late son Henry. William immediately asked whether he could be its patron. Harry, who happened to be within earshot, asked if he could be patron too since Henry was his friend. So it was that in January 2009, the Henry van Straubenzee Memorial Fund was launched with William and Henry as joint patrons – possibly the only charity that has ever had two Royal patrons.

  Since Henry’s death, his family had been wanting to find some way of ensuring that their much-loved middle son was not forgotten. The collection at the thanksgiving service at Harrow had raised an astonishing £6,000, which they decided should go to the school in Uganda, Bupadhengo Primary, where Henry was due to have worked with Asia Africa Venture (AV). Through AV, whose motto is ‘Transforming Lives through Education’, they got in touch with the boy who had taken Henry’s place that year, Peter Gate, and he made sure that every penny of the money went directly to the headmaster to be spent on the school. It was enough to build a classroom block for sixty children. But that was not an end to it. Money kept arriving. Friends kept ringing and saying to Henry’s mother, ‘Mrs Van, what are we raising money for?’ The young wanted to do something in his memory – the first thing was a canoe race from Devizes to London, then there were polo matches, university balls and marathons, 600-mile bike rides and concerts. More and more money arrived for Henry.

  At first Alex and Claire thought of putting it into a scholarship in Henry’s name at Harrow, but felt that wasn’t quite personal enough. They went out to Uganda, where a little money, in western terms, goes a very long way. Peter Gate, inspired by his gap-year experience, had set up the Ugandan Rural Schools Initiative, under the umbrella of AV, and in the end they decided to join forces. The Henry van Straubenzee Fund raises money for projects and schools identified by Peter’s Initiative which goes directly to the schools. They are currently helping over 18,000 children in twenty-five schools in Uganda, and the difference they are making is abundantly clear.

  The launch was at the Troubadour, a bohemian café and basement club in Earl’s Court Road, where Jimi Hendrix, Joni Mitchell, Bob Dylan and Paul Simon all played in the 1960s. Reading his speech nervously from cards, William said he was ‘delighted’ to be involved and that it was one of the ‘easiest decisions’ he had ever made. ‘Having lost someone so close in similar circumstances, Harry and I understand how important it is to keep their memory alive. There’s no finer way than that Alex and Claire have chosen. This is the first charity of which we have both become patron and it couldn’t have been a better one, as Henry was such a very close friend of ours and because we believe so strongly in the need to alleviate poverty and assist development in African countries.’

  Harry, also reading falteringly from cards, said, ‘As some of you know, Henry was one of my greatest friends and his death was truly shocking. Henry would be so proud of his family for what they are doing in his name. Everything that’s going on in Uganda and the way they are carrying his memory on is remarkable.’

  Their confidence has developed in leaps and bounds since then, and at the charity’s annual Christmas carol service in London last December, which is always a sell-out, Harry delivered a touching and very funny tribute to Henry. And having Pippa Middleton, Kate’s younger sister, hand round the mince pies and collection box afterwards did no harm at all to the funds.

  Harry finished his helicopter training and was awarded his wings at the Army Air Corps Base in Middle Wallop in May 2010, and despite his earlier worries about insufficient brain power, was accepted to fly Apaches. The man in charge of training him was deeply sceptical at the outset and, according to someone who knows him, ‘quite cross that he had been landed with Harry
on his watch. He thought there was no way he was going to fly an Apache. He loves Harry now. He’s deeply impressed by him. There’s no side to Harry; he doesn’t expect any special treatment and the guys all love him. He really struggled with the academic stuff but put his head down and forced his way through it and now he’s one of the best Apache pilots of the lot.’

  As someone who knows the Princes very well says, ‘Harry can’t pass an exam in his life but my God he can fly a helicopter. He flies an Apache better than anybody else on his course. You don’t get to be an Apache pilot unless you’re in the top ten per cent and if you’re heading the course, you’re a really exceptional flyer. He’s a romantic. He’ll be the sort of soldier who’ll start to read poetry when he’s thirty-five, that sort of guy. He’s a fantastic wit, he’s hysterical.

  ‘William’s a steady bloke, unemotional and unflappable. That’s why he’s doing search and rescue; he doesn’t get massively excited about stuff. His way of approaching life is considered. Harry’s an adventurer, you just have to look at the helicopters they fly, they sum them up. William’s flying a huge mountain of a helicopter that would go through storms and be battered left and right and just keep going. Whereas, Harry is, turn off the computer and fly the thing at 150 knots over the treetops. It’s an Apache, that’s what it’s all about and it’s completely instinctive.’

  William became patron of another charity close to his heart in 2009. The Child Bereavement Charity (CBC) of which Julia Samuel, one of his mother’s good friends, was founder patron and trustee. She used to live very near Ludgrove and has four children, two of whom are exactly the same age as William and Harry. Diana would often take both boys to stay with them on exeats from school, where they would muck in with the rest of the family, or they’d do fun things in London, all go to the movies together or to a concert at Wembley. When she launched the charity in 1994 (strictly speaking, as co-patron), Diana had taken a step back from public life but she came as a friend. She helped Julia with her speech, took her off to find a suit to wear, sent her flowers, and although she was never a patron, she remained interested and supportive. There was a year during which Julia heard nothing from Diana (cut off, like so many of her friends), which she never really understood, but the friendship resumed as suddenly as it had ceased.

  CBC’s work is twofold: providing support and education. They support families which have lost a child, and children who have been bereaved either by the death of a parent or a sibling. And they train professionals – doctors, teachers, midwives, health visitors, coroners, police – anyone who comes into contact with families in which a child has died or been bereaved. As Julia explains (which is interesting in terms of William and Harry’s experience), ‘The belief is that the way in which you are supported following the death has a big impact on your ability to manage it and to prevent it derailing you and your whole family.’ A lot of research has been done, she says, which shows that loss, or a death that has never been dealt with, is a big contributor to depression, psychosis and many other mental health problems.

  After Diana’s death, Julia, who is a psychotherapist and bereavement counsellor herself, attempted to see William and Harry – as several of Diana’s old friends did – but all invitations were politely and graciously rebuffed by Helen Asprey, and so she gave up.

  Ten years later she had a phone call. They were planning their mother’s memorial service and asked whether Julia would write a piece about Diana for the programme. After the service she wrote asking whether William would consider becoming patron of CBC and was told he was too busy with his military life, but when she wrote again a year later the answer was yes.

  His patronage was announced at the launch of the charity’s Mother’s Day Campaign in March 2009, and for the first time since Diana’s death, William spoke publicly about her.

  ‘My mother, Diana, was present at your launch fifteen years ago and, today, I am incredibly proud to be able to continue her support of such an extraordinary charity by becoming your Royal Patron. What my mother recognised then – and what I understand now – is that losing a close family member is one of the hardest experiences that anyone can ever endure. Never being able to say the word “Mummy” again in your life sounds like a small thing. However, for many, including me, it is now really just a word – hollow and evoking only memories. I can therefore wholeheartedly relate to the Mother’s Day Campaign as I too have felt – and still feel – the emptiness on such a day as Mother’s Day.’

  His decision to talk about his mother in such a personal way guaranteed fantastic media coverage, which achieved exactly what the charity is about: raising awareness so people know where to go for help, and with his involvement there have been many more hits on the website and many more families have come to seek support.

  He can also raise money in a way that few people can. He has said he will do one event a year for CBC, which is no more nor less than he does for all his other charities, but that one event can make a huge amount of money. In November 2011 (on the eve of his engagement), he hosted a dinner at Windsor Castle for the charity’s high hitters. William made a short speech in which he thanked his grandmother for allowing them to be at Windsor Castle – and for trusting him with the keys for a night. Once again, he clearly spoke from his own experience. ‘Bereavement is rightly seen as a time of intense private grief. But this is often misinterpreted as meaning a time of solitude, a time to let the bereaved sort themselves out on their own. I know that this is very far from the reality of what’s needed. The wonderful staff of the Child Bereavement Charity also understands this instinctively. A little non-intrusive help and understanding can make all the difference to people, young and old, going through what is one of the most traumatic times in life.’

  That night they raised £280,000 in donations; one person gave £100,000. No previous dinner has ever come close.

  DOSSING DOWN

  On the morning of 16 December 2009, the residents at Centrepoint’s hostel in Soho’s Greek Street came down to breakfast to find Prince William in the kitchen, apron on, cooking their breakfast alongside the chef. While they were comfortably and safely asleep in their beds upstairs, he had been sleeping under a cardboard box close to the Embankment in sub-zero temperatures.

  The idea came to him in very different surroundings. During a dinner for Centrepoint he’d hosted for donors and celebrities at St James’s Palace nine months earlier, one of them mentioned that he had taken part in a Sleep Out in Leadenhall Market. Fifty donors had spent the night in sleeping bags to raise money. It was a fun event, attracted publicity and was a good fundraiser. ‘You wouldn’t dare do that, would you?’ said Seyi Obakin, Chief Executive of Centrepoint. ‘Of course I would,’ said William. ‘Then I’m going to take you up on it,’ said Seyi.

  Later in the year William said, ‘If I’m going to do Sleep Out, I don’t want to do a fun Sleep Out event, I want to do it properly and get a feel for what a young person really experiences when they have to sleep rough.’ ‘It quickly became clear,’ says Seyi, ‘that our fundraising, comfortable-as-it-can-be sort of Sleep Out wouldn’t work. So on the night of 15 December – I remember it very well because I decided to do it with him, having instigated this thing – four of us set off at about midnight: myself, Prince William, Jamie and one police protection officer. It was not what I had intended when I asked him to do it – and if the truth be told, if I’d thought he’d say yes in which case I’d have to do it as well, I wouldn’t have suggested it! We did what anyone who had to sleep out would have to do – we looked around, found a little place where there might be a bit of shelter, in our case a set of wheelie bins, put down our cardboard, covered ourselves as best we could, and hunkered down for the night – pretending to sleep. I said it was a pity we didn’t have a camera to take a photo of this, but Jamie had a mobile phone so we used that to take a grainy picture.

  ‘We each had a sleeping bag but it was an unbelievably cold night out there; the temperature dropped to minus 4 d
egrees, but it felt colder; it was bone-chillingly cold. At about 3 a.m., a road-sweeper came by which got us all to pop our heads out of our sleeping bags and get our legs out of the way pretty quickly. We got up at about 5.45, and walked from Blackfriars to Greek Street, where we took turns to have a shower. It’s about a 45-minute walk and none of the people we passed blinked. You wouldn’t expect Prince William to be walking down the road at that time in the morning in a beany hat, tattered jeans, looking dishevelled like a rough sleeper. A lot of people have said to me, “I don’t believe you, there must have been security next door.” Actually, the anonymity was security itself. No one expected him to be there.

  ‘The 16th was our exact 40th anniversary day and we’d said we’d like him to cut a cake. So he said, “If I’m going to cut a cake, why not make breakfast?” The young people just sat down as they would normally and there was Prince William making and serving them their food. Of course they wouldn’t leave then, so they had their breakfast and stayed and he finished cooking and went and sat along with them and chatted.’Among those he chatted to that morning was a nineteen-year-old called Tres B. He had fled the war in Congo and landed up at Centrepoint. William asked him what he was doing. Tres B said he was learning to play the guitar. After he’d expressed an interest in music, Centrepoint had bought him a guitar, thinking it might also help improve his English. ‘William said, “Play something for me,”’ recalls Seyi. ‘“Oh no, I can’t.” “Go on.” So Tres B went and brought the guitar from his room and played and it was really good.