THIS Wednesday will mark 70 years since the worst peacetime disaster to hit Britain - the North Sea floods.

Almost 1,000 miles of coastline across Britain was damaged. Sea walls were breached in 1,200 places and hundreds died.

Canvey, Foulness and Tilbury in particular were savaged by a flood of biblical proportions as water gushed into communities, destroying home and claiming the lives of unsuspecting residents- many who were asleep.

Canvey alone lost 58 of its residents who perished in the freezing waters.

There have been many stories of courage and self-sacrifice from the disaster. One humble hero, however, whose story has remained under the radar (until now) was Sammy Sampson- and what a man he was. The fisherman helped save many lives on that dark night of the flood, and in the days following, by ferrying them to safety in whatever boat he could find. He risked his own life to carry out his own mighty rescue mission. What’s more Sammy couldn’t even swim!

His grandson Peter Bishop, 64, from Rochford, proudly recounts Sammy’s story for Memories in his own words below:

“The floods were an unprecedented event that hopefully will not repeat itself- especially as people like my grandfather, Sammy Sampson are no longer with us.

“ Sammy was known as the ‘unsung hero’ by the people of Wakering for his heroic efforts to rescue around 30 people from Home Farm Camp.

“Home Farm was used to billet ex-prisoner-of-war and was abandoned at the end of the Second World War. The inmates, mainly Italian and German, returned home once all hostilities ceased. Actually, some stayed and integrated into the Wakering way of life, working on farms and the local brick fields.

“At the time of the flood it was used for temporary housing as there was a massive action to build council houses after the war to accommodate the exploding population.

“Sammy was woken by his wife in the early hours of February 1. She could hear water slapping the road outside. The moon was full and the sky clear with a gale force wind blowing from the north. Sammy looked out the window and could see the sea stretching into the distance to the sea wall, the flood waters had nearly reached his house.

“Sammy sprung into action, he dressed in his warmest clothes and jumped into his sea boots. Being a keen fisherman he had all the necessary clothing. As he left the house he took a pair of oars with him, thinking he might need them. It turned out to be a good idea.

“He made his way towards the camp, constantly hearing wails and screams. The camp had been completely flooded, nearly up to the rooftops. Some people had been roused by a young man returning from a dance at the memorial hall and a local PC, a Mr Griffiths.

“They escorted some people out of the camp to St Nicholas’s church, onto high ground. Sammy soon found the water’s edge, about 500 yards from the camp and luckily a small boat, a ‘flattie’, drifted past. Sammy commandeered the boat and set off into the raging wind towards the camp. Once he fought his way there he saw loads of people, mainly in night clothes with blankets, sitting on the roofs of Nissen huts. Some had as many as seven people huddled together for warmth, with the sea water lapping at their feet.

“Sammy began the gruelling task of ferrying the survivors from the roof tops to the Churchfield, where the fire service and locals were waiting for them.

“As the boat was so small, Sammy could only take one adult and child at any time. Each journey was taking 20-30 minutes and went on all through the night into the morning. Several other boats were found and joined in the rescue.

“ Sammy had many close scrapes and confrontations with the frightened frozen survivors, who tried to crowd into his boat. Sammy’s greatest fear was he couldn’t swim! If the boat had been sunk, he would have drowned.

“He was ex Navy (five years in the North Atlantic during WWII) and merchant seaman, but had never learned to swim.

“One of the huts was to haunt Sammy for the rest of his life. A family was trapped inside and when Sammy rowed to the hut, he smashed a hole in the roof.

“Looking inside he saw a man with a child in each arm, a boy aged four and a girl about two years old. He asked the man where his wife was: ‘She left some time ago’ was all he could say. Sammy gathered the children from his arms, the boy’s blue face was in the water and Sammy could see bubbles coming from his mouth.

“Another boat had joined him with a nurse aboard. They took the children from Sammy and rowed them ashore as quick as possible. Sammy hauled the father out of the hut and rowed him to safety. The boy was pronounced dead on arrival at the hospital. The little girl was put in an incubator, surviving her terrible ordeal. She is still alive today.

“That was not the end of Sammy’s flood exploits. Foulness Island had lost all contact with the world and people were getting worried for the islanders. The following day Sammy rowed a larger boat he’d found to Havengore Bridge, to rescue a family trapped there.

“Unfortunately the boat was not as sound as the flattie. On the return journey the boat started taking on water. The passengers found a tin and started bailing the water out but they couldn’t keep up with the water pouring into the boat.

“They managed to get to safety but with the last two people the boat sank as they touched land and they all struggled ashore, soaking wet. Sammy often laughed about that episode, but the rest was one long nightmare.

“Sammy still wasn’t finished. The following day he and his son-in-law, Cyril Bishop – my father- decided to row to the island again, using his own boat this time.

“On the way they came across an abandoned DUKW (amphibious truck used by the army). The vehicle had picked up some people from Foulness the day before, but had caught its propeller on barbed wire. The soldiers and passengers stayed in the DUKW all through the freezing night until they were themselves rescued.

“Cyril undressed and dived into the cold waters, unravelling the barbed wire. They started the vehicle up and made their way on to Foulness. They picked up over 30 people and took them back to Great Wakering.

“Once they had ensured the people were all safe, Cyril drove the truck to the Shoebury barracks. He wasn’t welcomed with open arms as he expected, but threatened with arrest for stealing the Queens’s property! The officer in charge sent him off with a flea in his ear. He had to walk a couple of miles, in the middle of a miserable night, back home.

“The camp was never used again for accommodation after the flood. It was demolished and all signs of its existence have now vanished. It was the beginning of the baby boomers era. Most people from the camp were moved into the new houses built in Twyford Avenue and then Mercer Avenue.

“Several men were awarded honours by the Queen for their endeavours during the floods and rightly so. Many were known to have worked over 24 hours to rescue as many people as possible. The conditions were horrendous with a freezing cold wind battering the coast non-stop.

“Sammy never asked for anything and never received any acclaim for his brave actions in camp hell, as it was later known. Many people from the camp would have lost their lives, without Sammy’s quick thinking and bravery. But he will always be remembered by the survivors, especially the little girl who owes her life to him.

“I am writing a book at the moment, a fictionalised account of the events at Home Farm Camp. Should any profits be made from the publication, they will be used for a stone memorial to the victims, to be erected at the entrance to where the camp was sited. This will be done with Ann Grigg and her husband. She was the little girl who my grandfather saved. I have known her all my life.”

Peter has written the book as a personal tribute to those who died in the floods.

As for Sammy, he died in 1996 aged 91. Peter, a retired IT expert and scientist, said he will always be grateful for his granddad.

“As a kid he was a giant of a man, 6’4”, a tough hard working man,” said Peter.

“I was frightened of him when I was very young. But once I got in a boat with him aged around eight, we spent a day fishing in the Thames and it all changed. He was a quiet rock who enjoyed winding us all up, constantly playing tricks on us. “I spent a lot of time with him as a child. He was what you might call a surrogate father to me. He took me fishing in a boat on the Maplin Sands telling me stories of his past, like the camp rescue and that started a beautiful relationship, teaching me to fish, sail, rebuild boats and poaching (with ferrets to catch rabbits!) that we used.

“Its a shame my own children never got to experience him like I did. They would have seen his other side. I shall never forget him and that’s why I’m writing a book about him, so he will not be forgotten.”