Today marks 82 years since a ship was destroyed by a mine off the coast of Kent, and then later crashed into Deal Pier in bad weather.

Here, David Chamberlain recalls what happened on that disastrous day during the Second World War.

Early on Monday morning January 29, 1940, the small Dutch vessel, Nora, lay uncomfortably at anchor in a southerly swell.

She was a small ship of 298 tons and had a cargo of 317 tons of straw boards.

Her voyage from the port of Harlinger had been a rough one and she was temporary berthed in the Small Downs anchorage awaiting clearance orders to sail to London.

Snow had been falling steadily all night and had covered the little coaster’s deck.

The motor vessel holds were tightly battened down against the inclement weather, and some of the crew huddled into the confines of the wheelhouse, drinking coffee.

Although the seamen were used to the cold they felt as though their blood and stamina had thinned somewhat with the thought of the weapons of war that surrounded them.

The mines, being the unknown factor, played on their fears.

Anything that could be seen could be avoided; however, what lurked beneath the surface was terrifying.

To the seamen it was like sitting on a time-bomb.

The strong ebb tide was slackening and the southerly wind was picking up when a contact mine brushed against the Nora’s stern.

In the galley the cook took the brunt of the explosion.

The stern of the little ship was lifted out of the water and the galley was demolished.

Pots, pans and the cooking stove were momentarily suspended in the air as they were wrenched from their brackets.

A large hole appeared and the cook, in the confusion, only just managed to crawl to safety as the cold sea poured in.

In the wheelhouse Captain Brinkman and the mate staggered backwards as the glass from the windows burst inwards.

Blood was splattered around the binnacle and wheel as the deadly shards ripped into the Dutchmen’s faces.

They lurched about blinded and dazed.

Meanwhile, the seaman who had been making his way towards the wheelhouse was catapulted off the slippery deck and into the cold grey sea.

The hole that the mine had made was large and the jagged ends had imploded into the inside of the hull.

At this moment the Nora quickly started to sink by the stern.

Two Admiralty tugs sped to the stricken ship to enable them to take off the wounded men.

There became urgency in their actions when the coaster tilted and sank lower in the water.

The Nora’s engineer, who was the captain’s brother, assisted the British sailors in saving the crew.

They found that the cook was the most severely injured.

He could not stand as the blast had fractured his legs and he had taken a beating with the flying pots and pans.

The captain and mate were unrecognisable, blood covered their faces and clothing – nevertheless, they were still standing.

The Dutch engineer searched the small craft for the missing seaman but gave up on the command of the tug’s captain.

The hypothermic, but fortunate, man was rescued from the sea half-an-hour later by a patrol vessel.

The tugs hastily secured wire hawsers to the Nora, which had seemed to have maintained some buoyancy – possibly because the cargo of straw boards was keeping her afloat.

Then they towed her towards the shoreline, close to Deal Castle, and with great difficulty she was beached upon the foreshore.

The local boatmen watched this manoeuvre with shaking heads.

A couple of old salts remonstrated with the naval officer who had seemed to have taken charge.

They told him that the spring tide was making and a southerly gale was starting to blow.

The lieutenant looked at the longshoremen in bewilderment and scorn.

Again they tried to reason with the arrogant fellow.

They stated that high tide would be in two hours time, at 20 minutes past two, and with the gale of wind it would sweep the wreck off the beach and onto the pier.

With an outward show of distain, the officer dismissed the men and sought shelter from the freezing conditions.

In amongst the flurries of snow the seafront became crowded with locals looking at the new addition to the beach.

They watched as the tide made and started to cover the half sunken hulk.

The southerly gale helped the surf crash up on to the beach, scouring the shingle away from the high water mark.

The hulk of the Nora started to move with the violence of the surf – she slowly bobbed with each wave and then drew off in the backwash.

The flood tide had got a hold of her, and with the wind, the half submerged ship started to roll towards Deal pier.

By now the seafront was crowded with hundreds of onlookers braving the cold to get a front row view.

The boatmen mingled with the locals and relayed, to those interested, that their warnings to the Admiralty personnel had gone unheeded.

"Acting as a giant battering ram the ship pounded the remaining pier piles until she made a breach through to the other side...'"

Many of the people agreed that the authorities should have taken more notice of the boatmen, as they had local knowledge.

With an audible crash, which was heard above the roar of the gale, metal grated against metal as the Nora hit the cast iron pier.

At first it halted the progress of the ship and a brave pier attendant looked down at her as she surged in the surf.

It took up to six collisions before the first pile of the Victorian pier gave way and the attendant made a hasty retreat.

Acting as a giant battering ram the ship pounded the remaining pier piles until she made a breach through to the other side.

The tide was starting to fall and the Nora bounced on the bottom in the surf.

Just 50 feet north of the mangled pier she rolled over on her side and settled into the shingle, as the sea receded further.

At low tide, the following day, Admiralty surveyors clambered over the hull, which was displaying the painted Dutch flag skywards, and declared her as a total loss.

Tons of shingle entered the hulk and settled it further down into the beach – this time she did not move.

With the threat of invasion, the authorities declared that the Nora had saved them the job of demolishing the pier to stop any landings that could have been made by the enemy.

Even some of the boatmen secretly had no regrets with its destruction; they and their fathers had disliked its construction as it hampered their sailing boats and restricted the shot of their drifting sprat nets.

After the war, in 1947, the council felt they had to do something about the eyesore.

Being on the beach and close to property, the Admiralty could not destroy it by their usual method – explosives.

The rusting wreck was sold as scrap and cut up in situ and carted away.

In 1974 a local scuba diver, Johnny Rees, discovered the bell from the meagre remains of the shipwreck.

There was some confusion until it was realised that the name of ‘BERENT’ inscribed on the bell was the Nora’s previous name.