Table of Contents for Bits and Pieces     

1. SPECIAL EVENTS IN HMS MERCURY
2. SMOKING COULD DAMAGE YOUR HEALTH BUT JOHN PLAYER AND SONS MADE IT LOOK ATTRACTIVE FOR SAILORS!
3. RESEARCHING per se AND ESPECIALLY NAVAL RESEARCH 1205 - 1992
4. THE 1956 SUEZ WAR - A COMMUNICATIONS OVERVIEW
5. ADEN WITHDRAWAL NOVEMBER 1967
6. NOT LIKE INVERGORDON  - BUT A MUTINY FOR ALL THAT! 
7. DOES SIZE REALLY MATTER? THE TALLEST BUILDINGS AND THE LARGEST SHIPS IN THE WORLD COMPARED TOGETHER
   
   

1.     SECTION ONE - CHARLES AND DIANA   [SECTION 2 BELOW: DROXFORD ROAD KNICKER PATROL]

In July 1981, just after his engagement to Lady Diana Spencer, HRH The Prince of Wales, visited HMS Mercury.  His visit, arriving in a helicopter of the Queens Flight, which he himself piloted, was to have been private.  However, much to everyone's SHEER delight, he sat the helicopter down on the broadwalk adjacent to the wardroom's rose garden, and guess what?  Yes, he had brought Diana with him.  Mercury was on a great high anyway, but to bring his future wife really was 'icing on the top of the cake'.

Although the day went well and was a qualified success, one thing puzzled me, and does to this very day, over twenty two years later .  It had long been tradition in the Royal Navy, that when a senior officer or a VIP visited the ship/established, the Captain would trawl the ships company to find out if any of its members had previously served with the visitor. Those that  had,  would be re-introduced either in a group, or individually when being inspected or during a walk-round at their place of work/duty.  On this occasion, for some inexplicable reason it didn't happen, this, despite that Mercury had several officers and men who had served with the Prince.  I was one of them, having been with HRH in a classroom, at sea in HMS Jupiter and at Lord Mountbatten's funeral. 

The Prince and Lady Di, as she was affectionally known in the early days, had several functions to attend that day, and one of them was a visit to the Warrant Officers Mess to meet an invited audience of senior ratings and their wives.  Beryl and I attended that event which was conducted in a large square room in which the Prince walked clockwise and Lady Di anticlockwise, talking with members of the mess as they passed.  The Mess President was Leslie Murrell MBE and he was the host attending upon the Prince introducing personnel and answering the Prince's questions. Leslie had had the honour of being in charge of the coffin bearers at Lord Mountbatten's funeral when laying him to rest in his grave within Romsey Abbey, at a ceremony attended by the whole of the Royal family.  The events of those years were still very tender for us all, and in particular, for the Prince who had lost a great Uncle.  I think that Leslie too, had been a little upset about the breaking of tradition on ex-ship introductions, and as the Prince came nearer to my position, Leslie leaned over to the Prince and forewarned him of my presence.  In great anticipation I awaited his presence, and whilst still a few walking paces away, the Prince uttered in a raised voice "Mr Dykes, how nice to see you again."  Whilst I was concentrating on the Prince and his questions about my service career and my on coming retirement, I was very conscious that Leslie was happy now [as I was] that we had, after all, got to meet HRH personally:  the Prince knew that, we knew that, and all around, including the officers who had broke with tradition, knew that.  HRH chatted to me and to Beryl for some time and remembered me well [how could he not?] from our previous service together.  I was extremely proud and very grateful to Leslie who had 'engineered' the meet!  Lady Di, coming her way around, also spoke with us for some minutes.  On returning home that day, Beryl wrote down the conversations to record for posterity.

Here is the visit programme. 

             SECTION TWO - HMS MERCURY DROXFORD ROAD KNICKER PATROL!!!!

I have just tweaked the plan of Mercury [last picture above] - see tweaked picture below -  to add in a few details of the 'old days' at Leydene.  My tweaking goes back to the late 1950's and adds [or complicates whatever your view] to this plan which omits the SCU buildings [behind the drill shed] possibly for security reasons. It is interesting to note that when I did my petty officers course in the late 1950's, south camp, i.e., all below the main Droxford Road, was almost barren having just the following buildings of substance: Mountbatten Block/Bungalow/Old Garage block with training classrooms and the Main House.  Over to the right of the picture where the 'new garage block' is was South Camp training area, a collection of Nissan huts stretching from Droxford Road to where I have put "civilian bits", to the Church, and down into the area between Droxford Road and Main Drive Road heading towards the Main Gate Sentry Post.  Even in 1969 when I did my Radio Communications Instructor [RCI] course, we were instructed in Automatic Telegraphy [AT] in a Nissan hut adjacent to the 'old' Sentry Box, which by that time had been pulled down. Nissan huts were very basic and so were the amenities within - seats, tables etc. They were products of utility manifest in the shortages caused by the second world war which touched our daily lives in almost every way.  They were unheated but had a stove and chimney.  The policy of whether they were lit or not was left to each Section [cryptography, organisation, wireless telegraphy procedure, AT etc] and their instructors.  However, I can remember being detailed to light them and to fetch and thereafter maintain, a stock of fuel [coke] but it was a great [and dirty] effort for little reward.  Mercury seemed to attract cold weather and the stoves were inefficient and virtually useless - they achieved their maximum heat output just as instructions were finishing.  Fortunately, our messes were in the newer blocks sited along the Crescent Road and they were centrally heated.  In harsh winters, we used to race back to our mess just to get warm.  Incidentally, as I have stated below, Crescent Road blocks have been used to accommodate all types of personnel over the years, with, at one time, seniors rates, albeit for a short period.   They were essentially messes for ships company male junior rates, and the New Entry trainees lived in blocks where the supply block is now. That same little area housed the camps post office.  The post mistress, an elderly civilian lady, was an oracle and knew everybody in the Clanfield/East Meon areas, including all the admirals and captains.  It was well known in the camp that there were certain people who you didn't upset, service and non-service, and she was one of them.  The plan of the camp below, for ease of reference only, assumes that the top of the picture in north.  The plan is complete to its northern, western and southerly borders [except for the captain's house and its supporting sites [it had its own sewage farm], but is incomplete to the east.  The land area where I have marked "Old OOW" became narrower and narrower the further east one travelled, until it virtually disappeared and the Droxford Road met the Main Drive Road, at which point, the main gate to HMS Mercury was sited.  Just across the road from the Main Gate and to the right, was the Hyden Wood complex .  In this area there was a large sports pitch area which was boxed-in by the Droxford Road, the Hambledon Road [to the famous cricketing pub the Bat and Ball] and the main road running between Clanfield and East Meon.  Behind it, and neatly tucked-in underneath a clump of trees, was Hyden Wood married quarters, the MQ's for senior officers.  Other officers lived in MQ's distant from the camp, and the nearby village of Lovedean provided MQ's for ratings.  However, towards the end of my career in 1983, the vast majority of officers and senior ratings where living ashore in their own homes in local areas, thereby, taking the pressure off our MQ's Officer, dear old Arthur Shreeves, an erstwhile communicator.  Before I finish, I want you to look at Dreadnought Block, which was the 'modern' area for training sparkers whilst North Camp was the 'less modern'.  To build it, they knocked down a WRNS junior rates block which ran parallel with Droxford Road, and which together with the Bungalow to its immediate south [WRNS senior rates], and a live-in floor on which  WRNS stewards [junior and senior rates] plus WRNS sick bay staff lived to the 'deep' south in the Main House/wardroom mess, formed Mercury's WRNS quarters. These were ships company WRNS [cooks, stewards, writers, drivers etc] and not communicators, who lived in the village of Soberton [Soberton Towers].  They were bused to and from Mercury each working day, a round trip of about 10 miles.  After Soberton Block commissioned, all WRNS came to live in Mercury or if already in Mercury were re-messed; the Bungalow was decommissioned and reassigned, and Soberton Towers was shut down, sadly for the proprietor of The Pinky, the pet name for the pub across the road from the Towers, who for many years, had profited from the many matelots who had come-a-courting!  It was a long walk between Mercury and Soberton, and I have to admit that I did it more than once. Now I am not a man given to be crude especially in print, but I want you to remember [those of you who are my age] and to believe [if you are younger] that young ladies of those far off days didn't do what [I am told] young ladies of today do so willingly, and therefore a walk to and from Soberton from East Meon [approximately 10 miles] got you a necking session, or, at best, a grope of the upper body only.  How we have all grown up since?  Click here to see a map and distance of the treck  .  Anyway, back to the reason I started to mention  all this, namely what stood where Dreadnought block was erected.  The WRNS junior rates mess was so close to Droxford Road, that when their windows were open, a person innocently walking in the road, could not but fail to see inside the building.  This became a source or annoyance to some of the girls, but to others, it became a tease.  On more than one occasion, the windows of their drying room, bedecked with knickers and bra's, were opened to their maximum, the hinges straining against the wall of the building.  Whilst Droxford Road was always a public road and regularly used by vehicles transiting between the local villages, it was equally used by sailors marching across it [north camp to south camp] or along it [south/north camps to messes] where "eyes left or right", depending upon direction of travel was ordered when adjacent to the drying room windows.  Pedestrian traffic increased many fold along this road where other routes around the establishment were quicker, easier and certainly less boring than Droxford Road, not to mention less dangerous because of the road traffic.  Men from the accommodation blocks in Crescent Road, especially from the nearest blocks like Kempenfelt etc., took 'recreational' walks along the road from roughly where I have shown OOW [at road side of the Admin Block]  to the beginning of Mountbatten block, failing in their duty to walk on the side of the road facing the oncoming traffic, slowing their pace, and increasing the zoom function of their eyes, to stare upon those scanty panties on passing the windows.  Clearly they couldn't be so audacious and overtly stop to have a better than average view: or could they?

As time went by, the authorities started to clamp down on this behaviour, where it could be argued that the girls, or some of them, were the protagonists, egging the men on with the big tease.  The windows were still opened, but were mechanically restricted to about 45°, and the hedging plant planted between the grass verge and the side of the building proper, was allowed to grow.  All was now under control, though the men's minds were not necessarily so, and the road returned to its former role as a boring non entity.  Then one night, a sailor, or a group of sailors, decided to revisit the now slightly open windows of the proverbial drying room, to reach in and to take as many pieces of lingerie as time would allow, and then make off with them as trophies.  Whilst the plan was probably conceived with fun in mind, its execution put the fear of God into the minds of the WRNS because if a hand could come through a window into a common area, surely one could come through into a bedroom,  bathroom or other private area, and any where in their block, even away from the road side.  The idea of having personal clothing paraded as spoils of war was also non too pleasing, and joking apart, did much to offend our fellow female sailors, damaging their morale.  Something had to be done once and for all.  As so many pranks do back-fire, so too, did this one. The authorities decided that there would be a DROXFORD ROAD PATROL, and set about creating an unpopular extra duty watch task which would see a sailor patrolling part of the road outside instructional times Monday to Friday, and during Saturday and Sunday, and in all weathers.  That patrol was maintained right up to the girls being re-housed in their new mess, Soberton Block, and it became known as KNICKER PATROL throughout the camp.  Why Soberton Block changed things remains a query.  I do remember quite vividly the effect of having Soberton Block on the men, many of whom were in my division.  It did their morale a power of good.  Mercury was a 'normal' place during the working week because it had lots of young females going about their business be it under training or in support services. But at teatimes and for the whole of each weekend, they disappeared, visibly affecting the men's attitude to the camp.  Without a car, they were very restricted.  Men liked the former but hated the latter. The former, whilst they couldn't touch, was natural and pleasing: the latter was unnatural, unpleasant and made them want more than ever, to touch!  Me and my type were what the men called "good kids" because we were at home with our families. So, having girls around twenty four hours a day, touch or not touch, pleased the men and Mercury 'came to life'.

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THE STORY BEHIND JOHN PLAYER AND SONS AND THE ROYAL NAVY - WELL AT LEAST FROM 1956!  WHY 1956??

Question.  Did you signed one of these? This page comes from my paybook of 1960 which is a replacement paybook marked "fair wear and tear re-issue".  Clearly, I did.  In my tool box I have five tins [for screws etc] marked tobacco for personal use, do not etc etc, the contents therein being roll your own duty free issue. We used to smoke 'blue liners' when based ashore, and 'HM Ships Only' proprietary cigarettes when based afloat - mind you its nearly 40 years ago since a touched one.  Whilst the first two sources of baccy were largely unknown [they used to say that the contents of the blue liners were the sweepings from the deck after a days working making proprietary cigarettes] proprietary brands covered the whole spectrum of cigarette manufacturers both in tins [for self rolling and pipe] and in cardboard packets.  One of the biggest proprietary companies was [and is] the John Player and Sons company, and I remember my dear father who looked forward to me coming home on leave bearing gifts, and particularly his favourite Capstan full strength [without filter tips], which today, would be classified as 'darn right dangerous', puffing away on 40 a day. I really should have known better! What follows is the John Player and Sons version of their association with the Navy, loosely, or otherwise.

John Player & Sons Logo.

The Player's Sailor

Contrary to popular belief, the sailor's head does not represent any particular individual, but was simply an artist's conception for an advertising design and later used for the trade mark in 1891. Contrast that with this HMS CHEVIOT where the sailor's head was of a known serving sailor.

Originally the sailor had only one stripe on his collar. Later two stripes were introduced and these remain to the present day. The correct number is three. But as the design was registered with only two, legal advice was sought, and it was decided that no alterations should be made.

The Origin of 'Navy Cut'

For more than a hundred years before 1953, seamen in the Royal Navy were allowed to buy tobacco leaf duty-free. They formed this into a roll and pressed it by coiling a thin rope tightly round it. When they wanted a smoke, they unwound the rope a turn and sliced off a pipeful or pressing plug.

Pressing and slicing is still the basic process used for Player's Navy Cut Pipe Tobacco today.

The Three-Decker is HMS Britannia

When Queen Voctoria came to the throne in 1837, HMS Britannia was one of the biggest ships of the line. She was a wooden three-decker, carried 120 guns, could sail 9 knots in a fair wind and in fact was not very different from Nelson's ships of the line.

HMS Britannia, HMS Hero (on the right of the sailors head) and the sailor himself were formed into the current Player's Trade Mark in 1891 {see the picture in the main logo above}..

The Player's Sailor's Ship

Is referred to in his cap-ribbon. She was HMS Hero. Cruiser. Built 1885. Two ten-inch guns. Two six-inch guns. Twelve small quick-firing guns. Follow the sailors nose and you'll see her. [That is Player's version - here is another from a different web site "The battleship HMS Hero was launched 27th October 1885, she differed from HMS Conqueror only in that all four of her 6 inch guns were mounted on the superstructure. At the end of Hero's career it was used as a target from November 1907 and was finally sunk off the Kentish Knock on 18th February 1908."

A Curious Error on the Sailor's Cap-Ribbon

If you look, you'll see that the ship's name 'Hero' on the sailors cap-ribbon appears without the letters HMS. The reason for the omission is that they were forgotten in the original drawing, and since the Trade Mark was registered without the letters, it was never possible to add them.

As a matter of interest, there have been three ships in the Royal Navy named Hero. 

This picture, regrettably of poor quality, shows some of the advertising captions used by John Player featuring sailors and the Navy. Note particularly the sailor with his back to us and the caption saying "turn your back on all but players".

In 1980, the Captain of HMS Excellent Captain R K S Bethell OBE FBIM Royal Navy,  published a booklet to commemorate 150 years of his establishment from 1830.  In it he put the Royal Navy's side of the story, and supported it with this picture .  He went on to say and *. 

 Amen.

*This is the Nottingham referred to, D91, having a piggy-back-ride back to Portsmouth from Australian waters

How are these for prices? e.g., Duty Paid In decorated tins of 50 = 2s 3d [11¼p] : On HM Ships = 1s 6d [7½p]

From an auctioneers magazine.  Recognise him? He's the friendly, weather-beaten sailor who has been the logo on millions of packets of Player's Navy Cut cigarettes since 1927. This oil painting by Arthur McCormick (1860-1943) is estimated to fetch £7,000-£10,000 in Bonhams' maritime sale in New Bond Street on Thursday 15 August 2004 (11am and 6pm, lot 450 of 454 lots). It was the basis for one of the most successful and enduring advertising images of all time.

On the cigarette packets, framed within a life belt, the sailor is gazing out to sea and has 'Hero' on his cap, not the 'Invincible' of the painting. HMS Invincible, one of the fast, much-vaunted battlecruisers of the post-Dreadnought era, was sunk at the Battle of Jutland in 1916, with heavy loss of life - a fact that Imperial Tobacco chose not to point out to customers used to equating tobacco and the glamour of the Navy.

The sailor has travelled more in the past year than at any time during his decades in the WD & HO Wills collection of tobacco memorabilia. Imperial Tobacco dispersed the collection this year, to auction houses and museums in Bristol and Nottingham. McCormick's painting is a museum piece if ever there was one, but it was consigned to the Bristol auction rooms in May, where a canny private collector bought it for £3,335 against an estimate of £2,000-£3,000. And thence to Bonhams, where, three months later, the trophy is expected to top £10,000.

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3. RESEARCHING THE ROYAL NAVY [or indeed any subject on earth!]

I have used, and continue to use research tools, merely out of interest, and for the pure enjoyment of getting information.  The proverbial reference library is very hard to beat, but more and more, information technology is taking over, and I find it exciting.  Naturally, I got to wonder whether or not the information Technology [IT] tools available from your own computer, were common knowledge, so just in case they are not, I have added this little cameo hoping that some of you will get started to delve into data bases, especially those run and owned by the government.

The subject which encompasses this data is the PUBLIC RECORDS OFFICE, the PRO, and in this country, they  and the British Library, must be the ultimate data bases.

Their web site is easy to find http://www.pro.gov.uk/catalogues/procat.htm, and by and large, easy to use - practice makes perfect!  At the PRO they run an enormous CATALOGUE which is fittingly called PROCAT. Once inside their website, just look for PROCAT and you are half way there.

The best way I can describe a research task to you, is to mention something you already know a little bit about - I am sure that there are many things you know a great deal about as well.

The NAVY per se, and in our case, the Communications Branch erring towards W.T., things, is my subject.

ALL Records of the Admiralty are under a CATALOGUE called A D M .= Records of the Admiralty, Naval Forces, Royal Marines, Coastguards and related bodies from 1205 until 1992.  Those dates in themselves are pretty impressive don't you think?  Once there, you simply open and shut the required file by clicking on the crosses or minus signs.

Inside the ADM catalogue, you will find divisions  covering all aspects of Naval life. Below is the current list.

Within these divisions are sub divisions which break-down each division above, into useable parts.  Below is the sub division of the first named division above, namely of the Records of the Navy Board and the Board of Admiralty from 1563 until 1985.

Below shows one what is in the first named sub division above, and so on.

Now, whereas all the divisions and sub division affect all of us in the navy, I just want to show you what is inside the division called "Records of research Establishment", which you will observe is the division fourth up from the bottom of the top table.  Here it is below, known as the 200 series.

Now look at the fourth entry down from the top. Admiralty Surface Weapons Establishment and predecessors Records, and again I show it below.

This is where the mechanics of the W/T branch were decided.  Note the entry, second up from bottom, Admiralty Signal School, or, as it was known H.M. Signal School. There are other titles here which will be familiar to you, like Radio Communications for example.  But Admiralty or H.M. Signal School, which was in Portsmouth.......is that, or was that, the same as the Signal School which was too vulnerable in Portsmouth because of German bombing and which re-located to Leydene near Petersfield  [HMS MERCURY] in the early years of the second world war, and is now in Fareham [HMS COLLINGWOOD] ?  Look below to the break-down of the Admiralty Signal School and to its content.

This is all that is in the Signal School sub divisional report.  However, it clearly states the ASDIC 'SECTION' so one assumes that there were other sections.  There were indeed, but everything that happened there was of an experimental nature and had very little to do with training operators for the Royal Navy Communications Branch.  It covered RADIO and RADAR experiments, trials and testings where operators where required, but the FIRST CALLED, Signal School was very different from the Signal School we all knew, and of course, know now. Moreover, it was not the School of Signals which re-located to HMS Mercury. Look at this pad and ink stamp mark It reads Confidential Book Officer H.M. Signal School Portsmouth ! It is dated 14 Jun 1946.

If we now look at Radio Communications in the table immediately before the one above, we see the following:-

which holds little interest to the vast majority of our readers, but then again, look at the dates.  In time, when the 30 year rule has passed, all that you ever knew in the W/T branch will be available on tables such as these.

Look back above to the table before the penultimate table, and to  Admiralty Signals Establishment, and things in here look a little more interesting:-

and, if you look here, things are beginning to look very familiar.  This is the break-down of the ASRE Communications Division Technical Notes up above:-

It is a wonderful day out and I have spent several days researching various interests. What follows next is just to whet your appetite; to encourage you to write that book or novel, or to motivate you into going and seeing first hand the wonderful historical documents our nation has kept, and continues to keep for all posterity. I have picked out some interesting files, but remember one man's interest's are another man's indifference. The simple table below shows you the 'magic number' you need to know and roughly what the file contains in historical terms.

Well, that's just a little insight into how the Public Records Office  [PRO] show their wares, and how you can research the information from your own computer if you wanted something of particular interest. Remember, just about any subject can be researched this way, but remember that a lot of information is still time sensitive, although things are being relaxed in two different way. Firstly, the politicians are bending towards the idea of freedom of information, even though they might not enact a law which puts it on an official footing, and secondly, information technology tools allow for vast amounts of data to be made available electronically, even though, once sourced, one still has to go up to Kew, or wherever, to get the piece of paper or photograph required.

Yours aye.

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4.               

SUEZ WAR 1956 – A Communications Overview

All wars, however “small” must have a coherent policy glued together by good and reliable communications.  Indeed, in the Royal Navy, we having a saying; Of what avail the loaded tube?; the cannon and the shell?; if Flags and W/T default, the Fleet will go to hell.. Given the conditions of the 1950’s, the British forces relied heavily on the Morse code to convey command and control orders, and the Royal Navy above all other UK forces, had mastered this media par excellence.  Moreover, because it was a deep-sea Navy and roamed in every ocean and sea on the planet, it had few international competitors, not even the Americans, when it came to communicating.  When trouble was brewing, the speed of the dot’s and dashes increased exponentially as more and more signals were drafted by the commanders.  When there were too many signals in the system and the limits had been reached on speed of  Morse transmission, a minimise, ordered at the onset of the situation, was rigidly enforced.  Another way to speed up the overall signal flow, was to send the message only once, which made a huge difference, for it had long been the practice to ‘re-run’ as many messages as possible, particularly those of a high precedence.  In times of trouble, the vast majority of signals are sensitive and kept away from enemy eyes [and ears] by coding them. In heavy traffic [signals] periods, the coders were hard put to keep pace, especially when every signal coded, had to be checked-decoded correctly by a second person, before it was transmitted by Morse code.  In the 1950’s [and at other times of course] the Royal Navy  frequently exercised the handling of ever increasing traffic loads, by generating ‘dummy’ messages, testing the ability of the Communications Branch to keep the battle commanders informed of an ever changing battle plan.  I can remember it being hard work, and a four hours watch would fly by, such was the intensity in the communication offices onboard ships.

The Royal Navy had very little experience of working with ships of foreign navies, and despite the successes of the British naval units in the Korean War [1950-53]  under the United Nations banner, when we did manoeuvre together, the union caused great frustration to the Royal Navy, a navy  without peers.

NATO was a new organisation with almost insurmountable teething problems, and once again, the Royal Navy had to be ‘geared back’ to allow the shallow-water naval units to acquire a NATO skill, which, notwithstanding its potency, didn’t match the modus operandi of the massive, skilful, competent and omnipotent Royal Navy.

Thus, in communication terms, the scene is set. We have a Royal Navy which is au fait with handling wartime communications around the world, shore and sea. Relatively few R.N., ships are given over to NATO duties, so, by and large, the R.N., is a loner, willing to give assistance to an ally, but happy in its own company.  The bread-and-butter way of sending and receiving signals is by Morse code, although much R and D work is in the pipe-line to move us away from the skills and machinery honed sharp in the second world war. Trials have taken place between sea and shore units, whereby all traffic, sensitive or not is sent in plain language [with no need to code] and, as importantly, by a machine using a high speed code other than by ‘slow’ Morse code, but still maintaining the status quo of using radio frequencies shared by on-going Morse code channels.

Then, after the relatively happy days of post Korean were becoming the norm, the Suez Crisis came and we entered into an affray with the French as an ally.  It has to be remembered that France was not part of the Military wing of NATO and the R.N., had no dealings with them, especially at sea.  As you have read in many articles written about the Suez Crisis, the French committed fewer ships than did the R.N., although they sent the Jean Bart, the only battleship present, and yes, she did use her big guns for naval bombardment purposes.  Our communications inter operability with the French, was, as I recall, shambolic.  Additionally, by changing the ‘goal posts’ whereby we introduced “modern” communications, tested by trials only, but not operationally, as the main means of communicating between the Flagship HMS Tyne, and CINC Mediterranean {now domiciled in Cyprus and not in Malta, his normal base}, we were almost doomed to complications, frustration and partial failure.  As a further complication, the R.N. was changing the way it coded its messages by machine – in those days, we also coded by hand using OTP {One Time Pad} etc.  The outgoing machine was called TYPE X updated by a device called CCM, and the incoming machine was called a KL7, an American device, also proverbially known as ADONIS.

The Flagship – HMS Tyne   - {HMS Tyne, A194,  Radio Callsign GGYV, in 1955 - one year before Suez - taken alongside at South Railway Jetty Portsmouth where she was acting as a submarine depot ship {note her submarines alongside} and ahead of her is the aircraft carrier HMS Victorious {?}. In the distance, astern of Tyne can be seen the foremast and mainmast of HMS Victory {the mizzen is masked by Tyne}. See also HMS Tyne entering Grand Harbour Malta on her way home from the Suez Canal on this page A FEW PHOTOGRAPHS AND BITS AND PIECES

HMS TYNE Summary of Service 1941-1972

I joined Tyne in Portsmouth from the carrier HMS Eagle, along with several others.  At that time Tyne was based in Portsmouth as a destroyer depot ship.  She was large, old, and unattractive without the lines or good looks of a warship. A few years earlier in 1952, she had been a support ship for the ships involved in the Korean War. Tyne was fitted-out as a communications ship and her facilities were mind blowing.  That is why she was chosen as the Flagship for the Suez Crisis.  She had taken part in many ship-to-shore communication trials, and her fit included automatic machines which were designed to be a panacea to all known problems in naval radio communications afloat.  The communication branch represented a large part of the ship’s company, and from sailing until reaching  Port Said where we anchored in the mouth of the Canal itself, it grew to be the largest ever sea going staff, a record which stands to this very day. In Portsmouth the staff was R.N. with the exception of about six R.M. Signallers and comprised of  six communication specialist officers; two CPO’s; ten PO’s and lots and lots of junior rates. At our first stop Gibraltar, we embarked the RAF Signals HQ unit from RAF North Front and whilst in Malta, further communicators from the Royal Signals Regiment.  We also ‘borrowed’ more R.N., communicator’s stationed ashore in Malta. When operating in Cyprus waters, we had to make room for a few more RAF men from Episkopi and the advanced team of French communicators, increased in size when in the Canal area proper. All of these extra units comprised of officers, sergeants, and other ranks, all crammed into a ship without air conditioning as we know it today, and in Mediterranean temperatures.  Add to this, that after Cyprus, the dress of the day was such that every area of our skin was covered  [action working dress and anti flash gear] to protect us from burns should the ship be attacked by Egyptian forces.

The following two pictures show part of the communications crew of the flagship. Many are missing from these photographs because they were at work elsewhere [on watch]. The French communicators are not shown. They belong to and are copyright to one Stanley SNAPE Esq.

The first shows the RN crew.  Stan, who left the service as a Warrant Officer is standing, third row back, right hand side of the picture, third in from right, whilst I am leaning on my elbow, left hand side front rank kneeling, extreme left.

The next picture, again minus many, shows the UK tri-Service communication crew with Stan, right hand side, rear row of sailors, fourth in from right. I am one of the missing workers !

The Command Structure for the War affected Tyne greatly, for it not only meant that we were the Flagship, but that we were the host ship; the ship in which all war correspondents were accommodated; where high ranking Egyptian prisoners-of-war were incarcerated; where surgery took place to repair front line unit injuries, and a whole hosts of other functions and duties which pre occupied our time. Living and working in Tyne, apart from an over crowded non air conditioned space, was like living on a knife edge, because being stationary, berthed alongside the jetty in Port Said, actually on the front-line,  there was a continuous worry about divers and underwater saboteurs; at night time we were light up like a Christmas tree, not from any source above the water line, but from scores of powerful underwater lights  place at near keel level.  The water line was patrolled by small boats carrying our divers and it was the responsibility of all who wandered on the upper deck to be observant.

HMS TYNE Newly arrived in Port Said in 1956 at anchor. Shortly afterwards she was berthed alongside the jetty just before the mouth of the Suez Canal.

On paper, the Communications for Command and Control were designed by clever and shrewd minds, and had the conditions prevailed on which these senior officers had cut their teeth, i.e., on the coding/morse code navy with strict rules for minimise, then, I am sure all would have been well!  Equally, as you will have read in other pages on the Suez War, about the political situation which I am not going to expand upon, suffice to say, that  we, Britain, had several enemies at that time.  Our belligerent enemy was of course Egypt: our confrontational, frigid, non-belligerent enemy {at that time anyway!} were the French, a so called ally: our sternest and most unforgiving enemy were the American’s who, as it turned out, won the day and defeated Britain, and bringing up the rear,  most of the people of the rest of the world.  Unlike the 1982 Falklands War, where our men went to, fought in, and came back from, with great pomp and circumstance, we went unnoticed in dribs and drabs over a lengthy period of time; fought a short and most unpopular war, and came back without ceremony with our tails between our legs. However, unlike others who had served in the Suez Canal area before us, we at least did get the Naval General Service Medal [GSM]  {1919-1964 series} with a “Near East” clasp. I am pleased to see that the petty oversight has now been rectified.  Well done you men.

The Command and Control function was of course centred in London {and not Paris} with a British General in overall charge. His subordinates, British and French,  were scattered and linked by ambitious [notwithstanding the clever and shrewd minds mentioned above]  communication plans. The following plan gives one an idea of the Command and Control chain:-

The French commanders were afloat in French ships. The Deputy CinC in the heavy cruiser Georges Leygues, which we used to call the Gorgeous Legs [her radio callsign was F A R T], and the Deputy Allied Land Forces Commander was in a most unattractive auxiliary ship called the Gustave Zédé. 

This isn't, but could be the battleship Jean Bart . For a fuller version, from my home page, go to 'navy things', 'smaller features' then scroll down to "Suez Canal War 1956".

The communications plan was that our ship, the Tyne was to be a floating communications centre, a COMMCEN, with the ability to handle a traffic load hitherto only seen in large shore COMMCEN's. This would be done in two quite separate ways.  Firstly, the Strategic communications, the bulk of the traffic, would be sent and received by the new technology I have already mentioned, namely by a high speed machine, using a code other than morse code, and not requiring the coding processes.  These machines were the work-horses of shore COMMCEN's but had never been used for real in and from a ship at sea.  They were called BID30's but became better known as the 5 UCO machines. I was trained to be an operator of these whilst in Grand Harbour Malta and again in Cyprus at Episkopi when on the final stages for the attack on Egypt. As operators of such 'new technology' machines, we were seen as a cut above other peer-group operators, and we were rarely taken away from our prime task to undertake more mundane jobs, with one exception, and that was to operate the equally new cryptography machines, the KL7's. The 5 UCO's would send and receive signals by radio frequencies directly to Cyprus.  There in Cyprus, was CinC Mediterranean* and his Commanders.  Cyprus was connected to London via comparable machines, channels and radio frequencies, and also to Malta, so the route to the CINC at his HQ in the UK was high speed with an instant read at the end - no decoding.  Malta was critically important because the COMMCEN there completed the Strategic Communications route, converting this high speed, non-morse, plain language data into a morse code ethos which every ship in the Mediterranean was listening to for their information.  The second type of communication platform that Tyne had to perform was based wholly on the use of morse code.  The Tactical situation covering the in-situ daily needs of fighting the war; the intelligence gathering required, particularly about the Israel's intentions and Russia's bullying in Hungary; the routine spuds-and-bread signals for stores, food, fuel etc., and the enormous amount of Press Telegrams written by our many War Correspondents, all engaged a phalanx of senior radio operators sending and receiving signals in morse code for the whole time they were on watch, which was a six hour shift.  They were communicating by morse code with Cyprus, Malta, Gibraltar, Portishead [UK]; with most of the large warships supporting Operation Musketeer,  and with French warships, which were playing host to French Commanders.  There were no 'passengers' within the Communications Branch onboard Tyne.

*The Commander in Chief Mediterranean was Admiral Sir Guy Grantham [later Admiral Sir Guy Grantham GCB DSO who died in September 1992]. It isn't of course written, but nevertheless true, that we came back from the Suez with our 'tails between our legs' and all who had taken part seemed to have been damned. Seemingly, he was a 'cert for the job of First Sea Lord but he was passed over and instead appointed Governor and C-in-C of Malta, the first naval officer to hold this appointment since Sir Alexander Ball who had commanded HMS Alexander in the Battle of the Nile alongside Nelson in 1798. It doesn't take much to realise that compared with running the navy it was a back-water job!

The 'system' from the very beginning was intense, and it was clear to all that there was no slack or flexibility.  However, some plan had to be available should either the STRATEGIC or the TACTICAL side fail or under perform.  There was, but when it came to putting it to the test, it failed, and failed miserably.

Interference [noise] on radio frequencies had [and has] always been a weakness in using them for communicating. When the noise increases to a point where it is stronger than the signal itself {poor SIGNAL to NOISE ratio} the frequency cannot be used.  However, radio operator's were always trained in using their ears to, as it were, tune in on the signal and ignore the noise, as far as they were able. Highly competent operator's could read a morse code signal even in the worst possible conditions of interference.  Thus, whilst not desirable, interference did not stop us from communicating. Regrettably, it did stop machines from working.  From the very beginning, when we had sailed some distance from Cyprus towards the Suez Canal area, the reliability of the 5UCO machines became a matter for concern.  Ignoring the defects and the difficulties with paper tapes in a sea going environment at that time, our down-times of periods without contact ran into  hours and into many hours.  This down-time meant that the signals waiting to be sent to Cyprus, had to be coded by hand and then sent as high precedence signals over morse code circuits to places like Portishead [UK] and Malta.  Quite often at these times,  Tactical traffic prepared for morse transmission had to take a back seat, and I can vividly remember signals which in non down-times would have taken up to an hour waiting in a queue [such was the size of the traffic generated in Tyne] would have to wait three hours {by which time, it had no Tactical value of course.}  Other morse code but non tactical traffic, would take 24 hours or would be ditched under the minimise rules.  The down-times began to come thick and fast, and the morse code boy's were being stretched to their limits.  This led to a major problem far away from the Canal and the transmitters of HMS Tyne.  Malta and Portishead particularly, were Ship/Shore Stations [an integral part of the COMMCEN] and listened to the radio frequency bands for ships calling in to send their messages.  Clearly, there are many more merchant ships than warships, so it was a first come, first served basis facility. HMS Tyne by herself, was beginning to have that much traffic to send that these stations had to lay on extra facilities to cope. Like Parkinson Law says, the more you give 'em the more they will use, and Tyne more or less, took over the show.  Operation Musketeer had many naval units, which included at least five aircraft carriers, all of whom wanted their share of the bands to send their traffic: after all, they didn't have a "magic machine" like the Tyne did!  All this lead to a knock on effect, and for the ships of Musketeer, morse code was king.  The Fleet load was climbing and the only way signals could be sent to ships, was by utilising a broadcast common to all ships.  Every ship read every message, just in case the message coming through at that time was for their ship.  If it was, and they were a small ship, then possibly the next twenty would not be for them. To get rid of these messages, Malta was ordered to increase the speed of the morse code.  THIS IS THE SPEED OF MALTA CW AREA BROADCAST DURING THE HEIGHT OF THE SUEZ WAR - IT IS JUST A FRACTION OVER 28 WORDS PER MINUTE  MALTA BROADCAST IN SUEZ WAR  Ships had to put their very best radio operator's on to read the Broadcast, but in reality, they were needed to send messages out of the ship on the various Ship/Shores available, now few in number because they were swamped. The more the 5UCO circuit failed between Tyne and Cyprus, the greater grew the load on morse code, coding and delays, and the frustration shown by Theatre Commanders was tangible.  We had a room full of sixteen people at one time [I was one of them] and each one would spend hours sitting at a KL7 machine coding signals.  When we had finished, we would pass it a colleague who would then try to decode the signal as though he were receiving the signal for real in some distant part of the world. If it was successful, it would be passed to the morse code operator; if not I would get it back to start all over again. 

Tens upon tens of thousands of words were transcribed by our war correspondents, and, after scrutiny by the ships intelligence office, the correspondent  would want his script transmitted straight away.  We had no long distance voice and satellites were yet to be thought of.

When deep into Musketeer, the 5UCO machines began to behave and settle down, but at no time in the Operation could they have been considered reliable assets.  After Musketeer, at a wash-up which had a heading "Lessons Learned", the swamping of ships/shore and the various broadcasts were high on the agenda. The inadequacies of the 5UCO afloat were legend, and whilst not publicly stated, they must have proved a major disappointment to the Commanders.  As for Tyne and her many senior telegraphisits, one can only admire the sheer physical effort they put into transmitting by hand millions of words in terrible conditions [full action working dress with anti flash gear] in Egyptian temperatures without air conditioning.  As for the Ships Communications Officer Lieutenant [Anthony] Hugh Dickins {who died in 1991}, I don't think he ever went to bed, such was the hapless man's responsibility, and he didn't even get an MBE for all his sterling efforts. He would have been knighted in today's give-away awards!

Whilst we won the war in terms of force, we lost it in every other way possible, not least in the trials and uses of modern radio communication methods.

I like to think that by 1983 I was a good 'modern' communicator: I certainly knew everything  that could be known about naval radio equipment [machines].  Looking back though, to the mid 1950's, the success of communications was down to the man and his skills and he had no one to blame about missing signals etc etc. Today, naval communicator's have machines, which they don't need to know a great deal about and behind which they can hide and apportion blame for failure.  Their machines are reliable.  Ours were not!  Still, a first world war telegraphist might have said the same of me. 

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5.    

THE ADEN WITHDRAWAL - NOVEMBER 1967

Before 1966, I had visited Aden a couple of times and enjoyed both the naval facilities [Sheba, dockyard, Mermaid Club] and also the township of Aden proper.  There were some good bars and reasonable eating houses.  The Arabs were not unfriendly although I was never exposed to local customs and beliefs.

In 1966 whilst onboard H.M. Submarine Auriga, I  spent a most enjoyable stay in Aden stopping there enroute for a long commission based on  Singapore.  From my diary of that time, I note that we arrived at 1340 on Sunday the 20th February when the weather was 85°F. We were accommodated in the Merchant Navy Club, I in number 10 cabin, and after a diesel submarine, it was like being in the Ritz! Things had changed greatly since my last visit, and we were restricted to military sites only,  for all our relaxation. Indeed, whilst enjoying the protection of Steamer Point, not far away in the village of Marla a local trades union man had been shot three times in the chest, and the next day a petrol bomb was thrown at an RAF officer's car but nobody was hurt.  We had a good social programme visiting the 4/7 Royal Dragoon Guards mess at Little Aden; the Royal Corps of Transport at Normandy Heights, and we played rugby against RAF Khormaksar losing 38-0: that's good for a submarine crew!.  We rewarded them by hosting a cocktail party in the submarine [limited numbers only] and then taking them to sea for a half day and diving to show them how hard our lives were compared to theirs - they readily agreed! The day before we left, 15 Arabs were injured by a rebel grenade and a serviceman was attacked and injured at Shiek Othman. We sailed for Singapore at 1600 on Wednesday the 2nd March after virtually eleven days of comfort and style. Little did we know that in time, we wouldn't be as happy the next time we saw Aden.

We crossed the Indian Ocean and arrived safely in Singapore where we were to be stationed until March 1968.  It was a married accompanied draft, although being submarines we did more sea time than any other unit except for the fixed wing carriers, who were our equal, but without the smell and the heat of living in a veritable  sewage tank.  For the record though HM S/M Resolution holds the record for the longest time at sea, 108 days, and all of that dived. For the first two-thirds of the commission we had a good and happy crew, a crew who knew and liked the skipper well.  He had been with us from the beginning, and together, we had worked the boat up into an efficient unit.  Sadly, the day came for him to relinquish his command, and he was replaced by a most unpopular commanding officer.  His attitude and unnecessary insistence on a 'new brush sweeps clean' approach, alienated many senior members of the crew, for they felt that their departments were already performing well, and they had just cause to believe that. Morale took a dive, and for the last third of the commission, it was a different boat.

Then came the news that we were the nearest submarine to Aden [only over four thousand bloody miles away] and the British were planning to move out for good.  Thus, at the end of October 1967, four months premature, our wives were ordered home, and we started our long and lonely trek across the Indian Ocean towards the Horn of Africa.  We had just three days in Aden after travelling 4300 miles, and then we were deployed immediately patrolling the Gulf of Aden.  I have added a map here to show you our search box.  The water way you see to the upper left is the Red Sea, and far right is the sea area leading to the Indian Ocean.  Aden is immediately above the letter 'l' in Gulf of Aden. It was our job as a sole submarine to patrol a relatively large search area to make sure that no surface or submarine units got anywhere near our boy's and especially our big naval units which conducted the major uplift and shift jobs of personnel, equipment and stores.  As always, the job was boring but of course necessary and we did it with a great sense of duty and dedication, happy to be there helping to write the pages of history.  We were part of a Task Group, and the Task Group Commander flew his Flag in HMS Fearless, an LPD [Landing Platform Dock], and a very versatile amphibious ship at that.  It could land fighting men by helicopters or by boats. To deploy the latter, she would submerge her stern so that the boats could navigate to the inside of the ship, and she was a  large ship.   She had a sister ship called the Intrepid which I will mention shortly.With her were aircraft carriers, and I was happy to know that one of my old ships, the Eagle, was there with her formidable punch of fixed wing fighter aircraft.  Other carriers were helicopters only, and they were mother and control ships to Royal Marine Commando's and other of their ilk leaving Aden for the last time. This photograph was taken at the end of the successful operation. It shows four units at anchor off Aden.  The carrier Eagle, a commando carrier thought to be Albion, the flagship Fearless and us, submarine Auriga.  I am on the bow, and the event was to cheer-ship for the CTG embarked in Fearless.  Once the skimmers [pet name used by submariners for surface sailors] were safe and sound, we bade our farewell, and now without any form of leave or recreation for many weeks, we started our 4000 odd mile  journey back to our base in Singapore.  However, on the way back we caused a major incident for ships and authorities in the Indian Ocean and the Far East proper.  When submarines are on long passages it is the norm to dive for a few hours everyday to keep the crew on their toes.  On this occasion, we [that's me by the way] sent a DIVING SIGNAL to our base in Singapore [HMS FORTH] to cover a series of DIVES on a pre determined TRACK for a given number of hours.  At intervals decided by our boss in Singapore, we were to send a report in the form of a radio signal bearing just the one word "CHECK", which signified that we were OK., and that we were safe doing our own thing, diving and surfacing at will. The time approached to send this signal, and the skipper gave me permission to start calling shore to pass this signal.  I could hear Singapore loud and clear [his callsign was GYL] but he couldn't hear me CLICK HERE FOR   AURIGA CALLING BASE IN SINGAPORE.wav  I could also hear lots of other stations from all areas of the world [Simonstown in South African callsign ZSJ down to our SSW; Malta way-up NW in the Mediterranean callsign GYX, dear old UK [where my wife was] callsign GKL, and various Australian's the most prolific being callsign VHS many thousands of miles away to the East. None of these could hear me.  I kept trying, changing frequencies to meet the prevailing conditions [a thing called the ionosphere] but still no luck.  Submarine aerials were not the most efficient devices, ours often taking in a goodly measure of sea water especially when we had done very little maintenance [but a lot of work] in the weeks gone by, although quite often the main radio transmitter did help to 'burn-off' some of this dampness, it acting as a 200 watt heater. During my endeavours to attract the attention of one of the above mentioned radio shore stations, I was pestered, yes, pestered CLICK HERE FOR  VPT OFFERING TO PASS MESSAGE.wav by  LOCAL radio stations just north of us in India, Pakistan and Bangladesh,  vying with each other to take my precious CHECK report ostensibly for them [the one I chose] to pass it on to Singapore. I could talk for hours on the danger of falling into such a trap, but I can sum up the outcome in a simple way. It would have been better for me to leave my wireless office, climb to the top of the conning tower, screw the piece of paper on which was written the one word CHECK into a tight ball before throwing it into the sea below: it would never have reached our base commander either that way or via the route of the enthusiastic Asian operators sitting in Bombay, Karachi, Vishakhapatnam and Chittagong. That said, as the clock ticked away and the CHECK TIME grew ever closer, the skipper made the decision that I should pass the CHECK REPORT ashore to Karachi, he considering the Pakistan Navy to be the best of the bunch.  As soon as I had received a ROGER for the signal, I began to get that sinking feeling. Nevertheless, I was being pessimistic  without cause [except for my previous experiences and those of other RN telegraphists] because there was still time for them to pass the signal to Singapore.  The CHECK TIME came and went and HM Sub Auriga was unaccounted for whilst crossing a very deep ocean.  The authorities in Singapore were concerned, and after weighing the odds, issued a SUBMISS [Submarine Missing] signal which lead to a general alert by everybody east of Suez, including our friends back in Aden who we had supported for the withdrawal.  Whilst we wallowed on the surface, at first unsure that our CHECK REPORT had made it, then fully aware that a SUBMISS signal had been sent when we read our BROADCAST ROUTINE, it was left to me to try and communicate with the outside world to quickly circumvent a situation developing whereby the whole world would be holding its breath concerned about our fate. As the hours wore on, we finally made contact with HMS Intrepid, the sister ship to HMS Fearless previously mentioned above who had left Aden sometime after us and was also heading for Singapore. Her commanding officer was a well known submariner called Captain Anthony Troup Royal Navy , a larger than life figure, and he was as glad to see little old us as we were to see him in his mighty big warship. HMS Intrepid had a whole host of sophisticated radio equipment, with dry and efficient aerials being fed by high powered radio transmitters using techniques other than morse code, and she radioed ahead to Singapore direct that all was well. CLICK HERE FOR INTREPID READY TO RELAY.wav   The situation was saved and the withdrawal of the SUBMISS was a relief to all, and the more so for us.  The kindly man sent across some fresh food and of course, a bottle for the skipper, then he went on his merry way to Singapore, leaving us to send a new DIVING SIGNAL and to continue our easterly journey spending a couple of hours per day down-under below the waves.

Whilst involved in the planning and execution of our duties in support of the Aden withdrawal, the potential problem of less than good morale had almost gone away.  However, for some, as the miles to Singapore reduced, and despite the excitement of the missing CHECK REPORT, our thoughts turned to our wives and families, but at the same time, not unnaturally, we looked forward to getting back on terra firma and having a good submariners-type run ashore.  It had been many weeks since our last relaxation, and seeing the back of that 'living coffin' was all that mattered.  We were grateful that we would be spending Christmas ashore and not at sea. 

Then came the 'bomb shell' which demotivated many on board.  As we arrived, there on the jetty, was the skippers wife.  The skipper was overjoyed, but soon got the message that we were not too pleased about seeing her still in Singapore.  That money talks, and he had enough to keep his wife there privately is well understood, and it was his private business. But his cardinal mistake was not understanding what his selfish action would do to the morale of his men, including I might say, some of his more verbal officers. Fortunately for us, the majority of submarine skippers would not have made that same gaffe.

There I will finish because the story is, after all, about Aden, and not about the story of a submarine.

Suffice to say that we turned Sembawang, Nee Soon and other places upside down, and the Singapore breweries had to work overtime to replenish the Island's depleted stocks of Tiger. Given the chance, we would have exchanged all this for having  Christmas 1967 with our families.

The Navy eventually felt sorry for us, and allowed us to go home east about across the Pacific, calling at the Philippines, Guam, Hawaii, Acapulco, Panama, West Indies, Bermuda.  We had a ball and willingly forgave the Navy for interrupting our lives.  We didn't forgive the skipper!

The picture above right, which shows a task force of helicopters from HMS Albion and HMS Eagle, is the property of ex Warrant Officer John Eilbeck, whose permission I have to use it here. There are at least 15 helicopters and several ship, all there to move the British out of Aden as quickly and as safely as possible. The picture above left shows Auriga newly commissioned with most of the crew standing on the casing between the gun sponsons - the guardrails - gun not yet fitted, or or the top of the gun hatch [9 men elevated] which was immediately above and opened into the wardroom. 

 The picture below shows Auriga leaving Aden en-route to Singapore in her "war paint" ! We were stationed in the Far East based on Singapore at the time of the Indonesian Confrontation often referred to as the Borneo War. Notice our 4" gun forward of the sailfin and that our pennant number is painted out - the gun was 4"/33 calibre Mk XXIII. 

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6.    

Hi, this is my  pen and ink sketch of an 'A' boat, a British submarine.  I spent nearly five years of my life on one, so I do know the damn thing backwards. No, I am not going to give you a lecture about submarines, or  about 'A' boats. I'm just using my sketches to tell you a story, a story of  a boat which had a mutiny, although it was never recorded as such, nor were either of my fellow crewmen hanged or imprisoned for their act of disobedience. The dotted line [towards the top, left and right] is the free flood area of the boat which is not subjected to pressure.  The areas are called the "casing" and the " fin" or conning tower. The very bottom of the sketch, the thin box, is the keel, and to a submariner, it plays no part in the daily life of the boat.  That leaves the area subscribed by a continuous black line, further split horizontally into two decks and vertically into several compartments. Note, the boat's bow is one your right which means that you are looking at the starboard side. She has three torpedo tubes forward and two aft: five on this side and five on the port side, ten tubes in all. The continuous black line is called the "pressure hull" and we live inside it.  The funny items which break or interrupt this line are the hatches through which we gain entry into the boat, and from which we either leave in an orderly fashion or leave in sheer panic:  the latter we call "escape hatches". Obviously, the propeller shaft, the torpedo tubes, the periscopes, masts  etc etc, all pass through the pressure hull in order to do their assigned task in submarine warfare.  Now, let's put some meat on the bones. Now, just like we found her in late 1961,  the boat is coming to life.  

 Oh. by the way, her name is AURIGA, a Roman Charioteer, and of course a constellation whose chief star is Capella. 

We soon pulled her into shape and we had a good crew, a good skipper, but a pain-in-the-arse First Lieutenant, the jimmy. Since this man is the villain in my story, I have chosen to use his initials only whereas everybody else, have their full names shown. 

Our commissioning at RGD [Refit Group Devonport] was a good event, but we broke with the tradition of the youngest sailor on board helping the captain's wife to cut the cake.  Instead, the skipper chose his own children.

This picture shows that event . Mrs M R Wilson on the forward casing with the wooden object placed on top of the forward escape hatch opening. Note S69'ers, our pennant number: in French tête à la  queue [or worse!]  Here is the commissioning cake in more detail and before it was cut. 

Shortly afterwards, we sailed north, to the traditional testing grounds for UK boats, namely to Faslane.  In those far off days, Faslane, before the nuclear age, was a fun place, and many submariners of my age and time will remember the run's ashore we had, dressed in submarine sea jersey's, white stockings and Jesus boots, not to mentioned the antics in the compound canteen [or club].  The Friday and Saturday nights in Helensburgh will long live in my memory.  Still, we were there to work-up the boat in war-like conditions, and Rhu Narrows {an area leading to the Loch on which Faslane is situated} were seen more regularly than any of the fun houses ashore, particularly on the way out to sea.  Like all R.N., sailors irrespective of where and upon what they serve, we worked  hard  and expected to play hard but our jimmy was having none of that.  It was one way, with no give and take, and whilst we did the job he wanted, there was no soul, no camaraderie.  I was a young petty officer in the boat, and a member of a mess having ten senior rates three of whom were chief petty officers. Naturally, I listened and took part in mess conversations chiefly about the lads, our lads, and their mumbling and grumbling about M.J.C.,  Lieutenant Royal Navy, first lieutenant of HMS Auriga.  M.J.C.,  became known as the "burberry kid" {a burberry is  a raincoat}, because no matter what the weather or his site visit, he would have his burberry buttoned to the collar, rather like a trawler-man in the North Sea would wear his foul weather gear.  The work-up was unnecessarily hard because of his attitude.  In boats certainly, and in the Navy per se generally, the first lieutenant  has no real say over the comings and goings of members of the engineering fraternity.  This is exercised by the engineering officer, know in boats as "engines"- ours was Lieutenant Max Kohler Royal Navy.  In Auriga, engine room personnel could take leave whereas non engine room personnel couldn't.  Engines, when well pleased, rewarded his division appropriately: jimmy was never well pleased.  Such was the atmosphere in the boat as we went through our work-up, but despite this, we passed with merit and I can remember our rather quiet though diligent skipper, Lieutenant Commander M.R. Wilson Royal Navy, thanking us for the "gutsy effort" as we started our journey south to Devonport. Lt Cdr Wilson was 33 years of age, a native of Yiewsly, Middlesex. He joined Dartmouth in the late 1940's and joined boats in 1950 his first being Artful. Later on after service in other boats, he commanded Aeneas from October 1958 until July 1959.  Auriga was his third 'A' boat and it should be obvious to all that what he didn't know wasn't worth knowing. 

More meat on the bones. This shows the use of each compartment and where everybody worked or lived. It is not to plan, but if you focus your gaze upon the section "Heads, Bathroom and Galley" you might get some idea of size. This little area had FOUR TOILETS for the men 56 in number, plus one toilet for the officers who numbered 6: 5 wash basins for the crew of 56 plus one wash basin, and when water was not a problem {and it ALWAYS was} a shower cubicle for the officers, PLUS the galley providing 3 meals a day of sorts.  You will also see that directly under this area is an area called "SLOP drain and Sewage Tanks".  The wireless office, my office, was immediately opposite the crew's four toilets and at no time were we the sparkers, ever more than two metres from  the "traps" as they were affectionately known.  However, that wasn't a problem compared with the following. Imagine 62 [in all] including us the sparkers, bit by bit [and a lot by a lot for guy's like stokers], filling up a huge tank with shit, which has also collected all the liquid rubbish discarded by the chef next door in the galley, and to a much lesser extent, the dirty water from the 6 wash basins onboard. Can you?  You can almost hear the effect!!!   CLICK ON REFRESH NOW. Well, there comes a time when that tank gets full and if nothing is done about it, it will overflow into that little compartment shown above. At the bottom of the tank there is a plug [for the want of a better word] and this plug is removed.  Then high pressure air is blow in at the top of the tank, and all the shit is forced out of the bottom into the sea.  When the tank is empty, the air blow is stopped, and the plug is put back in position at the bottom - sorry about that word!  Now the tank is full of air, lots of air because it is compressed, and that air aint sweet air like you would find on a walk with your girl friend in say, the Lake District - no, it is FOUL FOUL AIR, and, it has to go before the tank can be used again. If on the surface, it is vented outboard into the atmosphere, but when dived............ Now, I am working away at being a diligent radio man, talking to the outside world on behalf of the captain, never more than two metres away from the traps, when the order is given to "VENT INBOARD".  Do you know, those sadistic bastards ACTUALLY open a lever and all of that air, millions of cubic feet of stench bearing nastiness, comes wafting into the submarine, and who do you think cops most of it - go on -  a test for you to see whether you have been following the story properly. As a grown up - you have to be to serve in boats - I wouldn't mind too much, but what about the bloody poor old chef, also a couple of metres away and the food he is preparing for MY CONSUMPTION?  Engine room personnel reading this would want to tell you that the vent had a de-odouriser fitted designed to eliminate the smell.  I will tell you that in Auriga, it either didn't work or it was not fitted. Incidentally, what I have described used to happen in my former less sophisticated boats {I am thinking about HM S/M TURPIN a 'T' class boat} on a one-to-one basis, where the pressure blow-back would result in you wearing, around your face what you thought you had got rid of.  Mind you, you could so easily have worn somebody else's. If smoking was permitted when this venting occurred, you could see the end of a cigarette flare up, rather like a sparkler burns, when the air turned from the norm - 50% oxygen 50% body odour [BO] - only joking - to 2% oxygen and 98% methane!  

To finish off the story of who's who in the boat, I have sketched a plan looking down on the main deck so you can see the port and starboard sides at the same time.

Now safely back in Devonport [Plymouth] and exhausted, I had enough time to dash 200 odd miles east to Gosport [Portsmouth] to get married in the August of 1962.  

Thereafter, we operated out of Devonport and used the rest of 1962 pottering until it was time for us to deploy to our new base in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada.  Whilst in harbour for a lengthy period in late November, my wife, visiting her family in London, had a mis-carriage. Despite my protestations, I was allowed 24 hours to get from Plymouth to London and back to see my wife. In those days road networks were poor, and most of the time was spent behind the wheel of my little car.  Whilst my wife was well looked after by her family, this mean act of denial, further strained my relationship with our first lieutenant, the burberry kid.

Christmas came and went, and in January 1963, we began storing and kitting out for Canada. When we sailed, conditions at sea were normal for that time of year, and the Atlantic was not going out of its way to be friendly. However, things took a turn for the worse which made that crossing of the pond [the Atlantic] unimaginably difficult for the whole crew.  Before we rounded the bottom of Ireland we had some defects with our mechanical machinery which were considered to be fixable by our own engineers.  In the event, they could not be repaired at sea, but at that time they were not life threatening and so we continued. We were able to dive, and for a few hours here and there, we could escape the worst of the rough seas [note that the sea is still angry down to many feet below the surface.]  Whilst nursing our defects, a subsequent defect occurred which truly affected all our lives, and stopped us from diving, keeping us on the surface at the mercy of the Atlantic. As the boat's radio petty officer, I saw all that came and went by radio morse messages, and I can remember well [also assisted by my diary of those times] that the sea areas on our route west were gales force 8 increasing to force 9 for four long days without a break. Believe it or not, the defect was in the slop drain and sewage tank venting system [the very one I have been mentioning above] which precluded the use of the heads.  From that point, the crew shifted to plan two: constipation.  The seas were unforgiving and the casing was out of bounds to all personnel.  That left the fin which enclosed the conning tower from control room to the officer of the watch surfaced con position.  This was open to the sea top and bottom and was outside the pressure hull.  By climbing into the base of the fin which stopped the rollers coming directly onto the pressure hull, one could drop ones trollies and try ones best.  However, have you ever tried doing a communal crap where people will risk their necks for a little bit of privacy, and where the sea, whilst not directly dowsing you nevertheless gushes up from the bottom free-flood holes of the fin like some gigantic bore-hole aiming right for your tender parts, negating any need for such luxuries as toilet paper, necessitating instead, the need for a total change of clothing, a pie-in-sky extravagance. The motion [a different one now!] of a submarine, because of it round tubular shape, is somewhat different from the movement of a ship in exactly the same sea condition. It rolls, in a confused and unpredictable manner, first clockwise then anti-clockwise, not stopping too long on any cycle nor choosing neat patterns to smooth the excesses.  It does pitch and toss too, but whatever it does, it is most uncomfortable and a submarine is a poor surface vessel.  Imagine then, being stuck on the surface and unable to dive.  Returning to the wireless office being only two metres away from the heads, and having missed out that the traps could be used for non-sit down human waste only, one can imagine my delight at being the chief witness of hearing and smelling the proverbial "five-fingered-spread" [sea sickness] being regularly, though illegally, offered to numbers 1,2,3 and 4 traps; moreover, guess who's department was responsible for cleaning the heads and bathrooms.  Some of the 'visitors' were just passing when the thought struck them [and us], whilst others actually made a pilgrimage to the site from distant parts, forward and aft. Those that made the 'visit' to the lower casing, added to the charm and serenity of the communal crappers.  Thus we arrived off the coast of Canada, now in calmer seas, licking our wounds.  I and many others had not defecated for many a long day, but equally, our food intake had been minimal, so we were not over concerned. Our first port of call was not our base port Halifax, but a little town called St John's in Newfoundland.  There, amidst a wonderland of snow and ice and our introduction to a weather environment which was to become the norm for many more weeks to come, we relaxed, drank and cleaned the boat to rid it of the turmoil caused by a miserable crossing from the UK.  The people of St John's were warm and friendly, not given to seeing many submarines berth in their small town.  We sailed south from there to Halifax, arriving spick and span as though we had never been to sea. 

This, is what all the pictures above amount to; the sum of their parts. Auriga up in northern latitudes having used its strengthened fin and masts to smash its way through a POLYNYA [pol in ya] to surface through the ice. Submarines operating under the ice are fitted with an upward looking echo sounder.  This works the same as a conventional echo sounder but looks for distances below the ice as opposed to distances from the sea bed.  Normally the ice is of uniform thickness [isomorphic] but occasionally the ice reduces in thickness and reveals a 'weak-spot' which is called a polynya. The sheer upward force of the submarine coming to the surface is enough to break the ice and expose the polynya. In our time based in Halifax, we swung from minus 20 degrees up in places like the Cabot Straits, to plus 90 degrees down in Charleston South Carolina - fortunately, not all in one go! Breaking through the ice didn't do my radio antenna much good, but wouldn't it have made an excellent movie?

I have mentioned the skipper and the jimmy, both of whom went into obscurity, and "engines" Lieutenant Max Kohler, and they were three of our six officers.  The others were Lieutenant John Coward, the Navigator and my direct boss; Nigel Frawley a Lieutenant in the Royal Canadian Navy [RCN] who was the Torpedo Officer, and Lieutenant R.S. Forsyth who was the 'fifth hand', and officer in training without a portfolio. John Coward, who we [my wife and I] recently met whilst on holiday in Guernsey where he was the Governor, went on to become a war hero in the 1982 Falkland's War and achieved high rank as a Vice Admiral not to re-mention the Governor of Guernsey.  From my many sources of contact with people who served under John Coward both in boats and in ships, there is a common utterance that he was one of the best officers of his generation, and he is held in high regard by us all.  I understand that Nigel Frawley also achieved great things, and he too, was an officer who had mastered the difference between motivation and de-motivation.  

Our base in Halifax was the RCN {Royal Canadian Navy} dockyard, just under the Angus L McDonald bridge which connects Halifax with Dartmouth. When in harbour the crew lived in the local RCN barracks HMCS STADACONA and we were under the operational command of HMS AMBROSE whose commanding officer was Commander Submarines 6th Squadron [CDR S/M 6] , one, Commander Ken Vause R.N. He had just two boats in his squadron, the Astute, who we relieved, and the Alderney.  Everybody liked Ken and from the command and control aspect manifest in the many signals I exchanged with his staff ashore, he was easy to work with and for, and I know that our skipper and he, got on well together.  Under Ken Vause was his deputy, SOSM [Senior Officer Submarines] the man who had the 'hands-on' contact with us.  His name was Lieutenant Commander St Paul [I forget his first name].  My wife joined me as a married accompanied draft with all the problems and set-backs of a sea going unit. She had sailed out of Liverpool in the luxury Liner Sylvania and I had met her ship on arrival in Halifax. Every thing was running well despite the ship's companies morale, lowered by the ambitions of "I'll get my half stripe out of this come hell or high water" displayed overtly by the Jimmy. Our pay was generous, receiving not only our R.N., pay and submarine pay, but also a Canadian allowance {RCN Bonus}, bringing my pay as a petty officer in line with that of a lieutenant in the R.N.  We got around, visiting Boston and New York several times, and many of the eastern US cities too.  Bermuda was a favourite of ours. When in harbour, how much sweeter could it have been than living ashore with my wife, and then our first born, Steven on 6th September 1963. Fellow submariners back home in the UK would have killed for such a draft [posting] especially when the drafts to Australia and to Malta were on the run down, although Singapore drafts were on the increase, and guess where Auriga's next commission [with me still onboard] would be - Singapore, of course.

Our first disaster was the loss of the American nuclear submarine Thresher. USS Thresher SSN 593, was lost off Boston USA on the 10th April 1963, with all hands plus a large amount of civilian technicians, whilst undergoing trials.  Evidently, water had short circuited one of her major control panels which led to a catastrophic and fatal failure.  We had just returned from eight days at sea ourselves, and I was at home having a shower when I was re-called to my boat.  We sailed immediately [with some crew members absent] for the Boston sea area just to the south of Halifax, where remaining on the surface, we would act as a decompression chamber should any of Thresher's crew manage to escape.  We knew that that was impossible, given that the depth off Boston is over a mile deep, but our call-out was a gesture, and a very sad experience for us all.  When I got home, my wife's eyes said everything, and I was haunted by the thought of the loss of those scores of men and the manner in which they would have perished.  What none of us could have foreseen was the affect the tragedy had on our captain's wife.  This distressing period resulted in a break-down and our captain was taken away from us.  The mild mannered ways of Lieutenant Commander M R Wilson Royal Navy were at an end, and the forthcoming change to a new skipper, elevated the jimmy to an even greater power base.  

The following pictures have been kindly sent to me by John Sayers.  John was one of the Sparkers onboard and I am grateful for his contribution.

Auriga underway in ice

Auriga on surface in ice in Cabot Straits

Auriga, forward seamens mess. Busy writing home because they had been told that mail would be taken off the submarine by a Canadian destroyer. Another of the boats Sparkers, Peter Clothier, is in his bunk at the far end.

Auriga. John [with set] and an oppo sitting on top of the boats sailfin in Halifax Harbour. Beyond is the Angus L McDonald Bridge which connected Halifax with Dartmouth. Inboard the bow of another British 'A' boat, and forward, a Canadian warship

John [set less] taken inboard in the Halifax Canadian Barracks HMCS Stadacona where victualled members of the crew were accommodated when the boat was in harbour.

An Argus anti submarine aircraft of the RCAF flying over ice, exercising with the Auriga.

The obvious choice for a new skipper was the SOSM to Cdr S/M 6, and so our new captain was Lieutenant Commander [Simon, I think] St Paul Royal Navy. Inevitably, this led to a new work-up where the crew would have a new conductor, but the leader of the orchestra and the orchestra proper were the same: a different interpretation of a score all in the orchestra knew and could already play with proven ability.  Almost as soon as this captain's work-up had been completed, the navy appointed a new skipper from the UK and Lieutenant Commander K A Bromback Royal Navy joined the boat to relieve St Paul.  Kenneth Bromback became known as "get me up ...get me up" [said quickly without a pause] referring to his periscope being washed when at periscope depth because the planesmen had gone too deep.

Yet another work-up started, the third in just a few months, and whilst the crew had to knuckle-down and get on with it, the Jimmy got more and more up people's noses, he naturally allying himself to the various skippers, but at the total abandonment of that part of the crew over which he had total control:  for the purists, not the engine room staff nor the electricians.  Under Bromback's command, the boat had a mixture of good and mediocre times, but notwithstanding the mood, Auriga was known as an efficient boat, and like all foreign based boats,  the majority of the crew were happier when away from base port. 

As for everybody, the parochial troubles and in-fighting were for nought, when in late 1963, Kennedy was assassinated.  The event polarised all our minds and thinking.  Auriga was dived off Boston exercising with USA and Canadian surface units and aircraft.  In those days we received our signals on low frequency [LF] {the Canadians did not have the 'proper' frequencies viz., very low frequency [VLF] which were always used in the UK} using high speed morse code.  When the skipper wanted his signals, we would come to periscope depth and I would listen to slow morse code stating what traffic was about to be transmitted using  high speed morse, and to whom they were addressed. If we were on the list, we would stay at periscope depth and record the high speed morse on a tape recorder.   Whilst I couldn't guarantee that we had received the high speed signals properly, I could listen to the high speed transmission and make a judgement as to whether it was a good signal free from destructive interference, and when the transmission had ceased, I would tell the skipper, who would then go back to the desired depth again.  We would replay the tape recording at a slower speed and transcribed our messages by hand.  If it was a plain language message, then it went straight to the skipper and from him, to other officers for action.  If it was a coded message, we would type the transcribed groups into a decoding machine, stick the decoded plain language tape onto a piece of paper, ready for the captain to read. On this occasion we came shallow and read our messages.  After going deeper again, {from my diary} I played the  2200 routine back to listen to Auriga's messages. We were approximately south of Halifax [160°] range 410 miles in approximately 39° N 61° 39' W, with about one mile of water under us.   I cannot explain to you the environment in a small, cramped wireless office in a diesel submarine, deep in the Atlantic ocean, operating in very cold water, nor can I explain my feelings as each dot and dash of the morse code passed through my brain, down my arm, through the pencil I was holding and onto the piece of paper.  When I had finished transcribing, and I was able to read the text properly, I couldn't believe what I had just done.  It was almost as though  I had done a naughty thing, nay, a bad thing.  I couldn't believe that in those few short months, America had lost a submarine and a President.  I opened the wireless office door, pushed myself through the black-out curtain leading into the control room, sought permission from the officer of the watch to climb the ladder leading to the skippers sleeping cabin, and called out  "it's me sir, the RS". "What is it RS". "Some terrible news sir".  After reading my transcription, the skipper jumped to his feet and followed me down the ladder back into the control room.  The skipper announced the death to the crew using the boat's tannoy system, but before he had finished we were ordered to surface by the American's above us and to terminate the exercise.  

We arrived back at base to a subdued and much saddened Halifax.  One the day of Kennedy's funeral, we were alongside in harbour, the only boat in a squadron of two 'A' boats and therefore, the only British ship. As was the tradition were wore a union jack on the bow and a white ensign on the stern.  On top of the fin we wore a tiny pure silk white ensign.  My duties in Auriga covered such things as bunting and flags per se, although in normal terms this task was carried out by our signalman Peter McCarthy.  I ordered that a brand new mini ensign be used for this event, and in the evening, when all the flags were lowered, the big ones to be reused,  I kept the mini silk ensign neatly folded in my locker. I have it to this very day as a keep sake in remembrance of those bad old days so long ago.

After this, we worked with the American's based in Argentia {ar gen se a}, a big US base in Newfoundland, and an interesting 'come around for a few drinks' at a whaling station crewed by a motley mixture of outback Canadians, with a sprinkling of Russians, Norwegians and a Scot who collectively proved to be too hot to handle drinks wise, so we could not and did not invite them back to the boat.

The came a peaceful Christmas, and Halifax/Dartmouth is as nice a place as any to spend such an occasion.  

Have you ever seen the movie K19 about a Russian nuclear boat in 1960?  The story of its exploits was kept secret by the Soviets for 28 years, so the news did not break until at least 1988.  I do not recall when the film starring Harrison Ford was made.   It is a harrowing story of a hapless crew officered by a mixture of Captain Bligh {mutiny of the Bounty}, Blue Beard and another more sympathetic guy. Anyway, they are dogged by drill after drill after drill, or "for exercise" as we would say.  Auriga started 1964 that way to shake-out a lengthy period in harbour which was no bad thing.  Regrettably, it didn't appear to stop, this despite an excellent response to "action stations" and "attack team close up".  "Diving stations" was second nature - didn't even have to be thought about - and the boat was immaculate.  The only area for real complaint was the food and the victuals.  It was not good even though the chef was.  The coxswain did an excellent job in victualling the boat, but submarines and good catering are opposites, and the much told proverbial navy joke about cooks is not appropriate here.  Can you recall the story line of Caine Mutiny, a 1954 movie starring Humphrey Bogart? Caine was the name of the ship. Doesn't matter if you can't. If you do, or if the in future you research the movie, for Lieutenant Commander Queeg [the skipper] read Lieutenant M.J.C., [the jimmy] but without the ball-bearings! 

Many things happened and the muttering increased, coming now from areas hitherto not involved. It all came to a head in the spring of 1964 when operating from Bermuda. Firstly, we had a casevac [a casualty evacuation] when a sailor was lifted by helicopter from the top of the fin to be taken ashore to Bermuda suffering from severe stomach pains.  This was executed by the USN and the man was found to be  suffering from  an appendix which was just about to burst.  Submarines didn't carry a doctor or even a sick berth attendant, and the medics were chiefly the Jimmy and the coxswain who were trained more thoroughly than we, the rest of the crew were.  The skipper had a lockable safe in his sleeping cabin which contained morphine.  Anyway, towards the end, when we were about to go back north to Halifax, Jimmy was recommending that we take back our recuperating rating.  This, by signal, was not endorsed as being the right thing to do, although, in the end, but not on Jimmy's insistence, he did hitch a lift back to base. However, before that event occurred, two other events brought the matter of Jimmy and his rule to a head.

Like all warship's visiting Bermuda, Ireland Island is the dockyard and the shore establishment is HMS Malabar. Also at Ireland Island there is a NAAFI club which the crew's frequent more than anywhere else on the island. Bermuda, nice though it is, is a playground for the well off, and we were anything but that.  Hamilton, the Capital caters for rich Americans and areas like St George have little to offer as a venue for a run ashore that the men wanted.  All other areas of the island are frequented by the locals and they don't take kindly to high-spirited men of the Royal Navy. Having said that, it is the ideal place for a quiet run ashore, and whilst pursuing this, one can't be guaranteed not being ripped-off but can be guaranteed to be free of raucous near wild matelots letting off steam.  I'll certainly have some of that!

Now Aurigans had a lot of steam to let off; a pent-up feeling of wanting to be rid of the Jimmy and helpless that they were stuck with him.  Plus it has to be said, that foreign bases do favour the R.A.'s [the men who take their wives with them], and what this crew needed above all else was to get out of Halifax, and find somewhere to let their hair down.  Was Bermuda the place to do this? Yes. provided they did it at the dockyard site on Ireland Island.  It was, as I remember, the night I was the duty PO onboard the boat. I did this duty as often as possible when away from base, so that when back in Halifax I could have as many nights as possible home with my wife and child without having to do these duties. It was also Saturday, a time to enjoy oneself knowing [though wrongly in Auriga's case] that Sunday morning was a lay-in to help with the hang-over. We were berthed alongside SNOWI's flagship at the time, after having been as sea for many a long day.  Because of this, the crew were on their best behaviour, warned like children by the Jimmy, of the consequences of being 'too happy.'  SNOWI incidentally stands for Senior Naval Officer West Indies and in this case, I vaguely remember his name as being Trowbridge, a Captain R.N., I believe. {Was he I wonder, the man who became FORY {Flag Officer Royal Yachts] the Admiral in command of the  Royal Yacht Britannia in later times?}

Off  went our lads, bless them, leaving me and a few others to settle down with a beer to watch a movie in the forward seamens mess.

At the appointed hour, the men returned to the boat in dribs and drabs and none was truly the worse for wear.  The gangway staff of the flagship, a frigate or destroyer whose name I never did record, were helpful and took the ribbing dished out to them with good grace. Many of our sailors had used the flagship's washing and showering facilities during that Saturday, and I had put items into their laundry for the attention of their Chinese launderers. I did get them back, all nice and clean and ironed and lovely. At about 2300 I wandered up on the casing to take the night air, and saw that all was well. I spoke with the duty officer of the flagship, a pusser I was told by their quartermaster [QM] resplendent in his tropical mess undress. One hour later at midnight, I returned to the upper deck and was joined by our duty officer who looked just as smart, wearing a crisp tropical shirt, dark trousers and cummerbund. We exchanged pleasantries with each other and with the gangway staff of the flagship, even congratulating the 'good and reliable common sense of our lads'.  With his permission I turned in, on notice for an immediate call-out should it be necessary.  I had one or two rowdy sailors to deal with down below but by 1am all was quiet.  There was no need of a head count [we didn't use station cards] because leave expired onboard at 0800 the following morning - some were bound to stay ashore to get a decent nights kip, or for other reasons.

The trot sentry, the submarine's gangway staff had been told of my sleeping bunk position for any call-out, but also the time I wanted to be called in the morning.  I figured 0600 would be a good time even though it was Sunday, giving me plenty of time to go inboard to the flagship for a shave and a shower and perhaps a cup of tea if not a bacon sandwich - they have these things on ship's, especially flagship's.  Night night I said to myself, secretly thanking my lucky stars that the duty had been so cushy, and went fast asleep dreaming of Halifax.

The picture below shows some of the crew at the commissioning ceremony in Devonport in 1962.

It tends to get light early in the summer months doesn't it? It did that day, because at 0515 I was rudely awakened by the trot sentry telling me that Jimmy was waiting for me on the casing and that I had better chop chop. I quickly dressed, and as I climbed the ladder to the casing from the forward torpedo compartment, I saw Jimmy's legs and then some green coloured things, letters I thought.   There was no need to look at Jimmy and even less reason to talk to him, for there, painted alongside virtually the whole of the flagship was "MADE IN JAPAN" artistically applied with green paint each letter about two foot high.  Most surprisingly of all I think, is that he didn't bother to ask me for an explanation, not that I had one, but immediately ordered a clear lower deck of everybody, ERA's, CPO's, PO's the lots.  I was no longer the duty PO: I was part of the 'lot' and Jimmy was the only duty person around.  I can't with any truth tell you that the staff of the flagship thought it was funny, far from it, but their reaction was, let's say, more mature than the reaction of our one and only burberry kid, who by that time, had lost the bubble [a submariners saying where the bubble, in a clinometre {spirit level}, keeps the submarine level .]  The Buffer [man responsible for the appearance and upkeep of a ship] of the flagship provided many paint brushes and copious amounts of grey paint, and when our crew were suitably dressed, they set about painting out the pretty green letters referring to the land of the rising sun. Once the marks were painted out which took several coats albeit in that heat they dried quickly, the skill of repainting the ships pennant numbers took place using black with a white shadow surround.  The whole operation took up most of that Sunday, and whether one was directly involved in the painting or not, ones leave was stopped.  Remember, we had been at sea for many a long day before being allowed access to the flagship as a 'mother' ship. This was nothing other than group punishment and the men saw it that way.  At no time that day did Jimmy stop and try to find the culprit, and when the culprit finally declared his hand sometime later, he was a Petty Officer from my own mess, Petty Officer Art Bodden a Canadian and the number one torpedo rating in the boat. No leave was given that evening and all ratings, irrespective of their seniority or status were suspects - even me I felt.  The air was tense.

The next day Monday, we shifted berth from alongside the flagship to alongside a jetty, a jetty devoid of any facilities.  Remember I was the boss radio man and I saw all radio communications. We had received signalled instructions that a port of call was being arranged for us enroute to base, possibly our third visit to New York, to Brooklyn Navy Yard, and to Flushing Meadow USN Barracks, a decent but manageable walk over the Brooklyn Bridge into downtown Manhattan just by the Woolworth Building and not too far from the destroyed world trade centre site, though the world trade centre buildings were not built at this time. That signal was never actioned by signal unless our officers had used either Malabar's or the flagship's radio facilities to do so.  The signal demanded a response which was sub judice before the painting happened.  Other suspicious things happened, like officers wanting references for signals previously received whilst at sea.  Signals were coming in about various subjects, but strangely I was not being asked to send any.  Restricted leave was given on that Monday evening with times to be back on board curtailing  any revelry that might be planned.  On Tuesday, just before up spirits {rum ration}, it was announced that the boat would be returning to base in a few days time and that liberty leave would continue to be given but with restrictions imposed.  Sports and recreation leave would be as normal.  Shortly after tot time that day, in a pre and post lunch time frame, sailors from the seamen's and stokers messes left the boat and walked onto the jetty.  They were still there at turn-to time, a time in early afternoon when they restart their work. They stayed their despite being ordered to turn-to and get back on the boat. The coxswain, a popular man called William {Billy} Blackhurst, a CPO with a ready and sincere smile, tried and failed and although I was not present at any of these proceedings, I am told that he gave them a fatherly talk about the consequences of what they were doing.  The Jimmy didn't stand a chance: he was literally ignored by the men. In mid to late afternoon, of their own doing, they returned to the boat, got on with their work, and the subject was not debated, even in our mess, the power-house of the boat.  We sailed as per the new plan and went straight back to Halifax, proof if proof were needed, that the signal had been answered using other communication means, and had been answered in the negative, clearly as a further punishment for the crew.

Our arrival in Halifax met with no excitement, with few signals either way enroute. Clearly, any signalling about the mini mutiny had been routed well away from my department in the boat, which although frustrating, proved to be in my favour when the buzzes started: what I didn't see I can't talk about, not that I would have done.  Within hours of arriving in Halifax we had a visit from SOSM, St Paul, and very soon afterwards, Lieutenant M.J.C., Royal Navy was history, removed from his appointment as First Lieutenant of Her Majesty's Submarine Auriga.

None of the offenders, for they were clearly offenders with mitigation, were punished or were made to leave the boat.  No signal ever left Auriga about the mini mutiny and the captain, 'get me up...get me up' Bromback was clearly shaken by the whole affair, but remained in command until we arrived back in the UK. 

Funny really!  I have a good friend, Preston. E. Willson who was a colleague of mine in the communications branch but in general service. One of his brothers [at one time the three brothers were in the R.N., together] served in boats, also as a radio man.  He was in Auriga the commission before this [1959-1961 and also in Canada] and he tells of a very unhappy Auriga. The third commission [1966-68] saw me again in Auriga based on Singapore, and that commission also fell to pieces when  Lieutenant Commander John Round-Turner Royal Navy relinquished his command nearly two third of the way through the commission.  He again was an excellent and well liked skipper, the type of man one is proud to serve with.

In summary,  I suppose that like ratings, there are good, bad and bloody bad officers.

Funny really!  Just as an add-on Submarine Logs are kept by the National Archives from 1914 to 1980. Regrettably the only one the have for Auriga is for 1958.  That references is ADM 173/25053-25060.

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 This year {2003}, I witnessed two naval events both of which were magnificent and had a great affect upon me.  The first was in America where I visited an old USN Battleship, the USS Alabama now a floating museum in Mobile, Alabama - see below for pictures.  She was decommissioned in 1947 after war service, and was preserved in 1969.  Magnificent is the correct word, especially, if like me, the very word 'battleship' belongs to  a period in time which I regret missing.  However, I did see the French battleship Jean Bart firing her 15" guns in anger, whilst bombarding the Egyptian coast during the 1956 Suez War, and I have mentioned that experience as a separate page on this web site. Alabama is in one piece with very little of consequence missing. Even her W/T office is still as it was with chairs, desks and typewriters in place almost as they were used the day before I visited.  If you enjoy the power of 16" guns, all nine of them, or better still you are an ex-gunbuster, then this is a pilgrimage you should make.  Even the enormous range finders still work. She is berthed quite near to the main state highway running east and west - I was on my way from Destin in Florida, to New Orleans in Louisiana when I made the stop.  My poor wife was bored silly during  my four hour visit: it does require a half day to do it justice. 

Then on Boxing Day [2003] my wife and I went onboard  a blue funnel boat at Ocean Village in Southampton.  We sailed out into Southampton Water to meet the largest ocean liner in the world coming home to her base port for the first time   . She is of course the Queen Mary 2, and a stunning beautiful lady without comparison.  Emotional is an understatement. The slow approach speed  of 15 knots [she doing 10 knots] brought us almost under her bow so close were we to her without hindering her navigation in the long and  narrow waterway. Then, when on her bow we came around to starboard and  running on a parallel course, we followed her into her berth area and witnessed her docking for the first time with her mother land. For much of the time the QM2 was broadcasting patriotic music including 'Land of hope and glory', 'Rule Britannia' and others, but as she neared her berth, that music was almost completely drowned-out by the siren of ships already in port, and of course her own, responding saying thank you, and hey, I am glad to be here where all the QUEENS have lived.  I am sure that of the 1 million people the press calculated were there at some point either afloat, like ourselves, or along the narrow waterway, there must have been many who remembered the Queen Mary, and the Queen Elizabeth in days long gone:  all of course know the Queen Elizabeth 2 which is a regular visitor, and a much loved icon of Britishness.  Whilst we all had a sad goodbye for Concord, another of our national icons, it, I feel sure, has been replaced with Queen Mary 2. When I was 16, and at sea in  a Castle Class frigate working out of Portland into the English Channel with the 2nd Training Squadron,  I often saw the big liners doing their transit of the Channel to and from Southampton and Le Harve. The QM2 sails on the 12th January 2004 for her maiden voyage to Florida and then on to Rio where she will act as host ship for the games. On her return, she will take over from the QE2 as the Cunard liner doing the New York run.  We live by the sea, and from all our windows we get a perfect  view [enhanced to a stunning view through our many telescopes and high powered binoculars] of the merchant ships entering and leaving Southampton, and the warship entering and leaving Portsmouth.  It is an exciting place to live. We will be back afloat in Southampton Water on the 12th to follow her out to the Solent and then the English Channel. [SEE BELOW FOR UPDATE] Thereafter, she will pass our windows 28 times in 2004 when she crosses the 'pond' on her 14 trips to New York.  Whilst New Yorkers will not see the QE2 in the Hudson River, we of course will see her regularly as she continues to cruise in other waters. In 2007 the QM2 and the QE2 will have a new sister-Queen to play with when the Queen Victoria joins the Cunard fleet. The QV is bigger [gross tons = internal volume NOT weight] than QE2 by about 15,000 tons - 100 cubic feet of useable space = 1 ton [she will be 85,000 tons] but she will be a baby compared to the QM2 who is nearly twice her gross tonnage [internal volume]. 

QM2 is the largest liner in the world, with 15 million cubic feet of useable internal space at the registered 150,000 gross tonnage. Her dimensions are vast, and her technology mind blowing: for example, she does not have such 'old things' like rudders, shafts and propellors, employing steerable water pods instead. However, like most people, I seem to get a better perspective of size when it is expressed in height on terra firma, and leading from that, I know that the vast majority of my readers have see many tall buildings, whereas, relatively fewer will have seen a large ship!  Looking up at the Empire State Building needs no other amplifying data to tell you that it is big, and by actually going up to the viewing gallery above confirms to you that your mind is struggling to cope with all you see, and there is still another 40 to 50 feet above that gallery that you cannot visit. What of the men who built it, and the speed of its construction when compared with other buildings in that city?  With this in mind, I thought that I would create a fun feature which would compare size measured in terra firma terms.  I, like many, are familiar with nautical web sites, and the story or this or that is well told, repeatedly so in some cases. Whatever the content, I cannot add in any meaningful or authoritative way. Therefore, I have chosen as my 'fun piece' to gather from the internet, specifics about ships and buildings which will be familiar to many of you, and then to bring the ships onto dry land and stand them on their stern's alongside the well known buildings to compare their sizes in terms of length only.  I have not tried to show the beam or the draught of the ships, so that where ships are approximately the same length but are much wider and much taller, there will be a distortion of overall size measured in 3D.

In my little picture, I have used three groups of six and one group of two, for ease of handling, and I have picked-out 20 objects. .  The categories are in themselves meaningless titles, but the ships and buildings represented within are named below. The picture has a vertical scale which is calibrated in feet.  The measurements of ships are overall and not a measurement made on the water line.  For buildings I have used the quoted height of the building.  In some cases, a building has an antenna or other such addition.  Some sites state the height notwithstanding the addition, but some, like the Eiffel Tower, states the antenna height, which I have chosen to ignore. Since I do not know the weight of a building, there is little point of stating the tonnage of a ship. Thus, there are distortions because of the interpretation or mis-interpretation made by the authors of the web sites used. The table below gives CATEGORY, NAMES within, and HEIGHT [length for ships] of the buildings.  However, time rolls on and since I produced this graph in very early 2004, other buildings have been erected. Look to the very bottom of this page to see a SUMMARY OF THE WORLDS TALLEST BUILDINGS AS AT DECEMBER 2005. Despite this, the graph has been altered but little !

Three photographs of  the oil tanker JAHRE VIKING at 567,763 dwt [dead weight tonnes] the world largest ship. The first one as the Jahre Viking at sea moving over 4 million barrels of crude oil at a speed of 13 knots, the second at the end of her relatively short life arriving in Dubai to be converted away from being an oil tanker. This final picture shows the former Jahre Viking, now renamed to be KNOCK NEVIS leaving drydock after conversion into a " FSO" - a Floating and Storage Offloading unit with no duties at sea. Her life was interesting and she had many names with many owners and uses. The following snippet is of great interest for those interested in ships. THE STORY OF THE LARGEST SHIP EVER BUILT – OR STRETCHED

Since writing this page in 2004/5 things have changed, slightly {?}.  It is now August 2011 and all I can say in defence of my statistics is that the largest seagoing vessel in the world is the SEAWISE, a super tanker measuring 1504' in length [same as Jahre Viking below] having a dwt of an unbelievable 564,763. Also for the record, with cruise ships impossible to keep pace with, the largest cruise ship in the world is the OASIS CLASS, measuring 1181' with a grt of 225,282.  In category one below, number 4, the QM2 has a grt of 150,000.

The following pictures are from the USS Alabama floating museum at Mobile Alabama.  They show the traditional USN arrangement for main armament namely two turrets forward each with three guns and one turret aft also with three guns.  Sited aft are also the ships two aircraft launchers.

Left, after turret. Three 16" guns.

Looking aft from the bow. Note the many anti aircraft guns mounted on the fo'csle

UPDATE:  Yesterday, the 12th January 2004 we were once again afloat in Southampton Waters, there to say goodbye to the Queen Mary 2 setting off on her maiden voyage for the United States. It was a wonderful event with QM2 stopped mid stream having pushed herself away from her berth, the QE2 Ocean Terminal, without the aid of tugs. Quite close by, floating in the water between the liner's port side and the shore, was a barge tended by a tug forward and a tug aft. From this barge erupted a most magnificent fire works display which lasted for nearly ten minutes, at one time covering the QM2 in smoke.  Siren were sounding, including the deep haunting sounds of QM2's twin sirens, the shore were lined with people and the number of boats swarming around the liner numbered well past the one hundred mark. On completion of the fire works display, our boat was close in, ten metres, to the port quarter of the liner, and we were able to see clearly the first signs of her azimuth thruster turbulence as she got under way steering 135°.  We, like so many other boats followed her as she gained speed, her passenger lining the decks of the floodlit ship waving with great enthusiasm, but it wasn't many minutes from being stopped 'dead' in the water, that this massive ship was heading southeast at 15 knots, leaving all but the most powerful small boats behind in her wash. Once again, I day I shall never forget, not to mention witnessing history as it was being made. ANECDOTE  Whilst there I met up with some guys from Warwick who had come south just for this occasion. Once they got to know that I was ex-navy the questions came thick and fast, and some of them related to comparing the QM2 to ships of the RN/RFA navy.  Fortunately and because I take just about every naval/maritime magazine possible whether monthly bi-annual or annual, I was able to answer their questions with some authority [that is, assuming the magazines I read are correct].  One asked whether any of our ships had gas turbine configurations, bearing in mind that the vast majority of modern merchant ships use a diesel-electric propulsion system, and that was easy to answer: lots of it and for a long time gone...........and did we have ships without propellers and shafts? Yes we do. Our Echo Class warships, HMS Echo and HMS Enterprise use the same azimuth thrusters as does the QM2. "And what about size......I mean this baby is 150,000 gross tons? Well, says I, we in the navy do not talk about gross tonnage [meaning internal useable volume] but of displacement tonnage [meaning the weight of the vessel], and because the QM2's displacement is not known or needs to be known [merchant ships never use the expression] one cannot compare, save to say that our biggest ship would fit into her [volume wise] with lots of spaces left over for our smaller ships!!.....and in passing, our smallest ship is just a few tons heavier [displacement] than the QM2 largest davit-lowerable passenger ferry boat.  I was talking about the RFA Oakleaf  [A111] @ 49310 tons {note, although a merchant ship but on naval duties, we talk about its displacement [weight] and not about its gross tonnage [volume]} and our largest warship HMS Ocean - 21500 tons displacement,  would fit into her with lots of space to spare, and at the other end of the scale, HMS Gleaner, a lightweight of just 22 tons. I finished off by 'selling' them Portsmouth's Historic Dockyard and in particular the submarine museum at Gosport where  they would find HMS Alliance, an 'A' class submarine. However, they must hurry to view her as unique, because soon, at the back end of 2006, 'A' boats rejoin the navy the first being HMS Astute followed by HMS Ambush and others.

In the table above, I have talked of size when measured against tall buildings under which we can stand and be awed. I have also mentioned that the QM2 is nearly twice the size [note not weight - only warships talk about weight which is stated as displacement, whilst merchant ships talk about internal useable volume known as gross tonnage] of the former Queens, Mary and Elizabeth. I have sourced two further examples of comparison.  You don't have to know Singapore to understand the following pictures; all you need to do is to image what the scene would have looked like had the QM2 been in the positions occupied by the Queen Elizabeth and the Queen Mary in 1940, whilst being fitted out as Troop Ship, subsequently to run the gauntlet of the North Atlantic. The pictures come from this site http://www.burrill12.freeserve.co.uk/Terror/MullPix.htm to whom all credit is due.  I thank you for their existence. The Queen Elizabeth is on the left. The Queen Mary on the right dwarfs the surrounding dockyard.
   

This picture shows the RMS Queen Elizabeth on fire from stem to stern in Hong Kong harbour in 1972, and the picture below, her sinking after the fire.  A very sad end to a splendid and proud British ship.

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A summary of the Worlds Tallest Buildings updated to December 2005  [Note NOT Towers - see below for definition] However, since I produced this data and these lists everything has got that much bigger.  It is now August 2011 and the mind boggles as to how the list below is totally circumvented by today's standards. Very briefly, in 2011, the worlds tallest structure [tower or building - now academic because floors are being put into towers] - is the Burj Khalifa Tower in Dubai at 828m. In 2012, they start to build a 1000m [yes, a 1km tall tower] called the Kingdom Tower [that is the Saudi Kingdom] in Jedda and believe it or not, actually on the drawing board is another tower in Dubai, but this time it will be 2400m [gulp....2.4km tall] with 400 stories.  WHAT NEXT ?