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This magazine is mainly the work of Instructor Lieutenant R.S.R. Ince, Royal Navy.  Unfortunately he died suddenly on 29th October, 1955, and was never able to see his completed work.  It is hoped that this booklet will serve as a remembrance to a good friend.[1]

 

 

Foreword ....

by COMMODORE D.H.C. FULLER

 

This booklet gives an outline of Superb's cruises on her first General Services Commission.  I hope that it will serve as a reminder to all of you both now and in the years to come that you have much to be proud of.  The Superb did a first class job of "Showing the Flag" and making friends in many countries.  We kept the ship working efficiently.  We arrived late at only one port - Punta Arenas - and that was due to weather; you kept the ship clean and smart; you entertained thousands of children and kept smiling while showing thousands more visitors round the ship, to say nothing of our sporting successes.  I am not going to try to name each individual department because although we left England as a number of divisions and departments we returned as a Ship's Company and no Commanding Officer could have been better served that I was.  In a few months' time we will have all dispersed; some will have gone "outside" after many years in the Navy; National Servicemen will have returned to their everyday work and others will have gone to other ships or back to their training establishments.  But whichever heading you personally come under I hope that you will often think back on Superb's Commission - August, 1954 to February, 1956 and say to yourselves, "That was a job well done and I enjoyed doing it".  Goodbye and good luck to you all.

 

Donald Fuller

 

 

H.M.S. SUPERB,    1954 - 1955

 

The commission really started in Portland.  We had all been ashore for the last time and made our last long distance telephone calls, caught the last bus back from Weymouth and the last boat back aboard, and in the morning we left England for twelve months almost to the day.  The crossing was rough^[2] in places, and we saw, for the first time, bodies lying curled up between the after Boiler Room intakes and "dog-watch" sailors lying prostrate in the Rec. Space, wishing they had never been born.

One new experience for all of us was Morning Divisions.  It became so much part of us later on, that we can hardly remember how diffidently we sang, "He who would valiant be", and of course, in those days, we had only one trumpet and nobody liked singing so early anyway.

We came fairly far to the south and after a week at sea we suddenly realised we were uncomfortably hot at 8 a.m. and we were in tropical rig from then on.

And so, eight days later, the first sight of Gibb's Hill came up.  We could just make out the mast of the Sheffield in the dockyard and, shortly, we came close enough to see the Sheffield's Ship's Company - all dressed in shorts and all equally tanned crowding on the upper deck and superstructure.  This, naturally, was in sharp contrast to us - we were all "fallen in for entering harbour" - having heard for the first time the magnificent piping of the Chief Bosun's Mate !  All hands out of the rig of the day......"  We have heard it many times since, and everybody aboard recognises the Chief Bosun's Mate's piping.

Then the Sheffield cheered - a ripple only at first; and then a full throated roar as we came alongside, almost with a screech of brakes.

We had arrived.  Then, for two frantic days of turnover, the white mingling with the almost black, in a profusion of storage parties and official turnovers and rapid private turnovers like "Try the Quarry Bar" and "The Windsor Dive's O.K.".  On Sunday morning we watched the impressive transfer of the Queen's Colour.  Our Captain became a Commodore.  We had taken the weight.  And it was our turn to cheer as the Sheffield pulled away playing "Auld Lang Syne" with our Bandmaster getting his own back with "Will ye no come back again?".

Gradually we found our way around.  To us, fresh from England, swimming in October was a novelty and there was a constant stream of watchkeepers off-watch, and anybody else who could make it, parading along the old jetty just outside the harbour.

So we came to know Bermuda, with its hot sun and its withered cedars.  We gave our first cocktail party and took 1½ hours to rig the awning.  Certain people on board seemed to get "up homers" straight away and the rest paid a high price ashore for rum and coke.  We didn't know then that rum and coke was going to see us right the way round South America.  Others discovered places like the Buckaroo where you could eat for nothing if you could eat quickly enough.  The record stood at 23 minutes.  Superb brought it down to five minutes but only by using a pusser's spoon smuggled in, and really getting stuck into it.  For some there was the pleasure of fishing, and we soon got to know who the real enthusiasts were.  People like C.P.O. Pearman and Ordinary Seaman Williams were always patiently and successfully fishing from the catamarans.  We stayed in Bermuda for ten days and Lieutenant Coleby took the Marine Detachment through the Beat Retreat for the last practice before sailing south to Cuba and exercises.

 

Guantanamo.  It was a three day trip and our first weekend at sea in the tropics.  It was a leisurely trip compared with our Atlantic crossing and we stopped the ship at 4 o'clock on Sunday and threw three quarter pound charges over the side to clear away sharks.  Then, in a mad rush, about 200 stalwarts leaped into the Caribbean.

Guantanamo was no holiday.  We spent two full weeks at the base - most of it was at sea, exercising with units of the U.S. Fleet or making use of their facilities.  The radio aircraft was the one thing that really bothered us as it came sailing through a curtain of close range armament.  Then there were throw-off shots and target firings and the constant struggle to maintain gear - or get it ready for using for the first time.  At that time, we still had guns cocooned, but the fabric wasn't standing up to the rough wear and tear of action stations.

Life ashore on the base was good.  Every type of recreational facility was used.  Each night about 50 people used the skating rink and the boats' crews , running to the boat jetty, rapidly learned the marvels of American automatic coke dispensers, which for a shilling gave a cup of "Coke" and one and eight pence change.  We had our first taste of the P.X. and the number of Christmas presents which we packed off home from the base ran into hundreds.

The Americans seemed pleased to see us.  There was a great deal of fraternisation aboard the Newport News and other ships and the U.S. Navy men. Who spent days at sea with us seemed impressed with our efficiency and esprit de corps.  We ate, hugely, ashore and we came to know the joys of that American Institution, the Snack Shack.

Halfway through our stay we staged our Tattoo.  On the air strip under arc lighting and in front of 2,000 people, it made an impressive spectacle and the Americans, who do not normally use precision drill, cheered us to the skies.

Guantanamo base had so much that was new to us that there was not one of us who was glad to go and very few of us who do not owe some new experience like horse riding, big game fishing and softball to "Gitmo".  Two would - be horse riders, Leading Stewards Pearson and McGhee thought they were brilliant until it started to rain.  They tried to go back the way they came, but found that horse riding is strictly a one way affair.  Most of us will remember our first Caribbean Island, with its extra large yellow "Gitmo" moon for many years.

However, we could not stay.  We had to make our way over to Haiti to collect President Tubman of Liberia.  We arrived at Port-au-Prince on time -and we could see the ravages of the recent hurricane in the town - but we did not leave on time.  We were taking the President to Jamaica, but such was his crowded programme that we were several hours late leaving; moreover it was pouring with rain and he seemed a little unaccustomed to the ceremony of piping, for instead of coming quickly inboard , he stood at the top of the ladder watching the side party saluting with such obvious interest that we had to find an umbrella to hold over the Presidential head: so we left Haiti in the dark to thunder our way to Jamaica at 25 knots.  Twenty five knots is uncomfortable in a head sea, and President Tubman was not the only person who slept fitfully that night - and he even looked a little relieved when he went ashore at Kingston the next day.

 

Jamaica.  He was not far ahead of the first libertymen - and it did not take them long to find their feet.  The swimming here was poor, but the number of sailors who became personal friends of the Manager of the Myrtle Bank and who could therefore, use the hotel pool was large !  Jamaica was cheap and tropical and a good run.  At the Bamboo Club or the Glass Slipper you could be serenaded by coffee-coloured girls under the stars.  Alternatively, you could do the serenading yourself, with a borrowed guitar and saxophone and a borrowed Jamaican sarong.  But the Police did not like the noise, nor are calypso shirts suitable attire for returning libertymen, even at 5.30 a.m.

When we got there we found that Christian Dior mannequins were staging a show and not unnaturally, several Officers decided to seize the opportunity of seeing one of these exhibitions - and it was surprising how many sailors suddenly developed an interest in clothes and their contents.  Some of the girls came to the official cocktail party and were so taken with Corporal Rosevear's moustache that we had a job restraining the press from posing him with five girls - "for publication in Life magazine as an example of Anglo-French relations".

So we set sail for the other side of the island, the messdecks full of maracas, cowhorn bookends and floppy straw hats bought from local traders.

Montego Bay turned out to be quite different from Kingston.  There were some fairly rugged parts to it - but at no time were our sailors threatened with pointed knives - which made a pleasant change.  Moreover, the mannequins had gone over to Montego Bay as well, and many people snatched a second look.  The Bay was quiet compared to Kingston.  Its chief attraction was the Doctor's Cave Beach, palm fringed and white edged with water warm enough to stay in all afternoon and an amazing number of snorkel tubes, frogs flippers and goggles appeared from nowhere.  The only trouble was treading on sea eggs, and we saw quite few painful hobbles up the beach.  Doctor's Cave was better than Cornwall Beach, which was next door, but it cost more.  However, short of building barricades out to sea for a mile or so, they won't stop sailors from enjoying the amenities of whichever they chose to use.

 

Although we were blasé about flying fishes and dolphins and other creatures of the deep, we had never seen before such phosphorescence in the water. Nor had we seen such fireflies as those which darted silently around us - particularly at Blue Mountain Inn, where steaks were charcoal fried to order in the open air beneath the stars.

 

Bermuda again.  So to Bermuda again with everybody noticing the change in the weather, and most, fairly glad to change into blues the day before we entered Grassy Bay.  There was much to be done for it was already December and we were to leave the dockyard for Hamilton on the eighth.  By now, most of us knew, and were a little disappointed by Bermuda.  We new exactly where we were allowed to go and exactly where we would be asked to leave - and the ship divided quickly into three camps; those who were so "well in" that they slept ashore and came daily to the ship by private mobilette or carrying the morning paper; those who were not but did well all the same by dint of having illegal possession of blazer and flannels ashore which opened up the carpeted halls of the Princess and the Bermudiana, or which allowed participation in the untapped pleasures of Elbow Beach; and finally, the largest group who lived between the canteen and the sail loft and saved our newly won Local Overseas Allowance.

We hit Hamilton at the height of Christmas shopping.  Shore was a great temptation and with the spirit of Christmas in the air and Front Street four yards away it was not surprising that the Fleet Canteen wasn't worth the trip - apart from which, the Chief and Petty Officers' Dance was just about as close as it could be with a useful back way in through the starboard catwalk.

It was much better not to have to take the long and often wet trip from Ireland Island to Hamilton.  Ship's boats are not always the fastest method of travel - and even the D.D.B's passengers could, from December onwards, claim danger money within two cables of Piggot's Point.

However, the Fleet Air Arm, the Under 19 Club, and the Cinema had all come along tremendously with the aid of the hardest working party ever, under the Chief G.I. and others, so that dingy walls became pastel and bare windows became draped.  By the time we arrived back in the Dockyard these places were quite palatial.

Things have a habit of never being ready on time, and the hurry to gather some kind of Christmas show together became a frantic rush to get curtains and lighting rigged.  The result, called We Ain't Sulkin', seemed to capture the right sort of atmosphere, in spite of the usual amateur shortcomings, and we were invited to appear at the Bermudiana Theatre; which netted over £300 for the Island Home for Children.

Moreover, a broadcast by the Ship's Choir - which had occupied the Rec. Space for the last three weeks, was successful in spite of forebodings, desertions and accretions.

So, back in the Dockyard for Christmas, the ship determined to have as good a time as possible.  We mixed our pudding and Commodore Boy Bailey carried out his rounds in the usual Service manner, allowing junior Commodore Fuller an occasional stay in one mess or other to toast the Queen.  The long line of officers trailing around after him progressively shortened.  Meanwhile, both Quarterdeck and Gunroom were being assailed so that, aft, anything could (and did) happen.  Even the arrival of Santa Claus did not stop, completely, the "Form of Marriage" the Commodore underwent at the hands of Bishop Hands.  "All those who have not done so", did so now; the revelry lasted all day and half the night.  The Officers versus Ship's Company Football Match was fine for those who could stand the pace, but most of the spectators tired of this and were last seen as the "Dockyard Cavalry Squeegee Band" forr'd marching on Burghead Bay.

Thus Christmas came and went, and for two busy weeks we stored and stored; we turned the timber rack into a spud locker so as to save the Galley Flat from turning into a quagmire; we scraped and painted and finally left Bermuda and Leading Seaman Dunlop, bound for the Bahamas, our Admiral with us and a grey drizzle decreasing the visibility.  All things considered, it had been a really hard month and most of us were glad to be up and doing.  "Let's get at it" was the general feeling concerning the South American Cruise and its attractions.

 

Nassau.  Three days later, on Monday, 10th January, we anchored off Nassau.  First reports were discouraging.  It was tourist-ridden, expensive and quite a longish trip in by boat.  Some people met the famous and the titled.  One Petty Officer was adopted by a Russian Countess, who was most disappointed that "Joe" was not at the Official Cocktail Party.  However, Nassau seemed to have its full quota of Counts and Countesses although not all were wealthy.  On Thursday morning the swell was bad - but that did not deter the Paradise Beach bathers - nor the basket work and souvenir hunters bound for the native Straw Market, from going ashore.  There were, all told, 180 of us ashore when the gale finally blew up, and it was apparent that we were marooned ashore for the night.  Most of us were without money and hopelessly dressed, in cricket flannels and white fronts for instance.  The money was the important thing and we were surprised and pleased when a subsistence payment was made there and then.  It wasn't a lot but car after car streamed up to cart away the unhappy sailors, keen only to get back aboard, and take them, instead, to palatial houses, cocktail parties and big eats.  So most of us spent very little anyway.

Meanwhile, the situation on board had become untenable, and in the manner of the Silent Service, Superb weighed anchor, and sailed quietly round to the sheltered side of the island.  Next day a small convoy of ship's boats, topped up with fuel, made their longest trip ever (20 miles) round the island.  The boat runners undoubtedly had the worst of the occasion, in spite of the coffee and sandwiches with which they were plied throughout the night.

 However, a coach was at the disposal of we who were marooned and we took a trip through the island's scrub brush and semi-jungle, to meet the ship once more.  Yet in spite of all this, the party aboard was well attended and very much worthwhile.

 

The Superb News, which by this time had become established as a daily feature, sympathised with those who were marooned, in Patience Strong's "Quiet Corner"

 

"If you should ever be marooned in some West Indian town,

And if you can't get back on board; if gales let you down;

Try not to envy lucky folks to whom good fortune sticks

(Who didn't get ashore) tossing safely in their ‘micks;

And while you have to rough it in some baronial palace

- Putting back a T-bone steak - try not to bear them malice;

But say a silent little prayer that may not come amiss,

Although they're luckier than I, at least I'm getting paid for this"

 

At Nassau too, the ship was first open to visitors.  All in all, the ship made an excellent impression,  Compliments flowed almost too freely; our Admiral spoke briefly but most sincerely on the Caribbean Radio Network, and even We Ain't Sulkin' was put on as a live broadcast.  We left with many protestations from our friends ashore that we were to be sure and come back.  Yet though Nassau was great fun for the few, it was a little disappointing for the vast majority; and, without too much regret we sailed on oily smooth seas to refuel at Jamaica.  We escorted Princess Alice and the Earl of Athlone in the S.S. Golfito on the last part of the journey, fired our salutes and arrived off Kingston.

 

Jamaica held no secrets for us.  We knew, now, exactly how to come alongside the difficult oiling berth by using the mooring buoys, and we were used to the sight of naked boys diving for pennies; we weren't very appreciative of the dock area berth we moved to as soon as we had fuelled, for we knew we had to keep constant vigil against would-be pilferers; but we knew how to look after ourselves ashore.  We had little trouble.  Our four days here went quickly enough - there was plenty to see, like sugar factories and plenty to do, like rum factories, and some of us even managed to get over to the romantic north of the island - to the Ochorios River.  Even Jamaica was not South America, however, and on 21st January we sailed for Panama.

This was the first of our three trips through the Canal, and only the essential watchkeepers stayed below.  Everybody else was on the upper deck with cameras, acquired mostly from the most accommodating of Bermuda's camera shops - Knudsens.  However, we were not to enter the Canal so easily.  The last person we expected to see on board was a young Medical Inspector.  He asked annoying questions like "Had we sprayed the ship with D.D.T.?" To which the answer was "Had we hell !" And yet without his signature we could not proceed.  We reasoned, pleaded, cajoled and we bullied - to no avail.  So finally we sprayed the ship.  We sprayed it from stem to stern, from bilges to bridge - the lot; every compartment; and all within 22½ minutes.  This was a real tribute to how fast things can be done when they are treated as an evolution, and when the Commodore wants them done fast.

Naturally we were late entering the Canal.  But it did not really matter.  The way in which we were towed into one lock after another with expert automatic handling; the way in which water poured into the docks and the casual confidence with which our gum-chewing pilot swung us through the jungle lakes of the Canal - these things drew nothing but admiration from a Ship's Company which was fascinated by all it saw.  In the narrow stretches of the Canal we were sometimes a little surprised at the proximity and speed of the two-way traffic, but we need not have worried - in ten hours we were safely through to the Pacific and passing, regretfully, Panama City within hailing distance from our port side.

And so for five days we steamed south with the tropical sunshine making the decks unbearably hot, and messdecks at night impossibly humid.  Late one night a crowd of strange bearded and seaweeded creatures climbed over the ship's side, out of nowhere, and addressed the Commodore through a convenient amplifier and heavy salt water sprays.

It seemed we were to stop.  So we did and received Neptune's Royal Personage with grace.  Plans and details about tomorrow's "Crossing The Line" ritual were truculently propounded by the great fat King, after which he and his retinue duly retired back the way they had come, to the Sailmaker's Cabouche.

The next day all the Ship's Company who had not crossed the "Line" - and many of us who had - went through the barber's chair, attended by Neptune, his Clerk, his Queen and his Sea Nymphs, who disappointingly turned out to be nothing more than two athletic Able Seamen and a Marine Bugler with Mr. Rowe in general charge.  Warrants were read and distinguished members of our crew were allowed to forego punishment.  Our recently knighted Admiral was presented with the "Order of All Knights Leave" - a special concession, he having reached the "Age of Discretion".  Various other Orders, including that of "The Bent Telescope" and "The Eight Day Clock" were presented and the ablutions began.  At first, only the miscreants like Boy Ashton, who had deserted to the Engine Room were punished, but later it developed into a free-for-all nobody successfully defying the great army of police; though the younger Fincham defied the five who tried to get him for over half an hour.  Gradually the canvas pool became tipped over and the odd decorations went over the side, so that by six o'clock there was nothing left of the skylark except the debris of odd shoes and shorts which had been inadvertently lost during the fray.  It had been a good day.

 

Lima.  Two days later we arrived at Callao, the seaport of Lima.  This was it.  For the first time during the Commission the invitations flooded in.  The Officers were taken away to one party after another, they sat down to enormous meals and drank, for the first time, a wine called Pisco.  For the Ship's Company there were parties the like of which we had never met before.  At the Lima Cricket Club we found that anything we wanted was on the house.  We began to know that we were really "Foreign" for the first time.  Other countries were British or had British connections.  But here the small British communities were genuinely delighted to see us all.  They took us to their hearts.  And the Peruvians too, went out of their way to please; and it was cheap.  For most of us it was the first cheap run ashore that we had found.

 For those whose pleasures were simple, the little taverns like  the American Bar stayed open all night; while some of us went to the old Inca burial grounds at Pachacamac to dig for gold treasure, though all we ever found were bits of centuries-old burial cloth and masses of human bones.  For all of us there was the interest of Lima with its fine houses made only of mud - which they claimed was the best possible material in a country where it never rains, yet where the weekly irrigation "flood up" makes gardens possible.  To our eyes it looked like concrete.  Then there was the joy of finding The Chicken Farm - Grania Ague - where we could eat as much roast chicken as we could put away.  The record for the Superb was a mere five complete chickens.  In the shops there were two items that came in large quantities - filigree silver and leather topped tables.  By English standards these things were as cheap here as anywhere.

But here were other things to see.  For example, some of us seized our only opportunity during the whole commission to see a bullfight.  Yet it was a feeble attempt.  The bulls got more of our sympathy that the matadors, who often took six sticks to kill the rangy little bulls, and the crowd cheered us more for throwing our hats at the bulls than they did for the fighters who played them.  So we took ourselves off to places like the Negro Negro or the Blackout.

Callao meant more than all these things, however, because it was here that we first tried our "Flag Showing" wings.  For "Open Ship" days a complete set of notices had to be painted which read Entrada Prohibido or Salida and guides and sentries had to learn to deal with traffic jams in the heat of the Galley Flat.  Moreover, there was the first Children's Party for which there had been a mad rush of last minute preparation.  We didn't know then how successful these ship transformations were going to be, and everybody turned out apprehensively in "Rig Piratical" to help.  We saw for the first of many times Commander Johnson's sarong, Commander Allen's pyjamas and the buckled shoes of Leading Seaman Jacks.  For the first time too we saw Mechanician Porter - one of the few convincingly bearded pirates on board - station himself tirelessly on top of the slide.

  And finally we had our first wreath laying.  Just a hundred strong, the Bluejacket Guard marched impressively into Plaza Grau and showed the Peruvians what precision marching could be.  The Peruvians reacted by clapping loudly - in the South American manner of real public appreciation.

The officers, that night, were entertained at the British Embassy, with Scottish Highland Dancing and by our own team of gymnasts.  Later, officers were to become quite used to the chain of official parties, but it was here in Lima that our cruise really began.

All in all it was a very important six days.  We were slightly overcome by it all, yet as we slipped at 8 o'clock on 3rd February, we felt that we had made a good and lasting impression on these people.  And that is what we were there for.

Four days at sea now with frantic scrubbing and painting.  Both forecastle and boat deck had long since been painted a deep green - and it all had to be done again following the ravages of "Open Ship" days.  As usual on this cruise, we spent the weekend at sea, so all the usual off-duty activities flourished.  The temperature was dropping because of the Humboldt Current, so the nightly film show moved into the Rec. Space from the boat deck and the Tombola (with its fifty or so faithful adherents) moved down to the Galley Flat to hold court under the "Master".  At this early stage of the cruise the weightlifters like L.M.(E) Ralph and A.B. Haggerty could still be heard snorting on the port pop-pom deck, and the first few rounds of the Olympiad were played off with, to our surprise, the Boy's Spelling Team coming safely through two rounds and the Fo'csle General Knowledge Team battling strongly.

 

Valparaiso.  Thus, on Monday morning, we came to Valparaiso.  The swell here was quite something.  For the whole of our commission, we only once had to "anchor" off a jetty.  That was here in Valparaiso , where the outboard end of the bows had to be supported by crates.

It is difficult to assess relative values in a commission that has encompassed some fourteen countries and some twenty five ports of call; our standards change; we get used to new sights and are no longer so easily impressed.  Yet, in spite of this Valparaiso stands very near the top of the list.  We had found our feet, we knew what was expected of us, we took full advantage of the overwhelming hospitality given to us.  We had by now got used to interminable National Anthems, and standing through them, and we got a sneaking pleasure out of recognising them before the locals.  Nor did we stay in Valpo when there was Viña del Mar so close by with its Casino and its beach gardens.  Nobody who wanted to meet the local people need to go alone for very long.  Big cars drew up alongside and took sailors to spontaneous parties.  Superb cap ribbons even penetrated the gaming halls - highly illegal - to astonish local South Americans by their 5/- "lays".

The Officers were lunched vastly by the Chilean Navy, headed by their Admiral and many protestations of mutual goodwill were made in grand speeches -  the Spanish of which was as foreign to us as our English was to them.  Our own Admiral's reply in fluent Spanish surprised us as much as it amused our hosts - and met with thunderous applause from all of us.  Much genuine friendship, sincere and valuable, grows from such occasional occasions.

In Valparaiso too, we started to dance.  Before, the Ship's Company had been adequate - if not good - at their own particular brands - "bop" or the old-fashioned waltz - but in Valparaiso we became more uniform; we consolidated our South American dancing.  We began to enjoy it, and whether we danced on the boards of the excellent Fire Brigade Headquarters, with limitless beer, or danced on the hard marble floors of a Mayoral reception, we began to be good.  And we saw even the most unlikely and dignified of our complement swaying sinuously and expertly to the maracas and skin drums.

Ashore, there was much to buy.  Fur lined boots and llama skinned toys were passed through the ports by the dozen, during ship-side trading; and we got used to anyone in uniform being accosted for "Cigarros Ingleses" or for "Inglesa moneda for my pocito boy" .  So we left this strange city, where they knew so little of our uniforms that even Corporal Tasker passed for a Captain in a Viña restaurant, and was accorded suitable deferences.

Not all of us stayed in Valparaiso.  A large group went up to Santiago where we were royally wined and dined by the British Community, or attended official parties.  We stayed overnight in stately Chilean homes and brought fruit from the station vendors at the shops on the way back.  It was remarkable how the prices dropped as the train prepared to leave - perhaps this was a bad thing - for the particular brand of tummy upset that followed the fruit that was known as Chileitis.  It stayed for many days.

We now had a long sea trip ahead; we changed into blues and settled down into the routine of having an extra fifteen minutes for dinner, and no make and mends.  It began to be unpleasant keeping watches on the upper deck and scarves and oilskins were usual.  Of land we saw none for we were cutting across the great bight of South America; of whales we saw much, and their occasional blowing was common.  Then we started seeing the albatross and one in particular seemed to stay for days, vast wings splayed motionless, just falling down our stern air wave.  All this and the rare impertinent head of a seal poked up to have a look; all this told us that we were well to the south - which we were; as far south, in fact, as England is to the north.  But Chilean Patagonia has no Gulf Stream and the high country to each side of the mile wide channel was bleak, cold and bare as we turned into the Magellan Straits.  For some of us it was our first sight of glaciers, and our first snow in eighteen months.  For all of us it was freezing after our recent trip to the tropics.

 

Punta Arenas.  We stopped overnight at Punta Arenas - the most southerly city in the world, if it can be called a city, and gave a small official cocktail party for the few English residents and local Chilean dignitaries of this lonely sheep town.  It was a satisfactory party from the point of view of the Ship's Company, for the quarterdeck did not have to be rigged, and for the officers, it was the most "different" of all the official parties.  Only the inveterate shore goers braved the elements and they found a dark, unlit, ill-paved town; yet a friendly town, which probably contained more wealth per capita than any in the world.  For it is in Tierra del Fuego that the great mutton and wool industries live.  Some of the people we met owned 120,000 head of sheep, each yielding £1 clear profit each year - and no tax !

 

The Falkland Islands.  However, we had reached the most southerly point of the commission, and the next day we were sailing north-east to the Falkland Islands and the Atlantic.  Three days of cold, windy sailing, and we arrived at Port Stanley.  A small rocky outcrop that ought not to be.  We found nothing but sheep and penguins as far as the eye could see, and nothing ashore except the first English beer we had tasted in five months - and sheep skins.  So back on board came happy sheep-skinned sailors, fresh from celebrating their whaler-pulling triumph against a Port Stanley team - unbeaten in 22 years.  We did not rest on our laurels, however, - all who could muster a gun went off shooting hare and duck - the two G.I.'s, naturally, returning with enough inedible meat (of one sort and another) to supply a ship's company.  The Marines, as usual, took every opportunity of dashing ashore armed to the teeth to stalk one another round tufts of grass, and on one day, they acted as sinister opposition to the much more amateur, but equally successful, fieldcraft of a Bluejacket landing party.  We even put over our entire stage show We Ain't Sulkin' for the benefit of the islanders, for whom live entertainment comes only from H.M. Ships.  They liked it.  However, to the chagrin of Veryan Bay, we only stayed in Falkland for "half a dog-watch" so that on 24th February we left there for the less weather-beaten but equally rugged rigours of life in South America.  The break had done us good.  We were fresh-faced and clear-eyed once more; we were full of tough roast mutton and eager to return to civilisation.

But we did not go alone.  Royal Company was aboard in the form of seven King Penguins.  They were bound for the zoo at Miami and were carried in their small cages, dignified and protesting, to their quarters, where they stayed under constant medical supervision.  They were troublesome creatures.  They had to be hosed down with salt water each hour - by order of the Engineer Officer of the Watch - which they loved;  and they had to be force-fed once a day with the only fish available - herrings in tomato sauce - which they hated.  The Ship's Company feel much the same way about it.  So for six days, the gallant "Penguin Watchkeepers Crew" closed up under L.M.(E). Trott and Leading Seaman Webster, and succoured our regal passengers to civilisation.  They all survived.

 

Civilisation hit us fairly and squarely on Monday, 28th February, in the shape of Montevideo.  This was a city which we found immensely interesting and popular.  It had a large British Community who were proud to have us there; and, what was more unusual, everybody else knew that we were there and knew who we were.  This was because our visit coincided with the Presidential Inauguration, and apart from our usual wreath laying there was to be a review of the entire armed services of Uruguay, the salute being taken by the President - and Superb's guard was to lead the parade.  Nothing encourages like applause and when our armed guard with the Marine Band playing, swung out of the Plaza Independencia into the Avenida 18 Julio, the 15,000 people watching did not clap in the usual South American way; nor yet cheer;  they rose to their feet and roared their welcome - which brought great pleasure to us and tears to the eyes of the British residents.  They had much to be proud of.  Most Montevideans thought this was to be an American contingent.  But not for long.  We could hear the undercurrent murmuring through the cheering crowd, "Los marinos Inglesas ! Los marinos Inglesas !"  Never have we had such a reception.

So "Monte" repaid us well.  And for those who spurned official repayment, there were such excellent places as the Solis Theatre. The Moulin Rouge and the Anklar Bar, where many members of the Ship's Company had an excellent time, even if we did have a job in getting away from publicity.

The Plaza Independencia was a real centre of life, both for its restaurants and its excellent entertainment.  We were sorry to leave.  Montevideo had been good to us;  for it is not too often that a British ship is honoured by the presence of an official party, of a recently elected Head of State;  nor are British ships often required to use their timber stocks at a few hours notice to transform their bridges into reviewing platforms for foreign navies.  Both these things happened to us.

Four days at sea were a heaven-sent break.  We had until Tuesday, 8th March to put things shipshape; so the already mirror-like surface of "Y" turret continued to be Simonized.  The gun sweepers searched for ways to improve their gleaming mountings, and walking along the boat deck entailed crossing numerous obstacles because of the green paint.  This painting problem was so incessant that it even reached the Personal Advice column of the Ship's Newspaper.:-

 

"Dear Uncle Andy,

I did it again in Montevideo;  what do I do now ?

Yours,

Tommy.

 

Dear Tommy,

It is a little difficult to answer concisely when you do not indicate to which you refer. 

However, if you are referring to painting the boat deck green, do not despair;

you will do it again at Santos.

Yours

Uncle Andy"

 

Santos.  We reached our berth through one of the most crowded waterways we had seen.  Not many of us had heard of Santos and we were a little surprised at the extent of the shipping - masses of it, though very little of it was British - drawn up alongside of the world's largest waterfronts.  Yet, on the other side of the river was nothing but native huts, swamp and mud.  We made our turn within feet of the elderly ships of the Brazilian Navy, and came alongside, watched by curious Brazilians. Santos, we found, was a town of strange contrast.  Near where we were, it was shoddy, though cheap and shopping was good.  A number of lampshades and inlaid wooden boxes came on board.  But they were nothing compared to the quantity of bright, gaudy pictures and trays made from butterflies' wings.  They were extremely popular at about 14/- each and the middle watch of the Quarterdeck Staff (who get to know the Ship's Company better than anyone else) counted 120 of these trays coming inboard on one night alone; though how much this was astute surmise that these trays would sell in the U.S.A. For 20 dollars each (which in fact they did as some of us later confirmed) we shall never know.

In the sharp contrast to this area was the higher end of the town, where the pleasure beaches and the grand hotels like the Atlanta competed for our attention.  We found it interesting to see the lack of supervision which allowed dangerously uncared for cars rush around the streets;  and most of saw at least a couple of "pile-ups".  Homeward bound Santosans too had no regulations about three standing and none on top.  They clung to the derelict trams like bees to a honeycomb.  Yet not everything was in Santos.  A very large proportion of us managed to climb 4,000 feet to São Paulo where we swam and tea-danced and used the bar of the Athletic Club to our hearts' content; some of us went on to look at the famous São Paulo Snake Farm and a trip around the town;  some of us stayed at the Athletic Club even though we did not pursue athletic activities.  But either way, it was a good day, and those who came back noticed that a few had stayed behind for one reason or another.  The road, of course, was a marvel of engineering, but if we did not enjoy it on the way back as much as we did going, it was only because we were distracted by the bright lights and the thrill of chasing hit and run vans.

There was, just behind Santos, a small island, known as Fisherman's Island, from where we received an Official Invitation.  Official Invitations demand dark lounge suits - but we need not have bothered;  for we ate our lunch in swimming trunks - and not even a Commodore can preserve his dignity with a pineapple on his head;  so we heartily applauded the welcoming Brazilian Jungle Dance, performed so well that we believed its performers (who were wealthy Brazilians) must only recently have left the trees themselves;  and we travelled back to the ship to make ready to leave.

It was from Santos, when we left, that we got our first "Big Time" send-off.  A huge crowd gathered to wave us goodbye; and when they had waved from the jetty they mostly jumped into cars and hared round to the other side of the town, for Santos is built on a tongue of land, and waved us goodbye again.  And a whole host of tiny craft bubbled along beside us for as far as they dared.  We had made many friends.  Some sailors were left behind, legally, to make their way to Rio.  Yet some of us know that for two pins, the berthing party at Rio would have been large, voluntary, and awaiting our arrival.

 

Rio de Janeiro.  So we went to Rio  - with such a short time at sea to recover, that we might just as well not have bothered.  It was not long enough for the rest cure that we so badly needed.  However, we were not, strange as it seems, on a pleasure cruise, and we viewed Copacabaña with eyes that were prepared to stay open for ever if need be.  And we watched in appreciative silence as we sailed past the Corcavado Statue to berth nearer to the main street that we had ever been.  This was Rio.  Crowded, teeming cosmopolitan, with the most crowded streets we had seen, and the cheapest and most dangerous transport  system we ever hoped to see.  Lotacao they were called.  They were small rickety buses, which for two or three cruzeiros provided transport from A Noite to Copacabaña - a distance of five miles at hair raising speeds.  Rio was no place for pedestrians.

Those of us who had changed our money in Santos did not do well, for the cruzeiro was falling so rapidly that pounds were worth more by the time we reached Rio.  On this falling economy things were bound to be cheap - pigskin cases or alligator bags cost only a few shillings;  bargains came aboard by the dozen.

Official entertainment at Rio was small;  and we were thankful, for the British Community were only too pleased to stand us under the 120 ft arm-spread of Christ on Corcavado or take us up the Sugar Loaf.  Then, the small wayside cafés along the three mile Copacabaña strip attracted us by the hundreds and most of the Ship's Company gathered in this district;  yet only one was arrested - and that was on the beach;  for Rio has strict ideas about etiquette (and paddling after dark is not tolerated, not even from a Blacksmith).  The night clubs were all that we  could wish for and they were cheap;  and even if they weren't there was always "Olga".

Towards the end of our week at Rio, tattoos started to appear on the arms of those sailors who could feel that they were never likely to regret easy identification and, for all, there was the interest of the enormous façade of wealth sitting uncomfortably alongside dangerous levels of teeming poverty.  Rio was a strange city, and on the whole, we had slight disappointments in it all.  Perhaps we had been taught to expect too much.

We went to sea on Monday, 21st March.  We took a deep breath and relaxed.  Nine days at sea was just about right.  There was lot to do;  but then there always was, and on the whole we took things fairly easily, getting on with the Olympiad;  generally sunning ourselves and writing mail, for by this time mail to and from South American ports was assuming sinister proportions and small Spanish glossaries were kept clipped to writing pads.  Trouble was already brewing from the complexities engendered by ship followers;  and one or two of our Marines felt a little happier because Trinidad was an island.

 

Trinidad.  Here we berthed on Wednesday, 30th March.  We found it quite refreshing to be able to talk English and be understood.  For the swimmers there were the coconut-palmed and white-sanded beaches of Marachas Bay and Macqueripe.  For the interested there were places like the Asphalt Lake, with its buried dinosaurs;  and for the rest of us there were places like the Miramar Hotel where it was proved that a "Dance of The Seven Veils" performed by a British stoker is still a greater box office draw even when performed by a dusky maid.  We marvelled at the black magic of the "Stick Dancers";  and for the first time we stood entranced by the haunting music of steel bands.  Trinidad was exotic, and Port of Spain was, in particular, a sailor's town.  It is not surprising that "Brown Skinned Girl" was still captivating most of us with its calypso lilt, long after we had left Trinidad and the British West Indies.

 

Grenada.  Two more ports of call we had.  Grenada, by contrast with Port of Spain, was disappointing.  St. George's was the most beautiful natural harbour many of us had seen - similar to Capri - and the only harbour in the world named after our St. George.  But it was small, and we had not had to take a boat ashore since Port Stanley.

We were not kindly disposed towards boats.  But we arrived on the afternoon of the fourth, and on Tuesday, the seventh, we had left;  only bare time for us to snatch a view of the steep narrow streets or to listen in to the Test Cricket which we had missed by a day in Trinidad.  We staged our Tattoo and Beat Retreat for the seventh time since leaving Panama;  and this audience was no less appreciative than the others had been.  We entertained the local radio corporation, who came off to record We Ain't Sulkin' and the following day we slipped quietly away for our one day passage to Antigua.

We detoured, however, on the way close to and salute H.M.S. Diamond Rock^[3] - commissioned in memory of its brilliant tactical use by a party of sailors from H.M.S. Centaur in 1803.  Some of us, perhaps, may have felt a little awkward as we stood to attention for a barren piece of rock, for an appreciation of tradition comes only with grown experience of life, but all of us appreciated the endurance of the 120 sailors who kept their watchful vigil for sixteen weeks.

 

Antigua.  So we came to Antigua.  It was Good Friday, so we saw none of the usual traffic of calls being paid and returned - and we were to leave on Tuesday.  Yet even in so short a time a few found time to wander around Nelson's old dockyard at English Harbour.  Indeed, some arranged social calls for themselves in local luxury yachts.  And we who came ashore, discovered unlikely places like the Phoenix Night Club where we danced, with water spraying our feet, to the Hell's Gate Band - reputedly the Caribbean champions.

Tuesday came and we left for Bermuda.  Our Admiral did not join us for this final leg so as a private ship we sailed for our West Indian base to enjoy a break from Children's Parties, "Open Ship", Guards, Tattoos, Official Parties and all the other attendant paraphernalia of flag showing.  And on Friday we secured alongside at Ireland Island.

 

Bermuda.  If Bermuda was a real test from cruising activities, it was certainly no rest from work.  It was six weeks between our return to the dockyard and the Admiral's Inspection.  Six weeks is a long time, but every day was used either towards the self-refit or towards the Inspection.  Yet every other activity did not go by the board, in spite of the sense of urgency of it all.  We could and did relax.  We trained for our Regatta and our Athletic Meeting and had completed both before we left  for St. George's and private general drill exercises.  Then the Admiral took us to sea for a frantic day in which he and his staff thought up all the calamities possible;  for in one day we took charge of a mutinous ship (almost too realistically) and in addition had to tow her off a "reef" stern first, and if that wasn't enough, we had to weigh the cable by hand.  Everything happens at sea.  Yet, we thought secretly, it had not been nearly as unpredictable or unlikely as our own Commodore's dress rehearsal when everybody did anything.

A tremendous amount of voluntary work was put in as well;  we saw much dog-watch work going on by men who were free to go ashore.  Generally we felt we had a worthwhile job in hand - and that feeling outweighs a dozen other encouragements.  A ship tends to be judged by its upper deck appearance;  but not at an Admiral's Inspection, and what was going on up top was only a fraction of the activity that was going on below decks.  Everybody except the Quarterdeck staff was fully occupied, and even they were sometimes in the news - usually because their methods of cleaning telescopes or disposing of them was unconventional.

We returned from the sea inspection and set to on the ship.  We now had a fortnight before our harbour inspection.  Every day we scrubbed, cleaned, painted and polished.  Eventually, we marched past, and the inspection had really started.  It lasted for three days.  At the end of it all we gathered round the dais to hear how we had fared.  The attitude of a listening crowd is not usually co-operative.  "Make and Mends, not recommends" is the feeling.  But this again was different.  The Admiral told us he had never inspected more thoroughly - and that he had never found a cleaner or more efficient ship.  That was high praise indeed.  And with it came the feeling that we had climbed successfully over the toughest peak of the Commission.  The rest of it was downhill.

So we relaxed, and gave ourselves up to less military pursuits like regattas and sports days.  The Queen's Birthday Parade was behind us.  In this, as in most things we were original;  we needed saluting guns so we dismounted a couple from the ship and took them along with us.  The attitude of the ship was that this was madness - but that if it had been a bigger parade, we would surely have taken "Y" turret instead.

For the remaining few days we said goodbye to our friends ashore and our "townies" on the Ocean Monarch.  We photographed our all-round sportsmen on the quarterdeck and secured for sailing.

 

To sea again.  On Monday, 20th June we went to sea again.  It had been a crowded two months in which we had seen our Admiral win the Veterans' Race by a bigger lead than the one he had started with;  in which some Bermuda contacts had been cemented to the point of immigration;  and in which we drank enough fresh milk to make up for all we couldn't get in South America.  The boats' crews cheerfully acknowledged the fact that they would not have to run boat routines again until Santa Barbara, and we sailed south to Jamaica and fuel.  We dropped our soldier passengers here.  They had had a good time with smooth seas, and nothing to do all day except move aimlessly around in their brown plimsolls, futilely sweeping the forecastle against the breeze - this was to be expected.  They were only soldiers after all.

Nothing impresses like the first time and few of the old Ship's Company bothered with the Canal as we came through a second time.  Only the new group of Boys and the new group of Midshipmen - whose youthful looks told us only too plainly what six months on the Station can do to our ages - bothered with sightseeing.  And the only fresh experience was for the Senior Engineer who suddenly saw 180 revs. On the repeaters when the ship was in highly constricted waters.  He was a little surprised.  So we romped through in fine fettle, sending the biggest breakers into the jungle that they had received in a long time.

We were at sea for 15 days altogether - an eternity for the Royal Navy - mostly in the tropics.  We listened to the James Revue broadcast from the Rec. Space;  watched the dolphins playing in our bow wave, and waited for "Dago".

 

San Diego.  The first thing we noticed about sunny California was the weather - overcast and dull.  Though later we discovered that the climate was perfect from midday onwards every day.  So we sailed round North Island Airfield and the full might of America made a big impact.  We passed many hundreds of ships;  many dozens of classes lined up and dressed by the right.  Most were mothballed, but many were active and we acknowledged that with such a vast organisation, it was not surprising  that BuPers occasionally lost someone for a few years.  Our official programme was largely cut short by our docking programme.  We had to clear our intakes, so the first day was spent admiring the cleaning effect of Panama on the ship's bottom.^[4]  We were out again by 1600.  We had to be.  The little adventure had already cost us 20,000 dollars and we went back to our downtown billet - to receive our tantalising welcome.  There was much that libertymen could do at San Diego - most of it in Tijuana - for we found American prices prohibitive even with our allowances, but Mexico was cheap and only thirteen miles away.  After "Open Ship" day things looked up.  The extent of the American hospitality is bountiful, and when it is coupled to English ancestry or connections, it is boundless.  Most of us mad e such good friends that we were loath to leave, and through them we could see such places as Mount Palomar Observatory or "Wild West" rodeos or Jai Alai;  and with them we could enjoy wealthy suburbs like La Jolla.  Some of us made a lasting impression at La Jolla.  We brought nothing at San Diego except nylons and steaks.  We had heard that you could buy foot long "dogs" or 10" diameter steaks in the States; you can, and we did.  We ate much in the way of beefburgers and cheesefurters as we waited for the Atchison, Topeca and the Santa Fe to roll impressively across the road.  San Diego was only a naval town yet such were its attractions that quite a percentage of us spent the rest of the cruise trying to get back there.

 

San Francisco.  We took three days to recover from San Diego and sail up the Californian coast to San Francisco.  We arrived at the mouth of the Golden Gate Straits on 13th July at 8 o'clock.  We might have been at the entrance of the Thames.  Thick fog covered everything - and all we saw of the Golden gate Bridge as we passed underneath it was one of its supporting pillars.  The bridge was lost in the fog above us.  We passed slowly through into San Francisco Bay and berthed almost under the Oakland Bay Bridge.  There was no reception committee here - no drum majorettes - but this did not worry us;  Market Street was only a few streets away, and Nob Hill, Fisherman's Wharf, Chinatown, Telegraph Hill and Oakland too.  There was too much to see and do in so short a time.  For the officers there was an official reception at the other side of the eight mile long Oakland Bridge and for the rest of us there were the dances at the Y.M.C.A. and for all of us as much private hospitality as we wanted.  British sailors walking along Market Street had invitations of all kinds thrust upon them, and a remarkable number returned in the small hours clutching chopsticks.  Barbary Coast - a supposed relic of Gold Rush days - was disappointing, but places like Bochi Bois on Broadway were more than rewarding.  And some of us snatched the opportunity to see the Solid Gold Cadillac - one of the few pieces of straight American Theatre that we had the chance of sampling.  But this was not as popular as the Ice Revue to which about 100 of us were invited.

But these places were only half the story.  We still dealt, back on board, with innumerable Americans on "Open Ship" days  - and with 300 children on the day of their party.  For the special purpose of our cover feature in Life, we even found sailors who were prepared to walk the plank to please children.  It was interesting to see how thrilled were the American children who usually have so much anyway, by the simple roundabout, slides and pirate caves of these parties.  And they were all well behaved.  So were we - according to the Editor of the Oakland Gazette whose editorial said " . . . .the behaviour, conduct and bearing of these British seamen has been perfect.  We have been pleased and proud to have them with us - and the bonds of friendship are the stronger for their having called . . . ."  High praise again;  but the article was obviously not dictated by the Buffer.  So, after a week of barbecues, sightseeing and getting along with the people, we left, with the Watchkeepers' Mess almost as full of trophies as the Gunroom.

 

Portland, Oregon.  Two days later, on 22 July, we started our 100 mile trip up the Columbia River.  Since the beginning of our North American Cruise we had been taking much more local leave.  Nobody had bothered much in South America.  Consequently, most of us had seen something of the States other than the seaports, but this was the first time we had seen the extent of the untapped forests of the North-West.  Great rafts made up of thousands of logs drifted gently downstream and the ship was constantly being bumped by the trunk roots and off-cuts that passed down the river.  This was a great rugged and beautiful country.  Eighty-seven miles up the great Columbia, we took the first turning on the right, sailed another 13 miles up the Willamette (going under bridges which seemed to be raised only inches above the truck, and that only just in time) and parked ourselves fairly and squarely in the middle of Portland.  Six feet away was a busy six-lane highway and beyond that, the town.  Portland has little in way of sights;  if we made friends, which we did, then we were taken to the Timberline Lodge on Mount Hood, and on, possibly to see the fish ladder at Boulder Dam.  But, for the most part, we entertained and were entertained privately.  More than anywhere else, we stayed in private homes or caravaned our way to Central Oregon.  There was nothing we wanted to buy;  not even from the "Largest Store on the Pacific Coast".  We found it part of the "National Character" that everywhere we went, no matter how small, still had the "World's Largest Something".  On Tuesday night we gave the Tattoo shortly after a thrilling match, where we had beaten the Portland Football Team despite their insistence on the right to swap and change tired men.  We had no extra men, so we did not insist.  However, the wind was bitterly cold as it whistled through the open stands - colder than anywhere else, and with two pipe bands to help, we could have been in Aberdeen.  This did not detract from the precision of the marines, however;  and they were applauded just as strongly here as anywhere, and the women let out just the same little squeal as the rifles fired, as they always do; and there was the mad scramble of the children afterwards, to pick up the empty cases, just as there always was.  We left on Thursday morning.  A large crowd gathered to watch us turn in a crowded river with tugs going this way and that, and large drifts of wood to block the way.  From this it was evident that we had made a large number of contacts in Oregon that were loth to part -  or else a large number of idle people expecting us to have difficulties.  Either way the were saddened.  We had no accidents and within a few minutes were on our way.

 

Seattle.  Comparatively, we sped down the river, out over the Bar that under stormier conditions has damaged bigger ships than the Superb, and turned north for Seattle.  It was only a day's sailing, and on a cold windy Friday morning we passed through the Straits of Juan de Fuca, and came swiftly and easily alongside in Seattle at the Naval Base.  We expected to see what we saw.  We had been warned.  We had arrived just at the beginning of Seattle Sea Fair Week - along with many units - as they call them - of the U.S. Fleet.  So naturally, we were to be accorded a Grand Welcome.  Fifty Beauty Queens cheered thinly at intervals, and incessant though brief speeches were made by each of the many members of the Junior Chamber of Commerce, Cancan girls stood aimlessly around and we were given topical tunes and songs by variety personnel.  Streamers were thrown.  This was "Big Time", as soon as we secured, our Admiral and Commodore went ashore to meet the gorgeously attired Neptune and his gorgeously attired Band-Waggoners, to be given the "Freedom Of Seattle".  At intervals National Anthems were played and National Ensigns paraded - but it did not seem to make a great deal of difference.  We, who were watching were engrossed, amazed and amused - and the job of securing was slowed.  Quite suddenly, the whole procession moved over to meet U.S.S. Midway and we felt, by comparison, neglected.  It was good fun, and good fun was what we aimed at;  though privately we thought that pantomime and ceremonial make strange bedfellows.  Our friends need not have hurried for the Midway is a big ship and took an hour to dock, by which time most of the Beauty Queens had retired, their duty done.

The Officers then started a round of official parties and receptions which left them no time to see Seattle.  And the Ship's Company went ashore to join, if we wanted, the rough and tumble of street corner dancing.  On the whole we made fewer contacts here than anywhere, perhaps because we were not used to being five miles from the town;  or perhaps we felt we were just another small sideshow in a very big commercial fair;  we were used to being "The Show Itself".  Yet we took our full part of the week.  The Bluejacket Guard marched for the first time, other than in Bermuda, since Rio, and the Marine Band too increased the dignity of what was in fact, a carnival. That we had advertised ourselves in spite of the counter attractions was shown by the fact that, during Navy Days, when the Americans threw open their dockyard, it was the tiny Superb, - dwarfed by the dark grey heights of the 32,000 ton Midway on the other side of the quay - it was we who took the crowds.  Five thousand of them came on board and took home as many Superb crested ashtrays as we could supply.

We sailed on Thursday and temporarily left the States.  We had been most impressed.  They work for material things far harder than we know how - and the head of lettuce that was automatically set beside us in the smallest Snackette would look gracious on the tables of the Ritz;  the humble and the great can both drive this year's model - the humble by mortgaging their future income so that they live on a spiralling economy of mild inflation.  But it works well enough, and no children in the world have the possession and freedom of young Americans.

 

Vancouver.  We had only to sail across the Sound to be in Canada.  By local comparisons at least, Vancouver was like England.  The shops shut at 5 or 5.30 and the taverns at 11.30  Nothing could be bought after 6 at the latest, which we found strange for the States had no legal limitations to their shopping hours.  Vancouver was certainly the most beautifully situated of the ports we had seen.  The snow-capped mountains in the distance and the tree-green mountains immediately behind the town made a perfect backdrop, so it was not surprising that we found the town itself nowhere near as attractive as its surroundings.  We had, of course, an official reception at H.M.C.S. Discovery - The R.C.N.V.R. Base at Vancouver, and some of us went from there to see Stanley Park.  This was our first sight of genuine Indian Totem Poles, though we were to see many of them and some of us, later, went on over the astutely built Guinness Bridge to British territories and took the chair lift to the top of Grass Mountain, our legs dangling frighteningly in space, to get the most perfect views of Vancouver harbour and the distant hills of Vancouver Island that are known.  Or else we swung perilously across the 400' high rope bridge that spans Capilano Gorge and sways sickeningly with each step.  We had much liaison with our opposite numbers of the R.C.N. and we won't forget the Smokers they put on on our behalf.  The turns were of course spontaneous - and a prize was presented for the best turns we could muster.  The Royal marines took it the first night with their song about Black Pudding, and one of our E.M.'s singing solo, took the ham the second night.  We very much enjoyed these get-togethers.  We heard Johnnie Ray taken off by a member of the Ship's Company and we saw a professional wrestling match turned into a professional comedy by a little judicious interference.

Hospitality ashore was, as always, returned on board by our own official party, which was never held in a better setting, and by our Sunday Night Cinema which was always a pleasant way of entertaining people from ashore.

 

Esquimalt.  And so, on 11th August, we turned south, towards Esquimalt and home, anchoring outside Victoria for the night and going in during the morning.  We had purposely planned our timing so that we should arrive at Victoria for the R.C.N. Regatta, so naturally, it was this that chiefly occupied us.  Victoria itself was a long way from the base - and it was a quiet town - a mixture of Torquay and Bournemouth with a bracing atmosphere.  We were fairly confident that we would do well, for we had beaten the Vancouver Whaler's Crew only a week before and taken the Vancouver Cup from them.  But we did not expect to outshine the Canadians by much, for they are all big and excellently fed, and private information told us that they had been training for this regatta.  So our pride at winning was real.  It was Superb who produced the champion crew, and consequently it was Superb who bore the brunt of the after-regatta scrapping.  Soot bags and bags of dye do little damage however;  and we had already proved, at the earlier smoker that physical size or large numbers are no yardstick or spirit.  We had enjoyed that smoker very much, in spite of its lack of organised entertainment.

For those who went into Victoria there was not a great deal of private entertainment, but the Thunderbird Park gave us a chance to see the Indian Totems actually being carved, or there was the trip to Butchart Gardens, which like the whole of Vancouver Island had a lot in the way of grand scenery and space.  The C.A.C. in Chinatown provided the other side of our entertainment in Victoria so that with all our tastes catered for, Victoria was enjoyable.  Yet it was the Regatta that was the highlight of our stay, together with the excellence of Stettler's paddled whaler.

Loaded with Canadian Regatta Cups, we left Esquimalt and started for Santa Barbara and California again.

 

Santa Barbara.  We were three days at sea and they were days of anticipation;  we were looking forward to California and Los Angeles.  We had been in blues  - but we changed back into whites for the last time in this commission, and the Chinese laundry worked overtime.  This was difficult, for the Chinese laundry boys worked pretty well around the clock anyway, and we all admitted that they played a great part in oiling the domestic wheels of our commission.  We were very lucky to have then with us.

At Santa Barbara, we anchored off, and made full use of the sharp, clean air of this holiday resort.  We were soon to be "smogged down" in Long Beach, and here life could not be simpler.  We had a good time ashore nevertheless, and one aged Scot was so overjoyed at seeing anyone from his native islands that he insisted on throwing an enormous party for "anyone who wants to come";  we went - in dozens - and his evening gave great joy.  Even here we were made so welcome we hated to leave;  and so, generally, it had been throughout the commission.   We left on Tuesday with two reporters on board (the first time we had tried this experiment) and arrived, at 4 o'clock, alongside near downtown Long Beach.

 

Long Beach.  Here we stayed for six days, but Los Angeles is too big.  Its vast mileage sprawls over a dozen loosely connected districts.  Without transport we were lost.  Only with difficulty could we use public transport - for on the whole residents used their own cars.  We had never seen so many cars as flashed along the gigantic freeways and over the four level flyovers.  Distance means nothing to Americans, but to us, without transport, it was a great obstacle.

Obstacles are a challenge, however, and most of the Ship's Company managed to get over to Hollywood, and for the Officers, there was an official reception in the world famous Beverley Hills - a great success, even though it entailed a drive of nearly two hours each way, for Beverley Hills was right at the other end of Los Angeles.

If we wanted to see a film studio - now was the time.  But it was surprising how difficult it was to get into one of these places.  They were guarded like atomic research plants and one busload of us made the trip to Universal International Studios, only to be driven tantalisingly round the studio lots without even being allowed to leave the bus.  Others of us were a great deal luckier, however, at M.G.M.  We were welcomed in and shown almost everything of a non-technical nature in the vast place and even got around to watching the filming of The Last Hunt.  Some of us achieved fame by talking with Stewart Granger.  His exact words were "Take your hands off that car !"

For those who didn't see a studio, there were the live television broadcasts; though these were disappointing.  We had been led to believe that British sailors always did well financially out of quiz games on live T.V.   But there were no quiz games - and the announcer thought we were French anyway.  It is sobering to reflect on the slightness of the impression a visiting cruiser can make on a big city.  In South America - chiefly because of our armed guards - people already knew (or rapidly got to know) who we were and what we were there for.  Here, it was different, for we made our way as individuals.  Nevertheless, it was a great experience to walk along Sunset Boulevard, to see the Sunset Strip - though one must expect the reality of acquaintance to destroy the romance of hearsay - and to sup ale in the Brown Derby.  Most of us never saw the famous or the infamous, except at a distance;  yet at least one of us found himself working as an extra for a day, on location.  Life does not begin and end in Hollywood.  It is in fact only one over-publicised industry.  Los Angeles is, itself, full of fascination;  though we found that we lacked local knowledge.  We needed someone to show us around.  And most of us found someone.  We went to the famous Oceanarium or to the fabulous Disneyland, which was indeed fabulous, though the final opinion seemed to be that the Old Wild West Town at Knotts Bury Farm was even better value.  Either way, whether we drove up through San Fernando Valley, or stayed right close to the ship and amused ourselves in the Pike - the rip-roaring, neon-lighted, funfair downtown of Long Beach - either way we did not have long enough.

Given clean air, we could have stayed for weeks - but clean air is at a premium.  Not hundreds, but thousands of oil well pumps spread right through Los Angeles, though chiefly in Long Beach, suck the oil relentlessly, slowly, almost devilishly from the great oil lakes that lay 6,000 feet below us.  Each pump is diesel driven, and at nights if there was no wind, we could not breathe for the poison of it all.  Long Beach in parts is not attractive.

We were much flattered too by the request of the U.S. Marines for us to repeat our Tattoo at Camp Pendleton at San Diego.  The detachment was watched by 4,000 goggle-eyed young Americans.

If we were diplomatically successful in a trip such as this, it is because we meet people; many people - and, where we are entertained so regally, there are bound to be romances.  During the year, there have been many engagements between us and the local girls (engagements are one thing) but in Long Beach we had two weddings.  Five days from meeting to wedding qualifies for the title "whirlwind".

And so we left America.  Many of us are determined to go back there to live;  some of us are returning there during our General Service Commission Leave;  some are marrying American girls, and others are hoping to work their way through American Universities when they leave the Service.  The States made a great impact, one way or another, on all of us for there is no doubt about its greatness - a country of strange contrasts where you may drive a 160 h.p. car at age 16, yet may not take alcohol in any form until you are 21;  where everybody had telephones and television, yet many did not know that we had these things in England too;  where a Sunday newspaper can run to 120 pages without having any news .........    We had much to think about.

On Monday, 29th August, Superb slipped from Long Beach out of the man-made harbour and sailed south.  For five days we sailed down past Baha California and then cut in across the great Gulf of Mexico.  But there was no tropic heat for the skies were mostly overcast and it rained.

Moreover it did not stop raining until long after we had left Acapulco and were nearly in Panama.  No paintwork has to stand up to such rigours as a ship's paintwork - and ours reached its limit.  It came away in huge sheets and large areas could be cleared just by pulling.  It was a discouraging sight.  And the recent heavy weather did not help.

During this time the ordinary life of the ship went on;  boys went to school;  candidates for higher rate attended instruction;  we overtook vast schools of dolphin, marlin and sailfish and watched the turtles drifting by;  we organised our own entertainment and the initiation of impertinent youth into the mysteries of the Bosun's Party went on;  and we watched the rain.  In the evenings a few of us listlessly pursued our rugmaking in a final endeavour to have something to show for our year away.  But mostly we wandered aft to the Torpedo  Parting Shop which had become the "Tonsorial Saloon" and, thereby, the civic centre and village green of our floating community.

 

Acapulco.  It was still raining as we anchored 3 cables off Acapulco harbour; and raining yet, when a party of us one hundred strong went ashore and took a coach to Mexico City, 282 miles away.  The roads of Mexico are the worst in the world.  The rains gouged huge lumps out of the mountain roads so that there was little to prevent us from tumbling hundreds of feet into space.  Yet the jungle was all around us as we climbed to the 7,000 feet high city.  When we got there we had the time of our lives.  Nothing was too much trouble for the organisers of our stay and everyone was genuinely pleased to see us.  The rain stopped the bullfight - but the fascination of teeming Mexico City was still with us.   We were wonderfully treated and fed though some of the dishes were strange to us.  Suits were pressed free of charge, while we slept, by two specially appointed members of the Mexican Army who were at first a little puzzled by the matelots' uniform.  Once shown, however, there was no holding them.  One of the most striking features of the visit, though not over popular amongst most of us was the 5 a.m. parade and band, which, for effectiveness proved superior to any wakey-wakey.  There was much to do in Mexico City.  Too much.  But it was the experience of a lifetime.  At 10.30 on Tuesday morning we embarked once more in the same coaches which had brought us, arriving back late in the evening, still soaked to the skin - but with memories of an intensely interesting day.

Life was by no means boring for those who stayed in Acapulco.  At this town a lot of us had our first success in big-game fishing.  The famous Acapulco divers - though slightly overrated by tourist brochures - were still worth a bated breath as they dived into the churning morass 150 feet below.  Moreover, in some strange way, it was a pleasant change to see a town again in which we were wealthy, even with the inflated tourist prices and most of us spent some time, at least, sitting in Rio Rita's listening to the strolling musicians or shopping round the native markets.  Never again will we have taxis as cheap as the pothole plungers of Acapulco (four pesos from here to eternity was reasonable indeed) and the romance of the night clubs where, rain and shine, we danced the cha-cha-cha bare foot with the seas washing over our feet.  Five days sailing brought us to Rodman Naval Station and the entrance to the Panama Canal.

 

Rodman.  It continued to rain, but it was almost a blessing for we did not have the almost intolerable heat of our previous trips through the Canal.  Rodman was only a "whistle-stop" for us.  We arrived at 10 on Monday and left at 8 a.m. on Tuesday;  but leave was still given to as many as could take it.  The result was that the P.X. store was virtually taken over by us for the day.  We spent the last of our dollars and came away loaded with the kind of goods you only find in a P.X.  Chiefly we bought toys and that department could not have been so busy for a long time.  But also we raided the nylon counters, and many others so that all in all we spent 1,500 dollars there in a few hours.  It had been in the nature of a last fling.  After that there was the swimming pool, crowded to capacity though without sunshine,  for the rest of us - Panama City.

It was surprising that we, who have seen so much, should at this stage of the commission, make an effort to see more.  Perhaps Panama City had a sort of reputation;  but certainly two or three hundred of us climbed aboard the vibrating buses. Paid our 20 cents and went to look around.  We found a city without a centre;  a city with such a thin façade of American style stores, that we could almost see through to the dirty native shops that cluttered up every road but one.  Nor could we help seeing the manner in which the ordinary poor folk live in shanty-town flats - three storeys high and teeming with life so that there was not a single road or lane through a quarter mile block of it.  If we went past such areas we were as intruders - with hundreds of eyes following us, and the noise of a thousand racially assorted children was continuous.  When the night and the rain came down, Panama changed its character.  The neon lights came on and water poured down the gutters.  The night clubs opened and out in the country the dance halls started up.  Panama became a centre of entertainment.  However, we were mostly back on board by midnight, taking vivid impressions with us from this infamous crossroad of the world's sea routes.

Early the next morning we entered the Canal.  Nobody was interested.  A Canal transit is a day of sitting down for most of us - large numbers of us have to be closed up at sea duty stations, yet there was little for us to do.  We were lucky it was cloudy and cool.  We saw no alligators in Gatun Lake this time, and were surprised only by the extent of the progress on Constructor's Hill.  Half a mountain had been removed in three months, and the threat to the Canal removed - a typical example of the American capacity for heaping vast quantity of machinery and capital into a single project.

We left the Canal with an escort of green suicidal butterflies in the late afternoon and sailed for Jamaica.  From Connie to Hilda we had only been slightly interested;  but Ione was different.  She was right there lurking behind Haiti and Strengthening.  At any time now, she could break out and race away northwards at 300 miles a day, and, could also, easily affect our programme.  We kept a weather eye open.  However, our passage to Kingston was safe enough.  Many birds hitchhiked a migratory trip with us and on Thursday 15th we secured alongside for fuelling.  We had been to Jamaica four times now - and we had little Jamaican currency for buying things.  So we loaded seventy or so soldiers of the R.M.F.I.F. or D.C.L.I. who were, like us, homeward bound and set out in the middle of the afternoon for Bermuda, noticing as we went the almost complete absence of Pelicans and Frigate birds which were to Caribbean ports what seagulls are to us.  We had seen thousands.

It was humid and overcast as we left our last Caribbean island.  We cracked on at 20 knots to head off the temperamental lady and the weather cleared in the middle of the following day.  When it was apparent that we should have no trouble from Ione, we slowed to 12 knots arriving at Bermuda on Monday, 19th September.

 

Farewell Bermadoo.  For five days we were alongside in Bermuda;  it was a rushed time for we had much that had to be left behind for Kenya and we had many friends to see.  For the Officers there were the formal and official farewells, for the Ship's Company there were many real friendships to seal;  yet it could not be an unhappy time for we had been away for three months - we had only just returned and almost immediately  we were on our way home.  Most of us took our last fling of station leave getting to know Bermuda better than we had ever done before, and on Saturday morning we slipped with a last wave from our Admiral, with that singular sense of excitement that will always prevail in any ship, at any time, anywhere, as she starts the last stretch of homeward bounders.  The feeling grew as we went north.  The October air struck us cold as we changed into blues and the English Channel was grey as we sped homewards past the Isle of Wight.   On October 4th the first natives from England, the Customs, came on board.  They were hostile natives, for they removed our last pennies from us.

On the 5th we de-ammunitioned at Folly Point - never has ammunition gone so quickly over the side.  Everybody worked with a grin and a song until it was finished.  There was no holding us.  By the afternoon, in no time at all, the wives and children, relatives and friends and wives-to-be were on board and we were so confused by a kaleidoscope of colour and reunion that those of us who had nobody mostly kept out of the way.  Early the next day the first leave party left loaded with rabbits and cases and warrants, and the rest of us locked the ship through into Number 3 Basin.  By 1600 we were secured alongside.

And that was that !

Departmental Roundabout

 

Navigation.  It is not surprising that the Navigator and senior Lieutenant Commander was know as Pilot rather than Jimmy for we have steamed over 37,000 miles during the year which is twice the way around the world if you could travel at the latitude of Bermuda.  "Heaven's Light Our Guide" hasn't always been a suitable motto for the Navigation Department, for so often, like San Francisco we were fog bound and the nights have often been dark and murky.  Then it has been the turn of the B.P.R. Crew, nearly always left severely alone until something happens.  It has often seemed almost uncanny the way that they have predicted courses and speeds of unseen ships.  And the confidence of the Department in its radar has been shown by the way they have insisted on the accuracy of their information - even when looking out of the windows shows something different.

The more memorable feats of navigation we associate with the Magellan Straits and the River Plate, where we were "feeling the bottom" all the way and were disappointed not to see the Graf Spee.  Then there was the narrow Bocca de Monos passage at Trinidad and the treacherous bar at the entrance to the Columbia River.  We had our moments.  This was not surprising.  The West Indies Station is the largest in the world and yet has the smallest fleet so that our Communication Staff were closed up in four watches, or less, from the day we left the basin at Chatham Hill till the day we got back.  No other department can say the same.  They were working hard all the time, and even if flags were not whistling up and down, signals were still going out and we were listening to such widely scattered places as Hong Kong and Halifax, Singapore and Washington, or Pearl Harbour and Portishead.  Moreover, they provided all of our ship to shore communication and the sight of a walkie-talkie manned by a book-reading Sparker was a familiar one.  We used their gear too for running commentaries during regattas;  but this was purely a domestic service, most successfully organised in conjunction with the Electrical Department - even if we did broadcast to half the Canadian Continent over the local station frequency.  Yet they still had time to win the ship's Soccer Corinthian League and supply three of the young seamen's whalers crews  which did so well at Esquimalt.

Gunnery.  All this was, of course, entirely peaceful.  The West Indies is a peaceful Station, but that did not mean that the Gunnery Department were anything but busy.  The statistic page shows just how much they achieved in one brief year, and the Gunnery Officer insisted on making loud noises at the most thoughtless times - like the afternoon of leaving Rio when all that civilised people wanted was peace, darkness and fresh air.  But much credit is due.  Guns do not fire themselves and its a long chain - from the neatly typed Firing Orders of the G.O. Writer right through to the Ordnance Department, the Ammunition Supply Organisation, the Armourers, the Layers, the Control Parties, to the T.S.  Anything could have gone wrong;  so everybody needed a Yardarm Clearer.  But things seldom went wrong, if ever.

They enjoyed it all;  looking back at it, it was all good fun  - as much as it is ever "fun" to be drilled ad nauseam by three able G.I.'s who despite their diversity of appearance have a remarkably similar approach to life spelt with a capital "G".  The work up at Guantanamo, the Falklands bombardment, the throw off at Mounts Bay (which they missed) and the Gun Layers school all contributed toward a sense of achievement.  We shall not forget the  Gunnery Officer's smug smile when the sleeve was shot down during the Admiral's Inspection.  He was not surprised though, for it had happened before - and what's a few hundred yards of towing pennant anyway?  Nor can we forget his flushes when we were beaten to the draw by the Burghead Bay during the night encounter exercise.

Departments are teams, however, and not the most superlative Gunnery Office can win honourable mention in Admiral's Reports without the enthusiasm of control and gun sweepers, who by hard work, devotion to duty, pride in equipment and cake greatly impressed the R.C.N. Ordnance school at Esquimalt.  It was bad luck of, course, that the four inch mountings couldn't stay cocooned, though opening them was an impressive little ceremony even if there weren't any dockyard employees hibernating inside.  Hardly ever did those guns falter in their duty as saluting guns crews and the well remembered cry "If I wasn't a Gunner I wouldn't be here.  Number Two Gun Fire".

It was a tragedy that such a successful year should have been marred by so serious an accident as befell Able Seaman Mayle - but it could have been worse and he is well on the road to recovery.^[5]

T.A.S. There are other things in life besides guns, however, even if they don't fire so frequently - Torpedoes.  Only four torpedoes have they fired;  two when we were nearing Portland (such a long time ago) and two to impress the D.C.L.I. whom we took to sea for a "sixpenny trip" round the harbour.  But these were successful enough even if the T.S. did have to assist in the recovery of the torpedoes.  However, they didn't mind - for the Cox'n of the whaler was only a Gunnery type anyway.

They didn't only fire torpedoes.  They also sat closed up in cramped Asdic Cabinets, either chasing American submarines or helping pilotage through crowded fishing fleets.  And yet two more jobs accrued to them during the year.  It was always the T.S. Party who carried out shark scaring duties with its 1¼ lb charges. They liked doing that.  It is satisfying to blow up a lot of water with charges, though once at any rate, it was doubtful who had the most right to be scared - the sharks or the T.A.S. Officer.  However, he lived to get promoted and his successor had a wonderful day blowing up bits of Falkland, so that lorries could get through to collect road-making rocks.  Having achieved a certain sangfroid with little charges, they threw everything into one glorious Bikini-like detonation.  It was successful.  An enormous and terrifying boulder was thrown high into the air and travelled far.  It missed the workman's cottages by about three feet.  However, they returned unharmed to continue the only really hard and bitter battle of the commission - the job of keeping the Torpedo Parting Shop for Torpedomen.  They never really won a decisive victory against the Marines, chiefly because they were rather unfairly forbidden to use charges against them.

A.B.C.D. They did use one charge just over the port bow, to try and make a Damage Control exercise a little more realistic.  Those of us below thought the ship had started a major action and dust that had been lying peacefully in and over trunkings for years was suddenly poured out upon us.  However, that all added to the colour.  We didn't much care for D.C. exercises, for it meant a journey half way around the ship to get to the next compartment with everything closed down.  But they were necessary, for when we commissioned we were sadly lacking in our knowledge.  The highlight, of course, was the "Base-Surge-Atomic-Fallout" exercise.  Pre-wetting hoses played on every part of the ship only two minutes after the beginning of it, so you had to be quick or get soaked.  Everybody rushed madly in all directions below decks - with only one small expendable R.P. Rating left up top to look out for our safety.  The A.B.C.D. Officer timed us to our posts and some of the Regulating Staff had to be helped through 18" escape scuttles.  Only two of the boys were left exposed to radiation and by the time they had been decontaminated their clothes had gone and they wandered, disconsolate, for a long time thoroughly pr-wet. Which nobody much cares about except the divers - and they were keener to get in than get out.

Diving.  They left Chatham with the new shallow water diving kit and were in, trying it out, only a week after arriving on station.  Skimmers are readily sinkable toys when handled with abandon - and they were justifiably proud that it was taken from the bottom of Grassy Bay to its boat deck cradle in the short space of eight hours.

We trained five divers during our Hamilton visit and onlookers were so interested in this free "Navy Day" display that they blocked Front Street with the crowd.  Most places used divers.  Sometimes it was harbour survey (like in the freezing waters of the Falklands) and sometimes it was anchor recovery like the time when Toronto lost her "hook" and sometimes it was training teams of our own and teams from the frigates;  and always there has been the interminable battle against the ravages of heat and humidity for the American and West Indies is not kind to diving gear.  Then there were rush jobs - like removing the zinc slabs and broken impeller of the main circulating inlet at Jamaica;  and there were banyans - days of exercising with our oppos of the R.C.N.  Training and maintenance have always been difficult, but our diving has improved and our time has certainly not been wasted, even if it has been a quiet cruise. 

Professionally it has been a quiet cruise for the Fo'csle, too. They expressed a slight sigh of relief that they had no paravanes to play with and they are justifiably proud of the fact that twelve months have passed and they still have two anchors.  Moreover, they have parted but one rope - and that more in enthusiasm than stress.  Their pride was a little hurt by the fact that when they were joined by local convicts in deck chipping at Bermuda the rest either refused to recognise them or else found it difficult to distinguish them, but C-in-C's Inspection went well enough.  The only thing that did not quite come up to the mark was the anchor.  Capstan bars and fiddles are all very well - but pirates of old at least had decks to prance around.  Our deck was more like an obstacle course at the time.  Then during the Harbour Inspection there were Admiral's Recommends for "A" turret - which was quite something when it is considered how many thousands of feet had tramped through this showpiece.

Fo'cslemen have always prided themselves on Brawn and Brains and they proved the existence of both - for they provided three of the gallant whaler crews  who restored British honour in the Falklands - and the Fo'csle Quiz Kids stole the victory, during the Olympiad, from the reputedly intelligent Chiefs and Petty Officers and supposedly learned Wardroom.  And in most ship's activities there have always been a strong sprinkling of Fo'cslemen.  But then that is true of the Topmen too.  They call themselves Toppers though to look at they are not nearly so photogenic as the Toppers of the B.B.C.

Top.  They too have achieved great things and have always regarded themselves as one of the mainstays of ship's teams - most of them admit to wearing size 7½ hats;  but then that is modest for a Topman.  Nor was it all on the football field.  When we were running our sports days Bill Haggerty and Stumpy Lang seemed to walk off  with about half the prizes between them.  Then there was the famous marathon duel, over a two yard course, run between Lord Dunlop of White Walls (retired with sleeping sickness) and "O. A. Albert" (retired with calorie loss) - all this will be long remembered.  Yet just as much a part of existence was keeping the Boat Deck clean.  Far too much traffic rolled across it to suit the Topmen, and they were forever erecting barricades against it.  Often it was easier to get forr'd via the Galley Flat - or just not to bother at all.  And if you did brave the upper it was to incur the displeasure of the most "Sun-tanned-body-of-them-all" - Fingers;  and that was a fate not lightly to be dismissed.  The Topman had much to contend with;  the spud-locker-cum-timber-rack spilled a variety of refuse upon them;  the Shipwrights could never be confined to their shop but were forever overflowing on to the Boat Deck;  and there was always those tiny, proud, yet independent groups - the Sailmaker and the Bosun's Party.

Q.D.  The only thing that could be said about the Quarterdeck at Chatham was that at least it was wood.  Otherwise things were poor.  It took a fortnight of hard work to remove the accumulated grime of Dockyard refit.  Then at Bermuda, we got used to dealing with our awning and at controlling it only to have it almost blown away at Christmas.  The hands were called twice, in an endeavour - finally successful - to tame this fierce parachute.  But we had   few such incidents.  Only once, in Trinidad, - did we suffer damage - and that was by snagging our ensign staff under the cable of the ship astern.  It snapped.  No fault of ours, though we eventually retrieved it.  For the most part, it has been hard work trying to keep the Quarterdeck smart, for it is, after all, the most used section of the upper deck and yet was always expected to be the smartest.  However, the Quarterdeck men lived up to their reputation and put in an amazing amount of holy stoning and painting in a constant battle against the ravages of soot, which always went that way, and cocktail party cigarette burns.  Moreover, this overtime was usually voluntary.  Which says much for their pride in part of ship even if they did sing softly, "I'm coming. I'm coming for my head is bendin' low .........."  The Quarterdeck always reached the height of perfection for official parties with the ceremonial awning up, the fountain aft and the Chinese lanterns stretched from corner to corner.

Electrical.  These lanterns were a triumph for the Electrical Department.  They were made of paper and used countless times yet such was the care of their rigging and un-rigging that the same ones were used at the end of the commission as at the beginning.  For the Electrical Department the year had been a busy one, there has not been a single activity, official or otherwise, in which they have not played a part and often a major part.  The number of times that we have heard the crane driver piped to "close up" is so large that he must by now irrevocable shut.  Like most other departments, the ways of the E.M.'s and confrères ashore have always been successful.  Mostly it has brought them honour - like the time they challenged the Stettler crew to a racing duel , and won by a canvas;  or like the time they won the football;  and the fact that there was not a ship's sports team that contained none of them;  and the other times have brought nothing but infamy as did the large number of men who strangely returned on leave to Vancouver when the ship had, ostensibly, severed its connection and sailed to Victoria.  The Electrical Division is the biggest in the ship, for it has 100 men attached to it - and their messdeck is the most public, for when the weather is rough - or screen doors are closed for entering harbour, the E.M.'s messdeck becomes little more than a passageway aft, and a through road to D.C.H.Q.2.  And at least a dozen times during the commission a group of E.M.'s dragged the floodlighting units from the sponsons and rigged them with tarry twine and un-seamanlike hitches to the guard-rails so that we could throw a little light on our home.  All in all, they must have been exceedingly careful with these 1000 watt treasures for they broke no more than 100 of them and 26 were popped by the rain.  For all of them the year has been one of intense activity, so that it is not surprising that one or two of their junior rates seem to get lost from time to time. 

Royal Marines.  On the whole the Marines looked lost too when they joined the ship.  They were one of the last batches to join and consequently every spare locker had been "whipped".  But no one is more adept at packing two bags of gear into one locker than a marine and by Bermuda they had settled down.  At least they appeared to do so, but they were always hopping away on some escape or other.  They were well drilled in Tattoo and Retreat, yet as soon as they arrived in Guantanamo they had to be ashore with their American buddies.  Then, no sooner down in the Falkland Islands than they were off again, and nobody but a Supply Department knows what a confusion of organisation it is to get a landing party of marines ashore in the Falklands;  it was supposedly for Military Training although a great number seemed to find its way to The Morning Star.  No doubt the exercise in fieldcraft did them good for one marine was heard to remark, "My camouflage was so good that I was on top of a sheep before he noticed me" - but that's the marines.  Later they were to shoot away again, this time in Bermuda, just like they had done at Christmas, to Prospect Garrison to continue the "per terram"  bit of their motto.

But the marines of course, above all else, carried one of the Ship's biggest Flag Showing commitments - The Tattoo.  Everywhere it went it brought down the house.  Only in Rio were they "out-brassed", so to speak;  and that was by Miss Brazil 1955^[6].  This was not surprising, for the band rightly protested, she was better equipped for attracting large crowds.  It is unusual for an invitation for hospitality to be extended solely to one division.  Antigua was not a bright spot in our cruise - except for the marines.  Fifty three of them were entertained by two "ex- boots" who were residents.  They ate enormously, and drank in moderation, a total of 10 gallons of neat rum.

Only once during the commission was the Tattoo encored.  But that was by no less a body than the U.S. Marine Corps.  They were so impressed with the smartness of our precision drill that they were asked to do it for them alone.  How touching can marines get !  At Mexico City too, a small detachment paraded for the Tattoo and Wreath Laying - and three days in the rain can be pretty depressing - though not in Mexico, with a private batman laid on to clean boots, and round the clock entertainment.  So they have closed a successful year, leaving behind them a trail, they say, of broken hearts and deep impressions.  All in all the Guard and Band performed the Ceremonial Tattoo 27 times !

Supply and Secretariat.  If there were any broken hearts the Pay Staff soon did its best to mend them for on our last day in Bermuda we heard the Local overseas Allowance had been increased as from 1st January and we would all receive the back pay on arrival in Chatham.  A most pleasant and unexpected surprise.

The whole branch thoroughly enjoyed their experiences during the period abroad;  the first time for many of them.  There have been some humorous moments.  One member of the Pay Staff who lives north of the border put up a terrible black on his first day ashore, for when surveying a hamburger on his plate he asked the waiter for a knife and fork to help him eat it.  And then there was the occasion when the Commander (S) and the Deputy Supply Officer, having taken a great deal of trouble to organise transport to take them to the P.X in Long Beach arrived there to find a notice on the door which read "CLOSED FOR STOCKTAKING"  - this was picturesque justice.

The institution of L.O.A. had considerable effects throughout the Branch.  The sale of a great quantity of postal orders and a large amount of money deposited in the Post Office Savings Bank meant much extra work for the Pay Staff while the sale of cash clothing increased to a very great extent.  Still these extra tasks were undertaken cheerfully enough and the Naval Stores and Victualling people did well to keep us stored under most difficult conditions.  They wouldn't have been any good though without the Cooks, both in the Main and Wardroom Galleys  who had to carry out their onerous tasks under really adverse conditions at times;  or the Bakery Staff with their fine efforts at children's parties;  or Officers' Stewards whose untiring work at the cocktail parties did much to endear the name of the Royal Navy in the hearts of so many foreign guests.

Some things please, like the promotion of Stores Chief Petty Officer Barnes to Commissioned Rank - yet some things will always mystify, like "Who stole the Ding Dong?" ^[7]- the ship's fog bell.

Engine Room.  The Supply Department worked hard and built up a list of impressive statistics;  yet no other department can give such an impressive list of statistics as the Engine Room.   Had they realised at Chatham that they were going to distil 22,000 tons of water they would have had faint hearts before they started - if only because so much water ill becomes the average engine room character.  However it is only fair to say that most of it was used for boiler feeds or washing and not for drinking.  Being detached demands more organisation in the way of self-refit from the Stokers than anyone and it seems difficult now to appreciate the extent of the self-refitting that has gone on throughout the commission.  Only once have we had the facilities of a Dockyard at our disposal - and that was for less than 8 hours at San Diego.  It demanded a 4 cwt bag of spare parts to be flown from U.K. - which is quite something at normal mail rates;  and the work of removing the zinc and repairing circulators went on non-stop - even while the Commodore was giving his lunch party of the Quarterdeck.  All of which shows that in spite of the vast distance we have steamed we were only outside "logistic support" areas for a fortnight - in the Falklands.

The Engineering Mechanics (who used to be called Stokers) had a crowded twelve months on Superb.  There were 140 of them on the messdeck and at times it was almost as hot down there as it was in the after barracks.  But this did not stop them from keeping fit and everywhere ashore we saw the Stokers taking a front line part in any activity that happened to be going - whether it was soccer or regatta or rugger or just plain shore going.  And they kept fit enough as well.  There were quite a large number of them defending British honour against vastly superior Canadian numbers on one occasion - and there were no black eyes among them the following day.   We never saw them on the upper deck unless they were crashed out in the sun off-watch, or else sometimes painting the after intake grills and often the only evidence of their existence was the half inch layer of soot that had to be washed off by the morning watchmen.  But whenever there were parades and wreath-layings - the Stokers were there;  and at inspections they always picked up the recommends.  The Silent Department of the Silent Service.  Without them we would have got precisely nowhere.

 

Regatta Report

 

After a rousing victory by an open crew over the Falkland Islanders, who had not been defeated for 22 years, everyone's thoughts turned to the forthcoming inter-ship tussles arranged for Bermuda's placid waters.  To the delight of the enthusiasts and the groans of the not-so-keen', a competitive system of training was introduced in the form of a ladder.  After the initial draw for positions, progress was made up (and down) the ladder by challenging one of three crews immediately above oneself.  The crew trainers were thus presented with an ideal means of slave-driving their oarsmen, and duly went around issuing mandatory challenges.  Most prominent among these were Chief Yeoman Mitchell and P.O. Pyrke.  As the aches and pains of violent and in many cases unaccustomed exercise decreased with experience, so the distances pulled were extended, until just before the big day all crews were racing over the full distance.  The Electrical crew finished head of the ladder, in spite of gallant effort by the Forecastlemen who were runners up.

For The Regatta the Ship's Company was divided into two independent ships, designated rather unromantically, Superb "A" and Superb "B".  This meant that as nearly as possible, the number of men available to join any crew, either from the Flagship or from the frigates, Mounts Bay and Veryan Bay was equal.

Regatta day was fine with a fair breeze from the south-west which freshened during the day but was never enough to seriously hamper pulling.  As the day progressed and more and more victorious coxswains were fed to the barracuda by their ungrateful crews, Superb "B" crept ahead.  They managed to hold off determined opposition from Superb "A" and Veryan Bay to win the coveted "Squadron Cock".  With 37 points - 6 firsts and 2 seconds helping towards that total - they were worthy winners.  Superb "A" finished second with 34 points.  Veryan Bay had 27 and Mounts Bay 10 points.

The biggest surprise of the day had been the victory of P.O. Hand's Topmen over the confident Forecastle crew.

Prizes were presented by Lady Stevens who had watched the day's racing from the Quarterdeck.  Immediately afterwards a large and highly coloured Cock, which seemed to be making every effort to crow, shot up to Superb's fore-masthead.  This splendid bird caused much disturbance and the expenditure of a day's issue of spuds during the night.  Next morning it was seen to be slung between the frigates' yardarms, an event which recovered for the small ships some of their lost prestige and showed them to be truly united in defeat !

Many of us now hung up our oars and said that we had done enough for one commission.  It was only after the beginning of the West Coast Cruise that we learned that we had been invited to take part in the R.C.N. Regatta at Esquimalt.  The fact that Superb was to be the only R.N. ship present added to each crew's determination to give of its best.  A race for the Vancouver Challenge Cup against H.M.C.S. Discovery boosted our moral not a little.  The cup had been lost to the Canadians in 1948 when Kenya's crew were beaten, but our open crew won it back in magnificent style, romping home 15 lengths in front of the Discovery.

The enclosed harbour at Esquimalt made an excellent site for the Regatta with calm forenoons for pulling and a rising breeze in the afternoons to satisfy the sailing contestants.  August 15th and 16th were devoted entirely to The Regatta and on the first day Superb went away to a good start by winning four out of six races.  Hot favourites for their event, the Electrical crew had to scratch because their race started whilst they were being towed out to the line.  Honour was satisfied when they challenged and beat the winning crew in a most exciting and gruelling race on the day after the regatta.  On the second day we scored with two firsts, two thirds and two fourths.  Our war canoe, unexpectedly came home third and promptly engaged their opponents in a friendly battle, yelling hideous war-cries and using a weird assortment of weapons.

In the sailing events, Superb won the trophy for cutters, Lt. Gerken coming home first on both days.  We also took second in the whaler's races.  For dinghy sailing we managed to come fourth even though one crew made a startling discovery about the water temperature on the second day.

When the points were added up it was found that Superb was a good winner with 58 points, 26 ahead of the nearest rival H.M.C.S. Stettler.  In all there were ten ships or establishments taking part, so we were justly proud of ourselves.

After a very successful season, a high standard has been set for the next Flagship to maintain, and each of us has a store of good material to use at our next regatta for those stories which start, "Now when I was in Superb .............!"

 

Soccer Roundup

 

We began disastrously !  With machine-like efficiency Sheffield's XI, on the day following our arrival in Bermuda, thrashed our XI (which were as yet hardly a team) to the tune of 10-0.  Their robust tactics seemed to knock our players off their stride right from the start, and we never settled down.

After half-a-dozen games in Jamaica during the first few weeks of November however, team spirit and confidence materially increased and we returned to Bermuda eager to tackle the strong B.A.A. side.  In this exciting encounter we emerged delighted victors, 4-2.  Morale was now high and our game constantly improving, but in a floodlit return match with the B.A.A. although off to a good start, our shooting power in front of goal became very weak and when the final whistle went B.A.A. were ahead 6-3.

By this time the frigates had joined us and a Navy side was selected, once again to meet the B.A.A.  After a hard fought game we finished 3-2 down.  Undismayed, Navy now tackled the Bermuda League XI and then Southampton Rangers, beating both these sides by a convincing margin.

Knowing full well that in South America we would be expected to meet some first class sides, we took on any opposition we could find.  In Nassau, for instance, we played three games, winning two of them.  In our first venture against a Latin team however, we were unable to hold the Peruvian Navy and went down 3-0.

Sailing south, our next port of call was Valparaiso where our opponents were a star XI called Pick Of The Leagues.  For sheer thrills this match would take a lot of beating.  Play moved at lightening speed on the hard turf from end to end.  Time and time again the spectators roared with delight as goals seemed inevitable, but after 90 minutes of splendid football the ball had not found its way into the net.  A goal-less draw was an admirable result to an admirable game.  The presence of gorgeous Miss Chile^[8] and her attractive retinue may well have spurred every player on to produce his very best !

In the Falkland Islands we were beaten 4-1 by the enthusiastic islanders.  This was a game broadcast by, what to us was, a very novel method.  Wires were run from the broadcasting van to the ordinary telephone cables, and it was by this means that the commentary was relayed to the local radio.

Of the two games played in Rio de Janeiro the first was memorable for the hide and seek which went on whenever the ball went over the touchline into the extra long lush tropical grass !  The second at the Niteroi Cricket Club demonstrated just how much inspiration a team can get from a cheering crowd of supporters.  At half time Superb was 2-1 down, and in spite of the reviving effects of the "magic sponge"  and a strong "pep" talk from the trainer, we were further behind ten minutes after the restart.  Then the vociferous members of the 2nd XI arrived on the scene and with their shouts of encouragement, mingled with cold-bloodied threats, drove our men on to a magnificent 4-3 victory.

During the recent North American Cruise, games which will long be remembered, include the match at Portland where each member of the team was "introduced" to the crowd by the commentator, and that was at Seattle where, after a hard game, we were entertained right royally in a local brewery.  A certain member of the Regulating Staff won immortal fame when he led the team in a very active performance of the Muffin Man to the great delight of our American hosts.

Of some 46 games played, 20 have been won and 12 drawn, as against 14 defeats.  The ball has found its way into the net from a Superb boot no fewer that 196 times whilst the back of our own net has felt its impact on 160 miserable occasions! Corporal Haslam and Ordinary Seaman Scott were our most prolific scorers, whilst the team captain, A.B. Nicholson was consistently a strong tower in defence.

The team are grateful for the training they received from Ch. Yeo. Mitchell, P.O. Chinnery and R.P.O. Scott, which stood them in good stead in the often fierce heat the matches were played in.  The unfailing support of the Club's President, Surgeon-Commander Hamilton and many others was always a great help.

 

Athletics

 

Careful nursing by the grounds' working party resulted in Moresby Plain becoming an excellent site for sports of all kind. During our long stay in Bermuda between the two major cruises, both ship and fleet athletic meetings were held there.  In the early weeks of May, Spartan figures could be seen plodding over the rough Ireland Island roads (speed limit 25 m.p.h.) Preparing for their final effort on the Big Day.

Although the weather could have been better, our own Sports Day was quite successful and a high standard was achieved in most events.  It was noticed amid considerable laughter, that the Sports Officer, was a frequent visitor to the prize table, both on his own and some absent prize winners' behalf, especially as the prizes were bottles of beer.

For the Fleet Athletics, as in all Fleet Sports, Superb had two completely separate teams so that the Flag ship would not have an advantage in numbers over the frigates.  On a brilliantly sunny afternoon the field looked very pretty with its gay flags, refreshment stalls and smartly dressed officials.  The programme ran remarkably smoothly and the scorers had a hard job keeping the tally up-to-date as results poured in.  The tug-of-war event proved especially exciting when Superb "A" and Mounts Bay had a great battle.  First Mounts Bay, then Superb won a pull;  the final pull looked as if it would never end.  Fortunes swayed either way to the accompaniment of roars of encouragement which must have been heard in Hamilton.  Slowly but surely Mounts Bay gained inches of ground and the bunting hovered tantalisingly close to their line.  One gigantic effort and they had won.

The last events were the relays which always bring thrills since they carry sufficient points to cause drastic changes in position at the very end of the meeting.  E.M. Trickey the "B" Team Captain was outstanding in these exciting races, Superb "A" carried the day with 223 points, the "B" Team coming second with 182 points.  Whilst the Superb teams had moved ahead, a great fight was taking place for pride of position between the frigates.  Veryan Bay finished third with 165 points but Mounts Bay were only 3 points behind them.  Superb's newly joined Midshipmen had distinguished themselves by taking a very active part in these sports.

 

 

Rugby Football

 

It is a pity, but the American and West Indies Station does not get a lot of Rugger.  In most of the places we visited on cruises, they don't play the game, and apart from anything else, the ground is too hard.  In Bermuda however, it was possible to have a few games and we did.

When all came together at the beginning of the commission at Chatham, we had a couple of trial games and then a third at Portland against H.M.S. Maidstone.  We lost this last, but only 9-6 and we weren't discouraged - there was quite a lot of talent in the ship, we felt.

On arrival in Bermuda we had a trial of strength with the Sheffield and again lost 9-6 in a hard fought game played under hot sun and on iron-hard turf - conditions quite new to most of us.

We did not play again until December after we had returned from Guantanamo.  Then we did battle with the Bermuda Athletic Association, who proved to be a much stronger side than we had anticipated.  They beat us four times but we were getting better.  The forwards held their own most of the time although they were inclined to be a little ragged and untidy in the loose, and this, combined with poor handling and passing and bad tackling left us with very little excuse for our train of defeats.

Our outstanding performers were Lieutenant Commander Hodgson, who always played a thrustful game at fly half and whose kicking was always most enthusiastic, Ordinary Seaman Lang, a determined runner on the wing who deserved far more success than he actually got, Midshipman Raymond, really a forward who managed to turn himself into quite a capable fullback and Lieutenant Hatch and Ordinary Seaman Claydon who between them always gave the selectors the maximum trouble in deciding who to leave out as scrum-half.  Of the forwards, mention should be made of Lieutenant Lockyer and Midshipman Piggot who always hooked well.  Lieutenant Bilsborough, who led the pack and proved a hard working prop into the bargain, and Electrician Bolton, Able Seaman Vizor and E.A. Scrivens, all lively forwards.

We had one game on our first cruise and that was against H.M.S. Veryan Bay in the Falklands.  We lost again, fairly.  A Devonport ship, Veryan Bay had a hardworking, closely knit side many a bigger ship might be proud of.

We didn't play again until we got back to Bermuda, and we tackled B.A.A. again - and lost.  Then the Fleet Olympiad came along and two teams were entered from the ship.  They managed to come second and third, the "B" Team winning two out of its three matches and the "A" Team, one out of the three.

There was another stand off after this - right until we got to Bermuda after the North American cruise - and then, at last, under floodlights, we beat the B.A.A.

It would be impossible to remember all those who played, but as well as all those already mentioned, the following came to mind as having played most often for the ship - Midshipmen De Merindol, Dingemans, M(E)'s McLennnan and Ramshaw, Lieutenant Simpson, E.R.A. Hughes, Ordinary seaman Jerrum, Marines Hall and Hallworth and Corporal Lansdown.

 

Cricket

 

Only two trial games could be held in Bermuda before we began our South American Tour, but they served to show that Superb was not lacking in talent.  In attack especially we had a plentiful selection of above average bowlers backed by smart and keen fielding.  Our batting was less effective, and the ever present difficulty in getting some net practice did not help much.

During the Cruise ten games were played of which we won five, lost four and drew one.  Easily the most attractive match was the one against Valparaiso C.C.  batting first (from choice) and despite an early set back, our opponents scored steadily.  A unique sidelight to this game was due to the ground being situated adjacent to the racecourse - the last straight being parallel to the site screen at one end.  Whenever a race was nearing its finish, our game had to be held up, a fact which was rather welcomed by the Ship's team toiling in the heat.

When tea was taken V.C.C. were 190 for 8 which seemed a formidable total in view of the limited time remaining. V.C.C. declared at this figure which might have been much higher but for the accurate pace bowling of E.A. Heaton, who had 5 for 39 in 21 overs.

Superb lost S/Lt. Young with the score at 8, but Ch. Shipwright Syms and A.B. Longe scored freely enough until Syms went at 65.  The Flag Lieutenant now joined Longe and these two set about the bowling to such an extent that when, with only minutes to spare, the V.C.C. total was passed, Longe had 88 and Lt. Shattock 71.

Not all our efforts were so successful, but wherever we went we met with wonderful hospitality and fine sportsmanship.  It was interesting to see so many flourishing clubs in a continent not usually associated with cricket.

Before setting out on the second Cruise we met several of Bermuda's eleven's.  These matches were played in weather we often dream about when rain stops play at home!  Few of us liked the matting wickets, though the objections to them were for such a variety of reasons that it was safest just to say that we found them ,"Very different from English turf".

We wondered whether the influence of baseball would have equipped our American opponents with an unerring eye and a murderous swing of the bat.  In actual fact we met a very high standard indeed.  Though the enthusiasts were perhaps few in number they were not only keen but extremely capable.

Perhaps our most enjoyable encounter was with the touring D'Oyly Carte Opera Company in Los Angeles.  We remember it not only for a light hearted "festival sprit" match but for the happy evening we had in a nearby pub whose landlord was a Scottish exile!  The Ship's Team's voices seemed to blend passable well with those of the experts - but no one was offered a contract!

Once again  we were made extremely welcome wherever we went and all those who played have many happy memories to take home with them

 

Hockey

 

Hockey in the ship has been most successful and enjoyable, our only regret being that we were not able to find more opponents to demolish.  There has been a quite unusual amount of enthusiasm and talent on board and we have never had any difficulty in getting a good team together, even at short notice.

Our hardest and best match undoubtedly was against the Army garrison, Jamaica, which resulted in a draw.  It might, however, be remembered that they were the same side who, only a fortnight previously, had made minor Colonial history by beating the Combined Jamaica team.  Our 3-0 victory against the Trinidad Police was also a very pleasing and unexpected success.

It is difficult to remember exactly who scored all the 47 goals that were chalked up for our side during the season, but most of us will recall Petty Officer Green's five goals in fifteen minutes against the Trinidad Wanderers, who forthwith capitulated on the spot - but then he has the Irish blarney and they happened to be an All-Ladies Side!  There was a great deal of enthusiasm and excitement when Superb's "A" Team narrowly won the Olympiad Hockey Cup in Bermuda, but many will best remember the extremely good and hard fought games when the Ship's Company succeeded in trouncing the Wardroom side in two successive matches, 1-0 and 2-1.  In fact the say that wound licking is still taking place.

 

1st XI Record

Played             Won                Drawn               Lost     Goals For        Goals Against

    12                  8                       3                            1           47                        11

 

Taxpayer's Notes

Between commissioning and return to the U.K. we have:-

Paid £228,474 to Officers and Men in cash (apart from allotments)	Distributed throughout the ship over 100,000 copies of signals
Used 825,285 lbs of potatoes          184,045 lbs of bread          92,967 lbs of meat	Steamed 36,962 miles Used 16,932 tons of fuel Distilled 22,363 tons of water
Expended 1,115 4" and 6" shells 6,130 pom-pom and bofors' rounds 49,600 small arms rounds	Used 4,696 gallons of paint at a cost of £1,588 Put on with 744 brushes and rollers
Fired 740 rounds by 4" saluting guns	Traversed the Panama Canal 3 times at a cost of £5,705 7s 3d
Transmitted 2,688 private telegrams 3,826 official telegrams 55,021 cypher groups 13,689 plain language signals	Docked once at a cost of $20,000

 

Transcriber's Notes On The Above Article

            All the above notes were transcribed from the original booklet, issued to all ratings at the end of the cruise, for the purpose of broadcasting them on the Internet in order to supply information to those (ex-shipmates & other ex matloes) interested in the meanderings of H.M.S. Superb during 1954 to 1955, As far as possible the exact words and phrases have been kept as the original author intended.  The printer/publisher however, seemed to have been in possession of a surfeit of commas & semicolons some of which I have removed.  Any mistakes are, therefore, someone else's !

            Aged 18, I was a National Serviceman (March, 1954 to March, 1956) and spent a total of just 5 days in H.M.S. Pembroke  (Naval Barracks at Chatham) after basic training at H.M.S. Victory at Portsmouth and H.M.S. Implacable at Portland.  The rest of my service was spent on the "Super B" as a seaman.  My part of ship was the Quarterdeck mainly working with the "Side Party" - "gash-chute sentry" in Chatham Dockyard, painting the ship for most of the voyage, as a lazy leadsman (through the Panama Canal & other places) and also a spell as a Petty Officers' Messman.

            I was also one of the actors in We Ain't Sulkin' which was produced and directed by Richard Ince a young, enthusiastic and likeable man.   My main role in the production was to "lip-sync" the words to two of Doris Day's then current hit songs, A Guy Is A Guy and Apple Blossom Time.  Dressed up as a female, I had two solo "spots", which from a distance, on the stage and under the spotlights, apparently deceived those watching; and it brought all sorts of warranted and unwarranted attention (especially in Bermuda) but, all in all, my part in the show was a success and I retained my virginity especially so far as the unwarranted attention was concerned!

Able Seaman Brian Saunders H.M. ^[9] C/J938622

 

 

Shipmates

Allen, Commander

Ashton, Boy

Bailey, Boy

Barnes, Chief Petty Officer

Bilsborough, Lieutenant

Bolton, Electrician

Chinnery, P.O.

Claydon, Ordinary Seaman

Coleby, Lieutenant

De Merindol, Midshipmen

Dingemans, Midshipmen

Dunlop. Leading Seaman

Fingers

Fuller, D.H.C.  Commodore

Gerken, Lieutenant

Haggerty, Able Seaman

Hall,  Marine

Hallworth , Marine

Hamilton, Surgeon-Commander

Hatch,  Lieutenant

Hodgson, Lieutenant Commander

Hughes, E.R.A

Ince Richard Lieutenant

Jacks, Leading Seaman

Jerrum, Ordinary seaman

Joe

Johnson's, Commander

Lang, Ordinary Seaman

Lansdown, Corporal

Lockyer,  Lieutenant

Longe, Able Seaman.

Mayle, Able Seaman

McGhee, Leading Steward

McLennnan,  M(E)

Mitchell, Ch. Yeo.

Nicholson, Able Seaman

Pearman,  C.P.O.

Pearson, Leading Steward

Piggot, Midshipman

Porter, Mechanician

Ralph,  L.M.(E)

Ramshaw, M(E)

Raymond, Midshipman

Corporal Rosevear

Rowe, Mr

Saunders, Brian Able Seaman

Scott, R.P.O.  

Scrivens, E.A.

Shattock, Flag Lieutenant

Simpson, Lieutenant

Syms,  Chief Shipwright

Tasker, Corporal

Trickey, E.M.

Trott,  L.M.(E).

Vizor, Able Seaman

Webster, Leading Seaman

Williams,  Ordinary Seaman

 

Ships that passed in the night !

Burghead Bay, H.M.S.

Centaur, H.M.S.

Diamond, H.M.S. 

Discovery H.M.S.

Golfito S.S.

Implacable, H.M.S.

Maidstone, H.M.S.

Midway, U.S.S.

Mounts Bay, H.M.S.

Newport News, U.S.S.

Pembroke,  H.M.S.

Sheffield, H.M.S.

Stettler U.S.S.

Toronto, H.M.C.S.

Veryan Bay, H.M.S.

Victory, H.M.S .

 

Personal Oppos

(All National Servicemen - none of whom were ever seasick)

Brown, Alfred (Alf) - Able Seaman from Ashford, Kent

Henderson, Neil - Able Seaman from Sheffield

Langford, Graham - Able Seaman from Northampton

Taylor, Kenneth (Buck) - Able Seaman from Poplar, London

 

Regulars Remembered

Thomas, Peter? (Lofty)  - Able Seaman, P.O.'s Messman

Tom ?, Able Seaman, Chief P.O.'s Messman

Plumb-bob – P.O. Artificer

 

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^[1]As I heard it, Lieutenant Ince was killed in a road traffic accident, while driving his sports car on his way home to the West Country, from Chatham, not long after we returned from the American & West Indies Commission which would be sometime in late 1955.

 

^[2]The "rough" crossing was in fact Hurricane Hazel & all we could see through the scuttles was green sea, for the three days we were battened down below decks.

^[3]In the early nineteenth century, the British Navy ruled the waves. Napoleon may have been the master of continental Europe, but he didn't do nearly so well on the high seas. Under Admiral Nelson, the British reigned supreme, but there was a problem.  The British fleet couldn't be everywhere at the same time without spreading themselves too thinly. They just didn't have enough ships.  In 1804 ,(the author seems to be mistaken about the date and length of time - but then he didn't have the benefit of the Internet to check his facts) the British Admiralty placed 120 sailors with canons and all their equipment on Diamond Rock, a small island just three kilometres from the southern coast of Martinique.  This Island was crewed by the British Navy, and designated as a fighting ship, The Unsinkable H.M.S. Diamond Rock.   For seventeen months, the Diamond Rock fired its canons at any French shipping that foolishly wandered within range.  The steep sides of this inhospitable volcanic rock made it easy to defend and difficult to conquer. The British occupied the rock for a year and a half before the French navy evicted them by sneakily setting adrift barrels of rum near to the rock and, after a short while, raided the rock, overwhelmed the drunken sailors and retook the island !

^[4]The "buzz" was that we had collided with a whale and sustained damage to our intakes !

^[5]I believe that A.B. Mayle was seriously injured whilst operating a shell hoist when his hand & arm were caught & driven downwards in the "endless belt" used to bring live ammunition from the bowels of the ship to the upper deck.

^[6]Emília Barreto - Miss Brazil 1955

^[7]"Somebody Bad Stole De Wedding Bell" contemporary song by Eartha Kitt

^[8]Rosita Merello, Miss Chile 1955

^[9]Heterosexual Male

 

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