BLACK CATS & MEMORIES

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OOW Antics

As lookout onboard HMS ASTUTE one night in 1965 near the Scilly Isles, I reported an approaching ship to the Officer of the Watch (a miserable Welsh sod). In those days it was customary for the RN to call all ships by Aldis lamp and issue a challenge.
OOW - Call the ship - make the challenge
Aye aye Sir, and commenced flashing the approaching ship.
No answer Sir.
OOW - keep flashing
Aye aye Sir, clack clack clack '
Eventually a huge light lit up the night.
She's answered Sir.
OOW - Make the challenge
Aye aye Sir - Clack clack , clack clack - What Ship? Where Bound?
After a delay the huge light came back - RMS Queen Mary, Oo wants ter f@###g know?

The same Officer, was renowned for being late on watch when we were surface running. Every night was the same. He'd clamber into his penguin suit (heavy RN foul weather gear) and make his way to the bridge . Once there he'd order the control room messenger to make him a jug of Kai and take it to the bridge, but would never offer any to the lookout. About half way through the watch he'd ask the Jimmy to be called to relieve him as he needed to go to the heads. (The Jimmy was not a watchkeeper). Night after night it was the same until eventually the Jimmy had had enough. He arranged with the Coxswain for the nightly Kai jug to be laced with laxettes and the lookouts given strict instructions not to drink the Kia if offerred any. About an hour after the Kai had been drunk the message was received to call the Jimmy to relieve the OOW as he needed to go to the heads. The Jim had left orders that he was not to be called and that no other officers were to called until it was time to change the watch. Needless to say the laxettes did the job and the OOW spent a very dirty and smelly watch inside his penguin suit. He reverted to General Service shortly after.

Fred Lawrence sent these.

The Great OVENS Wine Bottling
Eric Jones recently donated two bottles of "Chateau Chunder" to the Maritime Museum in Fremantle. The following is a quick history on those bottles of fine wine (vinegar) that are going to the OVENS Museum.

The bottling was held by OVENS Crew in Lane Cove National Park in the late 1970s. Probably 78/79. Tony Parkin was the Skipper at the time. The weather was miserable, cold and wet for most of the day, but the alcohol seemed to warm things up after a while.

We had 44 gallon drums of red and a white wine. Evidence of the red wine is still spattered over the white wine labels. The spillage occurred during transfer of the hose from one bottle to the next. Not to mention the loss of wine from the transfer of the hose from the pourers' mouths to the bottles, between fillings. There was water and wine everywhere.

After a short struggle, one intoxicated communicator managed to throw the Skipper's wife (Wendy) into a huge hollow of mud. Being the wife of a submariner, she managed to take it with a better than average sense of humour, but I'm sure she was pretty annoyed with the way that the brazen Able Seaman had treated her. Plus, to rub salt into the wound, her husband did nothing to prevent the dunking and failed to berate the sailor for his actions.

Later in the day, the After Mess and the Fwd Mess duelled in a tug of war. I'm not sure who did the dastardly deed (I think it was someone from Aft) , but to ease the effort required by his side's anchorman, a sailor decided to tie the end of the rope to one of the neatly aligned copper log fences around the park. Needless to say, the opposing Mess gave an almighty heave, pulled the fence completely out of the ground, and landed on their butts.

On the way back to the Squadron Club in the pusser's bus, the crew carried out the usual public relations display in an effort to impress pedestrians and motorists alike. Some observers no doubt took offence to some of the evolutions that were conducted in "Bong Bong Races" style, but everyone had a great day, and I don't recall seeing one broken wine bottle all day.

I opened a bottle of white, several years after this momentous event, only to discover that it tasted like vinegar. The other two have traveled with me during every removal since the "Great OVENS Wine Bottling" twenty odd years ago. You know, just in case they came in handy for something? Now I am glad that I kept them. After all, removals are free and memories are precious.

Eric Jones

A Clash of Cultures - Reminiscences of an RNr

It's the early 60's when one of Her Majesties sleek black messengers of death enters Portsmouth dockyard for dry-docking. 'Deeps', the Tanky, an able assistant to the Coxswain and oppo of the Leading Chef is instructed to run an errand to Victory Barracks by the No1.

Resplendent in his battery acid honed No.8ts. trousers, salt encrusted steaming boots, off grey submarine roll neck sweater and nicely yellowed cap with bow strategically placed over his left eye, our hero enters Barracks. He strolls across the parade ground, contemplating lighting up a DF, when the strangulated cry of a "That creature there" rents the peace.

A Chief Gunnery Instructor, testicles tightly bound with black masking tape to obtain that required pitch, stands quivering on his mirror like boots with inch thick soles and 200 polished hobnails. Deeps thinks, 'not me I am only a visitor' and ambles on.

The Chief of the Parade, who, as we all know never runs any where, walks at great speed, pace stick clenched firmly between the cheeks of his ar-s, no under his arm really. When he gets in front of our hero he places the tip of his pace stick on Deeps chest to prevent any escape and eyes him up and down. Deeps, having suffered the wrath of various Submarine Chief Stokers, is totally unfazed by this apparition and awaits the next move.

Chief of the Parade, "There is a bit of sh-t on the end of my stick"

Deeps, "Not at my end Chief"

P.S. CLANG, "Mind your fingers Jack"

Bob Head