Once we left the firing range it was, for once, a fairly leisurely passage to Hong Kong.
The events of the last few days had left us all physically and emotionally drained. I’ve mentioned before that I’m no fan of the “modern” Hong Kong. All those skyscrapers and the vast crowds always make me feel a bit uncomfortable. If we’d been alongside I may well have ventured ashore a few times for a meal or something, but as we were back in the same anchorage that we used a couple of years earlier in “Olmeda” it meant a boat journey of over an hour so I gave it a miss. From many of the reports I got from those who did venture forth I didn’t miss out on much. So that was OK.
“Fort Grange” was still not fully fixed by the time it came for us to depart, so it had been arranged for 2 of her Sea-Kings to embark on us for the next couple of weeks. The bad news was that they weren’t bringing any deck crew, which was going to put a great strain on me and the flight deck team. Being on the flight deck for hour after hour meant that all the other bits of my job just got ignored. But would we be able to get one of the aircraft into the hangar? Remember that we already had the “Scout” housed in there, as well as all the rocket equipment. But it did fit, just, with a fair amount of juggling things around. You may also recall that we “loaded” the Royal Marines band gear before we left the UK…now we embarked the band itself. So what with the flight and the band our “complement” had increased by 70. That’s a lot of extra bodies on an “Ol”. Now I had to fit them all into our “emergency station” bill. Mainly finding somewhere to stash them somewhere “safe” but out of the way unless we needed a few extra bodies for humping and carrying. The galley staff also learned that they were not immune to extra work! Actually, the Ch.Cook was a super guy, and because of him the pretty high standard of catering didn’t fall, which was a relief.
By now we were all just looking forward to getting down to OZ….that is until we got an amended itinary. Two port visits cancelled and the others all chopped down to not much more than a weekend. This was now really the voyage from hell. Much muttering about this being the last trip they’d do in the RFA. Even the Nav had had enough and he rapidly departed company with the RFA when we got back home and joined a rig supply outfit in the West Indies. He wasn’t alone. I was sort of stuck because of my age, but the actuality of the future was as yet still uncertain. So I decided to “stick with it” (or, more precisely “suck it and see”).
But along came another twist. While steaming south in company with “Edinburgh” (Prince Andrew embarked in her), we came across a boatload of Vietnamese refugees.
It was a very small boat, maybe 20ft long and had long ago begun to disintergrate, the engine was broken and there were no sails. There had originally been 23 people on board when they saile some 30 days earlier. Families, in the main. One family of 3 (mother, father and a 3year old daughter) was lost. The little girl had died of starvation, the mother died 3 days later and then the distraught father had starved himself to death. The mother and daughter were “buried at sea”, but the father had died only a day before we picked them up. His body was still on the boat. A child (girl) had been born on the boat…still alive. All the survivors were in a pretty bad way and obviously not expecting to be picked up. The Captain of “Edinburgh” had a pretty tough decision to make now. The political situation at the time sort of dictated that only “assistance” should be given to “boat people”, and he was minded to only sort of fix their boat and give them 30 days rations. But he accepted “Olwen”s offer to take them. “Olwen” of course being ostensibly a “Merchant Ship”. He later sent a signal to MoD and Cincfleet, the last line of which was …”I am eternally grateful for the “Olwen”s humanitarian nudge that came at exactly the right moment”.
However they were all too weak to be immediately transferred to us, except the baby (all 7lb of it) which was very fit and well. The other kids were just spelks between 4 and 12 years old. (the baby was not actually transferred at this stage).
“Edinburgh” buried the body “correctly” and sank the boat.
“Edinburgh” kept them on board just long enough to stabilise and re-hydrate them before using the RIBs (Pacifics) of both ships to transfer them to us. Still very weak, they couldn’t get into the boats, so the boats were brought up to deck level and three per boat were embarked…we did the same thing in reverse at our end. I imagine that it must have been traumatic for them to be put in another boat.
The flight had brought a steward with them to relieve the burden on our stewards, so his duties were rapidly changed. We had asked the “Ark” (miles away) for a Medical Orderly to help out our Doctor, so he was flown out to us.
The baby and the children were brought over first. Our barman (a huge, tough bloke), the RN steward and the M. Orderly plus a couple of our cooks carried them to our hospital. I reckon that there wasn’t a soul on board who saw this bunch carrying these tiny people who didn’t have a lump in the throat. I know I did…in fact got one now just writing and recalling the scene.
So. Now we had on board:-
Olwen crew………110.
Flight………………40.
RM Band………….24
Vietnamese………..20
Total of …194….way over the top for us! In fact, I think we were over our “official” lifeboat capacity.
Then the political questions/problems began.
Obviously, it was our intention to go back to Singapore to land these people. However, the Singapore policy at the time was only allow the ship that originally picked them up to land them. Quandaries all round! But I guess that the publicity angle and so on the Singapore government didn’t want to be seen as a “baddy”.
I’m ahead of myself again. Finding space to “put them up” was a problem. The hospital was an obvious and first choice, then the cadets classroom (with camp beds), and one of the cadets cabins. One of the men spoke a little English, and we were lucky enough to have an English/Chinese steward so between them a sort of conversation could be carried on. Two of the men were pretty well educated…TV mechanics etc; but the others were farmers and not so well educated.
It was amazing to see the ships response to these people. Compassion and help from those who were some of the last people on earth you would expect it from. As they got stronger the kids ort of latched on to various crew members and followed them everywhere. The young Medical orderly in particular treated the younger ones as if they were his own. I still recall him sitting on deck holding the baby with a couple of the younger ones cuddled up and watching wide eyed at all the activity going on around them.
“Things going on around them”? Well, remember that we had the RM Band on board, and they need to practise. Well, the ship had this main open deck between the for’d and after houses…quite big enough for a marching band to practise on. (just). So the ships company got 2 concerts a day, free, from one of the best bands in the world. Probably a morning “do” of a couple of hours of “Dixie/Souza” and Glen Miller stuff, and then in the afternoon they would play what they are best known for….including those tremendous rat-a-tat drum things. From being a really down-trodden ship with no morale, we fairly quickly became almost our old selves again. Serendipity, or what. I’m sure the Vietnamese thought it was all put on for them!…nor did I know what they thought of those big helicopters thundering on and off at all hours of the day and night.
The ships crew, flight and RM band people hatched up some cunning plans to raise some money for the Viets. One was a full scale concert with uniforms and everything at £1 per ticket. So there was the first almost £200. Then we had a rely race up and down the main deck. (another £1 a head whether you attended or not)…nothing startlingly new about that….but there was a twist. Four of the Marines dug out the long ceremonial bugles , positioned themselves (full uniform) on one of the cross-catwalks above the deck and gave a full scale “State Opening Of Parliament” fanfare and performance. I recall that the Marines easily won the race…expectedly.
For their part, and not to be outdone by a bunch of Fish-heads and Bootnecks , the flight decided to “do their own thing”. One of the aircraft went the 50 odd miles to the “Ark” and had a general announcement made asking for contributions of toys etc. for the children. The Arks company responded by filling a huge (and I mean “huge”) mailsack with toys that they had originally bought for their own children.
By now the adults were feeling fit by now, and were beginning to make great inroads into our food stocks. Nothing begrudged, but the Senior Purser did mention that his re-stocking programme in Singapore would have to be “enhanced” somewhat.
But then cam the ultimate act of generosity. I know I criticise the RN for many things, but in some respects I really admire them. This was one of those times.
Some of us knew what was going to happen….but not all that many. During one of the morning “concerts” the Ark sort of crept up astern of us and came alongside at about 50ft distance. The Viets hadn’t seen her yet, and there she was. Shock and awe was invented long before Mr.Rumsfeld thought he’d coined the phrase. A light jackstay was attached, and the Ark sent over a Santa Claus followed by a pallet load of wooden toys that had been made by the Arks ships company during the previous 48 hours. Even the Viets had tears in their eyes when the Arks crew “lined the side”, waved and cheered at them….and our RM band on the Monkey Island played throughout.
“Our” refugees were met by a rep of the UN Refugees and their entry into Singapore was made quite painless. They were then to spend 3 months in a re-settlement camp. One of the guys who got close to them on board went to visit them, and said that they were comfortable. They were also to be taught “English” so they could be settled in their country of choice. Not surprisingly, they’d chosen the UK. I also..much later..heard that the children were allowed to keep all of their toys. So a good end to all that.
Memory can play some cruel tricks. So I’m not too sure if I’m correct here, but I think that this is the band that was decimated by the IRA bombing of their barracks.
But, as always seems to happen, whatever can go wrong,will.
One of our galley staff was arrested for allegedly committing an act of gross indecency against a Tamil that the police had under surveillance. Tough luck. He was deported the same night as “reprisals” (in the jail) could be expected. We kicked off and sent home yet another cook who’d had a bit of a history of missing the ship.
After leaving Singapore the flight returned to the “Grange” and I could get back to a more normal way of life. Checking through my “Flight Deck Log Book” (yes, I still have both of them), I see that I clocked up 135 deck landings and spent 55 “operational” hours on the deck. So much for being nominated as a “spare” deck for the deployment.
The RN had “other things to do” so we were allowed to steam along peacefully on our own. A nice pass close to Bali and then along the south coast of Java towards Darwin. Not that we were going there, just close in a bit and collect some mail.
For my various sins I was also the bloke in charge of “Liaison” at Sydney…actually meaning, on the bottom line, that “his nibs” got to where he was supposed to be at the right time and on the right day. As long as things went OK for him he couldn’t give a stuff about the rest of the ships company. No matter how much time and effort was put into arranging outings and so on for “others”…it was always “me, me, me”. After all, he only had 9 “official” thingies to attend in one day, and his car driver knew that better than I did.