Olwen-11
For some reason or other that probably escapes me on purpose, it took us 24 days to get from the Freemantle area to Colombo. Perhaps we got lost. It can’t all have been due to us trying to rival N.A.S.A. All the talk seemed to be about getting home and putting “Outback 88” out of mind. To be honest, the actual deployment to this part of the world wasn’t all that much different to “Global 86”. Both deployments had been long and both “Olmeda” and “Olwen” had been worked pretty hard. But there’s a huge difference between working hard on a happy ship and working hard on an unhappy one. Amazing really the difference two people can make to a ships morale, but again, if you’re sycophantic to your “superior”, a pure sod to all “under” and the “superior superior” turns a blind eye, what can you expect. I may have mentioned this before, but being under a boss who’s favourite saying seemed to be “make it so” and expecting it (whatever hair brained idea it was) to actually happen was living in a real Ivory Tower.
Our eventual arrival at Colombo was a killer. For those who have never been there I’ll try to explain. Colombo has a huge harbour. More or less a big bay. Wharfage is not great, so most ships have to go to buoys. The rest of the group had arrived ahead of us (naturally) and had alongside berths…we went to the buoys, one at each end of the ship. Nothing really unusual about that, but normally a single screw ship would expect some tug assistance. I guess they must have been either busy elsewhere or on strike or something. Not joking there, because of great civil unrest the groups visit had again been in doubt. We arrived around 8am and the temperature was already in the high 80s. I was fo’cs’le officer. Due to a wonderful exhibition of incompetent ship-handling it took us over 4 hours to tie up. By then the temp was up in the 90s. But the killer for me was being able to look up at the bridge windows and see other deck officers standing in air-conditioned comfort. Of course, by the time the tying up job was completed I’d missed lunch (bridge team hadn’t). The group had been split into 2 parts, the other was going (hopefully) to Karachi for re-provisioning. Due to various political issues, for some reason the USN got all they needed but the RN/RFA didn’t. Shades of ’86 again. Colombo couldn’t supply all our needs, but in the expectation that they could (as promised ) our pursers hadn’t asked the Grange to get anything for us in Karachi.
During our stay in Colombo the bosun received a copy of the Daily Mail carrying the “story” about the fergie being with us. I don’t know how much the “blabber” was paid, but apparently the “Sun” was offering quite a lot. I wonder how the Sun would have handled the story. Probably a bit more risqué…but who knows.
Almost immediately after taking on the “fresh” stuff like salads and tomatoes etc. most of the ships company seemed to come down with Dehli-Belly (me too) and there was no chance of getting any more from here, even if we wanted to.
So it looked as if we were going to be on some sort of rationing until we got to the Suez Canal. Charming.
Although we were only there for a long weekend (4 days) I was “tasked” by HWMBO to go ashore and buy a photograph album suitable for presentation to Royalty. The codicil to the fergie thingy. Actually, I quite relished this even though it was one of the “make it so” instructions. Ever been to Colombo (as a tourist, not as a working matelot)? Unless it’s changed drastically since 1988 (and I bet it hasn’t), then don’t. The poverty was certainly on a par with Bombay (last seen in 1964!). I hadn’t a clue where to start looking for this grail, so I went to the local Hilton hotel and had a beer. The hotel staff were both intrigued by my quest and considered it to be a challenge. After about an hour I was told that a “car” had been ordered for me (I’d been given a wad of ships cash to assist me in this venture) to take me to a “place”. I guess I should have known that the “car” would be a “tuk-tuk” (motorised rickshaw) and not the Morris Oxford I’d been anticipating. An interesting drive. But really, the guy doing the driving had been well briefed and about a year later we arrived at this store front in a back alley. Store front? OK, it had a door, and that was it. The driver insisted that he came in with me. Nice of him. This place was in no way a “shop”. But things are done differently in foreign parts. I managed to explain exactly what I wanted. Haven’t really told you that yet, have I, (and this was my own idea…not “his”). I wanted a fairly large photo-album with plastic insert sleeves clad in good dark green leather with gold piping and an inscription in gold that I won’t bore you with….but I was doing it officially, so it had to be “right”. “OK, come back in two hours”. Wow. Back to the Hilton, had lunch and a couple of beers (thank you HMG), and return. What a beautiful object awaited me! And cheap as chips. (about £10), although the whole escapade had cost somewhere nearer £50….but you don’t get receipts in Colombo. As expected, after a rather unusual and interesting day, I got back to the ship, gave the “thing” to Capt Speaking and never again heard a word about it. Not that I thought for a moment that I’d get as much as a “thank you”, but it would have been “nice” (not his style, alas). But the Album WAS fit for royalty. Perhaps that’s why he got his CBE.
I mentioned that the rocketeers left us from here. Obviously they couldn’t take all their gear with them. I don’t mean the launch tubes, they stayed (dismantled) in the hangar. When they originally loaded their “stuff”, they had 2 x 20’ containers stowed on what was originally the aircraft “parking deck” before the hangar was extended….so depriving the ships company the use of the “swimming” pool. They were still there. Bear with me, the plot will thicken. I guess it must have been during our visit to Sydney that Capt. Speaking agreed to take on board £4000 of “good” Aussie wine (remember that this is in 1988 and the £ is not what it used to be) as a favour to a new RN “chum” he’d met somewhere. I haven’t a clue where this was stowed, but I suspect it was in one of the Pursers rapidly emptying spaces. When the rocket guys finally departed all this “plonk” was transferred to one of the now “empty” containers. Both of the containers were of the “can be kept cold” variety. Understandably so, seeing what they had been originally carrying. See where this is going? When the rocket men departed they’d left instructions with our Ch.Engineer that the containers had to be maintained at a specific temperature (cold) to protect the electronics and such. Although I was the OIC for all things pertaining to the Flight Deck (including all the explosive gizmos we stowed up there) I was refused a key to either of the containers…only Capt. “S” and his sycophant had access.This also applied to the Engineering staff, who were told that their only task was to monitor the temps inside the containers and ensure that the power supply was up and running.
For another reason that escapes me now, it was going to take us 17 days to reach the Suez Canal . There must have been another air battle with the Saudis or something.
But about half way up the Red Sea the 3/E who kept an eye on the container temps came to me and said that one of them was leaking some “red stuff”. Interesting. The C/E and I went to Capt “S” to report…..and were fascinated to observe a verbal “wall of death” take place. A key was thrown (literally) at me with orders to “investigate”. You must realise that the C/E was NOT officially called “Chief”, but Captain(E), a four ringer with equal status as Captain(X) (the deck one). But Capt(E) and I had always got along, both of us fed up, and so with private chuckles went to “investigate”. The sight was “intriguing” when we opened the container door. It actually looked like a bloodbath. Except it was very expensive Aussie wine.
The idiot who had supervised the stowage of this “cellar” had had the cases piled up against the containers cooling coils, and the inevitable had happened. The wine had frozen, the bottles had burst and frozen wine lollypops were everywhere. I think both of us laughed, but not for long. When I turned around to face the door again I saw a “live” rocket still in its harness. A bit of “shock”..but no awe. It didn’t take a genius to realise why the rocket men had left instructions with the C/E. But nor did they know that some bright spark would decide that a “cool” place would be good for £4000 of wine. Obviously if me or the C/E (or both of us) had had a key then this wouldn’t have happened. But the rocket guys didn’t want us to know that they’d deliberately left a “shootable” item behind. Hence the key business I suppose. I recalled from some chats with these boffins that they were also interested in studying the effects of vibration on the rocket propellant….so they left one. Securely locked up. Or so they thought. First I was blamed. Then the C/E and his staff. None of that worked. And (I think) that because all of this had been done, shall we say, quietly, nothing more was heard. But although the sycophant was in his first appointment it was only about 3 years before his dream of command became true.
You read it here first, folks!
Of course, this is all fiction, and no resemblance to anyone living or dead or still serving is purely coincidental.
The final chapter of this sorry voyage will appear soon. Promise! BY