WE WERE THE ‘LAUGHING CAVALIER’.   1957-1959.

 Author :- David (Granny) Grantham.  Plymouth 2008

  

            My first introduction to H.M.S. Cavalier was in the spring of 1957. My fiance and I had planned to get married in July that year, but my draft chit changed all that and we got married in June instead.

            With little time to spare, off I went to join my new ship. I joined her on 16th July. She was at the time in Southampton, where she had been brought out of retirement. She was the last remaining Destroyer from the 2nd World War. After a refit, a complete modernization, she was sent out on trials and, after weeks leave, from Portsmouth, we sailed away on the 31st August bound for the Far East.  My brand new wife was about to learn what being a Navy wife was all about. Fortunately the rules for the length of commissions had been brought up to date and I would only be away for Eighteen months. Say it quickly and it doesn’t seem to long. Oh! But it is to a newly married young couple.  But the excitement of going to the Far East compensated a little.

            I am not sure how I am going to describe our journey to the East without it sounding like a Travel Brochure.  Gibraltar was our first Port of call, for re-fuelling. Then on to Malta to have a four week work up (getting the ship in working order.) We left on the 9th October for Suez. It was strange to see Port Said again after a gap of nearly a year. No longer were there Block Ships obstructing the entrance to the Suez Canal. Some evidence of the Crisis still remained. De Lesseps Statue no longer in a prominent position at the harbour entrance. A bit of damage still to some of the buildings.   So, for the first time in my six year long career, I passed through the Canal. With nothing but sand on either side we slid slowly South, and eventually, into the Red Sea. As we travelled on the weather became warmer and we began to shed our winter plumage. Off came shirts, and on went shorts. One of our crew decided to wait until we reached the Red Sea before he took his shirt off for the first time. The result was such a bad case of sunburn that the Captain banned him from appearing on the upper deck, without a shirt on, for the rest of the commission.

         Our next stop Aden. Not a lot can be said about Aden at this time, but later on, in 1965, I would be back in different circumstances.  After Aden we turned east and crossed the Arabian Sea, and the 26th October saw us entering Trincomalee Harbour in, what was then, Ceylon. We only stopped long enough to re-fuel, but it was our first sight, sound and smell of the mysterious East.   Going ever eastward we crossed part of the Indian Ocean, down the Malacca Straights, and on to Singapore. We smelt it long before we saw it. That indescribable scent of the Orient. Nowhere else on earth emits such an exotic, intoxicating aroma. Sometimes not a pleasant smell, but always an evocative one. For some of us, our first trip East, it was a never to be forgotten moment. In the past I had come across the occasional Chinaman, but never a Malay, and never in such numbers. The, to us, peculiar sing-song voices of the Chinese, was a revelation!    Into the Dockyard we went, alongside a jetty. The dockyard, and its adjoining Naval Base, H.M.S. Terror was to become our Home from Home for quite a while, on and off.  The off started a week after our arrival, we became known as ’At the rush Cavalier’!!  We took a bunch of South Wales Borderers to Sandakan in Borneo. Back to Singapore for a week then back to Sandakan to pick the ’Pongoes’ up again, then took them back to Singapore.

            One day a Chinese gentleman arrived onboard to see the First Lieutenant. A gentleman that I was to befriend and come across for a lot of years. Mr Shui. He was the owner of a Chinese Laundry, his object, the contract to provide all laundry services, shoe making and tailoring on board our ship. He got the contract and onboard came his laundry crew. What a godsend they were. No longer did we have to do our own laundry, all we had to do is hand it in, and two days later there it was all crisply starched and ironed. They had there own quarters and kept very much to themselves. They stayed with us all the time we were in the Far East.

            I think that I should share a few thoughts of Singapore. It was the first time since we arrived in the Far East that we had the chance to settle down in one place for any length of time. The Naval Dockyard was on the Northern coast of Singapore Island. Out side the Dockyard Gate was the village of Sembewang, the start and the finish of many a run ashore. From here we would catch a taxi into the City itself. One taxi driver only had one arm, and to see him change gear, leaving the steering wheel free, was quite hair raising. Especially when he was travelling at 80 kph. Singapore was a modern city by any standard, to us it was magical. We did the usual touristy things, like visit the Tiger Balm Gardens; those exotic statues all round the gardens. Wandered down past the ‘Godowns’ where all the commercial activities took place. A visit to ‘Raffles Hotel’ to sample the world famous Gin Sling. To listen to the afternoon Tea Dance band. Of course we had to be properly dressed for these excursions into town. We soon found the Tailors where we could get reasonably priced civilian clothes. At long last we were able to go ashore in ’civvies’. We would book ourselves into the Union Jack Club for the night, arrange an early call for the next morning, then go out on the town. The doorman of the Union Jack Club was a very large Sikh gentleman with a military bearing. He was most formidable looking. The manager, I found out later was an ex Army man who had served with my father. This came in handy. I was always sure of a few pints of Tiger’ Tops’ whilst I chatted to him. The night life was so much different to what we were used to. Now we would go to proper Restaurants, eat proper meals and then go on to the clubs where we would be entertained.  At most of the better clubs that we went to you had to wear a tie. If you didn’t have one the doorkeeper would let you borrow one for a small charge.  I could get used to this life. Down ’Change Alley’ would be the Kai Tais, (not sure how that’s spelt.) These were the people who looked absolutely beautiful, gorgeous figures and, to the surprise of many a sailor, found to be young men. It was worth the trip just to look at them. You really couldn’t tell the difference between them and young ladies.  Thank goodness for our Local overseas allowances, without which we wouldn’t be able to go ashore so often. Being married lots of us had wives to support back home. The shopping was an eye opener for us. You could buy just about anything, and at a reasonable price too. motorcycle. I was put off for life!!

            The 7th December saw us set sail, Eastward once again, this time to the ultimate destination Hong Kong. We arrived on the 12th December and stayed until 31st January 1958

         How to describe Hong Kong is most difficult. The name means ’Fragrant Harbour’. Fragrant it isn’t. Someone was having a laugh!! As we approached the dockyard we were all at attention on the upper deck, supposedly standing still, but all our heads were turning looking at that famous view of Hong Kong, watching the ’Star’ Ferry crossing the harbour, trying to make sense of the masses of Junks and Sampans plying up and down. What a sight it all was. On our left hand was Victoria Island, where most of the Big Businesses were based. Also where Wanchai was. Our eventual playground. On our right was the New Territories. The Mainland of China, where most of the population lived.  Our first encounter with the locals was when a bunch of Sampans came out to apply for the position of ‘side party’ during our stay. These people would keep the outside of the ship clean and painted, remove all ‘Gash’ (waste material) and generally look after us. Once appointed they were yours every time you came back in harbour. Heaven help any other boat trying to muscle in. The group we had were all women, very hard workers and, eventually, we looked forward to seeing them on our return visits.

            For anyone of a certain age that has read the Howard Mason book ’The World of Suzie Wong’, I can say that he came close to describing life in Hong Kong. He wrote the book at about the same time that we were out there , his Bar, the ‘Nam Kok’ I believe was a Bar I frequented called the ‘Lu Kwok’ on the waterfront in Wanchai. This Bar/Hotel matched his description to a tee. Including the girls who worked there. One run ashore down Wanchai was equal to half a dozen anywhere else. The hustle and bustle, garish neon signs at night advertising all manner of things in Chinese and some English.

            The American Fleet were often in Hong Kong, but, unlike us their leave expired at midnight. Their ships always stayed out in the harbour. Their liberty boats ran quite frequently. I got to know a couple quite well; they were serving on the U.S.S. Ticonderoga, a massive Aircraft carrier. One of them worked in the ship’s Barber Shop. So one evening he took me aboard to show me where he worked. The American Officer of the Watch welcomed me onboard. I don’t think that they had many Royal Naval personnel visiting them socially. We stopped of in this huge canteen on the way down, for a cup of coffee. Always on tap on their ships. Then down to the Barbers Shop, well I had never seen anything like it in my life. It was a massive place. At least a dozen chairs. Just like you see in the American films. The place was all glass and stainless steel. It wouldn’t have looked out of place in the West End. So relaxed and at ease I sat down and was given a hair cut. Not just your run of the mill hair cut, but the latest American fashion, a ’Flat Top’. My hair looked like the flight deck of the carrier, completely flat. It looked a bit weird but I got used to it. I had the Mickey taken out of me though when my mates saw it.

            I’m afraid that the ‘Yanks’ were taken advantage of by the British sailors. Sat in the Lu Kwok I used to watch the American sailors entertaining the ‘Bar girls’ with drinks. The girls made a fortune out of them. Then at Midnight they had to go back on board and ‘Jolly Jack’ took over from them. The girls had made their money for the night so it didn’t cost our lads much. The ‘Yanks’ used to get furious when our lads gave them the bird as they left for their libertyboat. One afternoon I was with a crowd of Yanks in the Lu Kwok, one of them, a very large black seaman, who had a broken arm, asked me if I would like to sign it. So in my best printing I wrote,” To the worlds largest Navy… From the worlds BEST…” I watched his face as he turned his arm around and had a look at what I had written. I was expecting a bit of anger, but he saw the funny side and went around the Bar showing his mates what the cheeky ’Limey’ had written.  I got on quite well with the Americans. Like us they were a long way from home.

             The China Fleet Club was our base. As soon as we got ashore it was our first stop, to book a bed for the night.  The club was run by a committee of Lower deckers, led by a Chief Writer. It had Bars, a Restaurant, bedrooms (very cheap) and, in the Basement, a Bowling alley, where the Chinaman on duty could beat anyone, playing with either hand. I must stop going on about Hong Kong, it had such an effect on me that I could write for hours on it. The ‘Happy Valley’ race track, the ‘Tiger Balm Gardens, more exotic than the Singapore one, not forgetting the Railway that goes up the steep gradient to ‘Victoria Peak’.  Shopping was an experience by itself. So many shops that you could buy almost anything, and cheaply too. In one tailors shop you could be measured for a suit and it would be ready for you to wear the next day. The same for a pair of shoes. We had a ’cobbler’ on board who would measure your feet and make you a pair of perfectly fitting shoes.

            The greatest way to travel was by rickshaw, the men who pulled them must be tough. Even though they looked like skin and bone. After a run ashore, in the early hours of the morning it was a common sight to see a group of rickshaws dashing along the waterfront being pulled by ’merry’ matelots, with the Chinaman sat behind having a ride. All trying to race each other back to the China Fleet Club. After an evening in one’s favourite Bar, a trip down to the stalls in Wanchai brought an end to your run ashore with a meal. There were dozens of stalls selling all kinds of Chinese fast foods. What a colourful end to a Day. It did have its down side though. As you sat on a stool and ate your meal you could be offered the services of a young child. So there was a sordid side to Hong Kong. As the shops eventually shut for the night the shop doorways would be occupied by families who were destitute and the shop doorway was the closest that they came to having somewhere to live. They carried all their possessions around with them, and set up for the night, men, women and children. Of course there was the other side too, the opulent minority who had a wonderful lifestyle. We were half way between them. Our pay wasn’t all that great but against the majority we were considered rich folk. As we were abroad we were paid a ’Local Overseas Allowance’ which boosted our pay. We were advised early on not to give money to the beggars, especially the children. When one asked for money, if you gave them any, there were suddenly dozens of them and things could get out of hand. A terrible position to be put in. But realising that we couldn’t change anything we soon became hardened and passed them all by. The worst part of life for lots of the Chinese was the slums/shacks, built on the unstable hillsides just outside the city. It is impossible to describe the piled up bits of scrap wood and metal that littered the hillsides. It became very dangerous after the Monsoons. The rain was so heavy that landslides were caused and the shacks would be washed away with massive loss of life. During the Monsoon season the heavens really opened each day, a half an hour later the sun could come out and it would be glorious weather again.

            Our first Christmas and New Year in the Far East was quite spectacular. The Chinese certainly know how to enjoy themselves, and how to entertain. From our room, on the upper floors of the China Fleet Club, we would ignite long strings of Chinese fireworks and drop them down to the street below, watching them explode on the way down. We sank a good few pints in the club bar before going out onto the streets, the beer was much cheaper. Tiger beer, topped off with lemonade was the tipple. ’Tiger Tops’. I would be a very rich man if I had a quid for every one of those I’ve drunk!!

            I have just noticed the ‘Royal We’ again. Sailors usually have a pal to go out with. On most ships one or more persons will become ‘special friends’. You share the same interests, and like each others company and can trust each other. My best chum, on the Cavalier, was Tony Parsons. We went everywhere together. We even formed a musical act called ‘The Three Krowns’, Tony and I on Guitars and ‘Buster’ Brown on Tea-chest Base. We played and sang all the popular songs of the day. No ‘Sod’s Opera’ was safe from our performing!!  We didn’t need an excuse. To make your own entertainment was necessary in those days. We spent a lot of time at sea, and only the cinema, Tombola and reading to while away the hours between watches. Tony and I would disappear into the Transmitting Station  and rehearse out of the way. The ‘Everly Brothers’ were no match for us?

            We left Hong Kong on the 31st January, thinking that we could now have a rest. Not so. We were on our way to Saigon. Indo China was run, in those days, by the French. It was a beautiful colonial city; the inhabitants were a handsome race. The ladies, in their split dresses on top of tight trousers, were exceptionally good looking. Our visit here can best be described as’ having many parties for the price of one hangover‘!!  One party was so bizarre that it has stuck in my mind.  We, a dozen of us, were invited to a cocktail party hosted by the British Consulate. Off we went in our best ‘bib and tucker’to sample the high life. Our hosts were charming; they had invited some of their staff along, the female variety. Secretaries, Typists etc. Some French and others Eurasian. The latter were absolutely beautiful. Something about the mix of races produces a most pleasing lady. Altogether there must have been fifty people milling around the large reception room. We were plied with food and drink and soon entered into the spirit of things. Fortunately all the guests spoke English, some even better than we did. There was music and dancing, we were all having a lovely time. Not our usual run ashore. As midnight approached our host decided on a bit of entertainment. The lights were dimmed, almost to nothing, and in a deep sombre voice, the Vice Consul began, he started to tell ghost stories. His Scottish accent helped to give the stories an eerie feeling. All the guests had been asked to sit on the floor, close to each other. It was strange how the ratio of boys to girls mixed around the room!!  As the stories progressed the squeaks and squeals of the young ladies became more pronounced, and Sailors, being what they were, were quite happy to comfort the poor things. It was turning into a memorable evening. Eventually the stories came to an end and after a farewell toast we prepared to leave. As we were about to go out of the door a cry came from the upper floor. The Bathroom to be exact. The hostess had got herself locked in. Never mind, with a house full of Merry Guests it wasn’t beyond the talents of half a dozen would be ‘Don Juan’s’. The door was too solid for any attempt to break it down, so some bright spark suggested that an outside rescue could be possible. We were directed to an out-building, that held a ladder, and proceeded to rush around the garden with the said ladder on our shoulders. If you’ve seen the old films of the Keystone Cops you will have an idea of what we must have looked like. The ladder was placed up to the Bathroom window and six ‘matelots’ started to ascend, not very successfully, I might add. Eventually order was restored and I was detailed off to attempt the rescue. I think that I must have either been the soberest, or the most gullible of the bunch. Or, being a married man, the most acceptable.     Up I went and with much pushing, shoving, puffing and panting I managed to help our hostess to the ground and delivered her into the arms of her beloved. Sounds more like ‘Wuthering Heights’? Who was it that said ‘a sailor’s life was boring’? I was most happy to receive the thanks of the guests. Especially the younger of the female variety. It all happened over fifty years ago, but to me it was like, yesterday!

            After we left Saigon we set off once more for Singapore, then Kudat and Jesselton, both in Borneo. We left Singapore on the 1st March to begin on what, for some of us, were to be the most amazing three months of our lives. Until May 21st we were to roam the Southern Ocean, visiting places which, to most Englishmen, were only places in a dream.  We crossed the Equator during the night so we didn’t have a chance to meet King Neptune. We met up with him later.

            First was Freemantle, the gateway to Australia, and its beautiful parent city Perth. Here we learnt some of the language, ‘Pony’s, Schooner’s, Sheila’s and G’Dy. What a greeting this is? We were introduced to ‘Aussie’ beer, so cold that it burns your mouth. Mind you it didn’t take us long to learn to order beer in advance. Whilst supping one, the next was on the bar warming up, much to the disgust of the local male population, who couldn’t believe their eyes!!  Thinking about what to write about Western Australia, I have decided to copy an article that I did for our ships, end of commission, magazine. I hope that you can understand the vernacular used….

               “Too many people the world over, the ’Bush’ is a word that conjures up in the mind thoughts of Swagmen, Rangers, Cobbers and Flying Doctors. So it was with us of the Cavalier when we neared Freemantle, the Port of Australia. Sheep farms, cattle stations and wheat. We go alongside and wonder what this country is really like. A message comes onboard inviting a group of us to go up country for the weekend. You could have been killed in the stampede of volunteers that rushed to get their names down. Eventually Leave is piped - away we go. ’Cunderdin’, “Where’s that”? “I wonder how far it is? .How do we get there?” To the Railway Station we went and eventually we were under way. These trains remind me of the old Western films, crash, bang, steaming along at a steady 30mph.” All change here” said a loudspeaker. The train has to break down because we were on it. Only an hour to wait for the next one. Ah! Well, let’s have a drink. “A pony and a Schooner please” we say trying to sound like a local. “How much? No wonder the cost of living is so high”?  Off we set again. “Cunderdin, next stop”, “look at all those people on the platform”. “Hello, yes, we are from the Cavalier”. Following a general introduction we were then taken off by our individual hosts. Tony and I with a mate, ’Blossom’ Budd were introduced to Mr and Mrs Jim Crimp. They were to be our hosts for the weekend. Into their ’Holden’ we climbed for the trip out to their farm. Only 20 miles out of town. The Holden leaps down the road at a steady 60. Not a bad car at all. The only one that they make in Australia. “Do you have many horses on your farm” I ask as we travel on through the evening sunset. “You don’t use them?” Ah! Well, can’t have everything. I had had visions of riding the range looking for lost sheep!!  At last, the farm. Nice place from what I can see. Single story, with a tin roof, but comfortably furnished. I like it. We all sat on the Veranda, having a bottle of cold beer and a chat. The Crimps a lot of questions about the ’Old Country’, they have been out here for 35 years. Their farm was mainly down to Wheat, but they did have a small flock of sheep. About 2 thousand?? This is only a small farm. I can see that my perspective is out of tune with this country. After supper we retired for the night. We three slept on camp beds on the veranda, it was such a warm night. As I lay down on my bed I looked up at the night sky and saw myriads of stars twinkling up above. So that’s what the Southern Cross looks like. Not as prominent as I had expected. What will tomorrow bring? I wake up very early, the house is quiet. The only sound a faint bleating of sheep far away in the distance. I feel as fresh as a daisy! What a breakfast awaited us, cereals, with fresh peaches sliced up on them, Ham and eggs with newly baked bread, a large pot of coffee to finish off with. A bit different to the grub we are used to!! After breakfast we had a tour round the farm in the Holden. “Is this really all yours?” Blimey! Miles later we came to the sheep. They are sitting by a dam. Not a lot of water around in this part of Aussie. Would we like to see some ’crutching’? “Yes please” having no idea what it meant so off to a neighbour’s farm we went to see what it was. Well look at this! There was ’Butch’ and ‘Dutch’ sweeping up piles of sheep’s wool being sheared from sheep’s backsides. Quite a smelly job.  “Making you work for a living, eh?”  Back to the house for dinner. They had butchered one of their lambs for the occasion, the best meat I had ever tasted. In the afternoon we were left to our own devices. I disappeared down the paddock, with a gun I had been lent, to see if I could bag a few of the pests, Green Parrots. No luck with them though. They must have seen me coming. A poor old Magpie got in the way of one shot though, flew right into it. I must have been colour blind. It didn’t matter though, for they are a pest as well. After tea we all went into town for a party that had been laid on for all of us. All our lads were there, we gathered on the lawn of the local ‘boozer’. Everyone chatting, ten to the dozen. Jug after Jug of cold beer kept arriving, great life this. Someone suggested a swim so off we went. It was far too hot to sit around anyway. The pool was ablaze with light. A little boy of about ten beat me in a race across the pool. Time I got out anyway. Big headed little B… A young lady, sat nearby, was going to do a bit of a dive, so I said, rashly, that if she could do a double somersault from the top board I would do one as well. I was only joking. She turned out to be a skilful diver and completed the double somersault. As she entered the water without a splash, I suddenly remembered another engagement elsewhere. I didn’t show my face at the pool for a little while, she was looking for me. What would you have done? Hours later we wended our merry way back to the farm I really didn’t want the night to end. We were off back to the ship the next day. Jim had a chat with me that night. Why didn’t I leave the ship and come and work for him on the farm. There was a small bungalow that went with the job, and eventually I could send for Phyllis, and we could make a new life for ourselves. It would seem that I wouldn’t be the first sailor to jump ship and stay in Australia!! I can say that it was a tempting thought, but not something for me. After breakfast we piled into the Holden again for our ride back to the station. Away from ‘Blakiston Farm‘, Balkuling, near Cunderdin, Western Australia’!! What a lovely address. I wonder if I’ll ever visit again. As the train pulled out of the station we all leaned out of the windows waving to these, friendly people who had opened their doors to a bunch of strangers so far away from home. I‘m sure that anyone who went on this trip will remember it for a long time. I know that I will. Goodbye to the Bush! I’ll miss you.”….

                Re-writing this article certainly brought memories flooding back. Although, in later years, I did return to Freemantle, I never saw ‘Blakiston Farm’ again.

             On leaving Freemantle we headed South, then East. We crossed the Great Australian Bight and aimed for Melbourne. Rough weather I had seen plenty of during my career, but crossing the Bight was the roughest weather that I have ever come across, on any sea. My mess deck was in the stern of the ship. The only way to reach the rest of the ship, like the ‘Galley’, was along the upper deck. For two days we were never allowed to go on the upper deck, except with lifelines attached, when we were on watch. The ship bent and flexed as I had never seen a ship do before. Quite scary really. The sea’s broke over the bows and washed the full length of the ship. The front often disappearing completely. We had an ‘open’ Bridge that meant that the men on watch up there were soaking wet. But a watch had to be kept at all times. Were we glad when we had crossed and moved round the corner towards Melbourne! It was to be a special time for me, this trip to Melbourne. My wife had family here, Aunts and Uncles, who in some cases had never been back to the U.K. since they emigrated in the 1920’s. I was to be the first member of the family to visit them. I had requested the Captain that I was to be allowed leave for the duration of our stay, and as this visit was more recreational, the request was granted. I had written ahead letting them know our arrival details. I would be met on the jetty and would recognise an Aunt who would be wearing a coloured scarf. Unfortunately there was an abundance of coloured scarves that day; a crowd of ex-pats were there to greet us. One man though, bearing a remarkable resemblance to Uncle Charlie at home, was obviously Uncle Percy. Down the gangway I went to a marvellous welcome from Percy, his wife (an Aussie) Edna, their son Philip and Uncle Fred. Talk about the prodigal son! I was treated like royalty. Off we went in Percy’s’ car to their home in Mount Waverley, a suburb of Melbourne. In the next four days I was to meet the remainder of the family, a mixed bunch. Some of which didn’t get on with each other. Just like any other family. Uncle Fred had a Cherry farm in Wandin, another suburb but out in the country. Sorry, I should have said ’the bush!! Must get the terminology correct. (When Fred died, years later, he was to leave the farm to Philip.)  We visited the wildlife park at Healsville and saw, for the first time, a Kangaroo, a Wallaby, a Koala Bear and the oddest creature, a Duck-billed Platypus! Finding the Koala Bear was weird. You followed signs which said ’Koala Bears and eventually came to a sign with an arrow pointing up a ‘Gum’ tree. There hidden amongst the branches was your Bear.

     Another day saw us, once again ’in the bush’, watching a demonstration, by an Aborigine, on throwing a ’Boomerang’. How he could make it fly? After the demonstration he began selling the visitors Boomerangs that he had made. I was not convinced that they were of the same quality as the one that he used for his demonstration, so I asked him to let me buy the one he had used. He refused!! I wonder why? I found out why some years later. I threw it myself, the way he had shown us, but on hitting the ground it shattered into three pieces!! His had bounced on a tarmac road and stayed in one piece?   My mate, Tony, was feeling a bit left out so, on our final evening, Percy invited him to join us in a family barbecue in his garden. What a pleasant evening it was, a few tears from Edna, she above all of them had taken me into the bosom of the family. Tony and I got pleasantly mellow, and in a mad moment at around 2300, made a phone call to the ship, pretending to be Percy, and told them that Tony couldn’t get back on board and therefore would be spending the night ashore. The Officer of the Day said ’No’ but I rang off. Tony stayed. When we had sailed and Tony was up on a charge, I, as a witness, heaped all the blame on Percy, Tony got off!!  The barbecue was a great way to end our stay with the family. Philip was a lovely kid. Five years old, and followed ’Cousin David’ everywhere. Strange to be called ’Cousin David’ all the time. (A sad end to the tale came, when some years later, Percy was in a car crash, and Edna was killed.  Though in later years Percy came over to the U.K. on holiday, I never saw Edna or Philip again! Philip eventually married and had a son of his own. He lives at Wandin and runs his own printing business).

            After we left Melbourne we called in at Hobart, in Tasmania. Then on to Auckland, in New Zealand. I quite liked the New Zealanders; they were very much like us. Their Licensing laws took a bit of getting used to though. The Pubs shut at 6 o’clock in the evening, which led to a rushed bout of drinking. Beer was bought by the Jug, and swilled down. Then a few crates would be purchased and off to someone’s house to carry on the party!! It meant a merry time for all. Party time over and off we sailed into the wide blue yonder, literally. We sailed North for three days and arrived in Suva, the capital if Fiji, on the Island of Viti Levu. We were now in the most exciting area on earth. The South Pacific. Even the names were magical, Polynesia, Micronesia, Melanesia. Suva was an eyeful. Our first sighting of the South Sea Islander, here he wore a skirt and had a mop of fuzzy hair. The men were rather large and seemed forbidding but they were so friendly and had a wonderful smile. It rained every day we were there but it didn’t dampen our spirits at all. Even the rain couldn’t spoil the wonderful sights of palm tree fringed beaches. When we left we headed North once again and eventually crossed the International Date Line. I’m not sure if we had two Tuesday’s that week, or we lost a Wednesday? Whichever, it was all confusing.

We had an appointment with King Neptune at 173 degrees West, as we hadn’t met him before we had a great ceremony. No work that day. He was welcomed onboard with all the ceremony due to his position. Those of us who hadn’t been to his court before were inducted in the usual manner. Ignominiously being lathered and shaved, then dunked in the sea water pool, provided. Great fun was had by all. Great delight was shown when an Officer had to take his turn; his treatment may have been a bit rougher than mine!! (The ceremony eventually put a bit of cash in my pocket. When we arrived back in Singapore we were all given a certificate to tell everyone that we had crossed the line. I offered my services to write out the details on these certificates at a small fee? With a crew of about 250 I made a few bob.)

 

 

           Not all of our commission was for pleasure. We had a serious part to play in the Politics of the Country. The Nuclear balancing act that the super-powers had been playing, since the 2nd World War, meant that the testing of Nuclear Weapons took place. You may notice that they were never tested in our own backyard. We had to inflict it upon the Islanders of the South Pacific. The inhabitants of Christmas Island were shipped out, and we used their island as a test site.  But this is not a time to criticise. We arrived off Christmas Island on the 20th April. We were now part of the “Grapple Squadron”. The group in charge of all the nuclear tests. They even have their own tie!! I wonder if I’m allowed to wear it. We were learning new words like Dosimeters, Roentgens, Monitors and Radiac slide rules. Nuclear fall-out and de-contamination. We all had our Anti-flash clothing checked, and were issued with dark lensed goggles. Our task turned out to be a protective one. It had been reported that a group of anti-nuclear protesters were going to sail into the danger area and expose themselves to radiation if the bomb was exploded. We were tasked with preventing any such incursion into the drop zone. So off we sailed and stationed ourselves about 35 miles away near Fanning Island. On the morning of the test practically the whole of the crew, not on watch below, were assembled on the upper deck. We had to adjust our neighbours clothing to make sure all skin surfaces were covered, Goggles put on and trousers tucked into socks. We all waited with bated breath. “There’s a delay” it was reported, so we relaxed and had a tug of war between us. Eventually order was restored and we were stood to once again. Looking up into the beautiful clear blue sky, we saw the vapour trail of the ‘Valiant’ that was carrying the H- Bomb. It was just a tiny speck of silver so high up it was barely visible. We couldn’t take our eyes off it as it approached. “40 seconds to go”, came the broadcast. So, as we had rehearsed, we all sat down on the deck, turned our backs on the aircraft, and listened to the countdown. “Three, two one, zero…..one two three four“. What had happened? I hadn’t felt anything! Six seven…..fifteen.”  “You may now stand up, turn around and look”. There in the distance was this massive mushroom shaped cloud rising into the sky, higher and higher, the insides, a burning, glowing red monstrosity,  but at the same time beautiful, boiling and growing higher and higher. We heard a distant thud! Followed by a waft of air passing over us. Thank goodness we were so far away. I’m sure that I will never again witness such a spectacle, and hope that the world will be spared the horror of a nuclear war. Some hours later we re-entered the lagoon of Christmas Island. We sailed in through a thick mist that covered the Island. The surface of the sea covered with dead fish. Not a very pleasant sight. The thought goes through my head; maybe this is not the best place to be just after a Nuclear Bomb has been exploded. Gullible Matelots again? Surely the M.O.D. wouldn’t take chances with our health. Would they?

             We left on the 2nd May and sailed off back towards Hong Kong. It is a long haul, over 6 thousand miles, it took us 19 days to do it. We were in the company of H.M.S. Ulysses during our long trip. A nice change. We stopped off for 24 hours at Ocean Island, (now called Banaba), in the Gilbert and Ellice group of Islands, (Now called Kiribati.) We had been sailing for seven days and were due for a rest. What happened here was to stay with me for the rest of my life. We anchored off the Island. There was only a small jetty in use. Not big enough for us to go alongside. The island had a hospital which was run by an Australian/New Zealand staff. We were invited to participate with them in various sports, cricket being the main one. Leave was given to the ships company, with the exception of the vital few necessary, to keep the ship running. The rest of us went ashore. To either play or spectate. I was in the latter grouping. Much to hot to be running around. Who won, I have no idea. It didn’t seem to matter. The beer was flowing and we were enjoying ourselves. It seemed that we were the first Royal Naval ship to call for donkey’s years, so they all let their hair down. After the match, we all went back onboard to rest up as we had been invited to a party that evening, being given by the local Islanders. So fit and refreshed we went ashore once again. We were led to an enclosure in the middle of the village, an open sided construction with a palm thatched roof. Large enough to accommodate all of us. At one end were rows of seats set aside for the Ships Company. Officers at the front, Chief’s and Petty Officers next, then Jolly Jack at the back. But not for long. The villagers came in then, Mums, Dads and all the kids. You have never seen such smiles in your life, those children were lovely. They all sat down, on the floor, in family groups, filling the rest of the space. Speeches of welcome were made, and replied to. Lots of clapping, laughter and, above all, the colour of it. All the locals were garlanded, flowers in their hair. What a sight. If you have seen the film ‘South Pacific’, you can imagine the scene. The Palm fringed beaches, white sand, the sun setting over the deep blue Pacific Ocean, then drop  a crowd of young, impressionable Sailors into the mix!!  Believe you me it was magical. With a few more beers inside us we Junior Rates decided that we didn’t like being sat at the back. So, en-masse, we left the Dais and infiltrated the families. Sat down on the floor with them and joined in their fun. It was hilarious, apart from a bit of ‘Pidgin’, we couldn’t understand each other, but it didn’t matter. The villagers thought it was lovely. They put garlands around our necks. We played with the kids, and then tried out the local brew, ‘Cava’. We had no idea how it was made, something to do with a type of root that is fermented, not that it mattered. We drank from half coconut shells. Our caps were being worn by the kids, and many a cap ribbon was ‘lost’ that night. The best was yet to come. A silence came over the crowd, as an announcement was made, and on came a group of dancers, accompanied by guitar music, all young ladies from age 8 to 18, by the look of them. They came out of the shadows dancing, what I suppose was the local type of ’Hula’ dance. The 18 year olds leading the line and decreasing, in size, to the littlest at the end of the line. Dressed in Grass skirts, with garlands on their head they proceeded to entrance us with the movements of their bodies. Probably the sexiest dance ever created. They brought the house down. We all loved it. Especially the little ones at the end of the line trying to keep up with the older girls. They were so cute; you could see that, in a few years time, they would be ’Bobby Dazzlers’ themselves. I haven’t enough superlatives to describe the pleasure that I felt that night. (I’m a bit of a romantic at heart.)     The dancing was followed by the villagers breaking into song. They accompanied the dancers. We may not have understood the words but who cared. The music and dancing went on for ages.  How well they could harmonise. No-one wanted to leave, but the time came when we had to go.  Leave was to expire at midnight, as we were sailing early the next morning. The liberty-boats were running every half hour from about 9pm, but they left empty. At about 2345 the villagers escorted us all down to the jetty to catch the last boat. All 200 of us! They were still running a shuttle service at 0200 trying to get us all back on board.  It took that long to say our goodbyes. Also it took a while to round up some of the lads who had disappeared into the Palm Grove, either with some nurses, or young local girls. It was that sort of night. It must have been the Cava!! A few hours later, all of us sleepless, we upped anchor and sailed off to continue our journey to Hong Kong. It’s strange how ONE day can make such a lasting impression on you? 50 years on, and I can still picture the scenes on Ocean Island.  Years later I read the book ‘Tales of the South Pacific,’ by James A. Mitchener, written in 1947, it came the closest to what I had experienced in the South Pacific, without the war. This was one experience that I had had that not very many people can say happened to them. All in glorious Technicolor

            A couple of days before arriving back in Hong Kong, we came across a mysterious junk, it was drifting in the South China Sea, and appeared to be un-manned. We got one of our Chinese Chefs to call out to her, but there was no response. As I was on watch at the time I had to take the Sea boat across, with a Sub-Lieutenant onboard to investigate. Talk about the ‘Marie Celeste’, there was no one on board at all! It seemed that the crew had just left. Signals flew back to C in C Far East and we were ordered to sink her, as she was a danger to shipping, floating around like she was. It was decided that we would use our Main Armament, using H.E. Shells. Should make a nice bang.  The Gunnery Officer decided that he would be in charge of the mounting, with the Gunner and the G.I. Assisting. After about six rounds the junk was smashed, right down to the waterline. The only snag, she was still afloat. At this juncture the Gunnery Officer left his seat in disgust. Blaming the Gunner for not sinking the Junk. The T.A.S. department then had a go. They placed strings of R.D.X. /T.N.T. 1lb charges along her hull and remotely set them off. What a mess it made! All that was left was driftwood. We learned later that the junk had been swept from its moorings by the latest Typhoon that had struck. I hope that the owner was insured.

             We arrived back in Hong Kong and spent a stormy week alongside. Then we were off on our travels again, bound for Singapore, to take part in Fleet exercises. With this commission there was always the unexpected, on the 10th and 11th June the ship went down with Asian flu. I mean all of us. With three quarters of the ship down, we were detached to sail to Pulau Tioman, a small island off the East coast of Malaya. By the time we arrived and anchored the rest of the ship’s company were down. The bodies were lying all over the upper deck, trying to recover. If a war had started we wouldn’t have taken part in it that week. Recuperate we eventually did, we rejoined the Fleet on 5th July.

             Pulau Tioman was one of our favourite places to visit. We often went there to have a spell of relaxation. The beaches were wonderful, the usual white sand and Palm tree covered fringes to the interior. We had a small adventure here; we planned to climb the central mountain, (more a big hill!) Off we set, about half a dozen of us, laden down with stacks of food, water and, of course, beer. Into the steaming jungle we went. Hacking our way through the dense greenery, not knowing that there was a pathway about 10 yards away. Onwards and upwards. We did reach the summit eventually, not that we could see anything, so it was a pretty pointless exercise all round. Never mind we enjoyed ourselves. On the way back we got lost in the trees, we eventually, with night upon us, came to a small village. Having spoken to the Head Man, we decided to spend the night in his village; he even gave us the use of one of their bamboo huts to sleep in.  We shared the remainder of our beer with the Head Man, and crashed out for the night. Not that we slept all that well, what with the hard floor and the sounds from the ’jungle’.   You never know what’s out there? The next morning, after a swim, we made our way back onboard. It had been a most enjoyable excursion.  With the frequency of our visits, the natives of Teloh Juara must have thought that we were their own private moveable island. They always came out to us, in their dug-outs, when we came in and anchored. (I understand that Pulau Tioman is now a resort Island? At least I knew it before it was ruined by tourism. Though, I expect, that the villagers may not agree with me.) Occasionally the Captain let us have a party. The Canteen Manager would open a bar on the upper deck, and we would sit around, under the stars, singing away, and swigging beer. There was always someone ready to perform. These nights under a tropical sky were very special. Some people pay a fortune to visit and see all these wonderful sights. I have all this and I’m paid too!

             My first introduction to the shark came here. As we anchored off the beach in crystal clear water you could see the anchor chain all the way to the bottom. At night the stern light would shine on the water and it was a beautiful sight, and then into view swam this fearsome looking creature, a shark! Spectacular is a good word to use. To think that only a few hours ago I had been swimming in this same spot!! The shark had obviously been attracted by the lights on the sea. Whilst we were anchored here once we put h heaving line over the side with a hunk of rotten meat on a hook at the end. Imagine our surprise when after a couple of hours we noticed that the wire guard rail that the line was fastened to began jumping up and down. It took a group of us to haul in whatever was on the end. It turned out to be a massive shark. We heaved at it until its head came out of the water and we tied off then. The Gunner went down to the weapons store and came back with a .303 Rifle and some bullets. With this he shot into the sharks head. It took 15 rounds before the shark ‘gave up the ghost’ After hauling it on board some bright spark cut out its jaw with all its teeth to keep as a souvenir. The Chinese cooks had the rest. Gruesome!!  (My closest encounter with live sharks came some years later. We were doing a gunnery practice in the Persian Gulf; I was on board a minesweeper, towing the target. A large construction of floats, masts and radar reflectors. From a range of about 10 miles the practice commenced. As we finished, the Minesweeper, in a hurry to get back to Port, put me and our Midshipman, who was helping me, over the side onto the target. They then set us adrift and scarpered, leaving our ship to steam in and pick us up. It was a lovely day so, with feet dangling in the water, we relaxed and waited. A few minutes later, as we glanced over the side, to our horror we saw a school of sharks circling underneath us. The speed that our feet came out of the water broke all records! The rest of the time we spent crouching by the mast, hanging on for dear life. They won’t do something like that to me again?)   Back to the story…

             We were due a small re-fit by this time so ashore we went into H.M.S. Terror, to spend a month living ashore. We were due a weeks ’station’ leave by now. Some of the crew went up to the Central Highlands, but a group of us managed to get our hands on a M.F.V.  With a P.O. ostensibly in charge, we sailed up the Malayan coast calling in at small villages on the way. We were stocked up with food, beer and our rum ration, so we had all we needed. I remember us one day sailing up a small creek and finding a small group of houses where there was a small jetty. With the headman’s permission we tied up alongside and spent a couple of days with them. Our dress code was what you might call relaxed. We were all wearing sarongs! They were multi coloured pieces of cloth, all that one needed in the tropics. We went ’native’. We found one way to have a shower. When it rained it poured so on to the upper deck we went stripped off, got wet, soaped and then got rinsed off before the shower stopped. During the Monsoon season the rain was very predictable. It arrived at about 3.30, poured for a while and then stopped around 4.30. It was the most relaxing week I had had for a long time. We ate when we felt like it, (when somebody could be bothered to cook!) Slept when we felt like it, no one to insist that you got up to clean ship. We did become like beachcombers for a while. Eventually our week came to an end, so back to the Naval Base we went.  In H.M.S. Terror we slept in camp beds, for a change. Sleeping in hammocks in the tropics was never very comfortable. On board ship we didn’t have the luxury of Air-conditioning. In those days we only had a forced air system. We had our porthole in the mess but it didn’t provide a great deal of air. Except when at sea. We had a wind scoop that we could jam into the porthole and the movement of the ship through the water forced cool air through the mess deck. It was lovely. That was until the day that the ship did a sharp turn to Starboard which tilted the ship over and put our wind scoop under water!! In the middle our dinner hundreds of gallons of sea water poured in to the mess deck and swilled around. What a panic ensued. We all thought, abandon ship. Of course all we really got was a good soaking. The ship steadied on its new course and we spent the next few hours with buckets and mops trying to dry the mess deck out. It was days before everything got back to normal. We were much more careful of the wind scoop from then on!! My mess deck, being in the after part of the ship, was also an access point when oiling ship. The fuel hose came down, and oil was pumped into the tanks. One day the hose split, and oil, thick, black and smelly, was poured into our mess deck. You cannot imagine the state it left us in. But to make the best of the situation we got together and dropped our old clothing etc. into the mess. We then claimed ‘oil damage’ and got a free issue of new clothes. This mess took much longer to clean up. The engine room personnel did most of the work, but the smell lingered for weeks. We all asked for a mess change but didn’t get one. There was nowhere else for us to go.  I was luckier than most. My job on board, at this time, was the First Lieutenants writer. Which meant that I had to formulate the Daily Orders, these were in the form of orders for the day. What routine we were following. What the dress of the day was, who was on duty. And any instructions that the First Lieutenant wanted to tell the ships company. I then had to type it out, run off copies through the ’Gestetner’ machine, and deliver them to all the mess decks and Offices.  To carry out this task I needed an Office, as there were none available I was given the use of one of the after Officers cabins that wasn’t in use. It had a desk, a chair, its own washing basin and a BED. Strictly against the rules, but at any time I was able, like on a ’make and mend’ I made full use of the facilities. Such luxury. There was a safe at the back of the desk, as it was open I unscrewed the back plate and altered the combination. I could now lock things up. I became our mess treasurer, and kept our accounts and money in the safe.

            As I was working for the ’Jimmy’, I had a blue card. So I was excused normal duties as I was at his beck and call all day long. I quite enjoyed this spell. Up till then I was just another seaman. Early on in the commission, being a Leading Seaman short, I had been put in charge of one of the Sea watches. When my watch was on duty it was my job to organise the lookouts, helmsman and the sea boats crew, of which I became the Coxswain.  There were about a dozen in a watch and they rotated around all the jobs. The lookouts were changed every 2 hours, to stop them getting eye strain looking through binoculars. This was my first introduction to responsibility. It didn’t do me any harm, and I soon learned how to handle it. I eventually reached the dizzy heights of being a Leading Seaman myself. I had been doing the job for long enough, but a ships complement only allowed a set number in each rank. Mind you as I had been doing this job, my reports from the Captain had been very good. Better than I had ever received before. I suppose that at last I was growing up. I was enjoying being on this ship, we were a ‘happy ship’. You don’t get many in a career.

            On the 26th August ‘at the rush’ Cavalier was off again. A bit of a flap on in the Persian Gulf. With only a 4 hour stop in Trincomalee, for re-fuelling, we arrive in the Gulf on 2nd September. Quite a long and mad dash. The Persian Gulf is not a place that I would recommend anyone to go to at this time of year. It was HOT! The prospect of having to spend a month or so here had us all feeling rather gloomy. After a week, we felt worn out. Then, out of the blue, ’at the rush’ Cavalier was off again. Amazingly, 12 days later, we were in Hong Kong. The world moves from one crisis to another, but the one that took us from the Gulf back to Hong Kong was a welcome one. Two weeks here, then three weeks in Singapore. On the 1st December 1958, I, at last, was given my first ’hook’. I became a Leading Seaman. Not before time, I had been doing the job most of the commission. The pay rise came in handy. So then back to Hong Kong for Christmas. Our last in the Far East. It turned out to be quite a Christmas.  We had met up with a group of ex-pats who invited us to join in their celebrations. As a group we took a large table in a fashionable Restaurant. Tony and I were a bit out of place, as all the others seemed to be quite well off. But after a few drinks who cared. As each round of drinks was bought the bill was brought to the table and, to our surprise, was put in a large glass in the middle of the table. What funny custom is this, we thought. Maybe at the end of the evening they count the bills up and share it out between us. Hope we have enough dollars to cover our share. The fun was to come much later on, at the end of the evening. We were told that they had a little game that they played. The idea was for everyone to hold out their hand above the glass, and at a signal, they were to grab for the glass. Whoever got hold of it first paid the bill!!! At the signal all hands but two dived for the glass. You’ll never guess who missed? The lucky winner pulled out a bulging wallet and paid the bill. What must it be like to have all that money to spend? The chap who won it was eventually done for corruption. It seemed that he worked for the planning department, and was making a fortune taking bribes, for granting planning permission to build skyscrapers. No wonder he could afford to have a yacht of his own in the Marina. He was obviously living well beyond his salary. Maybe that’s how he got caught out? 

            It didn’t take long before Tony and I were running out of money, so one night, with our last 5 dollars, we went to the China Fleet Club and played Tombola. Luck was with us and we won a ‘house’ which netted us $500. To us a small fortune.  A marvellous way to end our time in this wonderful place, Hong Kong.

            We left Hong Kong on the 27th December and off we went back to Singapore for the last time. We arrived on New Years day. From then on we were in a panic. All the arrangements had to be made for us to leave the ship.  Our relief ship’s company were waiting for us in H.M.S. Terror, so at the rush, once again, they moved out and we moved in. We had only a few days in ’Terror’ before we flew home on the 9th January 1959.  It took us three days to get home. We called at Bangkok, Calcutta, Karachi, Basra, Ankara, Brindisi and, finally, landed in Bovingdon. What a relief to get home. Out of the aircraft we climbed, and froze to the ground!! We were freezing. We only had tropical weight suits on, no match for a good old English winter’s day. We dashed into busses, and were driven to the ‘Union Jack Club’, in London. I phoned home and let my wife know that I had arrived. She was coming up to London and we were to have a part of my leave here, before going home. My first instruction to her was to bring my overcoat with her. Whist waiting, Tony and I decided to have a look around London. We only got half way over Waterloo Bridge before having to turn back. We couldn’t stand the cold. 

             My final thoughts on ‘Cavalier’, she was the happiest ship that I’d had,( or ever did have.) I have so many fond memories of my 18 months aboard her. Though it is well over 50 years since I joined her, she is the ONE ship that I can say that I enjoyed being on. She is now lying in Chatham dockyard, as a museum. One day I hope to revisit her and revive some memories.

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