大象传媒

I joined the Royal Navy in 1941, a boy seaman at H.M.S. 鈥楪anges鈥� and after an R.D.F. (Radar) course at H.M.S. 鈥榁alkirie鈥� on the Isle of Man I joined a group of other ratings to train as a specialist unit. Led by a very clever 鈥楤offin鈥� (Lieut Hallett); we were to go to the South Pacific and search out, with our listening gear, the frequencies of any Japanese Radar 鈥� if they had Radar! That was the mystery that was worrying the Allied Command in the South Pacific and it was all going to be solved by this gang of eighteen year old youngsters and a 鈥榃avy Navy Boffin.鈥�

鈥榃e started our expedition to the Pacific War Zone in August 1942 from Greenock, Scotland on the troopship 鈥楳ataroa鈥�, and after an adventurous trip by way of Sierra Leone, Cape Town, Durban and Pietermaritzburg, South Africa and Melbourne and Sydney, Australia, we met our partners in this great escapade to rid the world of the deadly 鈥榊ellow Peril鈥� 鈥� the Yanks, whose contribution to the effort was to be a sole Naval Chief Petty Officer and two 鈥楥atalina鈥� flying boats and their crew of the U.S. Navy who would fly us exceptionally well trained 鈥楻adar Operators鈥� over the Japanese occupied islands of the South Pacific; searching and listening for any unknown frequency noise that was being transmitted by enemy Radar.

That was the plan and within a week of our arrival in Sydney the corridors of power put it into operation, but with one, as far as I was concerned, huge snag! Before any of the unit would be allowed to fly on any of these assignments, we had to pass a fit to fly medical, and yours truly failed his test because of a perforated eardrum. And that was it, I help the boys load their equipment onto the 鈥楥atalinas鈥� in Sydney Harbour and waved them goodbye as they sped down towards the Sydney Heads, on their way to Darwin in the Northern Territory, never to see them again. To say I was crushed is an understatement! I was totally in shock. Here I was, up a bloody, god-damned creek, twelve thousand miles from England, without the well-known proverbial paddle. As I stood on that jetty on Garden Island, panic filled my racing heart 鈥� what was I going to do? A tap on my shoulder from the Aussie Petty Officer who was in charge of the draft routine for the unit that was, by now, winging its way north.

鈥淐ome on son,鈥� said the P.O. 鈥淵ou鈥檝e got to report to the Duty Officer at the barracks."鈥� Then we arrived at 鈥楻ushcutter.鈥� The Duty Officer calmly informed me of my fate, and I was told that I would be put on the next boat back to R.N. Barracks Portsmouth. That was easier said than done, because I waited almost two months for that next boat. And during that time I met an Aussie girl and we became very close, nevertheless my draft finally came through. A New Zealand cargo-liner by the name of 鈥楾he Rangakiki鈥� left Adelaide with your intrepid warrior aboard, back to 鈥楤lighty.鈥�

When I arrived home from Australia, and after having my foreign service leave, I was posted to R.N.B. Portsmouth to await another ship, shorebase or whatever, but I was soon cheesed off with barrack life in England. All I could think about was being in the Pacific Theatre of War, back in the Kings Cross area of Sydney and a girl called Sylvia.

What a romantic fool I was, by breaking the matelot鈥檚 code of 鈥楴ever volunteer for a draft.鈥� I went to the Drafting Office and did just that. Knowing the R.N. were assembling a large Pacific fleet I assumed they would welcome me with open arms!

Into the office I marched and said to the duty Petty Office, 鈥淚 want a draft!鈥� After everyone in the office got off the floor, stopped laughing and generally recovered from the shock the P.O. answered, 鈥淵eah, and where do you want this draft to?鈥� Innocently I replied, 鈥淎ustralia, Chief.鈥� Another burst of hysterical laughter filled the office. The P.O. who by now was blue in the face, yelled at me, 鈥淟isten son, for the last two months this office has been trying to fill 鈥楪olden Hind鈥� drafts. Now after we have at last got them together, you come along wanting to volunteer! Give me your name and number and get out.鈥� Timidly I gave the brute my credentials, about turned and retreated from the office and its jeering staff as quickly as possible. As I walked back to the mess, I muttered to myself, 鈥淵ou blew that buddy boy!鈥�

To help me recover from my ordeal, I did what all matelots did, I went ashore with some mates from the mess and got ever so slightly drunk!

During our drinking session, one of the guys observed that, as I had committed the cardinal sin of asking for my draft, my name and number was prominent on their list of future drafts and I would get a draft within days, 鈥楢 bad bd at that!鈥� Sure enough, two days later, over the barracks tannoy system, came the dreaded statement, 鈥淎ble Seaman D. Mander report to the Drafting Office!鈥� More laughter filled the Mess Decks. You know, I was beginning to believe I was the resident clown of R.N.B. Portsmouth. Now I had learned why it is said, 鈥楴ever volunteer for anything!鈥� Scared and with great trepidation I reported to the Drafting Office.

鈥淎h!鈥� cried the Petty Officer, 鈥淗ere he is, the kid who wants to go to Australia!鈥� Peels of laughter filled the office again and I though, 鈥楬ere we go again!鈥�

鈥淗ave we a draft for you! How about Canada? You鈥檙e a Radar RCM rating right! Well they need one of your kind to teach them RCM (Radar Counter Measures) on one of their destroyers.鈥� I immediately thought, Canada, that鈥檚 alongside the USA and the U.S. Navy鈥檚 main concentration of ships is in the Pacific, so the Canadians are bound to be involved in that theatre of war too. To the amazement of the Petty Officer and his motley staff I said, 鈥淕reat, that鈥檚 fine, that鈥檚 just where I want to be!鈥�

鈥淥h yeah鈥� said the P.O. smirking with delight, 鈥淵ou鈥檒l pick up the destroyer 鈥楬.M.C.S. Assiniboine鈥� in Londonderry, Northern Ireland, which is forming a Canadian flotilla of nine destroyers to assume North Atlantic convoy duties.鈥� 鈥楪od!鈥� I thought, 鈥業鈥檓 dead!鈥� With an evil grin of satisfaction, he finished, 鈥淭ake your seven days embarkation leave, then report to this office in ten days time for your draft chit and travel warrant and behave yourself on leave, I鈥檝e heard all about you!鈥�

鈥淏ut Chief!鈥� I pleaded.

鈥淕et out!鈥� he stormed. Even his cronies were quiet now so I retired gracefully, cutting through an atmosphere as thick as dense fog, cursing the RN and all its Petty Officers. As I walked away, the old matelot鈥檚 beer drinking song came into my head (and I鈥檝e sung it many times). It goes like this:

Oh I wonder, yes I wonder.
Did the jaunty make a blunder.
When he made this draft chit out for me.
For I鈥檝e been a barracks stanchion
And I鈥檝e been to 鈥楯ago鈥檚 Mansion鈥�
But I never thought I鈥檇 go to sea.

Back in the mess, I wondered, 鈥榃hat have I done?鈥� Who in their right mind would want to spend the rest of the war in the North Atlantic, where it鈥檚 always winter, dodging German U-Boats! Not me, I wanted to be in the Pacific, with nothing to worry about but Japs in the air and sharks in the water, well at least the water is warm down there!

Continued in Part 2

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