Tales - tall and true!
From Brett Iggulden:
The Demise of Jack Tar......
The traditional male sailor was not defined by
his looks. He was defined by his attitude; his name was Jack
Tar. He was a happy go lucky sort of a bloke; he took the
good times with the bad.
He didnt cry victimisation, bastardisation,
discrimination or for his mum when things didnt go his way.
He took responsibility for his own, sometimes,
self-destructive actions.
He loved a laugh at anything or anybody. Rank,
gender, race, creed or behaviour, it didnt matter to Jack,
he would take the piss out of anyone, including himself. If
someone took it out of him he didnt get offended; it was a
natural part of life. If he offended someone else, so be it.
Free from many of the rules of polite society, Jacks manners
were somewhat rough. His ability to swear was legendary.
He would stand up for his mates. Jack was
extravagant with his support to those he thought needed it.
He may have been right or wrong, but that didnt matter.
Jacks mate was one of the luckiest people alive.
Jack loved women. He loved to chase them to the
ends of the earth and sometimes he even caught one. (Less
often than he would have you believe though) His tales of
the chase and its conclusion win or lose, is the stuff of
legends.
Jacks favourite drink was beer, and he could
drink it like a fish. His actions when inebriated would, on
occasion, land him in trouble. But, he took it on the chin,
did his punishment and then went and did it all again.
Jack loved his job. He took an immense pride in
what he did. His radar was always the best in the fleet. His
engines always worked better than anyone elses. His eyes
could spot a contact before anyone elses and shoot at it
first. It was a matter of personal pride. Jack was the
consummate professional when he was at work and sober.
He was a bit like a mischievous child. He had a
gleam in his eye and a larger than life outlook.
He was as rough as guts. You had to be pig
headed and thick skinned to survive. He worked hard and
played hard. His masters tut-tutted at some of his more
exuberant expressions of joie de vivre, and the occasional
bout of number 9s or stoppage of leave let him know where
his limits were.
The late 20th Century and on, has seen the
demise of Jack. The workplace no longer echoes with ribald
comment and bawdy tales. Someone is sure to take offence.
Where as, those stories of daring do and ingenuity in the
face of adversity, usually whilst pissed, lack the audacity
of the past.
A wicked sense of humour is now a liability,
rather than a necessity. Jack has been socially engineered
out of existence. What was once normal is now offensive.
Denting someone elses over inflated opinion of their own
self worth is now a crime.
And so a culture dies... worse luck
!!!!!!!!!!!!
From Bob (Fronty) Mckenzie:
The Tot Board for the original members of 3LZ1 Messdeck
Following received from Chris Bond - this is somewhat appropriate for today's navies...
Nelson: Order the signal, Hardy.
Hardy: Aye aye sir.
Nelson: Hold on, thats not what I dictated to the signal officer. Whats the meaning of this?
Hardy: Sorry sir.
Nelson: (reading aloud): England expects every person to do his duty, regardless of race, gender, sexual orientation, religious persuasion or disability. What gobbledygook is this??
Hardy: Admiralty policy, I'm afraid sir. We're an equal opportunities employer now sir. We've had the devils own job getting Ëngland' past the censors, lest it be considered racist.
Nelson: Gadzooks, Hardy. Hand me my pipe and tobacco.
Hardy: Sorry sir. All naval vessels have been designated smoke-free working environments..
Nelson: In that case, break open the rum ration. Let us splice the main brace to steel the men before battle.
Hardy: The rum ration has been abolished, Admiral. Its part of the Governments policy on binge drinking..
Nelson: Good heavens, Hardy I suppose we'd better get on with it.... full speed ahead.
Hardy: I think you'll find that there's a four-knot speed limit in this stretch of water..
Nelson: Damn it man! We are on the eve of the greatest sea battle in history. We must advance with all dispatch. Report from the crow's nest please..
Hardy: That wont be possible sir.
Nelson: What!?
Hardy: Health and safety have closed the crow's nest sir. No harness. And they said that rope ladder doesnt meet regulations. They wont let anyone up there until proper scaffolding is erected.
Nelson: Then get me the ship's carpenter without delay Hardy..
Hardy: He's busy knocking up a wheelchair access to the foç'sle Admiral...
Nelson: Wheelchair access?? I've never heard anything so absurd..
Hardy: Health and safety again sir. We have to provide a barrier-free environment for the differently abled...
Nelson: Differently abled?? I've only one arm and one eye and I refuse even to hear mention of the word. I didnt rise to the rank of admiral by playing the disability card..
Hardy: Actually sir, you did. The Royal Navy is underrepresented in the areas of visual impairment and limb deficiency...
Nelson: Whatever next? Give me full sail. The salt spray beckons..
Hardy: A couple of problems there too sir. Health and safety wont let the crew up the rigging without hard hats. And they dont want anyone breathing in too much salt - havent you seen the adverts??
Nelson: I've never heard such infamy. Break out the cannon and tell the men to stand by to engage the enemy..
Hardy: The men are a bit worried about shooting at anyone, Admiral..
Nelson: What?? This is mutiny!!!
Hardy: Its not that sir. It's just that they're afraid of being charged with murder if they actually kill anyone. There are a couple of legal-aid lawyers on board, watching everyone like hawks..
Nelson: Then how are we to sink the Frenchies and the Spanish??
Hardy: Actually sir, we're not..
Nelson: We're not ??
Hardy: No sir. The Frenchies and the Spanish are our European partners now. According to the Common Fisheries Policy, we shouldnt even be in this stretch of water. We could get his with a claim for compensation..
Nelson: But you must hate a Frenchman as you hate the devil..
Hardy: I wouldnt let the ship's diversity co-ordinator hear you saying that sir. You'll be up on disciplinary..
Nelson: You must consider every man an enemy, who speaks ill of your King..
Hardy: Not anymore sir. We must be inclusive in this multicultural age. Now put on your Kevlar vest; it's the rules. It could save your life!
Nelson: Dont tell me - health and safety. Whatever happened to rum sodomy and the lash??
Hardy: As I explained, sir, rum is off the menu! And there's a ban on corporal punishment..
Nelson: What about sodomy??
Hardy: I believe that is now legal, sir...
Nelson: In that case ..... kiss me Hardy!!!!
Diego Garcia 1983 - 2nd Armilla Patrol - Chris was the CPORS (picture courtesy Peter Randell)
Sam Wihongi:
From the Webmaster:
During the first Operation Armilla 1982, Canterbury and RFA Grey Rover worked together.
RFA Grey Rover had a civilian crew and the PO Steward became ill. He was transferred to us for diagnosis and observation. He was with us for about a week as his ship had to go into Muscat for stores and fuel. He slept in the Sickbay and used our Mess (the After Chiefs) for R & R. He was a Scot (only remember him as "Jock") and everything was “Wassa matter Jimmee!” to all in sundry. Prior to the Patrol starting, the time came to return to his ship and he was so impressed with our hospitality that he arranged for a sports day between the RFA’s Petty Officers and the Canterbury’s After Chiefs mess. Our 1st Lieutenant, Nick Byrne (Beano Byrne) reluctantly agreed. At the appointed hour, the after chiefs mustered on the Boat Deck, clambered into the whaler, lowered into the oggie, and duly set off to the Grey Rover.
Upon arrival, we were duly welcomed with open arms, taken up to their large mess and fed copious quantities of CSB (Courage Bitter Beer). They did have a pool table, darts and cards available for the sports day - funnily enough, these facilities never got used. Canterbury’s Chief Steward and myself decided to check out the swimming pool just forrard of the bridge. We stripped down to our grunds and promptly jumped in “yippeeing and yahooing” and generally having a good time. The Bridge windows were open and we could hear a voice say “Bloody Colonials!”
Time came for us to go back to Canterbury. The whaler was waiting below the ladder. We all got onboard, the whaler shoved off and proceeded back to the ship. Engine cut out about 500m away from Grey Rover and the stoker couldn’t get it going again. The coxswain reported in by radio that the engine wouldn’t kick in. The XO told him to get the Chiefs onboard to row back - the bloody ship was about a kilometre away. So the coxswain said “Sorry Chiefs, the XO says we have to row back. Out oars.” Being in a sociable state of mind, none of us argued. The oars came out, the Coxswain ordered “Toss oars!” This we did - the whole lot ended up in the drink. Whilst we were floundering about trying to get the oars back inboard, the XO radioed the Coxswain and politely said that he would back the ship up to us.
Upon arrival, and whilst being hoisted back onboard, the XO bellowed out to me that he would like my presence on the Bridge. After having had a vocal lesson on not what to do in a whaler, he then told me that the After Chiefs would give a pulling demonstration the following day for the rest of the crew. I said “Is that in or out of the whaler, Sir?”
POs Mess RFA Grey Rover - Cliff Heywood, "Jock" and Frank Lind
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