Awards; An Admiral & a thrush; Maiden Voice in Uncharted Waters

Able Seaman by N443694. The painting reproduced is that of typical able seaman of the R.A.N. cleaned into battle dress. In his shrapnel helmet, anti-flash, hood and gloves, and with the inflation tube of his "Mae West" handy in position, he is ready for action stations.

AWARDS TO AUSTRALIAN NAVAL PERSONNEL

AWARDS AND DECORATIONS FROM ALLIED NATIONS

AN ADMIRAL AND A THRUSH

since when he had been vainly endeavouring to catch it. We held a council of war, the Admiral's suggestion that I should go and get a cage being turned down on the grounds that there were no such articles in the Central Store, and that by the time the Chippy Chaps had made one the need for it would probably have disappeared, with the thrush. I suggested a new plan.

The after-end of the cabin had a chart table built 'into it, completely filling all the space round the stem. I thought that we might cover this natural "coop" with rugs or sheets, and eventually with wire netting, and convert it into a sort of super-cage. If we could then persuade the thrush to enter, it might have a reasonable chance of recovering its nerve in peace and darkness, while the Admiral decided upon its fate.

He agreed, and pealed furiously for a steward, who, on entering, was told to come in and keep out, and keep the -- door shut, 2nd to go and get some sheets or blankets. Very soon we had an enclosure made, with a large opening in the centre, and the Admiral and I began the delicate task of persuading the thrush that the black cavern at the end of the ship was a suitable resting place for a weary bird. It was a lengthy operation, and could any of his officers have seen him they would have hardly recognized their tyrant in the vigorous, active figure balancing on the back of the sofa snapping his fingers at an apprehensive thrush, what time he chirped, "Tweet, tweet! Come on, Birdie. Come on!"

Somehow or other it was at last accomplished, the curtains drawn,-'and the thrush left to muse in darkness and in solitude, while the Admiral and I went forward to his sea cabin to decide upon its future. Before leaving, however, we were much concerned as to what diet could be provided for the bird. The Admiral asked me what I knew about the dietary needs of a thrush, and I answered helpfully that I understood that their staple diet was worms, and that they needed three times their own weight of worms daily to keep them flying fit. This was not well received, and the Admiral said peevishly, "And where the do you suppose I am going to get any worms in the middle of the North Sea? And anyhow I don't know how much the bird weighs."

We compromised on bread and milk, and this proved to be quite acceptable to our little visitor. In the course of the next hour or two the Admiral had decided that he was going to keep and tame the thrush. Shipwrights had fitted wire screens over the scuttles, a wire front was being made for the "cage", and a large notice had been hung on the door "Keep this door shut." Night fell.

Next day, as soon as dawn "Action Stations" had been dismissed, I was sent down to see how the thrush was. To my surprise he was alive and well, and had attacked his bread and milk ration with gusto. The Admiral was delighted, and the whole ship purred with contentment. Later that day we arrived at Scapa Flow and our two Snotties were sent in the barge to Flotta to dig for worms, and to bring off a boxful of won-n-filled earth. A large box, about four inches deep, was built in under the chart table in the after-part of the cabin, and on the return of the Snotties the earth and the worms were transferred to it. The Admiral fondly hoped that the thrush would use this not only as a dining-room, but also as a lavatory. This latter hope was not fulfilled, but I saw the thrush on one or two occasions digging hopefully in the earth.

The Admiral then began the taming process, and met with most astonishing success. Within two or three days the thrush was sitting on his desk, and in another day or two it would sit quite happily on his shoulder. Within a week I was admitted into his very small circle of intimate friends, a triangle, in fact, of the Admiral, his valet and myself. He was quite fearless with us, but disliked the Flag Captain (which surprised nobody) and the Secretary (who was a Sorcerer, and cast horoscopes, and was, therefore, undeserving of the friendship of a thrush). So fearless was he that the Admiral named him "Tiger", and, believe it or not, he would answer to his name.

He had the freedom of the after-cabin and the dining-cabin, and flew about them at will. It was not long before he would fly into the dining-cabin at meals and sit upon the Admiral's shoulder, hopping down from time to time to pick bits off his plate. He was very partial to peas and beans, and it was really rather extraordinary what a number of things he would eat. One morning I came in to breakfast simultaneously with the Admiral. There was a flutter and a scurry on the breakfast table, and a loud, infuriated squawking. 

Tiger had landed in the marmalade saucer and was in a proper mess. He could not take off, and in his struggles had stickied his under-carriage and wing surfaces. We seized the dish and bird and all and took them into the after-cabin. The valet was summoned with basins of hot water and towels, and while I held Tiger in my hands the Admiral carefully washed his feet and feathers. It took about half-an-hour to get him clean and he was very sorry for himself all day, and I never again caught him on the breakfast table.

He was with us all of three weeks. He made a trip to Norway and back, he carried out the Dark Night Patrol, and shared the exercises in the Flow. Another convoy started off to Norway and we went with it. At dinner that night only the Admiral, the Secretary and myself were aft. We had grouse, green beans and chipped potatoes. Tiger fluttered and hopped from the Admiral to me, making sudden dives, to pick a tempting morsel off a plate. The Admiral put a bit of grouse skin on the side of his plate, and with a squeak of joy Tiger pounced on it and carried it off triumphantly. After dinner we went back to the bridge, and shutting up the after-cabin left behind a happy little thrush.

That was the last we saw of him alive. At daylight we sighted a submarine and attacked it with guns and depth charges. When I went down afterwards with fear in my heart, I found what I expected-Tiger, dead on the floor of the after-cabin: killed in action. And Black Lambert came down and sat at his desk and cried.

Bredis Holm

A MAIDEN VOYAGE IN UNCHARTED WATERS

THE results of active service are many and varied. The following story is written in an endeavour to outline a "voyage"-if such it can be called-which must surely be unique in the annals of naval history, and which resulted from the action which took place in Sydney harbour on the 31st May, 1942.

The story must perforce begin prior to our travels and troubles, or should I say prior to our troubles and travels. Troubles certainly came first. It is not so simple to send a shattered submarine cruising about a continent. To begin with, where is your motive power? The R.A.N.V.R. had completely ruined everything original of this description which had ever been built into the Japanese submarines.

At the best of times a submarine is a "poor fish" out of water. As briefly as possible then, the Navy found itself somewhat out of its depth. The problem developed amphibious proportions which necessitated an appeal to the Army. The latter, as ever, answered the call. Even so, it was not all quite so simple as it sounds. First of all, it was necessary to produce a submarine on wheels-in itself some feat of naval architecture, which, by the way, prompted an oft-repeated question, "Did it have wheels on it when you got it?"

In strictest confidence, it did not! But this difficulty having been overcome, the Army undertook to tow us, if needs be to Timbuctoo and back. Indeed we had our anxious moments lest they should really do so! The sky was their limit, and so, at long last, we slipped our moorings.

The outcome of the cruise was problematical, success or failure resting in the hands of a few sailors and soldiers with little or no guidance other than their own determination to make the venture a success. We have all heard of K.R. and A.I. The Army have their corresponding publication, but our difficulty lay in the fact that when His Majesty the King drew up his regulations governing Army, Navy and Air Force, he never thought of a captured Japanese submarine in the Australian bush - so we just had to fend for ourselves.

It would be quite superfluous to attempt to describe the kindness and hospitality showered upon us from start to finish. As individuals, we were merely ships that pass in the night. There was nothing personal about it, but just a wish and will to support the cause, and to do all and everything possible to assist.

Berrima, Goulburn, Canberra, Gundagai, Wagga, Holbrook, Albury, Melbourne, with other intermediate and wayside ports of call. Where, I wonder, should I begin? Perhaps at none of these. Let me therefore start upon a very rocky bridge at a spot called South Tarcutta, between Gundagai and Wagga.

These country bridges were never designed to carry submarines - but, and for all that, we had to get to Wagga. The Army Transport Officer and myself went ahead. The A.T.O. was a big man, and when he disembarked from the utility car in which we were travelling, the bridge shook under his weight. My heart sank. As aforesaid, he was a big man who must turn the scale at many stone. But we were thinking in terms of tons! So just what would happen to the submarine when she attempted to cross this "River Styx"? She crossed! So we called a halt, and boiled a billy of tea. I think we were entitled.

And so to Wagga, where we had a wonderful site if only the Exhibition could be worked and wangled on to the spot. It was not going to be easy. Thus I was not surprised when the A.T.O. remarked-more in sorrow than in anger - "You would pick a spot like this." As already explained, the sky was the limit for the Army. We pulled down fencing, uprooted trees, shifted rockeries, and generally disturbed the contour of the countryside. But on the spot went the submarine!

The population of Wagga is reported by the guide book to be betwixt and between eleven and twelve thousand.  Be that as it may, upwards of six thousand passed the turnstile. Once again this was so largely thanks to the Army, who were kind enough to provide a full military band.  The latter, having had to travel some ten miles per lorry, marched down the main street in "f ull cry".  The crowd of course followed the band, and the relief funds benefited in proportion.

It was immediately following a particularly fine rendering of "Life on the Ocean Wave" that I was approached by the leaders of the band with a suggestion that they should, one and all, join our travelling circus. There were all the reasons in the world why they should do so! But, it seemed to me, there were just as many reasons why they shouldn't! After all, there is a limit to recruiting from one Service to another, and to recruit a full military band, complete with instruments, appeared a trifle too ambitious! I am only leading up to what happened next.

Holbrook-that was the next port of call merely a halt for the night. Here, as elsewhere, a dance was organized for the personnel. I mention Holbrook, not so much as mention of the kindness of the people, but rather as an illustration of the spirit of goodwill and good feeling which had by now established itself between soldiers and sailors. Be it said that the Army's responsibility was to get us from point to point-once they had delivered us "in harbour" that was the end of their job. Nor were they expected to take any further interest until the order "up anchor" was given.

At Holbrook, however, the Army said, "There are plenty of soldiers about the countryside nowadays. Anybody can see soldiers, but they can very rarely see sailors. Would the C.O. therefore allow the soldiers to take over all sentry duties throughout the night in order to enable every sailor to attend the dance?" That was the spirit.

It had been decided prior to departure from Sydney that the exhibition should be at the top of Swanston Street, Melbourne, by 3 pm on Wednesday, the 25th November, 1942. With some six hundred miles of Australian bush behind us and with our itinerary fulfilled to the letter, it was satisfactory to find ourselves "on the spot" with ten minutes to spare.

Here we were met by the naval band from F.N.D. We were due to step off at 3-3o, and on the stroke of seven bells, the band struck up. And so to our next anchorage in Alexandra Gardens.

Business now became brisk! We had but one day to repaint, to clean ourselves up and to stage our exhibition. Driving wind and rain rendered matters no easier, but by dint of painting between the showers and with the aid of a deal of elbow grease we were ready to receive His Excellency the Governor during the forenoon of Friday, the 27th November. Boisterous weather continued throughout the official proceedings. Sunshine however eventually appeared, and on Sunday, the 29th November, we had our record crowd of 15,466. The takings for that afternoon amounted to £834. A lot of money at a shilling or sixpence per capita.

But time came when we had to "shift billet" in order to make way for the Midnight Carol Singers on Xmas Eve. It sounds simple enough, but it involved shipping our thirty-two wheels, in itself no light task, and of finding power transport. It seemed that Wirth's Circus -might be able to solve our difficulty with their elephants. They were perfectly willing to co-operate and we proceeded to prepare for a regular gala day.

Intentions were published in the press and over the air. A deal of interest was created. Everybody of course wanted to ride an elephant. In fact, it appeared probable that so much gold lace would be on board that the elephants would have imagined themselves back in their native land with the splendour of rajahs again upon their backs. By-laws however put "finis" to our plans. Thus other ways and means of moving our submarine had to be found.

The carol singers' committee came forward, and to express their thanks for our co-operation presented us with a cheque for £50 from their own takings.

We were back "on the spot" in the early hours of Boxing Day.

It was a little later that somebody was kind enough to come forward with £40 with which it was proposed to stage a party for children of naval personnel who had lost their lives, were missing, or were prisoners of war as a result of hostilities. As soon as the carol singers committee heard of the proposal they again came forward and gave us the entire profits from their next Sunday concert. This amounted to £51 - It was thus possible to stage a good children's party.

Wirth's Circus helped us tremendously, with their clowns, who made everybody laugh, young and old alike. A Punch and Judy show, conjurer, ventriloquist, copious supplies of ice cream and other refreshments in plenty, plus Xmas presents for all, seemed to meet with general approval. In addition to which Wirth's came forward with one hundred free seats for the circus for all the children, on top of which, the carol singers' committee contributed yet another £12 with which to supply the children with chocolates, peanuts and the like, which they contended would add to enjoyment of the circus. All this is perhaps something of a digression, but, for all that, was part of the efforts of the exhibition.

At last the day dawned when we had to move on. Geelong, Colac, Camperdown, Terang, Warrnambool, Port Fairy, Portland. Involving as it does a distance of some two hundred and thirty miles from Melbourne, a halt in the story would appear justified. Not that there is any wish to by-pass intermediate ports of call. In fact, the necessity to move on was always our lasting regret. Geelong, however, cannot be passed without a word of thanks to the Orphanage Boys' Band, who turned out in their uniforms and played us through the main streets upon our arrival. Tiny little fellows! Midget submarine - midget bandsmen, but possessed of lungs like a southerly buster!

The population had no option in the matter and, as at Wagga, just had to follow the band. The Geelong Boys' Band were also good enough to give us further support, and to these boys' bands credit for much of our success at Geelong must be given.

Members of our ship's company will doubtless condemn me for racing ahead too fast. Nobody knows better than I do that we all wanted to leave the anchor down here, there and everywhere. Echoes of "The Girl I Left Behind Me" perhaps speak volumes! I venture to leave it at that and approach the difficult pilotage waters of Portland.

The approaches were a trifle difficult, since there- was no bridge approaching Portland capable of taking the weight imposed! Like a certain lady in Melbourne, who after careful explanation of everything pertaining to the midget submarine was still "unable to understand how the thing could ever fly", we found ourselves compelled to ponder over the same difficult problem! No! It just could not be done-until the sappers; had attended to the bridges, after which we entered Portland with a flourish of trumpets.

The town band, the N.A.P., the girls' auxiliary N.A.P. in their white skirts and scarlet uppers, the boy scouts, the girl guides, the V.D.C. in uniform with rifles, the A.R.P. rescue squads and demolition parties, the entire local fire brigade and fire engine, followed by our sections of submarine. In all, the procession must have exceeded half a mile in length. One might well-nigh say that whilst half the population took part in the procession, the other half was looking on! All this took place on the pre-arranged tick of the clock, and credit must indeed be given to the various organizations for their amazingly punctual co-operation.

Should the Mayor of Portland or his Town Clerk ever read these remarks, they will know how much has been left unsaid. But time marches on, and, as ever, all too soon, we found ourselves heading inland-away from our native element of salt water-and crayfish-for which, however, the butter at Hamilton and Mount Gambler furnished compensation.

At Mount Gambier the local schoolboys came to our assistance with the school band, and as ever proved a great attraction. From Mount Gambler, via Millicent, Kingston and The Coorong, and over the Murray Bridge which was under repair and which was obviously going to present difficulties to the submarine when she arrived upon the scene-in point of fact, parts of her had to be manhandled over the bridge-thence away up over the Mount Lofty ranges and down the other side into Adelaide. A distance in all of some three hundred and twenty-five miles, which I myself covered in one day, ahead of the exhibition, in a bus! There is such a variety of bird life to be seen along The Coorong that at the end of such a journey, one feels like a bird oneself. Yes! A trussed fowl!

From the submarine's point of view the journey from Murray Bridge, over the Mount Lofty ranges, was perhaps the most hazardous part of the whole journey, and was not without its anxious moments. Steep ascent and descent accepted, hairpin bends and the like all part of the curriculum, but, if you really wish to swallow your heart, I would invite you to pilot a midget submarine under a certain overhead railway bridge at Aldgate, South Australia.

You start with a clearance of nine inches but the road takes a sudden ascent beneath the bridge. The bridge, like Gallio of old, "cares for none of these things" and renders no assistance whatsoever, with the result that your submarine eventually clears by a bare three inches! However, she clears! And you then know that with periscope well and truly down, and by dint of adopting what will be the wrong side of the road on the return journey, all will be well. And so on - up over the hill - and down the other side.

Adelaide of course is a capital city, where traffic is a consideration which must not be forgotten. We were due to pass the Town Hall clock at 4 pm- on the 12th March. A mechanical breakdown, way up in the Mount Lofty ranges, was a trifle disconcerting to say the least of it.

The speed of the fleet is the speed of the slowest ship-and the slowest ship-through no fault of her own-was not too popular. However, by dint of combined effort and abuse, she rejoined the convoy, and we sailed down King William Street, Adelaide, in single line ahead. We passed the Town Hall clock on the very stroke of eight bells.

This meant more than meets the eye. It meant a pre-arranged "green light" at every intersection, provided of course we could maintain course and speed.  It meant perfect co-operation between Army, Navy and police, all three being governed by the tick of the clock.  Did the Lord Mayor, I wonder, hold those chimes just a few seconds? It was, however, as close as that.

The Adelaide police, be it said, had been kind enough to pilot us into the city from Bridgewater, a distance of some ten miles. With a cumbersome convoy such as ours, pitted against the ambitions of others barging up the hill in the opposite direction, it was desirable that Greek should not meet Greek upon a hairpin bend! Police, or Providence or both - kept the Greeks apart! And so, into the Queen City of the South upon the very stroke of the clock.

The subsequent three weeks went by all too rapidly. The military again supported us with music, and to their lasting credit they marched miles through hot city streets, and collected the following which they deserved.

By now, however, the sword of Damocles was suspended overhead. We found ourselves faced with what the Army called a forced march, but which we called a crash cruise. (Other names were also invented!) In other words enthusiasm at the prospect of leaving Adelaide was conspicuous by its absence. In the meantime the exhibition had reaped its harvest. As elsewhere an extended time limit must have shown results. The end, however, was in sight, and Canberra became the bull's eye of a distant target.

We were well on the outer, and had many miles to travel before the bull's-eye could even appear above the terrestrial horizon. Our return journey took us via Murray Bridge, Keith, Nhill, Horsham, Ararat, Ballarat, Bendigo, Shepparton and Wangaratta -back through Albury and Gundagai and so to Canberra, where in accordance with previous arrangements we were in position at the War Memorial at 1600 on the 28th April, 1943

Thus ended a curious cruise. Though never commissioned as a unit of H.M. or H.M.A. Fleet, we flew the White Ensign from start to finish-and, furthermore, we steamed into Canberra flying a paying-off pendant. Many must have wondered what it was all about and what it all meant. Few if any beyond ourselves had the key to the code. But it meant just this: it meant the end of a cruise, unique in the annals of all history, entrusted to the custody of a privileged few.

These lines are written to record it as an historical fact that such a cruise was attempted and achieved, in witness whereof the remains of the enemy's effort rest, and for all time will remain, at the National War Memorial, Canberra-a sinister reminder to all- and sundry of a lasting debt of gratitude to "those who go down to the sea in ships".

LIEUT-COMMANDER JSB

HARD LYING by B3/154

• I KNOW not where thou art.

  • I only know

• That thou wert on my desk,

  • Oh comrade of my solitude,

• A moment back.

  • Lo! As I turned my head

• To view the tardy clock,

  • Some scurvy knave

• Went west with thee.

  • I know not who he was

• Nor shall I ask.

  • Perchance

• it may have been

  • The man I stole thee from!

SIGNAL BOATSWAIN C. H. N.

A QUESTION OF ANTECEDENTS

PAYMASTER LIEUT-COMMANDER. F. L. S.

WHAT'S DOING IN THE '"DOGS"

There are few rules. Weight, speed and endurance win the day in an all-out welter of flying sticks, arms, legs and heads. The unwary player, if he is not pushed through the guard rails to hang over the side with one foot inboard, will find himself flattened against an ammunition locker or buried under a struggling heap of men in the goal-mouth.

At Service boxing shows barracking is strictly forbidden, but at deck hockey no such rules prevail. The game is as much a free for all for the spectators as for the players. Half an hour before the play commences the sailors crowd the sidelines and climb to vantage points on gun turrets and superstructure. The moment of "bullying off" is the signal for frantic yells and screams which are kept up incessantly the whole of the fifteen-minute quarter. 

Sheer noise rather than partisan barracking. Some wit has remarked that the clamour is necessary to drown the thuds and groans and breaking bones! That may be true too! But usually the fun is fast and furious and damage is confined to bruises when hefty sailors hit the deck. If you will get in the way of a hockey stick or somebody's well-directed elbow, or wrap yourself around a bollard, you can hardly blame the game for your discomfort!

Petty Officer Telegraphist D. L. B., W. R. A. N. S.

• WHEN I was told that James and Jack, 
  • Had gone to sea, then did I nod, 
  • And briefly think upon their lives, 
  • And wisely leave their fate to God.
• For I had much to think of then, 
  • My pretty valleys to survey, 
  • And summer fields in which to stroll, 
  • And watch the night bestride the day.
• And when they told me James and Jack 
  • Had vanished in the open sea, 
  • I thought it rather sad that they 
  • Would come no more to walk with me.
• But now that I am bound for sea, 
  • And think I too may not come back, 
  • I ponder on my dear dead friends, 
  • And pause to pray for James and Jack.

CADET RATING P. G. M.

CAT MUSTER

A/LIEUTENANT F. B. W.

That reminds me ... left my tooth paste behind again.

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