Winter

2007

This publication Copyright © H.M.S. St. Vincent Association 2007

President: Admiral Sir Raymond Lygo KCB

ContentsChairman’s Chat............................................. 2 The ‘Secretary’s Table’. ................................. 2 Crossed The Bar ............................................ 4 New Members ................................................ 4 “D’Ye Hear There!” ......................................... 4 Festivals of Remembrance ............................ 5 “What Did You Do After St. Vincent,

Daddy?”.................................................... 10 The HMS St. Vincent Association 2007

Reunion.................................................... 16

Rocky in the Chair ........................................18 What Ship? ...................................................19 “Nostalgia” ....................................................19 AGM/Reunion Organiser’s Desk ..................20 Raffle News ..................................................21 H.M.S. St. Vincent Association Officers .......22 Slop Chit (December 2007)..........................23

The front cover photograph shows Captain & Mrs Aldous helping to stir the Christmas Pudding in 1963.

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Chairman’s Chat Firstly I wish to thank all the members who attended the Annual general Meeting, for

their patience and forbearance during a difficult meeting. Thankfully everything was resolved and on behalf of the members of the Management Committee, I thank you all for your unanimous support for what we do on your behalf.

I also thank the guests who attended the talk whilst the AGM was in progress, and their generosity regarding the collection for the Ark, and, who stayed and had lunch afterwards. I believe the Fish’n‘Chips lunch was a great success.

I also hope that all the Members who wanted to, managed to get across to the Museum. We had record numbers at our Reunion Dinner (201), and from the many letters we

have received from Members, Guests and Official Guests you all enjoyed the occasion; thank you very much for your support. On your behalf, I also pay tribute to Diane for arranging everything.

Looking ahead to the next 12 months its going to be a very busy year both for the Committee and members of the Association who want to get involved.

We had a splendid turnout on Remembrance Sunday at the Cenotaph in London, 33 Members made the journey, from all over the country, some accompanied by their wives. Sadly we were marching behind the Ganges Association, but acquitted our selves very well. We still love to hate each other. It did give us an opportunity to renew the rivalry between us though. Mike “Nipper” Ellis, found us a very nice PUB to warm up in, and a good time was enjoyed by all.

Whilst we were in London, our Deputy Standard Bearer Hooky Walker represented the Association at the Service at Gosport War Memorial Hospital, where the National Standard of the Association was paraded. A wreath on behalf of the Association was laid at the Gosport Branch of the Royal Naval Association by Lieutenant Cyril Print RNVR of Gosport Sea Cadet Corps, TS Hornet.

Thank you very much for all your support, we now look forward to next year. Your committee meets next week to discuss among other things a new plaque to be

placed at our tree at the Arboretum in Staffordshire, and this occasion will take the form of a Rededication Ceremony, a new members list for all members and to start making the plans for next years events.

May I wish you all a very Merry Christmas and a Prosperous New Year!

Malcolm R. Smith

The ‘Secretary’s Table’. How quickly the time comes round for the Newsletter. As you know there were a few

things to progress after the AGM. The Service of Remembrance at the Cenotaph was a day to remember and this has its own pages elsewhere in this newsletter.

The amount of printing that was required at this past AGM was extraordinary for several reasons. However, in order to both save Association funds and to become more ‘environmentally friendly’ for the future, we ask the following of you. That the agenda, minutes of the previous AGM and Statement of accounts that we send out with the Summer Newsletter will be your ‘paperwork’ for the following AGM to save duplication of same. Thank you Gentlemen.

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Reunion weekend: A number of the members were in favour of the AGM/Reunion taking place over a full weekend. This has been discussed in Committee and it was agreed that the AGM/Reunion can take place over a full weekend (Friday evening to Sunday afternoon) with the following provisos:

1. That enough members come forward to form a sub-committee, organise it and to be fully responsible for its operation.

2. Prior to it being passed over to the new team, they would have to show its viability both financially and operationally and its ability to be self-sustaining.

3. The venue for 2008-9 is already booked for the Thorngate Halls and thus the 2009 Reunion would have to include this venue. (The planning for the 2008 Reunion is already in progress.)

Should you wish to volunteer for this proposed venture, please contact the Secretary in the first instance. Thank you.

Member’s area on the website: This was also discussed at Committee and it was decided that the area with locked PDF’s for members was working well and to link the area with a continuously up-dated database would involve unnecessary burdens to me and the webmaster. All those on the electronic distribution list will automatically receive an e-mail with the unlock code for the latest PDF posted to the site. Members who have access to the web can also request the required codes from the Secretary.

Member’s lists: It is agreed that we will provide the Members List as requested at the AGM. The first will consist of a securely locked PDF on the website. For those without access to the web, a copy can be requested from the Membership Secretary but the request must be accompanied by a Stamped Addressed Envelope. However, prior to these becoming available, I must first ask the Membership that if any of you do NOT wish to have your details published in the list to contact the Membership Secretary by February 28th 2008 to let him know and your details will then be excluded. The list will then be available to all in whichever format you prefer during March 2008.

As you are probably aware, our Committee is short of a Raffle Organiser and Newsletter Editor. Also, the Treasurer, after eight hard working years as a Committee member also wishes to hand over the reins to a colleague. Whilst I don't wish to dampen you budding journalists’ enthusiasm, I believe it would be expedient if the Newsletter Editor was computer literate and had access to Broadband. This is due to the high amounts of pictorial traffic that passes back and forth and also for formatting the document and readying it to be sent electronically to the printers, etc. Full editorial freedom is guaranteed and help is always at hand so there's no need to feel nervous!! The Treasurer’s position requires approximately 4-6 hours per month and the Raffle Organiser 2-3 hours per month, although this does increase as we approach the AGM/Reunion. Again, help from other Committee members will always be forthcoming. Volunteers for these posts please contact either the Chairman or me, in the first instance. Thank you.

It just rests with me to say thank you for your vote of confidence at the AGM which was very much appreciated by all of your Committee after an interesting morning. A Merry Christmas to you, one and all and my very best wishes for the New Year. Take care.

Ken Cast

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Crossed The Bar The following Shipmates have sadly left us since the last Newsletter.

Our condolences go to their families and friends.

Rear Admiral Stanley McArdle, Foretop 163, 02-08-1938 Crossed the Bar on 4th December 2007

Captain John Gower, Quarterdeck DO, 01-01-1937 Crossed the Bar on 17th November 2007 Alfred Woonton, Maintop, 12-06-1930 Crossed the Bar 15th September 2007 Dewi Davies, Blake 30, 09-01-1947 Crossed the Bar 28th October 2007

Stuart Wilby, Rodney 75 Pilots, 02-01-1944 Crossed the Bar 23rd August 2007

Obituaries for Admiral McArdle and Captain Gower will be published in the next edition of the newsletter.

New Members Welcome to the following Shipmates who have recently joined us.

Name Division and Class Date Joined St. Vincent Alan Anderson Anson 139 05-07-1949 Reg Kean Portsmouth Madden 31-10-1939 Gerry Hewitt New Entry - Hood 15-04-1953 Paul Mealand Blake 141 10-06-1958 Derek Kimber Blake 321 07-06-1960 Roger Bigden Blake 100 07-01-1958 Richard Bidgood Blake 661 23-03-1964 Edward Wade Duncan 03-01-1956 Brian Smith Hawke 341 15-09-1960 Patrick Parker Hawke 05-09-1966 Albert Pordage Anson 193 08-02-1955 Ian Cook Blake 15-06-1960 Geoffrey Shingler Exmouth / 62nd & 65th Pilots Course 20-03-1944 Duncan Moss Quarterdeck 04-04-1939 Bruce Hunt Duncan 19-11-1963

“D’Ye Hear There!” General announcements section

Raffle Organiser To reiterate the Secretary’s announcement on page 3, unless a volunteer is forthcoming

to take over as Raffle Organiser, next year's raffle will be a "tickets for sale at the AGM and Reunion Dinner only" affair.

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Membership Lists The lists will be provided on receipt of a self-addressed A4 envelope with stamps to the

value of £1. Apply to: Geoff Rose 12 Beverley Road Stubbington Hampshire PO14 2NS geoff_rose@btinternet.com

Festivals of Remembrance The Cenotaph, 11th November 2007

The day began at 0600 on Sunday morning eleventh of November with the transport picking up the Gosport, Fareham and Portsmouth party and then driving off to the country’s capital to pay our respects. The full St. Vincent contingent met under Admiralty Arch at the appointed time and all was well. Rocky Craggs was in fine form as we all moved off to congregate on Horse Guards Parade. We found our spot and formed up behind our colleagues from the HMS Ganges Association. We were asked why there were two boy’s establishments and it was rumoured that the diplomatic reply related to the fact that whilst we could have indeed enlisted at Ganges, it was disallowed owing to the parents of St. Vincent boys being married!!

We moved off Horse Guards to Whitehall and were pleasantly surprised that we were in

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the first column. Here we remained exchanging good hearted banter with the lot in front, the Paras to our left, the Merchant Marine to the rear and the civvy spectators to our right. (It is said that the St. John Ambulance lady had fallen instantly in love with ‘Nipper’ Ellis as she fetched him a chair, a mug of Kye and a sticky bun!!)

Exactly at 1100 the guns were fired and London fell silent as everyone paid their private respects to the fallen and thought about shipmates who are still maintaining the status quo around the world. This is surprisingly moving and sombre when stood in Whitehall. The Service of Remembrance was held and the hymns heartily sung. After which we moved off for the march past. Well I say march, it took a little time to get into the swing of it but we marched past the Cenotaph as smart a body of men as ever marched there, with the Chairman carrying our wreath to be laid before the monument. Again, very moving with all the spectators clapping and saying thank you and members being still wrapped up with their own memories of people we knew who are no longer with us.

On reaching the reverse route the Duke of Edinburgh was taking the salute and Rocky Craggs marched us past and very smartly chopped him one off. The parade was then dispersed and we made our way to the pub for a well earned pint or two and some chat and then back aboard the transport to return home. The weather was very kind to us considering the forecast and the whole day was something very special and I’m sure will be remembered by all for a long time to come.

The queue for the Heads! “Carry On – Follow That Camel”!

“Fall in” “By the left . . .”

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The Muster The Memorial Service

The March Past

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All the wreaths laid Ed Bonnick, Malcolm Barry & Peter Gale

“Stick it where?”

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Some of our Worthy Successors

A well-deserved drink!

Colston Hall, Bristol, 3rd November 2007 The Two Minute Silence - Your Time to Remember

For the very first time, the Banner of the H.M.S. St. Vincent Association was paraded into the Hall, down the central aisle, and up on to the stage accompanied by a muster party, and to the tune of Hearts of Oak played by the band of the Royal Marines, Commando Training Centre, Lympstone.

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The concert theme this year was the 25th. Anniversary of the Falklands War, which lasted only 74 days, but at what cost to our brave service men and women. It was particularly poignant to me because in Jan 1982, my wife and I watched a young family friend qualify for the Green Beret at Lympstone; it was a momentous occasion, but little did we know what lay ahead in such a short time. Kevin was lucky to come home alive, but sadly damaged mentally and so was medically discharged from the Royal Marines. We proudly paraded our Standard that evening, both for our lost Boy Seamen in various conflicts and for Kevin.

So please, when Poppy day comes along in the future, wear it with pride, and donate generously, the Legion needs all the assistance we can provide for our ex-Service men and women in this day and age.

The appearance of our Banner has been secured for future years and four volunteers are required for 2008 to march into the hall as muster party, no experience is required other than that learned at St. Vincent, so please contact our Association Secretary Ken Cast, as soon as possible if you live in or near the Bristol area. Shipmates: Tony Leyland (Boy Seaman 6/1/1953), Gerry Britton, Ted Saunders.

“What Did You Do After St. Vincent, Daddy?” A series of Members’ articles describing life after H.M.S. St. Vincent.

You can break our ship, but you’ll never break her men. Michael Cameron, 47 entry 1962

We’d commissioned the ‘Ark Royal’ (the real one, that is), worked up the air group, done the deck trials, been to action stations and ‘evoluted’ until even Charles Darwin wouldn’t have recognised evolution.

Now, it was time to return to ‘Guzz’ and, for me, an ‘airy fairy’, Yeovilton. First, however, there loomed the welcome prospect of a visit to a certain ‘home port’

which would never appear on sailing orders but which offered a very welcome run ashore.

‘Well’, I reasoned, ‘no need for anything to freeze over, just ‘cos her old man is stuck in a hunter killer somewhere under the arctic icecap.

More seriously, I’ve often though about the other events of that day, for they remain a treasured memory in which I thought you might like to share, and which I count it a privilege to recollect.

It began early one forenoon when, in readiness for entering harbour, with all its ceremony, I went to get a shower. The Megator pump was having its normal hernia and

depositing a blend of grey sludge and God knows what else over the feet of those with sufficient courage, or stupidity, to explore its toxic depths with toes that might emerge incomplete after ten minutes’ immersion.

Miracle of miracles, there was a scuttle which we, the ‘airy fairies’ of 892 Squadron, delighted to call a ‘little window’. This, of course, was done with the express intention of pissing off the ‘fisheads’ who, with disdain, were forced to share the showers with us. Their

‘The real one’

‘Probably the best

squadron ever’

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comments regarding the biological origins of the shower’s primordial soup, though unrepeatable, are not beyond imagination.

But, to continue; we had been out for some forty days, or so, since seeing anything more than the Atlantic. For me, the lack of exposure to colour, exacerbated by ‘12-abouts’ in the Ark Royal’s hangar deck, had brought about the same kind of colour blandness that is well known to submariners who do not see the light of day for weeks at a time.

‘Home is where the drip tray is’

(HMS Eagle 1965-1966)

Until, that is, I stepped into the sludge which, despite the Megator pump, or perhaps because of it, had been lolling around for so long it could have been entered on the ships’ books.

Having checked that nothing of note was breeding in it, I peered out through the scuttle to see one of the most beautiful of sights -- the green fields of Devon sitting atop the cliffs. After so long a period of visual deprivation, the colour was intense to the point of being blinding.

For a moment, I forgot abut the morass that was investigating the spaces between my toes and, in the same moment, offending my sensibilities. I was, in some way, a part of history. Yes, this was the Britain for which I had been prepared to fight since the age of fifteen.

In that timeless moment, there was also a thread, a very real thread, which imbedded me within a living history. Drake and Raleigh must have seen the same sight when they peered through the stern galleries of their ships. They, and subsequent generations who had known the heat of battle and the fury of the sea, had gazed upon what I was seeing and given thanks for their safe return.

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Happily, I had not experienced such tribulations, just a forty-something day work-up. Yet, in that moment, I felt as one with those long gone, whose mantle I had inherited. I saw with clarity, as they surely had, that this was my home and my land – and that beneath the veneer of controlled cynicism, bawdy sea stories and tales of exploits in anonymous parts of the world that is so imbedded in the concept of ‘Jolly Jack’, I was one small link in a very long and unbroken chain.

I was coming back to a proud island that I was no less proud to serve. In one and the same moment, it was lover, home, sanctuary and bastion. It had shaped me, moulded me and was, in the end, the keeper of my soul in a way no woman could hope to match.

Suddenly, ‘Mel’, the killick of the mess, shattered the cotton wool world of my imagination. His curriculum vitae could boast three badges plus a ‘Blue Peter’, a beer gut that hid what he probably would never see for himself (except in a mirror) and a list of transgressions ashore that would qualify him to be captain of the All-Britain drinking team.

In terms that would enliven the more obscure chapters of the Karma Sutra, he invited me (well… sort of) either to get a shower or, in so many words, perform rituals of a highly provocative nature upon myself. Either way, I had to be in number ones within the next twenty minutes.

‘Hang on, Mel’, I responded, ‘it’s only eight thirty and we don’t have to muster on the flight deck until nine forty five.’ His retort was as unrepeatable as were his stated intentions regarding the future conduct of my sex life. Given that he was six foot one, while I was just over five foot five and a half, there was, quite simply, no option other to abandon the shower, get back to 4J3 and climb into number ones.

Quite why the 36 of us who eked out a lifestyle in that tin box would have to sit around for over an hour before manning ship was as unclear to me at that moment as it was to the messdeck’s other inhabitants. Our lack of comprehension was, however, about to change in a way that was as startling to us at the time as it remains heart warming to this day.

In retrospect, we should have guessed that cans of beer and ‘tot’ for one of our number, Chris, at 09:00 and prior to manning ship, was a little strange and liable to become rather hazardous to his prospect of getting ashore should the ‘crushers’ find out. But, let’s face it, who cares about such things at the time? More to the point, he had reason to be drinking.

You see, Chris was to be married to a Wren shortly after the squadron arrived back at Yeovilton – and he had to have a few drinks (supplied by Mel and Derek -- the other three badge killick – didn’t he?). It was a matter of, ‘Chris, me’ old, ‘ere you go, have another tot. Go on, you won’t do this when you’re married…get another beer down you… and another… and…’

… And then the messdeck door crashed open. Resplendent in ‘Noz 1s’, belts and gaiters stood two ‘crushers’. They pushed their way into Chris’ face and screamed, ‘you REM ******? Then #@~!*% stand up you pissed-up little git. You are in #@~!*% trouble you #@~!*% airy fairy #@!*. The Master-at-Arms wants you. Believe it you #@~!*%, he wants you big time. Get your cap and move!

I’m sure you can appreciate the sense of ashen-faced numbness which resulted from this incursion. The ship was at DC State 2, special sea dutymen closed up and we, as with the majority of the ship’s company, were about to man ship.

Not only was Chris drunk on duty, he was about to face the wrath of ‘Big Bad Tom Wilkinson’ (the master-at-arms who featured in the TV series ‘Sailor’) while so shot out of his mind he could hardly stand.

Tom Wilkinson was known to have a soft spot for 892 squadron but, in the same breath, he was also believed to have long forsaken blue movies and girlie magazines for the nightly recitation of Queen’s Regulations.

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With at least four tots and half a dozen cans down him, poor, frightened and bemused Chris was pretty far gone – in the head, up to the heads and up for’ard in one easy lesson. Moreover, he had been caught – literally and metaphorically – with his pants down, and with the evidence of his dereliction of duty exposed to the full glare of the ‘crushers’.

With one heave, they dragged Chris to his feet before grabbing his cap, pinning his arms behind him and marching him out of the mess.

As for the stunned survivors of this ‘invasion of the crushers’, the messdeck’s atmosphere was sort of like death, only more so. And, on the rather scatological subject of pants being down, I guess at that point Chris’ ‘skiddies’ must have looked like the starting grid at Silverstone.

As for the rest of us, not even the unspoken certainty of the descent of hard-won hooks and good conduct badges into the depths of Plymouth Sound could disturb the hush. It was not just tangible; it was like being hit over the head and in the guts until there was only numbness.

Some 20 minutes later came the pipe, ‘D’ye hear there, d’ye hear there, 892 squadron clear lower deck. Muster abreast the island for reading of warrant punishment’. This was it. Of what treasonable offence poor Chris could be guilty, no-one knew.

Even less could we imagine what fate lay in store for him – although I had visions of his lifeless corpse swinging gently from the crosstrees as we entered ‘Guzz’. In any event, with all that booze sloshing about, we were all in a worse mess than that we endured in the showers.

If, for a moment, you can visualise what it might be like to climb a ladder and face your own execution, perhaps you can begin to understand what the 35 of us who made our way slowly and fearfully to the flight deck were feeling.

Ready and waiting about 15 paces from the weather deck door that lead into the Ark Royal’s island stood the Captain’s lectern – a mute, yet powerful, symbol of the wrath that was about to descend around Chris’ head and shoulders, probably ours as well, through the time-honoured ritual of the reading of a warrant punishment.

Grouped around the lectern, although at a distance gauged – probably – to protect sailors from the evil that emanated from its oaken frame, the senior rates formed the for’ard of three sides, with we junior rates forming the other two. Duly dressed off and respectfully silent, we stood at ease until, as the first lieutenant and ‘Big Bad Tom Wilkinson’ took their places, we were called to attention.

At this point, perhaps fearing the consequences of our own iniquities and, most certainly, dreading those which were about to descend upon a highly popular messmate, no-one noticed that the flagship of the fleet was no longer steaming toward Devonport, but describing a rather large circle. Neither was it seen that the SAR Wessex (that’s a helicopter, to you real sailors) was not on its allotted spot on the flight deck.

The ‘ding-ding-ding’ by which the raising of the for’ard flight deck lift was announced alerted us to the arrival of a very ashen-faced, frightened and unsteady-on-his-feet Chris. Wedged between two ‘crushers’, he had been brought up to the flight deck before being marched to a spot immediately in front of the lectern. This, of course, was followed by a sharp, ‘left turn’ and then, ‘off cap’

Then there was silence as Tom Wilkinson, whose stare had been known to reduce even the jolliest ‘jolly jacks’ to lumps of quivering and near-defecating meat, cast his ‘Donald Pleasence’ eyes at Chris.

With a perfection of timing and demeanour honed by over thirty years’ service to reflect the highest traditions of naval (in)justice toward hapless matelots and, on the other, to convey his perception that a misbehaving rating was lower than dog vomit, he began to recite the charges.

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In our state of mind, and given our lack of expertise in the esoterics of Queen’s Regulations, plus the certainty that Master-at-Arms Wilkinson knew all that there was to know on matters relating to ‘good order and naval discipline’, no-one doubted the veracity of the accusations that were being projected like armour piercing rounds at poor, dumb, half-pissed Chris.

The heinous nature of his crimes against Her Majesty’s person, the ‘Pusser’ in general and HMS Ark Royal in particular were being laid open for all to witness. Even the icy monotone and vaguely Mancunian intonation which Tom Wilkinson adopted for such rituals made it clear that mere REMs, especially ‘airy fairy’ ones, who dared transgress in the manner about to be described were to be considered unworthy of even a one-way trip down the gash chute.

Of the three charges, I can remember only two. ‘That contrary to good order and naval discipline, REM ******** did fail to report to the sick bay for fitting of contraceptives prior to marrying a naval person. Further, contrary to section (heaven knows what), subsection X of the (God knows who dreamed it up) Act of 1643, did fail to report to the chaplain for exercise of knee drill prior to commencing a honeymoon’.

It was so authentic no-one paid attention to the words, for the sheer solemnity of the occasion would have transformed doubt into a treasonable offence. ‘This is bad’, we thought. ‘For Tom Wilkinson to dig up such obscure legislation, it had to be very, very bad’. After all, between us, the occupants of 4J3 had committed most of the misdemeanours by which status in the lower deck was gained. But, no-one had ever done anything this bad. This was not just DQs in the offing, it was nuclear meltdown.

Having completed the indictment, Tom Wilkinson turned to face the first lieutenant who, with a look designed to indicate disbelief that any creature within a human frame, let alone one wearing Her Majesty’s uniform, could commit such acts, stared back at Tom Wilkinson. It was perfectly timed and so beautifully enacted it should have won them an Oscar.

The few seconds that elapsed before the first lieutenant turned to face Chris seemed to become an age. With a hoarse, and feigned, whisper, he spoke to Chris. ‘There is no way I can deal with this; I shall have to place you before the commander immediately’.

Now, shipmates one and all, you know that when a ship, especially one which belongs to Her Majesty, is in navigable waters, neither the executive officer nor the captain leave their posts.

Well, not quite true for, after a little less than a minute, onto the flight deck, and resplendent with sword, medals and telescope, stepped the commander. Along with him came Surgeon Commander M******, the PMO plus, believe or not, the “sin bosun” in all his vestments!

As tradition demanded, and some of you will recall from experience more immediate than my own, the charges were re-read. The look on the commander’s face told it all. Poor Chris, who by this time had begun to shake quite noticeably, would probably never see the light of day again, if not as the consequence of his actions, then certainly to protect the sanctity of daylight from his polluting presence.

The commander turned slowly to face the surgeon commander. ‘Am I to understand, Commander *******, that this (pause, as if to find the appropriate word)… this rating (emphasised), this very junior (again emphasised) rating, failed to report to the sick bay under such circumstances?’ ‘Indeed so, sir’, came the reply.

Then, with a rueful shake of his brass-hatted head, the PMO continued, ‘with deep regret, I have to report that he did not.’ This was not just a medical opinion, but a condemnation voiced in the slow and measured Scottish tone with which Dracula, if a Rangers supporter, would have accused Celtic of being able to play football.

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As if that was not enough to seal Chris’ fate, the commander then turned to the “sin bosun” who, with vestments flying in a now very warm summer breeze that was causing everyone dressed in blue serge to sweat, began his testimony.

If the wrath of the Royal Navy, backed by medical opinion, had not sealed Chris’ fate, the word of God was certainly going to ensure that a sealing there would be, and that it would be both in hell, and for eternity.

In the ‘sing song’ tone that has, for centuries, ensured that Church of England congregations sleep soundly through sermons, the “sin bosun” began. ‘I am bound to say, though with some sadness, that this otherwise fine young man did not come to me for assistance in learning the correct performance of knee drill.’

The commander’s usually calm face took on an expression that, under different circumstances, might have indicated consumption of stale curry topped by a native delicacy from Borneo. He turned slowly to face Chris. ‘In all my service’, the executive officer began in a deliberately measured tone, ‘I have never heard such accusations levelled at a rating of the Royal Navy (true…in its way). ‘I am beyond words and shall refer this matter to the captain’.

It took but a moment for the commander to disappear into the island from which, after less than a minute, the captain appeared. As with the commander, he wore the icons by which absolute social, military and judicial superiority is displayed to lesser beings.

Captains of Her Majesty’s ships of any description, let alone the flagship of the fleet, do not leave the bridge while their command is idly circling around the Eddystone Light, do they? As I live and breath, this one did.

After carefully eying Chris, probably to ensure that he was not likely to infect anyone with whatever communicable disease had predisposed him to such crimes, the charges against Chris were read yet again.

‘Now REM ********’, began the captain, ‘you have heard the charges. Do you have anything to say before I hear the evidence for myself?’

Chris tried to respond. All he could muster was a short whimper and a shake of his uncapped head. He was a beaten man, from whom emanated little more than the last laboured whimper of a dying dog.

‘Very well’, continued the captain. I shall hear from Commander ******. Is this true, PMO?

‘I regret that it is, sir,’ came the solemn reply. There is no doubt about it. REM ******** did not report to the sick bay and there is no record of his ever doing so.’

‘I see,’ responded the captain, as if digesting the news that Lord Nelson had, in fact, lost the Battle of Trafalgar. Does the padre have anything to add?’

Again, our worthy and much-respected “sin bosun” stepped forward, looking for all the world like the angel Gabriel wrapped in a double sized bed sheet flapping in the wind. ‘It is with regret, sir, that I have to say that REM ******** has received no instruction from me in the performance of knee drill.’

It is said that when one is faced with certain death, the mind becomes calm and one’s focus filters out all extraneous noise. That, perhaps, explains why we failed to hear the SAR Wessex land. It had brought Chris’ fiancée from Yeovilton, where her sister wrens had made both her wedding dress and cake. Of course, being stood to attention as we were, we did not see her approach the lectern. Neither, come to that, did Chris.

Chris’ eyes and those of the captain were fixed on one another. This was the moment of fate, when sentence would be pronounced.

‘Having heard the charges and the evidence, there is only one thing I can do’. There was a long pause as Tom Wilkinson reached for a bag he had been hiding, which he then placed before the captain.

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The captain continued. ‘It is to award you this £250 your squadron mates have collected for you and your fiancée… and to grant you 14 days’ leave. REM ********, you may turn and kiss your bride.

At first, no-one dared move. In fact, so great was the sense of disbelief at the entire charade, no-one was able to. Then Chris looked, disbelievingly, to his right, in the direction indicated by the captain’s pointing finger. There she was and, in a dead faint, it was into her arms that Chris fell.

By the time the cheering had stopped, the semi-conscious Chris, ably assisted by his bride-to-be, plus two not so unfriendly ‘crushers’ had been loaded into the SAR Wessex, followed by his kit, which had been packed by Mel and Derek.

The last time I saw Chris, he had the charge sheet, framed in timber from the Ark Royal, above his mantelpiece. He was as proud to show it to me as was his loving wife to show me their newly born daughter.

I went on to university shortly after that. The surgeon commander left the Royal Navy for a rather lucrative private medical practice, and the “sin bosun” eventually became Chaplain

of the Fleet. As for the captain; after a distinguished career, he was

appointed to the highest post to which any naval officer can aspire – presidency of the HMS St. Vincent Association!

He is Admiral Sir Raymond Lygo, and I recall with affection every day I had the honour to serve under his command.

Today, as a member of his ‘ship’s company’ once again, I am no less proud to do so.

As this recollection said at the beginning:

‘You can break our ship but you’ll never break her men.’

The HMS St. Vincent Association 2007 Reunion

yal

Ark Royal

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Rocky in the Chair After a very successful AGM & Reunion Rocky Craggs

thankfully still had loads of energy to spare, because I had a surprise for him.

By kind permission of the Commanding Officer of HMS Kent and through the offices of my son in law, who is the PO Std of the ship (new title PO Logistics) we were given a grand tour of the ship. Almost as big as one of the DLG’s used to be, this class of ship runs with 163 Officers – men and women – and all have at least two jobs. (A DLG used to have a ship’s company of approx 460.) We had a very interesting afternoon and Rocky really enjoyed himself sitting in the Captain’s Chair.

Malcolm Smith

19

What Ship? Do you recognise this Old Girl?

The ship in the last issue, as I’m sure you guessed, was HMS Vanguard

“Nostalgia” ‘Mister S Then’ (ex MAA)

Humour in the recollection of events experienced by members whilst serving in the Navy, raising at least a shadow of a smile to the most hardened cynics. Stones written to sailors, reviving memories which sometimes seem to transcend the written word enabling a reader to smell the polish on the ‘Cortisene’ covered deck, the ‘Tepol’ in the dishing up fanny, diesel fumes permeating every nook and cranny of the ship, and the constant pulsing and throbbing of engines.

It reminds us of how we learned to be jugglers, as we lurched and staggered from the galley to the mess deck, balancing precariously stacked metal trays awash with all manner of 'scran' prior to negotiating metal ladders affording access to the mess. Why was it the galley was always so far away and the mess deck so far below? And why was it that when I was cook-of-the-mess we always seemed to be in ‘roughers'? Battling with those trays as the wind and weather lashed the upper deck.

And what of the delicacies! Remember ‘shit-on-a-raft’ (braised kidney on toast); ‘babies heads’ (tinned steak and kidney pie); 'train smash’ (soggy tinned tomatoes and bacon rashers); 'elephants’ footprints' (Spam in batter); ‘snorkers’ or ‘snags’ (overdone sausages), and ‘cheesy–hammy–eggy’ (toasted sandwiches)? Do these so-called Pusser victuals ring a bell?

Names may alter but it seems, talking to sailors of the modern navy, some things don't change. ‘Grippo’ runs are still the same. Jack in No 1's showing the flag, generally to expatriates on some foreign shore. Always polite, respectful and attentive, until the free ‘Vino’, consumed in large quantities by Jack took over. Mr. Hyde emerged. Bawdy sailor

20

songs, chatting up diplomats’ wives (or even diplomats) etiquette forgotten... but amazingly the hosts loved it, expected it and were disappointed if they did not respond to the ‘freebie’ hospitality in the time honoured traditional way. They invariably invited Jack back. The Navy's vernacular for this was called, ‘strangling the baron’.

In this rapidly changing society of ours, it’s satisfying to see some things are constant, traditional and able to withstand the eroding sands of time. For example that famous poem by Rudyard Kipling called ‘If’ published in 1910, which was recently voted by the British as their favourite poem. Not a piece of modern un-rhyming prose decrying past achievements, its heroes, and perpetuating the myth of political correctness in all its absurdity. Not a poem finding excuses for drug abuse and crime. Not a verse supporting terrorism, violence and social unrest, but a traditional poem, extolling the virtues of self-determination, fortitude, pride, honesty, integrity, courage and self-sacrifice. Adjectives, which would be seen as jingoistic in some areas of our society today, but seem to many others as ideals to strive for and support.

It was a farsighted person who decided that ‘If’ should act as an inspiration to generations of boy seamen when a large copy hung in the gymnasium of a famous training establishment. A little difficult to read hung upside down on the wall bars, it is understood Kipling wrote this for his son – tragically killed in the Great War – so he would learn:

"How to master yourself, not give in, not feel sorry for yourself in adversity"

AGM/Reunion Organiser’s Desk I would like to thank all those guests who attended the talk on the Stubbington Ark whilst

the AGM was in progress. The speaker Vanessa Eden was very pleased with the generosity of the guests who collected in excess of £50, on top of the Association’s £50 donation.

I have had some very positive feedback about the fish & chips, despite the supplier being an ex Ganges boy. I will be doing the same next year.

The evening celebrations I felt went superbly. The extra work and preparations by me paid dividends as far as I was concerned as I was able to sit down at the same time as everyone else. I am pleased to say that the feedback has been terrific.

Also my gratitude to Dave and Mick for getting the evening off to a fantastic start, and to the Ladies for distributing the chocolates. We now start planning for 2008.

I have already been notified that there will be increased costs in every quarter next year; i.e. Venue, Food, Flowers and Roadshow. The tickets next year will be £25.00 per person – a little dearer but still very good value for money.

I had every intention of handing this task over to a new pair of hands, but as no volunteers were forthcoming I will continue to organise this annual day, but only in its present form.

I thank you all very much for your support and look forward to seeing you all again next year.

Diane D. Smith

21

Raffle News Well Shipmates, you really excelled yourselves this year - the gross takings for the raffle

were £2386! After £149 expenditure for prizes and £13.12 postage are deducted, the net sum is £2223.88.

The prize winners are as follows: No. Prize Winning Ticket No. 1. One Week’s Holiday in Hartland N. Devon Holiday Cottage 12589 2. P& O Mini Cruise 07134 3. Brittany Ferries Day Cruise to France 06670 4. Christmas Hamper 09520 5. DAB Digital Radio 00732 6. Bottle of Pusser’s Rum 12664 7. Bottle of 10 Year Old Single Malt Whiskey. (Edradour) 11631 8. Book Entitled “The Nelson Portraits” 09848 9. HMS Victory DVD 12604 10. Radio CD Player 09857 11. A Bottle of House of Lords Wine. 03685 12. Box of House of Lords Chocolate Mints 12577 13. A Water Colour of St Vincent Gate House 11649 14. Bottle of 10 Year Old Single Malt Whiskey (Edradour) 07230 15. Bottle of Jamaican Rum 05998 16. Electric Kettle 07137 17. Electric Hair Dryer 09821 18. A Model of HMS Revenge 02919 19. Wristwatch 04500 20. Shoehorn 00293 21. Limited Edition Trafalgar Plate 10296 22. A Bottle of Red & White Wine. 12071 23. A bottle of Red & White Wine 11728 24 A Cuddly Toy Rabbit 12247 25. A Singing Dog 06481 26. £20 Marks & Spencer’s Voucher 11603 27. A Bottle of Teachers Whiskey 00421 28. Rich Fruit Cake 02663 29. A HMS St Vincent Plaque 12751 30. A Photograph Frame 06478 31. A Bottle of Peach Liquor 01681 32. A pair of Small Pictures 12694 33. A Picture of Rum Rats 12742 The HMS St Vincent Association Committee wish to thank all those Members and

Guests who kindly donated Raffle Prizes and also to express their appreciation for the generous support of this Annual Raffle.

Geoff Rose

22

H.M.S. St. Vincent Association Officers President:

Vice Presidents:

Chairman: Secretary:Treasurer:

Public Relations:Membership Secretary:

Newsletter Editor:AGM and Reunion Organiser:

Slops Manager:Archivist:

Almoners:

Raffle Organiser:Webmaster:

Admiral Sir Raymond Lygo KCB Rear Admiral Stanley McArdle CB LVO GM JP Lt. Alan Dobson Malcolm Smith BEM. Tel: 02392 584498 Ken Cast. Tel: 01329 668464 Gerry Harris. David Coleman. Tel: 01305 260761 Geoff Rose. Tel: 01329 668596 Watch this space! Diane Smith. Tel: 02392 584498 Dave Hazlewood. Tel: 02392 580218 John Clifford. Tel: 01329 282152 Henry DeSilva – Northern Area. Tel: 01624 880863 Tony Hoare – Southern Area. Tel: 01403 267833 Vacant and awaiting a volunteer! Roger Lyons

Tel: 01305 757589

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Slop

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Cod

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