Chapter 8 The Old Hand; Batavia Singapore Run;

THERE was no denying he was a good seaman. He had been in the ship from her last pre-war commission, and he had the happy knack of always being able to produce a strand of spun-yarn or a marline spike from some unexpected corner just when it was needed.

Of course, like all old hands, he knew how to look after himself. I used to wonder how he always seemed to have a pipe in his mouth the moment "stand easy" was piped. I was sure he didn't carry it with him in the pock6t of his tropical rig. It puzzled me for a long while until one day I found a pipe and pouch tucked away in the ventilator of my cabin, and another in the ready use locker of the pom-pom. How many he had I don't know.

It was quite an education to watch him prepare his tobacco. He always used "Pusser's" leaf, and he pressed it into a plug with a good serving of tarred spun-yarn. Then he would anoint it with something out of a bottle he produced from his ditty box.

That also had me puzzled until some time after he became my cabin hand. He asked me if I would like to try a fill of his special baccy. He apologized that it was a bit dry, and explained that he had not had sufficient rum for the moistening which was so important while it was maturing.

I took the hint, and when he gave me a plug a week or so later I had to admit I had never had a better smoke.

He was the best cabin hand I had ever had. We grew to know each other pretty well, and as he rubbed up my boots in the morning he would usually smile in his quiet way and tell me the latest gossip from the mess-deck.

From some mysterious source he could always tell me our future movements long before I knew them officially. I also became possessed of much information that an officer doesn't usually know. This would have damned many a man on board had it reached the ears of the Jimmy.

But it was all told me so quietly and with such supreme faith in my sense of humour that it went no further. In fact I grew to look forward to that morning chat while I stropped my razor and prepared for the trials of the day.

I learned that it was by no accident that a wet brush had dropped on the jaunty when they were painting the funnel.

I heard the full story of the time the chief stoker's underpants, brightly painted and fitted with swivel clips, had found their way into the flag locker. They had been in the middle of a hoist at the yardarm before they were noticed.

I even heard the rather embarrassing story of a certain parcel of comforts I had received and opened in the wardroom.

I suppose the steward had started it on its rounds, and by this time the embellishments had left the original story far behind.

Sometimes after chatting with O'Dare I became quite sentimental: I mused to myself about the soul of a ship and the spirit that binds her crew together. There must be something of that sort born in a ship. What else would explain the action of men who lift a 200-pound bag of peanuts from a wharf where they are lying, smuggle them on board behind the back of the officer of the watch, and then present him with a bagful?

Through the medium of O'Dare I was able to solve one or two personal problems for members of the crew. "I was wondering, sir, if you would tell Donnegan the best way. That's how he would begin. And I must admit there were times when the sound common sense opinion I got from O'Dare helped me in my problems too.

Of course he was no angel. He got his "10 days No. 2" (punishment) just as often as the average sailor. Never once did he ask me to pull a wire for him. He was too much a man for that. Sometimes he would confess afterwards that he really did like his drop of liquor, and that it was almost worth it.

But there was one happening that even O'Dare didn't confess to me until just before I left the ship. As he placed the seemingly countless suits of whites into my trunk, he looked up for a moment with a half smile on his face and said, "I don't suppose you remember, sir, the night I got a little drunk in Port Tewfik?"

I smiled the answer.

"Well, sir, I reckon before you go you may as well know the full story.

"You may remember Donnegan, sir; he had his leave stopped. Well, sir, Donnegan and I usually drink together, and I felt a bit lonely ashore there by myself.

"You know the skipper, sir, and the risk it is to bring any liquor on board. But I just couldn't think of poor old Donnegan back there; so I came back aboard early. You may remember, sir, you were the officer of the watch, and when 1 came over the side you saw the bottle in my pocket. It was a whisky bottle all right, and you called the master-at-arms to arrest me.

"I explained, sir, that it was eau-de-cologne I had bought in a little shop in Zaghoul Street. I said I had bought it in bulk, that was why it was in a whisky bottle. And when the jaunty unscrewed the top and smelt it, it was eau-de-cologne all right.

"But it was pretty dark that night, Sir, and I don't think you saw the cork jammed in the neck of the bottle, about an inch from the top. There was scent there all right, Sir, but only on top of that cork.

"And you didn't even hear us in the chain locker when you did middle watch rounds. I hope you don't mind me telling you this, Sir."

I didn't mind him telling me; and I feel that O'Dare and his type are the backbone of the Service.

GKS

OUR HEROES

WHEN men are home, their urge to roam

Is something unexpected,

They travel for to fight a war,

And leave their home neglected.

'Tis right, to fight with all your might

To beat back the invader,

And when Japan stirs up this man,

She finds him unafraid, Sir.

He'll bear the yoke, he'll take a joke,

He doesn't often grumble,

He thinks its grand to shake your hand,

But hates the man who's humble.

But what about his missus,

the one that's left at home.

She does much more to win the war,

so get that in your dome.

She doesn't wear a uniform

and swank amidst its glamour,

She isn't mentioned in the press

in highly sounding grammar.

She's quite content to pay the rent,

and keep the home fires burning,

To wait and pray for that grand day

when he will be returning.

She'll dust and scrub and work at tub,

and scrimp and scrape and forage,

And do things too, that me and you

just wouldn't have the courage.

So men that fight and take delight

in shooting down the Zeros

Should raise their lid and say "Well did"

for women are all heroes.

"ROOSTER"

THE sloop H.M.A.S. Yarra was sent to the East Indies for escort work between Singapore and Batavia, after returning from a few months in the Mediterranean. Batavia was her base, and her job was to get the convoys safely into Singapore, which she always did except on the last run, when the Empress of Asia, carrying English troops, was destroyed by Japanese incendiary bombs.

In the convoy were two other ships carrying troops, and a ship loaded with army vehicles. Batavia was soon left behind and in a short time we were approaching the Sunda Straits. Sunda Straits was the proper name, but to those who had been there the popular name given by the lads was "Suicide Lane". Everything was going wonderfully, the convoy steaming along perfectly, when at two o'clock that afternoon, nine Japanese planes, some dive-bombers, some fighters, came out from nowhere and did their utmost to wreck the convoy.

The blighters made us accept their uninvited company for 35 minutes before we finally persuaded them that they were not welcome. However, they were driven off without any ship suffering damage. The Japanese kept their attacks up from the Sunda Straits until we arrived at Singapore. We used to pray for night to come along, because we knew that in the silent darkness there was protection.

The convoy was scheduled to arrive at Singapore at 5 a.m. whilst the darkness was still around. Unfortunately, during the night one ship in the convoy developed engine trouble, which caused the whole convoy to be slowed down to the speed of five knots. The result was that the convoy arrived at Singapore Harbour at io a.m. If only another half an hour had gone by without interference from the Japanese everything would have been "ants pants". But it wasn't "ants pants", because there was already a Japanese blitz on Singapore Harbour.

Of course nothing could have been sweeter to the eyes of the Japanese pilots than to see an Allied convoy creeping up the harbour at the terrific speed of five knots. For the benefit of readers who have no knowledge of knots, five knots is equivalent to five

and five-eighths miles per hour. At ten o'clock the rattles went, and every man ran to his action station, not realizing that this raid was going to last three hours. Our orders were not to open fire unless directly attacked by the Japanese, because the shrapnel from bursting shells would probably injure civilians in Singapore. But we were attacked and had no option.

Then the excitement started-the bombers flung in everything they had in a desperate effort to destroy all they could of the convoy. The enemy planes consisted of three squadrons flying at a great height. Already several oil tanks were blazing away, with thick black smoke pouring from them. Our object was to keep the Japanese well up and not necessarily to shoot them down. But unfortunately for one bomber we scored a direct hit which blew him up, and plane and pilot vanished in a cloud of smoke.

The second dive proved fruitful for the Japanese because the Empress of Asia, loaded with troops, caught a stick of incendiary bombs forward and aft along her decks. Immediately the ship became a blazing inferno, and the troops abandoned her after an unsuccessful attempt to put the fires out. To make matters worse, the troopship, out of control, was drifting towards one of our own minefields. Knowing this, the commanding officer of Yarra manoeuvre his ship alongside the burning Empress of Asia to take off what survivors we could. We were able to get quite a lot this way, but had to leave because of the unbearable heat and the danger of the burning ship blowing up.

We then manoeuvre away into the stream again. Men in the water were shouting. Some were on rafts, others swimming around. Lines were constantly being thrown out and men brought back, most of them burnt, some very badly; others half drowned through exhaustion. The ship's motor boat was out bringing in loads of men picked ,out of the water. Our Carley floats were over the side; also the whaler. Even mess deck forms got wet, too.

Whilst the rescue work was going on the Japanese were bombing other objectives around the town and harbour. However, this raid died down and the Japanese laid off ,and went home. We then finished that half-hour trip and pulled in alongside the wharf.

As the survivors walked off the gangway they were counted. A total of 1334 men was saved. About 20 of these were unable to walk because of severe burns. A total of 498 4-inch shells was fired at the Japanese from the Yarra in this raid. Yarra had three ,planes to her credit, with others hit. None of the crew was killed or seriously wounded.

Stoker I.F., ex H.M.A.S. Yarra.