Chapter 8 Converted Luxury Liners were there; Escorting Duke; The Underwater Press

THE "CONVERTED LUXURY LINERS" WERE ALSO THERE

You have, no doubt, read in the papers words to the following effect: "Allied troops stormed Jap-held beaches yesterday, under cover of a terrific naval and air bombardment, in yet another assault on enemy territory. Australian and Allied cruisers and destroyers bombarded enemy installations to soften up the beachhead where the troops were to land. The converted luxury passenger liners Kanimbla, Manoora, Westralia, once familiar to the Australian coastline, were also there doing a steady but useful job."

I wonder how many of us realize what this "steady but useful job" really means; it tends to create the impression of a monotonous and regular routine on these invasion days with a luxurious life for the ship's company and perhaps a cabin service thrown in. But no! This is a real job; one where knowledge, initiative and alertness of every individual may mean the difference between failure and
success.

It entails weeks of exercise accompanied by planning, maintenance, hard work and study, so that nothing can go wrong in this clockwork precision plan and everyone must know what to do should an emergency eventuate. These so-called passenger liners have to carry out a task as big as, if not bigger than, that of the bombarding warships. They have been carrying out this task with traditional R.A.N. efficiency since late in 1943, and these three ships have taken part in every Allied move from New Britain to Borneo and the Philippines.

The one-time luxury is no longer part of every-day life. The three ships are loaded to capacity with important fighting troops, and their spacious holds are filled with equipment to be carried on to enemy shores.

They have a minimum time allotted in which to discharge this valuable load they carry and, as I have said before, have always executed their job with efficiency.

Each ship carries a flotilla of landing craft with trained crews to man these unwieldy but useful boats. Their job is a tedious one, entailing long and tiresome hours, whilst on the coxswain of each boat rests a big responsibility. He has to know many different flag hoists and signals which are used on operation days, and, as well as being responsible for the lives of the troops in his landing craft, he may be called upon to take charge of a whole wave of these craft and be responsible for many hundreds of lives.

To assist the coxswain, a crew of two seamen and one stoker is carried in each craft. These seamen man the guns and tend the lines and such other jobs they may be called upon to do, whilst the stoker is responsible for seeing that the high-powered engine is kept in perfect running condition, and for maintaining all mechanical equipment.

Each man must know the job of the man next to him, and in cases of emergency is called upon to carry this out. The small boats have been handled with exceptional skill by their young Australian crews, whose average age is nineteen to twenty years.

The loss of equipment has been exceptionally light considering the number of operations the ships have completed. Of course there are some days when the small boats meet with trouble, such as underwater obstacles, broaching to in heavy surf, or being left high and dry on a sandbank or beach by an ebbing tide.

I have seen the surf take complete control of these craft loaded with troops, and in a matter of seconds throw them up on the beach, side on, completely helpless and left to the mercy of the pounding waves. Often the coxswain is thrown from the wheel to the forward part of the boat; in one case I saw one of these lads knocked unconscious and a stoker get his arm broken during an encounter with a surf that would put Bondi to shame. This is a useful job no doubt, but could it be called "steady" or a luxury? It is war in a most realistic phase.

Experienced as they are in this particular type of work, the personnel concerned must at all times keep their physical fitness at a very high standard and, as well as attending physical training periods daily, they are encouraged to take part in recreational sports. This is most necessary, as they find at times they are confronted with tasks which call for physical and mental agility, such as hoisting boats from rough waters to the ship's davits.

It is most encouraging to see these young Australians at their work. It is definitely a young man's job. I find them very cheerful about their tasks, and very well disciplined.

Attached to these ships is a detachment of Royal Australian Engineers (army) especially trained in cargo handling. Known as "Landing Ship Detachment", they are responsible for the working of the hatches, and together with the boats' crews, are largely responsible for the unloading of the ship.

To unload the ship in the allotted time it has sometimes been necessary to form a nucleus working party from the ship's company and to send them ashore to help unload the boats. These jobs have always been accepted with eagerness, and it has been through this spirit that the ships have always carried out their important tasks with clockwork precision.

As these three faithful ships sailed from our well-established beachheads it was as though they said, "Well, where is the next show?" and congratulatory signals from admirals in charge, such as "To your officers and men give a hearty Well Done from me", have ,given reward to those who have trained and worked so hard successfully to land our troops on to the beachhead.

"PHILAMON"

ESCORTING THE DUKE

"Cripes, rather a long way to walk into the town, isn't it?" Had you been standing on the quarter deck of H.M.A.S. Quickmatch as she steamed slowly into the harbour of Albany in company with her sister ship, H.M.A.S. Quiberon, that sentence, uttered by one of the sailors, was the first words you would have heard. It was a very true statement too, as the crews of both ships found out during our stay there.

Next morning, when lower deck was cleared, the skipper told us that we had been sent to Albany to do an important job, and that he wanted the ship looking very tiddly. Imagine the buzzes which circulated around that statement. Perhaps you cannot, although if you have ever spent any length of time aboard a naval vessel of any description you will most certainly be able to.

One buzz, however, stood out amongst the rest, and that was: we are going to escort the ship carrying Australia's new Governor-General, the Duke of Gloucester, to Sydney. Everybody felt that was the "goods" and that it was the job the captain had referred to.

In spite of the buzzes though, we had to get the ship looking spick and span, and during our few days' stay a great deal of paint was used. The people of Albany gave both ships' companies a great welcome to their town, and dances and a canteen were thrown open to the two crews. Also, on two separate occasions visitors' days were organized, and the townspeople showed great interest in the ships, arrivinL3, in large numbers to be shown over.

The day for our departure dawned bright and sunny and, by the time we were to leave, a sizable crowd had gathered on the wharf to wave us good-bye. H.M.A.S. Quickmatch slipped first, and with H.M.A.S. Quiberon a few minutes behind both destroyers steamed out to sea.

The weather was excellent "outside", for which I am sure a great many of the sailors were very thankful. In the mess decks we waited impatiently for the skipper to talk over the loudspeaker system and confirm our buzz.

At last it came, and we learnt that the job of escorting the ship carrying the Duke of Gloucester was ours.

We were to rendezvous with H.M.S. Suffolk and two British destroyers that were at present escorting the Duke's ship, take over from them, and in company with H.M.S. Achilles were to finish the convoy.

Our first sight of the ship carrying the Duke came a couple of hours after the captain's announcement; and I am sure we were all surprised to see such an unpretentious vessel. In our own minds we had expected something more elaborate, but, instead, we were presented with a glimpse of a very ordinary looking, merchant ship before we swung away to take up our screening position.

The British escorts, after exchanging signals with ourselves and the merchant ship, turned around and were soon out of sight, their part of the job successfully carried out. The responsibility of getting His Royal Highness safely to Sydney now rested with us for the following eight days, the time it would take for us to reach that port.

We had nothing to complain about during the trip. The weather remained quite pleasant, and, even if it had not been so, the prospect of Sydney at the completion of the *journey would have been enough to dispel any discomforts caused by a rough sea.

The last day of the voyage was one of those days that are very dear to a sailor's heart, and make him feel that it is not so bad being at sea after all. A cloudless sky, beautiful sunshine, and scarcely a ripple to disturb the surface of the ocean. No wonder everyone was in good spirits with the weather like that, and the thought that in a few hours' time we would be steaming into Sydney Harbour.

About ten o'clock on that glorious Sunday morning we received a signal from the captain of H.M.S. Achilles saying that he thought it would be a nice gesture if we paid our respects to the Duke and Duchess by steaming at full speed in line ahead past the ship carrying the Royal couple, the crews of the three warships lining their respective fo'c'sles and giving three cheers as they sped past.

We were sent to clean into our khaki rig, shorts and shirts, and soon afterwards the ceremony commenced. H.M.S. Achilles led the way, followed by H.M.A.S. Quiberon, and astern of her H.M.A.S. Quickmatch increased speed as it came to our turn to pay our respects to the Duke and his wife.

Lining the fo'c'sle three deep, we raced through the water, drawing nearer to the Duke's ship every moment. I think most of us were more concerned at this juncture with hanging on to our caps, which threatened to blow off at any moment owing to the wind which had arisen out of our increase in speed. We were soon relieved of that worry, however, for in next to no time we found ourselves level with the merchant ship and the first lieutenant calling out, "Three cheers for the Duke." Off came our caps and waved above our heads. Two hundred voices shouted out "Hurrah! hurrah! hurrah! " as we drew ahead of the other vessel.

The remainder of the day passed uneventfully, and about half-past eight that night found us off Sydney Heads. With the Duke's ship leading the way and followed by H.M.S. Achilles, H.M.A.S. Quiberon and H.M.A.S. Quickmatch, we steamed through the Heads in that order, our job successfully completed.

Although we were disappointed at arriving so late (it was too late for most of us to go ashore) we at least had one consolation. It was not so far to travel into the city of Sydney.

R.M.C., P.M.4100

THE UNDERWATER PRESS

IN a small ship's company boredom is always something to be resisted, and at times in northern waters, when spending much time at sea, it is impossible not to feel "browned off" on occasions. Several ships have endeavoured to overcome this feeling by producing their own newspaper or magazine.

Aboard Gympie the ship's own magazine has become quite a tradition. It all started with a leading signalman who was born with a genius for writing. A few months after Gympie commissioned, the usual number of rumours or buzzes began to circulate around the mess decks. Out of these rumours arose Buzz, now firmly established aboard the ship.

Its beginnings were inauspicious. The first copies were typed on the backs of long signal pads with as many carbon copies as our cantankerous typewriter could digest. Circulation was limited to one copy of each edition to each mess, but what it lacked in quantity was made up in the brilliance of the material it contained.

Neither the captain nor the youngest O.D. was safe from the editor's wit, but it was taken in good part by the victims, and enjoy, d by all. It was regarded as an honour to get a mention in Buzz, no matter how slanderous that mention was. Much of the contents was scarcely fit for outside eyes, but the limited number of copies safeguarded what might have led to awkward questions.

Then, in the way of the Service, the editor went on draft and the magazine languished. It was about this time that a duplicator was obtained, and that languished too, in a comer of the central store.

However, memories of the old Buzz lived on, and a few enthusiasts got together, enticed the ship's company to write articles, poetry, brief items of news, and to draw cartoons. After several secretive days the new Buzz appeared on the mess decks, and with the aid of the duplicator there was a copy for everyone. True, the pages weren't perfectly printed, and perhaps the contents weren't quite as brilliant as the old copies, but there had been solid work by several hands and the result met with approval.

Buzz now began to appear with some regularity, and the printing became better as the duplicator's slaves learnt to understand their master. The contributions also maintained a surprisingly high standard, as we had no ex-journalists or established authors amongst us. The magazine remained free in its views but, as it was now produced in quantity, the articles were kept suitable for it to be read by our families.

Another refit came and passed, and again a draft note robbed Buzz of an editor, but our magazine was so firmly established that it could not be kept down, so another editor got to work and Buzz remains with us.

The first signs of a fresh edition are exhortations on the notice board for contributions. Once a box was provided for these the variety of material received was amazing. The editor has to type these contributions on to .1 proof copy, which then receives a charitable survey by the first lieutenant. His approval being given, the full team goes to work.

The captured countries of Europe had their underground press. Our office is below the water line, in a quiet compartment where there is a fair amount of space and seclusion. Stencils are cut with a typewriter of aging years but undaunted willingness, placed on a suitable packing, case, while its operator sits oil another box. As the stencils are prepared so the printing experts prepare the duplicator and coax it to do its best.

Everyone works intently, if somewhat lacking in clothing. A burst of bad language followed by the smell of ether means the typist has made a mistake; if unaccompanied by any smell it indicates that the printers have allowed ink to reach places where it is not wanted. And so the work goes on until all the pages are finished and are placed in piles ready to be stapled together in their correct order.

This calls for a re-allocation of jobs. Someone takes over the stapling machine whilst the others gather the pages ready for him to complete production. It seen as an endless task as the piles of paper leer through the heat and the hazy light, but at last the heaps of paper dwindle and the last copy is given an extra staple for luck.

The coxswain is called upon to give a list of the numbers in each mess; bundles of Buzz are made up into these numbers, and at last the latest edition is on the mess decks.

The editor and his staff clean up the rubbish, and take pride in the intent faces behind large sheets of white paper. It has meant a lot of hard work, but as favourable comments are heard the staff decide their labours have been repaid.

Those of us who have been with HMAS Gympie since she commissioned will look back on many happy memories, and amongst those will be our ship's own magazine, BUZZ.

"ELMET"