H.M.S. Illustrious
Page 8
Talking of driving, and, by extension, cars, there was a quite remarkable lack of non-European cars on the roads – I saw a literal handful of British vehicles (Fords, two Rovers and two Triumphs) and not many more Japanese cars. There were a few Fiats and Volkswagens, and that was about it. By far the most common cars on the road were Renaults, with almost four out of five vehicles on average carrying the Regie badge, and I also noticed an almost complete lack of what might be termed ‘performance’ cars. There were a few Matra-Simcas, which are pleasant-looking cars rather reminiscent of the new series Pontiac Firebird Trans Am, and one solitary Triumph Spitfire (hardly a rapid vehicle, but a good deal more interesting than the rest of the rubbish on the roads). The only other odd car was a sort of Jeep lookalike apparently based on the Renault 4 (an odd choice to start with), which seemed to be a sort of trendy town-car. There were in fact so few foreign (by which I mean non-European and/or non-Common Market) cars about that I wondered if the French are running some sort of import control system similar to that which they use with videos and related equipment.
The system they use in this field shows Gallic deviousness and eccentricity at its best: whereas most countries, wanting to stem the tide of video imports, would either operate a quota system to limit the number of imports, or else slap a tax on them or otherwise increase the price to make them less attractive to the consumers (and probably more competitive with home-grown products, as will be happening in this country soon), the French have said, as I understand it, that as many videos can be imported as are wanted.
However, what they’ve also said is that each one has to be checked by some aged French artisan who lives in a shed somewhere in the middle of the Dordogne, and he only does two a day. So without introducing any artificial limit, the maximum number of videos that can enter France is about fourteen a week. (That’s an exaggeration, certainly, but it has sketched the basic principle accurately enough). Sneaky.
We had been a little late in leaving Point du Ras, and so didn’t get back to the ship until just after seven, at the end of a really rather pleasant day. I was certainly glad I went. As we came in through the dockyard, I couldn’t help noticing the massive submarine pens, built by the Germans in the Second World War. The sheer scale of them was almost incredible, with concrete probably twelve or fifteen feet thick making them more or less impenetrable to anything which the Allies threw at them. I’m not surprised that the French haven’t demolished them – the amount of explosive you’d need would probably take out most of Brest as well.
There was a Wardroom film this evening, which I needed very little encouragement to watch, as it was Any Which Way You Can, with Clint Eastwood and that remarkable orang-utan, Clyde. Great fun, and very much appreciated by the large audience which assembled to watch it.
Monday 20th June 1983
Homeward bound. I’m not exactly sitting in a railway station with a ticket for my destination, but I still think Paul Simon had the right idea. It’s a super feeling, just rather irritating that we have to trundle all the way down to Plymouth before coming back to Portsmouth. The trip to Plymouth is purely for the PXD (Post-Exercise Debrief), which will take place tomorrow. We slipped out of Brest this morning at about nine, and had a fairly noisy passage north-west, as we flew off the Sea Harriers (once we cleared French airspace, so the lazy buggers wouldn’t need to send off Flight Plans) and the Sea Kings, and then went into a series of full-power trials before finally coming to anchor in the late afternoon, just off Plymouth, where we will be remaining until first thing on Tuesday morning.
Tonight we dined out the Captain, as there will be a change of command on 28th June. Quite a convivial little occasion it was, too, with a superb five-course meal and the usual high standard of wines (though I was still on water, as usual). As the only speakers were the Commander and the Captain, the speeches were short, to the point and funny, particularly Captain Slater’s, though some of his remarks were possibly a little on the inflammatory side – he clearly regretted not having been in a position to kick the crap out of the Argentinians in the South Atlantic, and that was almost certainly his last chance to actually indulge in a fighting war as his next job is as Captain of HMS Dryad, just outside Portsmouth, and after that he will certainly become an Admiral, unless something quite remarkable happens. Personally, I had no burning desire to go off and kill anyone, but I can to some extent see his point. Anyway, an enjoyable evening, all in all.
Tuesday 21st June 1983
A very quiet day, from a ship point of view, as we entered Plymouth harbour fairly early in the morning, and tied up there all day. I spent the entire day in the office, catching up on the vast backlog of signals and packs that seem to have accumulated down there. I think I can not yet see the light at the end of the tunnel, but I can at least make out the tunnel walls fairly clearly.
The ship was doing its by now well-known impersonation of the Marie Celeste again this evening, with almost nobody on board apart from the duty officers. The ship has in fact granted leave from today for people who live in the West Country, and as quite a number do we were even emptier than usual. It certainly makes a change to have a choice of seat rather than to fight for one, as has been the rule over the last few weeks.
Wednesday 22nd June 1983
The paperwork mountain at last seems to be diminishing in size, though the foothills are being reinforced at the present time by the briefs and reports associated with the change of command next week, These, fortunately, I am able to deal with as soon as they arrive, as they are fairly urgent, and all is so far more or less on schedule.
In a sort of ‘now for something completely different’ mood, Peter Glew and I went ashore this evening to see The Return of the Jedi, the third film of the second part of the ‘Star Wars’ epic, and very good it was, too. The special effects, as ever, were superb, especially some of the characters in the first part of the film, the battle scenes towards the end, and the graphics all the way through. Technically, it was far more accomplished than either of the two earlier films, both of which had broken new ground, and had a tremendous impression of size about it – when it showed vast space-ships, you really believed that they were vast, and not just the very clever models in a Hollywood studio that they actually were. Excellent stuff, and I will make a point of seeing it again sometime, as there is just so much to see that I certainly missed things. It was the first time that I had been out to the cinema for a while, and as the seats cost well over £2 each, I can see why I don’t go more often. Add to that the cost of a fast black each way, and the evening worked out at about a fiver – that would have hired the two of us between three and ten video films. However, in fairness I think it is worth pointing out that I think a lot of the competence of this kind of film is lost on the small screen, simply because it is so small.
Thursday 23rd June 1983
One day away from home, and I think Radio 2 knows it as well. I woke up this morning to the dulcet tones of Terry Wogan and, rather more significantly, to ‘Just a Day Away’ by Barclay James Harvest, followed by ‘Sleeping Single in a Double Bed’ by Barbara Mandrell and then ‘Every Day Hurts’ by Sad Café. Slightly uncanny.
We slipped out of Plymouth at about 1630, heading east for home and Portsmouth.
The ship was in a festive mood, for relatively obvious reasons, and a good evening of entertainment followed, starting at 1830 with a ‘Beat Retreat’ by the Illustrious Volunteer Band, who really are rather good, bearing in mind that there are only two professional musicians in the ship (our two Royal Marines). That was in the hangar, and was attended by the Captain and Admiral Reffell (Flag Officer Third Flotilla), who is along for the ride to Portsmouth. We also saw the Captain’s farewell address to the ship’s company on CCTV at 1800 (repeated at 2050) – a poignant moment, as tonight was his last ever night in a sea-going command – and the second showing was followed by the last edition of the Bad Taste Show, which I think was quite well received.
And so to bed.
We arrived at Portsmouth just after seven. It’s nice to be back.
Autumn in the Aegean
Saturday 17th September 1983
We sailed, to the intense irritation of a substantial part of the ship’s company, who had been hoping for a weekend at home to recover from the rigours of the Royal Navy Equipment Exhibition – in which Illustrious had a major, almost starring, role – at 1030 this morning. We took with us one Sea King of 814 NAS and one Sea Harrier of 800 NAS, which had been on board for the aforementioned RNEE, and we were joined by the rest of the 800 Sea Harriers – four aircraft – once we were clear of the Portsmouth and Isle of Wight area. A single Sea King of 814 also popped out, in advance of the remainder of the squadron which will be arriving on board tomorrow when we arrive in Mounts Bay off the south Cornish coast. This aircraft had also been involved in the RNEE displays, having been parented at RNAS Lee-on-Solent.
Once all the aircraft were on board, the ship turned west to cruise towards the Plymouth areas and Mounts Bay. As it was a weekend, there was very little activity on board, and we were treated to a rather splendid dinner in the Wardroom in the evening, followed by The Boat, which was quite a reasonable film, on the Teleject system.
Sunday 18th September 1983
Embarkation Day for 814 NAS, and it was interesting to see some of the old faces back with us again. 814 is really our ‘proper’ squadron, and will be with us until the end of November this year, and I suspect that they will also re-embark with us next year. The embarkation took most of the morning and the early part of the afternoon, with the ship steaming up and down in Falmouth Bay – it had been the intention to remain in Mounts Bay, on the west side of the Lizard Peninsula, but in the event the weather was far too rough to permit this. We could have managed it, with the penalty of a lot of ship movement, but there was no point as we were able to shelter in Falmouth Bay without difficulty.
The rest of the day was spent in the Plymouth Sea Areas flying the Sea Harriers to get the pilots night qualified in preparation for the coming exercise. That occupied the ship until 2200, and thirty minutes later we turned south-east for Gibraltar. Paul Harvey sat in the Operations Room all evening, doing the CCAs for the Harriers, which meant that I could sit in the Wardroom and watch the evening film – Fort Apache, the Bronx – which started off well but deteriorated after that. The only controlling I did was up in Flyco over the lunchtime period as the 814 embarkation was getting to its end. A quiet day, really.
Monday 19th September 1983
A full day by any standards, with flying going on for most of the daylight, and some of the dark hours, and with the usual pile of paperwork that always seems to materialise shortly after the ship puts to sea after a prolonged period alongside. I wasn’t too much involved with the flying, only being required up in Flyco during the early evening, which was just as well as it did give me the opportunity to get a few bits of administration out of the way. The teleprinter tail in the office is working again, and the volume of signal traffic is increasing, apparently exponentially, with each day that passes. Fortunately, I have been able to ‘borrow’ a rating from 814 NAS to assist my lad in running the tail, otherwise I think we’d have been knee-deep in paper by now.
I did the first (and probably last, before Athens) Bad Taste Show this evening, which was quite well received on the ship. I did try to get a video copy of it, but unfortunately the machine that was used to try to record it went on the blink at the last possible moment, so that plan turned rapidly to rats. I will try again next time.
The ship is still making progress, through quite heavy weather (the ship was moving so much that the Sea Harrier flying was cancelled all day) in the Bay of Biscay towards Gibraltar, where we are expecting to arrive on Thursday. We will not, as far as we know, be landing there, for deep political reasons, but we will be close enough to fly helicopters ashore to collect newspapers, stores and, most important of all, mail.
I descended from the dizzy heights of Flyco in time to catch the majority of the evening’s extravaganza in the Wardroom – a very silly film called Raise the Titanic – but it really wasn’t worth the effort.
Tuesday 20th September 1983
The weather was a little better today, with rather less sea swell, and we were able to run a full flying programme for the morning and evening. The afternoon was taken up with a major collision/fire/NBCD exercise, as a result of which most of the ship’s company spent the afternoon up on the flight deck, soaking up the sun. Or, rather, they would have been soaking up the sun, but there wasn’t any, so they lay there soaking up the chill breeze instead. From personal experience, it was not comfortable.
The Harriers had a bit of fun this morning, dropping bombs and things on the splash target being towed astern, and also were involved in an ADEX (Air Defence Exercise) with Glamorgan, Charybdis, Leander and Blue Rover, all of which are about forty miles away, but will be joining up with us tomorrow morning, if all does go according to plan. The Sea Kings are still in the work-up phase of their flying, concentrating mainly on the old faithful DLPs (Deck Landing Practice) and radar approaches to the ship, while the Harriers are well up to speed and are simply carrying out their normal AI (Air Intercept) practice.
I finished the day up in Flyco, rounding of the flying programme with a couple of sorties of DLPs and SCAs/HCAs (Ship Controlled Approaches/Helicopter Controlled Approaches), finally completing a little after 2300.
Thirty minutes later we wound the clocks forward one hour (to get in tune with Gibraltar), and suddenly it was 0030. Another late night.
Wednesday 21st September 1983
We were still wandering around the ship carrying our handbags – that’s Royal Naval parlance for gasmasks (or AGRs – Anti-Gas Respirators), not an indication that we are all turning slightly ginger – today, but we were fortunately not required to go away and play any more silly games. Another full day of flying, of course, and as the Sea Harriers (which John Lamb always controls) were only flying in the morning and the evening, I was accorded the dubious pleasure of running Flyco throughout the afternoon.
This turned into a quite interesting exercise, one way and another. The plan was that the 814 NAS Sea Kings would work a Ripple 3 pattern, carrying out a Casex (Controlled Anti-Submarine Exercise) to the south of us, while the ship continued south towards the Gibraltar area. The reality was that the Sea Kings were falling over with monotonous regularity, and I had the whole deck full on more than one occasion. This happily served to cock up an exercise controlled by some of the FOF3 staff (FOF3 himself – Flag Officer Third Flotilla – will be joining the ship at Gibraltar), involving a Lynx helicopter.
This aircraft turned up more or less out of the blue, and then called a Practice Pan (simulated emergency) on the Air Director frequency. The Air Director, Dick Brunwin, duly gave him to me on Flyco frequency, and I had no option but to leave him flying round us in small circles, as there was absolutely no space left for him to land on deck. The advantage of this delay in the exercise enabled us to get everything jacked up on deck so that when the aircraft was finally able to land, we were ready in all respects to receive it, which rather irritated the staff, as they were hoping to catch us out.
We also had a Lynx for three HDS sorties during the afternoon, but because the ship was weaving all over the place trying to avoid submarines, I was only able to land him facing in any direction other than forward – I had him land backwards twice, and sideways once. Great fun, and I think it kept the flight deck crews amused as well. The only other excitement was when we were overflown by a couple of Spanish Sea Harriers – they call them Matadors – and that caused a fair bit of excitement on the part of Commander (Air) (He Who Must Be Obeyed), who instructed me to go to Guard frequency and call them. The fact that I speak no Spanish and they (I think) spoke no English, had apparently escaped him, so that didn’t get us very far.
The evening film was Death Ship on the Wardroom Teleject system, and
it really was unbelievably bad. It was almost a rival to that classic of bad film-making, Plan 9 from Outer Space. Dreadful, but in places so dreadful it was brilliant.
Thursday 22nd September 1983
A busy day with a busy flying programme, mainly rotary wing in the morning, and mainly fixed wing in the afternoon/evening. The helicopters, of course, were very heavily involved in shifting stores, mail and so on from Gibraltar to the ship, and there really was a very complex series of trips planned to get everything shifted. I was pleased because we did get the newspapers that I had ordered before we left Portsmouth, though not without a certain amount of running about, as they didn’t appear at the airfield as planned. We also got mail, which, as ever, improved the mood of the ship’s company out of all recognition.
Most of the FOF3 (Flag Officer Third Flotilla) staff are now embarked, and as a bonus we had a VIP – I can’t now recall exactly what his official title is, but he is apparently No 2 to Michael Heseltine – called Mr Stanley. He spent the night (tonight, that is) on board, and apparently asked a very large number of both searching and intelligent questions (most unusual for a politician) and took a very great interest in everything he saw. That could be very good news for the Navy, as I got the distinct impression that he could either be a very bad enemy or a very good friend. Clearly we just hope it’s the latter.