The Boy and the Battleship

by Christopher Cummings

  The boys moved their ships again. Max fired four more torpedoes. The dice rolled: a 6.

  Max clenched both fists upwards. “Hit! You are sunk!” he cried.

  Graham could not argue. He stood up and shook his head. “This is too one sided. We need more equal ships.”

  Max agreed. “Where can we get them from?”

  “What about plastic kits?” Kylie suggested. Graham had several plastic kit models of modern ships; given to him as Christmas and birthday presents: HMS King George V, USS Missouri and the Titanic. He considered these for a moment, then picked one off the bookshelf beside his table.

  After a moment’s thought he shook his head. “No. The scale is too small. These are all 1:700 or 1:720,” he said. “Besides, you can’t buy other ships of the same scale to make a fleet.”

  “What do you mean?” Margaret asked, her brown eyes shining with interest—at Graham, not the ships.

  He explained: “If we have battleships we need to have smaller ships to work with them as a team, destroyers to escort them and so on.”

  “Escort?” Margaret said doubtfully.

  Graham was aware that the word had other meanings, some of them dubious regarding women. “No, not like that. An escorting warship protects other ships, by chasing submarines or using its anti aircraft guns and things like that,” he explained.

  Margaret brightened up. “Oh, I see. Don’t they make plastic kits of them?” she asked.

  “Yes they do, but they don’t seem to build them to scale. If they make a model of a destroyer then it comes in a packet the same size as this battleship and is rarely the same scale. It is like these two.” He picked up the 1:700 scale model of the battleship King George V and placed it beside the toy destroyer. They were the same length. “See. A real destroyer isn’t even half as long as a battleship. It looks all wrong,” he said.

  Max agreed. “It looks silly.”

  Kylie frowned. “Couldn’t you make your own models?” she asked. “You make sailing ships, why not modern ones?”

  Why not indeed? thought Graham. So that night he began.

  Chapter 8

  THE GUNBOAT

  After Max had gone home Graham sat and thought for a while. Then he went downstairs and rummaged in the large box which contained pieces of wood. These were mostly off-cuts from beams which he had picked up at building sites or from the bin at Manual Arts lessons. Most of the wood was soft pine and it was what Graham had been using to make the hulls of his sailing ship models.

  Presented with the problem of making a model of a modern ship with a steel hull Graham was unsure of how to proceed but decided that similar methods would do as an experiment. Time was also a consideration as Max would be over again the next day and he needed the model completed by then.

  It needs to be the same scale as the plastic destroyer, he decided. But he did not go and measure the destroyer to calculate this accurately. Instead he formed a rough idea in his mind. A gunboat with a gun that can at least equal the destroyer in firepower, he thought.

  A nice clean piece of pine 17cm long, 6cm wide and 2cm thick caught his eye. He picked it up and dusted it. “This will do,” he muttered. Without further delay he set to work. With a pencil he marked the curve of the bow and stern on both top and bottom of the piece of timber. The shaping was done by eye. Lacking a good saw Graham proceeded to hack and whittle away the unwanted wood using a large and very sharp sheath knife. This took about half an hour and left him sore in the hands and perspiring.

  The rough hull was then securely fastened in a vice and Graham set to work with a wood rasp to smooth off the jagged edges left by the knife. This was easier work and also more satisfying as he could see the correct shape appearing before his eyes. When he was satisfied that both sides were as equal as his eyes could judge he picked up some coarse grained sand paper and set to work smoothing the rough timber surface. 5 minutes of this was enough. Fine grain sand paper was brought into use and the wood became pleasantly smooth to the touch.

  “That is good enough,” Graham muttered, feeling the timber for smoothness and nodding happily. He swept up the wood chips and sawdust and tidied the work bench, then carried the new hull upstairs. It was placed on his desk and a pencil used to rough out the deck plan.

  While picturing the model in his mind, he muttered to himself, “A 4” gun here; and then the superstructure back to here. Then another gun at the back—an anti aircraft gun in one of those circular gun tubs. And some depth charges in racks on the stern. Hmmm… and two boats, one on each side,”

  Graham happily mulled over various ideas, dimly aware that he wanted a ship from one of the World Wars of the 20th Century rather than a modern ship with missiles. In his mind’s eye was a picture he had once seen of a British gunboat bombarding the Italians in Libya during World War 2. The memory of the picture helped his thinking although a niggle in his conscience told him he shouldn’t be so lazy. I should find the picture, he told himself. But he didn’t. Near enough will do, he decided.

  But the memory gave him the idea for the gun mounting. He made that first. The gun was a piece of 2mm thick balsa wood 3cm long which he cut to shape with a razor blade. The blade had been snapped in two and was excellent for slicing the soft wood. The breech section was trimmed away from the barrel. The barrel was then roughly rounded by careful longitudinal slices. Sandpaper was used to transform the rough octagonal shape into a smooth cylindrical shape with a slight taper to it. A pin was pushed through the breech section at right angles. The pin was then pushed down through a small block of balsa about 3mm square to make the gun mount. A ball-point biro was then used to carefully indent a black hole into the front end of the gun barrel.

  That is the bore, he told himself.

  Satisfied with the result Graham went on to make the base of the gun mounting and then the gun shield. The base was a cardboard disc 2cm in diameter with a hole in the centre for the pin. A hole was driven in the top of the hull with a punch and the base glued over it. The gun was then glued in position on the base with Tarzan’s Grip. While the glue dried Graham set to work on the gun shield. He tried to make this with balsa wood by cutting up flat 1mm thick sheeting. The sides and top were easy but the front gave him problems as it needed a hole for the gun barrel to poke through and he also tried to cut out tiny slits for the gun layers to look through. The thin balsa split twice before he produced a front he was happy with. The pieces were then glued together to make a box with no bottom and an open back.

  By then it was tea time and Graham reluctantly left his desk to go and eat. As soon as he had eaten he hurried back to The Shipyard. The first thing he did was test whether the gun turned. With his finger he gave the barrel a gentle push and was happy when it rotated smoothly. He pondered how to make it also elevate and depress but decided that the result would not be worth the time and effort.

  The gun shield was glued in place, being braced with blocks of wood and an eraser to hold it in position till the glue dried. A block of wood, another off-cut, 8cm long, 1.5cm high and 4cm wide, was selected from a shoebox full of such treasures. With a black pen Graham drew small doors and portholes along each side. This was the superstructure and was glued on just behind the gun.

  Already the model looked like a warship to Graham and he smiled happily as he worked. A balsa bridge 6cm long, 3cm wide and 2mm thick was glued across the front of the superstructure. Thin cardboard sides 5mm high were glued to the ends and front of this. Several small square or oblong pieces of balsa were glued on to represent the boxes and lockers which Graham had noticed on real ships. A small signal lamp was added, made from a piece of cylindrical balsa 2mm in diameter and 2mm long glued on top of a 1mm thick, 7mm high post.

  The funnel was made of cardboard glued in a cylinder. It was 4cm high and 2cm in diameter and had a black top coloured with a felt pen. Several more lockers and boxes were added around this. A mast made from a toothpick was glued on at the back of the bridge. Two lifeboats were made from 5mm balsa
. They were sliced roughly to shape with a razor, then sanded smooth. Using a pen a canvas awning and safety ropes were marked on the top and around the sides. The boats were glued on either side of the superstructure.

  By then Graham was mightily pleased with the result. This was increased when either Alex or Kylie looked in from time to time and their initial rude comments gave place to admitting that it did look like a warship. By the time the cardboard gun tub (3mm high and 4cm in diameter) and Bofors gun (made from a pin stuck in a block of balsa on a cardboard base, with a few short lengths of fuse wire for controls and tiny blocks of balsa for the ammo lockers) were added they had even admitted grudging admiration.

  Kylie was the more gracious. “It is good Graham. It looks like a real gunboat. Are you going to paint it?”

  That brought Graham to a mental halt. Painting! I didn’t think of that. He knew that it was best to paint a model before it was assembled and wondered if he should bother. Then he shook his head. “I haven’t got any grey paint.”

  “You could buy some on Monday,” Kylie answered. Graham agreed. He had a shoe box, which held about twenty tiny tins of Humbrol model paint, but the colours were bright and suited the sailing ship models he had been making.

  To finish the model Graham added two racks of depth charges, made from balsa. To do this he cut off a length of 2mm square balsa 15cm long. With the razor he sliced the edges to make it into an octagonal length. By holding it in one hand and rubbing it on a piece of sandpaper; both backwards and forwards, or rotating it he was able to make a long, smooth cylinder. From this he sliced eight 5mm lengths, each a depth charge. Four of these were glued on either side at the stern.

  A few small squares of balsa were glued to the deck to represent hatchways or lockers. Tiny round lengths were glued in pairs to represent bollards and a cardboard breakwater was added to the focsle in front of the gun.

  By then it was bed time. Graham lay down, well-pleased with his efforts, placing the model where he could see it from his bed. He fantasized about captaining a gunboat battling desperately against the enemy. The ship was close to the shore, giving gunfire support to a hard-pressed army unit. The decks were littered with used shell cases and strewn with dead and dying men. Blood ran across the deck. Steel splinters flew past. Graham was badly wounded, but bravely stayed at his post giving orders and directing the gun onto a new target, blood staining his white uniform. Grimly he held himself up, then slipped quietly off to sleep.

  ***

  Sunday morning meant church. Graham and Kylie both happily went with their mother, but Alex usually refused. Graham was often rostered as one of the alter boys but this Sunday he was not. On arrival at the church Graham found his two best friends outside: Peter and Roger—and Margaret.

  Kylie and Margaret paired off to talk so Graham joined his friends. A few minutes later the church bell rang and they made their way in. Roger’s mother sat next to Mrs Kirk and the children all sat in the next pew. Graham tried to sit between Peter and Roger but, at the last moment Roger moved and Margaret ended up there. Graham wanted to scowl but managed to hide it.

  I do like Margaret, he admitted to himself, even if her open affection is a bit wearing. There was also a feeling of shame at how he had treated her, and that was part of the problem. A few months earlier, when Graham was approaching puberty, he and Margaret had done some very intimate exploring of each other’s bodies. After a few weeks of this they had reached a potentially dangerous stage in their experimentation and affection. The next step would have been very serious and they had pulled back from that. Afterwards both had been shy of each other and now the memories were a bit of a barrier in Graham’s mind.

  But she’s a good kid, he thought. And that summed it up to him. She is just a kid. He imagined himself to be a mature man of the world. As such he needed a partner of similar maturity: like Thelma. All through the church service his mind kept straying to contemplate Thelma’s virtues, and to fantasize about doing heroic things to win her affection. Afterwards he wasn’t exactly rude to Margaret, but he did not pay her the attention she craved.

  Outside the church after the service the boys discussed their plans for the day.

  “What are you doing today?” Peter asked Graham.

  “I am playing a ship game with Max this afternoon,” he replied, mildly embarrassed by the disclosure.

  “Oh yeah! What’s that?”

  Graham described the model ship he had made and how they had played the day before. It was only a variation on how he had played for years with his sailing ship models and plasticine people so Peter just nodded.

  Roger was more interested but also had his own proposal. “I’ve just got some new HO scale model railway stuff, an engine and some carriages. Would you like to see it?”

  All three of the boys had an electric train set and were interested in trains so they agreed to go to Roger’s for the remainder of the morning. Parents were consulted and were happy with this suggestion. The boys set off at once, Graham noting a wistful look from Margaret cast in his direction.

  They walked to Roger’s house. It was a typical old high-set Queenslander with the downstairs area concreted over. It was similar in layout to Graham’s house, with a carport, laundry, fernery and a pleasantly cool lounge area among huge pot plants. Half of the downstairs area was walled off to make a large storeroom and workshop.

  In the centre of this Roger had laid out his HO scale railway. This comprised an oval track 3m x 2m nailed to a baseboard made of chipboard. There was a single passing loop. The baseboard had been roughly painted green with a road network added and a few model trees glued on. Sitting on the track were two trains. One was a mixed goods with a Hornby 0-4-0 British Great Western Railway Tank loco in front of a flat car, oil tank wagon, cattle wagon and a guards van. The other train, parked on the main line, was a passenger train comprising a black locomotive and three passenger coaches.

  The boys crouched down to examine the so-called new acquisition, for a glance showed it was old and had seen hard usage. The paint on the rolling stock was chipped in many places and the details battered and scratched. The loco was an old English tender engine with a 2-6-0 wheel arrangement. It had originally been painted black but was so worn that the metal bodywork showed though as silver in many places. The coaches had once been chocolate and cream but were likewise tarnished. They all had bogie suspension.

  “Where did you get them Roger?” Graham asked.

  “From Aunty Iris up in Atherton. She said her Jack wouldn’t be needing them anymore and they were just sitting in a box in her storeroom,” Roger replied.

  Peter unhooked the loco and picked it up to examine it more closely. Graham placed a finger tip on a coach and rolled it gently along. He was pleasantly surprised at how smoothly it ran.

  “These feel all right,” he commented.

  “They are,” Roger replied enthusiastically. “They run really well. You watch.” He unhooked one coach and gave it a sharp push. The coach rolled off around the oval, its tiny wheels humming almost inaudibly. It made it almost all the way around before running to a standstill.

  Peter nodded. “Smooth as silk,” he commented. He put the loco back on the tracks. “Show us how she runs Rog.”

  Roger was more than happy to. He switched on power to the transformer and backed the loco up to connect the coaches, then turned the controls to forward and sent the train humming around the oval. Graham was impressed. “It’s good. It really goes well, doesn’t it?”

  They took turns to play with the train. Peter then suggested they try a race to see which engine was the faster.

  Roger nodded. “OK, shunt all the coaches onto the siding.”

  They tried but two coaches would not fit. “You’ve got too much rolling stock now Roger. You need another siding,” Graham said.

  “I’ve been thinking about that,” Roger agreed. “I can easily fit another track around this baseboard.”

  “You could build a giant railway in th
is room,” Graham said. “It could be a Train Room, like my Ship Room.”

  Roger nodded and looked around. “I suppose so. I’d have to ask Dad first.”

  Peter positioned the new black loco on the other side of the oval from the tank loco. Roger then turned on the power and the two engines began running. It was apparent within seconds that the newly aquired loco was by far the faster one. Its connecting rods moved as a silver blur and it caught the tank loco before it had even made one lap.

  Next they placed the black loco just in front of the tank loco to see how many laps it would take for the black loco to catch up with the tank loco. That was just over two. Then the boys experimented with which loco was the stronger. Here at least the tank loco held up well. Both locos could haul all the wagons and coaches that Roger owned but the black loco was marginally faster.

  Two hours passed happily. The boys then reluctantly parted to their respective homes for lunch. Graham was in a good mood and was really looking forward to the afternoon. His good temper even survived finding Margaret having lunch at his house. She said nice things about his new model, but Graham paid no attention to this. She would say anything I did was nice, he thought cynically.

  Max did not appear till nearly 2pm. To Graham’s surprise and delight Cindy came with him, looking very cool in a white cotton top and very short, very tight, white shorts which set off her honey coloured legs to perfection. She was so attractive Graham could hardly keep his gaze off her. Margaret had to struggle not to let her concern and jealousy show.

  Graham produced the model gunboat. Max glanced at it and sniffed. Clearly he was unimpressed. This nettled Graham. Then Max asked: “What’s her name?”

  Graham went red with embarrassment. He had not thought of giving the gunboat a name. His mind raced as he groped in his memory for a suitable name. Names of famous ships flitted through his head: Victory, Hood, Bismarck, Enterprise, Iron Duke. Every one that came up he rejected as it seemed too grand, or too famous. At last he seized on one. “Terrible,” he said.