by Jack Lynch
When a number of us went into a bar, even though I still did not take alcoholic drinks, I again got another shock at the toilet facilities. I went into what was in my opinion the ‘Gents’ and saw a number of fellows lined up against the wall, in what looked like a corridor. I did likewise, and was merrily piddling when I heard female voices right behind me. I wet the front of my pants in the rush to hide myself. As I looked around there were three young girls passing behind me and going into the Ladies, which was at the end of the Gents. The ladies had to pass through the gents to get to their loo. I seemed to be the only one who was shocked but again this was a first. I soon got into the swing of things, or so I thought.
Later at night, I was in a bar with some of the crew and there was a singsong going on, with some of the local girls. In came a woman in her fifties selling flowers. She had a basket of flowers in her arm, and had on a long skirt to her ankles. Over her shoulders was a shawl. Immediately, some of the girls started pushing her to a table and made her get up on this table and dance. I got the impression this was part of the normal evening’s entertainment. She entered into spirit of it all, and after a drink started tapping away on the table. After some time the girls shouted in French to her. She grinned and started to twirl lifting her skirt to her waist. Another first for me; she wore no underwear of any description under the skirt.
“Bless me father, for I have sinned…” Everybody got into the spirit of the night and the woman was drunk out of her mind when she left the bar. On the way back to the ship with the Second and Third Engineers, we were unsure of our way to the dock, and the poor Third Engineer had the bad luck to ask a Frenchman where our dock was. The Frenchman just turned and socked him straight on the nose, at the same time saying in perfect English “F***ing English.” We eventually got back to the ship but that was not to be the end of the fisticuffs.
There were a number of fights amongst the crew as old scores were settled. One of the most serious was when an older seaman had too much to drink and got into an argument with a younger member of the crew. The young sailor was knocked to the steel deck and was unconscious from the impact. The older one then lifted the young man’s legs and pulled him across the deck. The back of the young fellow’s head was badly skinned from the banging against steel plates and rivets of the deck. This happened at night, and it was a while before crew members could go to the aid of the young man. He recovered after some time. The other guy was one of a number who were fired.
In Rouen there was a kind of a market where many stalls were selling fruit, vegetables, bread etc. One stall caught my eye. This was a shooting gallery, and the prizes were bottles of Bordeaux wine. I was with a few others, and I decided to show off my shooting ability. It took me one go to find that the rifle sight was slightly bent, and when I compensated for this I was knocking the little ducks down with no bother. Bottle after bottle was handed over as I kept dropping the toy ducks. Each of the crew members got two bottles each and the poor gallery owner was thrilled to see us go. He made no money and I did not drink any of the wine.
When we left Rouen we headed for the USA again to load more coal and return to Brest in France. During the outward and return voyages nothing of consequence happened and the crew appeared to behave. This was the calm before the storm as far as the crew was concerned and we really ran into trouble with the German versus the British crews when we docked in Brest. I got to know the German Second Mate and Third Mate quite well during the trip. The Second Mate was in his late twenties and did not have the Germanic features I associated with this race. He was slim, quiet and had black bushy eyebrows which met at the center of his forehead. His English was quite good but he did not talk much about himself. The Third Mate, on the other hand, was younger, stout, fair-haired and jolly. He used to tell me of his experiences in the German navy during the war. He was an ‘E-boat’ commander, based at Cherbourg, where he used to attack British convoys and ships in the Channel, until the RAF began to bomb their naval bases, causing them to move out of the channel and into Brest, and eventually into the Bay of Biscay. He said the RAF gave them no respite.
A lot of the crew were German, including the Cook and second Cook and most of the seamen. There was also a young German cabin boy who could not have been more than sixteen years of age, and he was to be the cause of the biggest panic amongst the crew. The ship was tied up at a long jetty which stretched out from the nearest land, and the crew had to go along this jetty to get to the nearest pub. I was in my cabin about nine p.m, when I heard pandemonium on board the ship and the shrill blast of the ship’s whistle piercing the air. Most of the crew and officers were ashore so it took some time to find out what was happening. Apparently one of the German sailors rushed aboard to say the cabin boy had fallen over the jetty at low tide and his head was stuck in the mud. He needed immediate help. Some of the crew were trying to pull him free and eventually succeeded and he was rushed to hospital, where he later recovered without any noticeable ill effects. I noticed the crew staggering back to the ship, much the worse for wear and there was a lot of agro in the air. There were scuffles, and Germans shouting everywhere. Some crewmembers were running and appeared scared. Then I saw Terry, our ex Irish Guard staggering, and mouthing choice language about ‘Germans, Nazis, and snakes in the grass.’ He wanted to fight any Germans, one at a time or all together. He was really fired up. At the gangway the German second Cook was trying to usher his countrymen to their cabins. If any put up resistance he delivered a beautiful right hook to their jaw and loaded them to their bunks. That fellow stopped a bloody massacre that night. Terry arrived back on board looking for someone to fight with and I went up to him and calmed him down. Sometime later he went to the loo and was found there snoring and fast asleep the next morning.
To find the cause for all the fighting we have to go back to the night before. Apparently, the German crew were in a pub having a few quiet drinks and singing songs, when Terry and some of the British crewmen arrived. A few drinks later a few verbal exchanges took place and all hell broke loose. Terry was up on his feet challenging any German to stand up and fight, man to man, or all were welcome. A few apparently took up the offer so the Brits and Germans had a free for all in the pub. At this point the young cabin boy got scared and ran towards the ship with some mates of his. He tripped and fell over side of jetty, which did not have any lighting. This is where this story began and fortunately nobody was killed or seriously injured.
Separate from this episode but on the same night the Scottish crew member who was an ex Black Watch soldier did not have the same results. He got seriously drunk and fell asleep at the side of the road that night. A couple of his buddies found him on their way back to the ship and tried to awaken him. He had been shell-shocked during the war and still suffered from this problem. When awoken on the side of the road he immediately flipped and kicked out breaking one of the crew member’s legs. He later said that the fact Germans were aboard the ship put all kinds of thoughts into his mind and he believed he was under attack from Germans again, and he was reliving his wartime years. Poor fellow had to be sent home and the other guy was sent into hospital and then repatriated home. Some night! This ship and trip was becoming a nightmare and the worst seagoing experience I’ve had to date.
When all had calmed down the ship left Brest and headed for the English Channel to await orders. As usual, I was performing my radio duties when I got a call from Landsend radio saying there was a message for the ship. I took down the message and was shocked with the contents, so I asked for a repeat. It was still the same and I looked at it digesting the contents for the Captain, wondering what he was going to say or how he would feel. If it was for me I would be devastated. Anyway, I took the message to the Captain and handed it over, keeping my eyes averted whilst he read it. I then asked if there was any reply. He smiled and said “No.”
I said I was sorry. He asked me why and I said; “because they asked you to ‘Proceed Falmouth and resign’ I said. “Surely Captai
n, you’re not happy being asked to resign.”
He laughed; “The Company are saving money! Instead of paying for the two words re and sign, they have made one word out of two and it looks like ‘resign.’ I felt relieved and bit silly.
My voyage finished in Falmouth on the January 23rd, 1952 and I was glad it was over, even though I had made good friends onboard. The time I spent on this ship was over twelve months and that was enough. I now was due some extended leave and went home within two days.
While at home I had a great welcome and soon I was back into the swing of things in Cork. I longed for friends who were abroad to return home. At this time of the year it could be boring with no events worth mentioning, especially when I had to keep myself amused. One memory that does stand out is of daddy and me in Fota Estate on a lovely sunny day. He was enthralled with tales of my trip, which I edited for his consumption. I have a photo taken with him on that day and I treasure it. Soon after this I got my next telegram and returned to Southampton, on March 10th, 1952 where I was put on standby for my next ship.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
My next voyage took place on another T2 type tanker called the m.v. Esso Birmingham. It was built in August 1944 by Sun Ship Building and Dry Dock in Co. Chester, Pennsylvania and was originally named m.v. Maudville. Her official number was 181559 and she was a gross tonnage of 6324. She was later scrapped in Yugoslavia.
Between voyages there were two different Captains who shared command duties, namely; Captain W. Pittman, who commanded between March 14th to June 24th, 1952 and Captain R. Davies who commanded between June 25th and August 21st 1952.
The radio equipment on board this ship was installed by Marconi Marine Radio. This voyage was to be to the Persian Gulf, India, Southampton and Venezuela and back to Germany. When I signed on in Southampton, on March 14th 1952 I was told that the ship was due to sail for the Persian Gulf to load a cargo of crude oil for refining at Southampton. At this time I was not aware of the later trips to be undertaken on this ship and was a bit cheesed off at the thought of going back to the Persian Gulf. Uppermost in my mind was the memory of my last trip there and how lousy the weather was in terms of temperature and humidity. Anyway, there was nothing to do but concentrate on the good points -whatever they might turn out to be. Maybe the sight of glowing phosphorous in the water might brighten up my spirits. With these thoughts in mind I looked around the ship and was pleasantly surprised to realise that I was a board a tanker which was clean, and I later found out that the food was good by ship’s standards. After meeting some of the crew one of the first things I learned was the interpretation the crew had for ESSO which was emblazoned on the funnel. They reckon it stood for ‘Eat, Sleep, Shit, and Overtime.’
Captain Pittman was alright and we got on fine. It was a similar story for Captain Davies. As on all ships I reported directly to the Captain who in this case was Captain Pittman and I had no responsibilities for interfacing with anybody else.
When all the necessary preparations were ready the Pilot came aboard and, with the assistance of two tugs, the Esso Birmingham left Southampton, emerged into the English Channel where the pilot disembarked, and we headed for the Persian Gulf. Our journey first took us through the Bay of Biscay where we were confronted with a large swell and some rough seas but nothing like I had experienced on the Winkleigh thankfully. The rain came down heavily and there was no chance to go out on deck. I stayed in the Radio Room and when not on watch wrote letters or tuned in to short wave to listen to the BBC. There was plenty of time to stay out on the bridge and natter to the officer on watch or chat to the seaman at the wheel. Gibraltar soon appeared and we were through into the Mediterranean. As we cruised along the blue sea under beautiful sunny blue skies I marvelled at the sights of sea birds and marine life which abounded close by. This was a busy shipping area and there were many tankers, tramp steamers and passenger ships to be seen. There were many radio stations broadcasting sea traffic, and Alexandria Radio with its sing-song tone was quite audible and I contacted them to advise them of our destination and where we came from. It was not long before Port Said came into view and we waited for the Pilot who would guide us through the Suez Canal.
The shipping agent came aboard with our mail and I was pleased to get two letters; one from home and one from Molly. I was soon up to speed with happenings at home and got all the gossip. Molly’s letter was personal and I read it over and over. How I wished she was with me to enjoy the trip. I had already written two letters and asked the agent to post them for me which he graciously did. I now started to write another letter to Molly and tell her how much I missed her and her smile. My mind was full of the lovely times we had and I felt from her letter that she too was feeling a bit lonesome. In the midst of this reminiscing I had not noticed that the searchlights were fitted and we proceeded with the rest of the convoy towards Suez and the Red Sea. As usual the British Tommies lined the canal bank and were ranting and cheering at the ships going by and we got loud cheers because the ship was clean. I saw the same sights that I had seen before and I was getting a bit bored. I was also suffering from a toothache and hoped for change in my luck. At Suez we again let the Pilot go and we sailed into the Red Sea. Into the dreaded Persian Gulf we sailed and on to Kuwait where we loaded Crude oil. This time the weather did not seem as bad as I expected and I found it bearable but the smells still lingered. I had not noticed on my previous voyage but there was a distinct smell of oil in the air.
I went ashore to a dentist because of the pain I was suffering from an exposed nerve on one of my teeth. Lo and behold, the dentist hailed from Waterford! What I remember most about the visit was the treatment I received to alleviate the toothache. The dentist applied Silver Nitrate to the tooth, and told me it would not taste too nice but that the bad taste was temporary. What he did not tell me was that I should not smoke for a day after the treatment. My first inclination after being to the dentist was to light a cigarette and I took a deep drag. My stomach churned and I gagged. It was the worst feeling I had ever had up to that moment in my life. The reaction between the cigarette smoke and the Silver Nitrate was overpowering, and revolting. I could not enjoy a smoke for a whole day after the treatment. Somebody told me that this chemical was used as an aid to help those who wanted to give up smoking. A small drop touched to the end of a cigarette gives the same effect. I can well imagine you would sooner kick the habit than put up with the effects. Anyway it cured my toothache.
From Kuwait, we called to Ras Tanura in the Gulf, and continued to load our oil before heading for a port close to Thane in India, where we tied up to a jetty off shore. There was no chance of going ashore as we were not there long enough, and there was no transport on the jetty so there was nothing exciting to report. All I can remember is that a number of locals were selling brass ornaments. There was a great demand for brass to make these ornaments so all means were used to obtain this metal. They were adept at using the bare soles of their feet to unscrew and remove the heavy brass screws which covered the sounding holes in the tanks that held bunkers. These are access points to dip and measure fuel levels. The brass that they absconded with would then be melted down and ornaments would be manufactured which they would then attempt to sell back to the very people they had stolen it from in the first place!
When we were finished we headed home, fully loaded, and deep in the water. In the bad weather which hit us on the way back the decks were awash and it looked like the ship forward of the bridge accommodation, was submerged. We had come back down the Gulf and into the Red Sea before re-entering the Suez Canal and after the usual fitting of lights and collecting our pilot we came out at Port Said and into the Mediterranean. Now we were back to the beautiful blue skies and blue sea which was one of my pet loves. Gibraltar rose up in front of us and we steamed through and headed for the Bay of Biscay. Again, luck was with us and the weather, though dull and misty, was quite calm. In no time we eventually arrived back in Southampton, after an uneventful trip, where I
signed off again on May 8th, 1952. I re-signed on the next day for the continuation of the voyage.
This time we sailed across the Atlantic to Caracas in Maracaibo Bay, Venezuela. This Bay was hot and humid, and very uncomfortable. It was interesting to see the Pilot navigating through the vast arrays of drilling and pumping rigs in the bay. The things looked like huge iron birds, feeding by going down and up with their beaks. There was no stopping the activity of these ‘Iron Beasts.’ We pulled alongside the wharf and tied up. The hosepipes were connected in no time and oil gushed into the tanks. The Captain always wanted a quick turn around.
When we got a chance a few of us headed off ashore, we did not have much time to browse as the oil was gushing into the ship at an alarming rate. The closest area was well lit with neon signs and there was plenty of action. The chatter and noise was deafening. I walked around for a while and bought some souvenirs, and I decided to buy some coca colas with the crew members. We sat and drank the cokes for a while, conscious of a number of locals who were carefully watching us. We began to feel uneasy and decided it was best to head back to the ship whilst there was still light. At this time the vigilantes were out in force, but we only found this out later. We could easily have been thrown in prison for any disturbance or any pretext. We casually started to walk back to the ship, watching the fellows who had left the bar behind us. They did not look too pleasant, and when we got within sight of the gates we ran for the docks as fast as we could. No more shore leave, but in any case we did not have a chance, as we left soon the next day and headed back to Europe.