Biographies and personal histories

Occasional Paper 49: The Good Times and The Bad Times

April 12, 2019

April 2019

The following paper describes the experiences of a young Royal Navy conscript, Gordon Cansdale who served in the Fleet Air Arm from 1945 to 1947. Gordon describes the highs and tragic lows of service in the carrier HMS Theseus which visited Australia in 1947 to demonstrate naval air power and the capabilities of an aircraft carrier.

Gordon later settled in Australia where he has lived for more than 63 years.

The old saying that one only remembers the good times can be quite true, but in my case there was one bad time in particular that I will never forget.

As a teenager I learned a song that went something like this:

“Memories are treasures locked in my heart I mean to keep evermore. Of all the treasures one stands apart, saved from the dear days of ‘Yore’.“

Years ago, (1945) I received notice that I was to be conscripted into the armed forces. I was hoping that it would be the Navy as my father had served in the Navy in the 1914-18 war.

YES!! I was selected for the Royal Navy, better still, the Fleet Air Arm, a dream come true. Fighter aircraft, Rolls Royce engines, a chance to see the world, and of course a navy uniform.

Gordon Cansdale Air Mechanic (Engines) LFX786429

So, my adventure began by first learning how to march, handle firearms, and not forgetting plenty of naval discipline. Next step was the Rolls Royce School of Technical Training. THIS WAS IT!! learning about the mighty Merlin engine.

On completing this course, I was posted to a shore establishment HMS Blackcap inhibiting engines for storage. This didn’t last long, as I soon learned that I had been given a sea-going draft. I was to become a member of 812 Squadron (Fireflies) and join HMS Theseus in Ireland.

After a short training period ashore in N. Ireland it was off to see the world. Those faraway places with strange sounding names. Gibraltar, Suez, Aden, Trincomalee, Andaman Islands, Nicobar Islands, Singapore, Australia, New Zealand, New Guinea.

The reception we received in Australia and New Zealand was just great. The street marches with the whole ship’s company through the streets of Melbourne, Sydney, Brisbane, Auckland and Wellington. The people were just fantastic, with dances and sight-seeing trips. They also organized home visits, and food parcels for our families back home.

BUT! it wasn’t all plain sailing, whilst flying and demonstrating for the Royal Australian Navy there were several disasters. Two Fireflies collided in midair over Port Phillip Bay and crashed into the sea killing both air crews. One of the engines was pulled up out of the sea some fifty years later, and is now in the Australian F.A.A. Museum in Nowra which I often visit with an old ‘oppo’ Totty Allman. The same day a Seafire crash landed on deck, the arrester hook striking a seaman in the walkway and killing him.

For me the worst was yet to come (my disaster day). It was the job of the ground crew to assist the pilot out of the cockpit on landing. I was the fitter of the Squadron CO’s aircraft (Lt Cdr Wynne-Roberts) and would compete with my rigger mate ‘Spiv’ Daly to be first up on to the plane to do the job. The winner would then have pole position sitting on top of the cockpit to watch the remainder of the aircraft land.

It was 6th August 1947 and Spiv had won the race, sitting on top of the cockpit, I had to settle for a seat on the wing. The next aircraft landed OK, the crash barriers were lowered and it taxied forward. THEN ALL HELL LET LOOSE. The third aircraft missed the arrestor wires and bounced over the crash barriers. To my horror I realised it was heading straight for us, so I dropped off the wing and ran for the ship’s side. It then clipped the second aircraft and dropped on top of ours. On impact, debris was showered everywhere, and as I was dropping into the safety net, the batteries burst and I was splattered with acid. Minutes later I was lifted out of the safety net and rushed below to sick bay, washed down, and treated for acid bums. My clothes had to be replaced as they were covered in holes, burnt by the acid.

I asked about Spiv and was told that he was missing, presumed killed. I couldn’t believe that I was with him just a short time before, and the last person to see him alive. Could easily have been me.

The things I will always remember are the noise of the plane bouncing, the terrific noise of the impact, and someone shouting “There’s somebody down in the net” ME!!! As they lifted me out there was a wheel, and Oleo leg nearby. All that remained of two aircraft.

When the deck was finally cleaned up, the last aircraft carne in to land, also bouncing over the crash barriers. It clipped the Island before crashing into the starboard gun sponson, then tipped over nose first into the sea. Luckily the aircrew were recovered safely.

From Australia, our next port of call was the Solomon Islands which was very interesting as there were ships and a submarine on the beach, Jap relics of the war a couple of years previous.

Port Moresby in New Guinea was also interesting, with a trip out to. Jackson airstrip which still had the odd Zero fighter, and a Betty bomber smashed up. Also, a wine bar.

Back to Singapore where I learnt I was to leave Theseus and return home for demob with others who had the same demob number as me (72).

The rest of my service was spent at HMS Nuthatch, doing maintenance, cutting grass, painting fences etc. Finally, my demob and the end of a great adventure with many good times, and a few bad. Plus, many great friends, and a lot of MEMORlES.

HMS THESEUS – Colossus-class Light Fleet aircraft aarrier ordered under an Emergency War Programme and built by Fairfield at Govan Glasgow. Laid down 6 Jan 1943. Launched 6 July 1944. Commissioned 1946 and decommissioned in 1958. Roy Cragg image

A Fairey Firefly about to land on the aircraft carrier HMAS Sydney (III) during the Korean conflict RAN image

Petty Officer Fredrick Harold Harvey and Colombian Naval Service

February 27, 2019

As told by his son CMDR Vic Harvey, RAN, Rtd

Fredrick Harold Harvey was a proud Geordie lad, born in Newcastle-upon-Tyne’s suburb of Benwell, on 13 August 1899. Benwell in the West End of Newcastle, with many streets of neat terraced houses, is dominated by its colliery. After leaving school at 14 Fred found work with the tramways and became a tram conductor.

At the time of the Great War on 30 July 1917 he entered the Royal Navy as a Boy Seaman, a month later on his 18th birthday, he signed a 12 year engagement. On entry Fred was only 5 feet 3 inches tall, so he instantly earned the nickname ‘Shorty’, had brown hair, grey eyes and a fresh complexion with a couple of well–earned scars, as Shorty was known for getting into scraps.

Only known photo of
Frederick Harvey in naval uniform – Family

At this time there was little shore–side training and his first ship was the formidable looking four-funnel cruiser HMS Powerful, but she was from a past age, had most of her armament removed, and was used as an accommodation ship. He later joined the armoured cruiser HMS Shannon, she had been built pre-war and after Jutland became flagship of a cruiser squadron patrolling in the North Sea. Fred remained in her until she paid off in May 1919. There must have been some action concerning ship salvage as post-war Fred received £4/13/6 in prize money.

It was then off to warmer climes for service with the 3rd Light Cruiser Squadron in the Mediterranean in HMS Centaur. On New Year’s Day 1921 Fred was promoted to Able Seaman. With vast post-war reductions to the fleet Fred had quite a few posting ashore to the training depot HMS Vividat Devonport, which later became better known as HMS Drake.Fred was promoted to Leading Seaman while still in Vividon 10 December 1925 and passed out for Petty Officer on 6 July 1926.

At the time his engagement expired on 12 August 1929 he was serving in the distinctive new battleship HMS Rodney. Her main armament comprised nine 16-inch guns in three turrets, all forward of the bridge. From Rodney Fred was issued with a ‘Gunnery History Sheet’ providing a record of his proficiency in gunnery examinations conducted in all his seagoing ships and a ‘Trade Certificate’ signed by Captain F.L. Tottenham, RN (later Admiral Sir Francis Tottenham). The latter document notes ‘a thoroughly reliable Leading Seaman displaying intelligence, energy, initiative and power of command’.

In 1926 Fred married childhood sweetheart Dorothy Elaine Rodgers and they set up house in Plymouth where the first of two boys, Frederick Harold, was born in 1927. But 1929 was not the best of times to be leaving the comfort and security of the Royal Navy with the Great Depression beginning to cast an ominous shadow over industrial England. With little prospect of work the family migrated to Windsor in Ontario where they had relatives. While some work was found conditions in Canada were not much better than England and the harsh winters did not suit Mum especially with young Victor Edward coming along in 1931. The next year they returned to Plymouth.

South America

In the 1920s the Admiralty authorised the establishment of British Naval Missions in various countries with the aim of providing training and support with increased cooperation through targeted ship visits. This in turn aimed to demonstrate British technical expertise and encourage foreign shipbuilding orders.

In 1932 a conflict erupted between Colombia¹and neighbouring Peru regarding a border dispute in the region of the Amazon River. This led to the re–establishment of a Colombian naval service, which had previously been disbanded. A Royal Naval Mission was quickly dispatched to assist the Colombians. This was mainly in response to a potential ‘Red Threat’ with Peru acquiring two older Russian destroyers, renamed Almirante Villar and Almirante Guise, from the politically unstable Republic of Estonia in 1933. Colombia is strategically placed between South and Central America with many neighbours and responsibility for its naval waters over both the Atlantic (Caribbean) and Pacific oceans. In this instance the Peruvians, with their naval forces based only on the Pacific coast, sailed a task force into the Atlantic – so the threat was real.

Post WWI the Admiralty invited requests from British shipyards for new destroyer designs. The winning designs were from Yarrow and Thorneycroft resulting in the construction of one ship from each yard, HM Ships Ambuscade and Amazon. A year after commissioning in 1928 these ships were sent on a cruise around South America, which included calls at Colombia and Peru, and home via Panama and the West Indies.

The Washington Naval Treaty of 1922 called for significant reductions in naval tonnage resulting in the Royal Navy having no suitable ships to offer Colombia. However a class of six new destroyers based on the Ambuscade design was being built for the Portuguese Navy. The first quarter of the 20th century was tumultuous in Portuguese politics as Britain’s oldest ally transitioned from a catholic monarchy to a socialist republic, cumulating in a 1926 military coup. Despite this two ships were built in Britain (NRP Vouga and Lima) and the remainder in Portugal.

With British assistance two of the Portuguese built vessels were purchased off the stocks by the Armada Nacional Republica de Colombia (ANC) and renamed Antioquia and Caldas. The Portuguese then built two further replacement ships. Royal Naval support was provided in commissioning, storing, manning and working up these vessels.

Leading Seaman Frederick Harvey joins the Colombian Naval Service

A recruitment campaign was undertaken in England to help man the two new destroyers. No mean perk for those in the know, with a two year contract being offer on very similar conditions to service to those afforded under Kings Regulations & Admiralty Instructions (KRAI) which included medical cover, insurance and death benefits. The real incentive, in these times of grave unemployment, was 33⅓% additional pay in £stg for an equivalent RN rank. While this was a single man’s posting, at the completion of the contract a fully paid return passage to England was provided, plus an additional two months pay in lieu of leave.

NRP Lima constructed by Yarrow & Co.,
Glasgow

On 23 February 1934 a formal ‘Contract for Ratings’ (written in English) was entered into between the Chargé d’Affaires of Colombia representing the Government of Colombia and Frederick Harold Harvey. This was witnessed by a Royal Naval officer. On New Year’s Day 1935 another bonus was received with Fred promoted to Petty Officer.

There is an interesting aside in the report of a football (soccer) match between the two ships when working up. This notes that Antioquia’s goalkeeper ‘Shorty Harvey’ accidentally collided with an opposing player with the result that Shorty lost most of his teeth but with true British grit he continued playing with his ship winning 5 – 1. Shorty was not carted off to hospital until the end of the game.

Eventually both new destroyers reached their home port of Cartagena in Colombia on 14 May 1934. They were more of an insurance policy as the dispute with Peru had been settled before their arrival. We are not aware of Fred’s service in country but it does not appear to have been arduous and, strictly in accordance with his contract, he returned home on 22 February 1936. Upon return, with tales to tell and employment gradually improving, Fred became a postman in his native Newcastle. He also joined the RNR.

Had Fred remained in Antioquia he might have seen some unusual action. On 21 January 1936 on the occasion of the death of King George V the Bermuda Militia Artillery were instructed to fire a ceremonial salute from their 4.7-inch gun battery. This salute consisted of 70 blank rounds – one for every year of the sovereign’s life. Because of damp storage conditions there were insufficient blanks so the shortfall was substituted with life rounds fired at maximum elevation. As they opened fire the gunners were unaware that Antioquia was making for the Royal Naval Dockyard, where she was scheduled for refit. Although straddled the ship was not damaged.

Once more with the outbreak of war in 1939 Fred volunteered for naval service but was knocked back. This did not stop him from joining the Army as a private. Now over forty years of age he remained in the United Kingdom, mainly employed as a Batman/Driver to a senior officer based in Scotland.

After the war Fred was welcomed back into the Post Office where he worked as a driver until the time of his death in 1963. He is buried in Newcastle. His widow Dorothy came to Australia and lived with her son Victor and his wife Connie until her death in 1986. The eldest son Frederick Harold (junior) with his wife Violet migrated to Canada where they made successful business careers and raised two children. Finally younger son Vic continued the family tradition, joined the Andrew and, with many years of distinguished service in the RAN … but that is another story.

Notes:

1. In terms of population, present day Colombia, with a population in excess of 49 million, is the second largest country in South America.

Occasional Paper 39: The Story Of Commander Paul Hugill Hirst RAN 1899-1963

November 14, 2018

November 2018

Compelled to Resign: The Story Of Commander Paul Hugill Hirst RAN 1899-1963

by Lieutenant Commander Terry Feltham RAN Ret’d

“Just because something ends doesn’t mean it never should’ve been. Remember, you lived, you learned, you grew and you moved on”. Anon.

Why this topic?

The recent discovery within the Society’s archives of an undated letter from Signalman Donald Fraser, commissioning member of HMAS Toowoomba1 led to my researching the reasons for the resignation in March 1942 of her Commanding Officer, LCDR Paul Hirst and the eventual dispersal of her entire crew.

The following are extracts from undated letter by Don Fraser:

After suffering heavy damage on the passage. Soon thereafter we were ordered back to sea. Our captain ‘Digger Hirst’ was loath to take Toowoomba to sea until major repairs were affected. Apparently Senior Naval Officer Western Australia, Commodore Collins, directed the skipper – ‘Take your ship to sea or resign’. ‘Digger’ advised the ship’s company, “I’ve resigned and I will be happy to get back to the spuds in Tasmania”. Under a new skipper we sailed to Adelaide for repairs. There, the entire crew received ‘individual draft notes’ sending them to all corners of the globe! Toowoomba then decommissioned, affected repairs and recommissioned. Did ‘Digger’ resign for nothing? Don Fraser.[i]

My First Impressions

Initially, there seemed little to this research task. Paul Hirst was a member of the 1913 Pioneer Class[ii] at The Naval College and HMAS Toowoomba 1 was Paul’s third command (following Tasmania and Success). Clearly, Commodore John Collins and The Naval Board held Paul in high regard. So, in my opinion, all that was required was for me to obtain copies of Toowoomba’s Reports of Proceedings from commissioning date in October 1941 to March 1942, seek out the Naval Board paperwork on the incident, the notes by Commodore Collins immediately before and after his decisions on the incident and access Paul Hirst’s personal reports and then write the story. ‘Wrong’. Despite considerable help from many people (most notably Vice Admiral Peter Jones) many cupboards were bare. However, sufficient veteran’s recollections are recorded to allow us the essentials of the story.

So I chose to go back to the early part of the 20^th Century, research the history behind The Royal Australian Naval College and its Pioneer Class and build the story from that point.

The Royal Australian Navy and its Naval College

By the middle of the first decade of the 20^th Century Vice Admiral Sir William Rooke Creswell, KCMG, KBE (‘The Father Of The Royal Australian Navy) along with Rear Admiral Frederick Tickell MID CMG RN and two very supportive Prime Ministers, Alfred Deakin and Andrew Fisher, had begun a concerted push to have our Navy (more a Colonial Force at the time) breakaway from The Admiralty. By late 1905 the Australian Commonwealth Naval Board was constituted in Melbourne, and it was clear that ‘The Royal Australian Navy’ (RAN) was close at hand.[iii]

VICE ADMIRAL WILLAM ROOKE CRESWELL, KCMG, KBE, RAN (Chief of Staff, RAN)

REAR ADMIRAL FREDERICK TICKEL CMG RAN (AS A CAPTAIN RAN) Australian War Memorial

Prime Minister of Australia Andrew Fisher, By T. Humphrey & Co, NLA image

Prime Minister of Australia Alfred Deakin, NLA image

By 1911 many of Creswell’s capital initiatives for the RAN had been agreed and the Australian Government had also signed off on a major recruitment scheme for Australian Naval Officers, specifically:

An Australian Naval College (to be named HMAS Creswell on commissioning in January 1958) would be established at Jervis Bay by 1915. In the interim, young boys from all Australian states, and whose 13^th birthday fell in the calendar year 1 January 1913 to 31 December 1913, would be invited to sit an exemplar exam in 1912 for entry to the Temporary Australian Naval College at Geelong in Victoria in 1913. Twenty eight Officer Cadets would be chosen to undergo a rigorous four year education, leadership, sporting and management program taking them to University entrance equivalent. On completion the successful graduates would join the Royal Australian Naval Officer Ranks as Midshipmen.[iv]

Creswell also made it clear to the Australian Government that he expected significant numbers of RN officers (including several of Flag Rank) would be required to fill positions in Australia’s naval command structure for the foreseeable future; probably until the early 1930s. He went further:

‘this fact does not worry me one iota as I am confident the Naval College structure agreed by the Australian Government, with its fine Executive, Educational, Engineering and Electrical training staff, would soon begin commissioning superb Australian Naval Officers’.[v]

Vice Admiral Peter Jones AO DSC RAN (Ret’d) in his book Australia’s Argonauts expresses best the sentiment of the time:

“For the nation, the calling for the first intake of Australia’s naval college was an important step in forging its own Navy. Yet, for twenty eight 13-year-old boys their decision would forever change their lives. Their careers would decisively shape the course of the Royal Australian Navy”.[vi]

The 1913 Entry to the Royal Australian Naval College, known as the Pioneer Class. (RAN)
Paul Hirst, Back Row, circled. John Collins, Middle Row.

Members of the Pioneer Class[vii]

Otto Edmund Albert;

George William Thomas Armitage;

Joseph Burnett (later KIA when Commanding Officer [Captain RAN], HMAS Sydney);

Norman Keith Calder;

John Augustine Collins (later Vice Admiral Sir John, KBE CB, Chief of Naval Staff 1948-1955);

Alfred Denis Conder;

Ernest Semple ‘Dick’ Cunningham (lost in HM K17 in 1917);

James Claude Durie Esdaile (the last surviving member of The Pioneer Class);

Harold Bruce (Fearless Frank) Farncomb (later Rear Admiral – CB, DSO, MVO, MID (3) Navy Cross [US] and Commander of the Legion of Merit [US]);

Eric Augustus Feldt (later OBE and Commander RAN – our greatest Coastwatcher);

Frank Edmond Getting (later Captain RAN – KIA 1942 when in Command HMAS Canberra);

Lloyd Falconer Gilling;

Paul Hugill Hirst (later Commander – 3 Commands – Tasmania, Success and Toowoomba);

Elmer Benjamin Howells;

Peyton James Kimlin;

Frank Lockwood Larkins;

John Valentine Stuart ‘Jack’ Lecky;

Rupert Basil Michel Long;

Hugh Alexander MacKenzie DSC;

Jack Bolton Newman;

Edwin Scott Nurse;

Win Locker Reilly;

Cyril Arthur Roy Sadlier;

Henry ‘Harry’ Arthur Showers (later Rear Admiral, CBE);

Horace John Harold Thompson;

Harry Bertram Vallentine;

Adrian Joseph Beachleigh Watts;

Llewellyn Leigh Watkins.

Captain Bertram Chambers RAN was the initial Master at the College and to anyone interested he would say:

– ‘these young boys were selected on their perceived ability alone; social standing was paid no mind. I guarantee that by the passing of six months it will be impossible to tell the difference between the Cadet who knew the meaning of ‘a silver spoon’ and the Cadet who could handle a stump jump plough’.[viii]

Several of the class proved notable talents and will be well known to many of us: Vice Admiral Sir John Collins, Rear Admiral Farncomb, Rear Admiral Showers, Captain Burnett and Commander Feldt. Commander Paul Hirst proved to be a first-class naval officer and commanding officer, however, he will not be as well-known as those named above.

Boys to Men

The selection process sought to ensure that only the fittest and the physically strong formed the 1913 Entry.

Sadly though, several originals lost their life while serving their initial engagement 1913-1930 and three Cadet Midshipmen were discharged before graduation returning to civil life and uncertain futures. The first to give his life was Otto Albert through meningitis in May 1914. Dick Cunningham, along with 47 other crew members in the RN submarine K17 were KIA following a collision in what was to become known as the Battle of May Island on 31 January 1918; and after the war ended, Frank Larkins accidentally lost his life when swept overboard from the casing of the RAN submarine J2 on the night of 19/20 June 1919 while transiting past Sumatra on his return to Australia.

World War 1 ends

Several of The Pioneer Class saw service during WWI, but by 1920 their lives had returned to a form of normality. A Return of Service obligation tied them to the RAN until 1930 and by then the seafarers blood flowed in the veins of quite a few, many going on to give absolutely outstanding Naval service until retirement; most notable being Vice Admiral Sir John Collins and Rear Admiral Harold Farncomb. The honour and legacy of those two men was settled for all time when the Australian Government gave the names Collins and Farncomb to two of our Collins Class Submarines.

Vice Admiral Collins was not only a name to be remembered by the Australian Government and the RAN; the people of Sydney (maybe even wider Australia) silently offered their thanks to him at his funeral. One woman was heard praising him in this way, ‘You have to understand what John Collins meant to us. When we were losing everywhere in the war he gave us our finest victory. He gave us hope’.[ii]

Paul Hirst proved also to be an outstanding naval officer. During the 1920s he was recognised as such on two occasions by The Naval Board, when given command of HMAS Tasmania and later HMAS Success. The following was written of Paul Hirst during his period In Command of HMAS Success.

“Paul Hirst is a capable, keen and zealous Commanding Officer of HMAS Success”. RAN.[iii]

During that decade Paul was also appointed as The First Lieutenant at HMAS Cerberus, a tough assignment for any Naval Officer.

In 1931, with the world at peace, Paul decided to resign his commission and return to the family home in Carrick, Tasmania. When War raised its ugly head again late in the 1930s, he offered to re-join in July 1939 as a member of the Emergency List and was accepted with the rank of Lieutenant Commander. Following service at Cerberus, then Warrego and Brisbane, Paul was appointed to commission HMAS Toowoomba in October 1941. This appointment being further recognition of the esteem in which he was held by his superiors.

Toowoomba at War 1941/1942

Soon after her commissioning late 1941, Toowoomba entered operational service. She was based in Sydney initially, tasked with convoy escort duties along the east coast of Australia until January 1942, when she was ordered to Batavia. Toowoomba was in constant action over the next two months and on 14 February was one of the last ships to enter Singapore Harbour before the Island was captured by the Japanese. Toowoomba’s sailing orders for each of her assignments in 1942 were issued under the hand of Commodore Collins RAN.

Following the outbreak of war with Japan, Captain John Collins was appointed Commodore Commanding China Force, based in Batavia, Dutch East Indies. HMAS Toowoomba under the command of Paul Hirst was stationed in the Dutch East India area early 1942, so throughout that period, Commodore Collins was Paul’s senior officer and as such his reporting officer

During what must have been a quite insane period in the Dutch East Indies early in 1942, Toowoomba was ‘dive bombed’ many times, surviving, it seems, only by the magnificent seamanship of her Captain. Toowoomba’s crew paid tribute to Paul with Signalman Fraser remembering Paul as a ‘Bonzer bloke and a terrific skipper’.[iv]

Toowoomba’s assignments in the Tanjong Priok and Tjilatjap areas kept her extremely busy and Tjilatjap became a regular stop off for refuelling. Hirst decided it would be prudent always to track close inshore when escorting convoys and when leading his corvettes.

Early 1942 the RAN decided that as Collins and his staff could not be well protected in Batavia, the office was to be moved to Fremantle,

Early on the morning of 2 March Collins, stationed at the time at Tjilatjap was doing his utmost to find shipboard accommodation for as many as possible in the transfer of his quarters and staff to Fremantle to take up the position as Commodore Commanding Fremantle and Senior Naval Officer, Western Australia

To his delight, over the horizon came Paul Hirst in Toowoomba and the other corvettes he was leading. Collins would have found them a god-send; as they made possible the evacuation of all personnel.

Soon after that evacuation, Toowoomba was ordered back to Fremantle and then commenced routine patrols off the Western Australian Coast. During her last patrol, she encountered heavy seas and suffered major damage to her upper deck structures and sonar and was forced to return to Fremantle. Shortly before arrival, a signal was received in Toowoomba informing Paul that he was to be promoted Commander and that he was to take four corvettes, including Toowoomba to join the British Eastern Fleet. The whole crew were delighted in the announcement.

Damaged Toowoomba arrived in Fremantle on Saturday 19^th July 1942.

The Fremantle Meeting

Paul’s naval career ended effectively one week after Toowoomba’s return to Fremantle on Saturday 19 July 1942.

On arrival in Fremantle, I think it fair to assume that Commodore John Collins inspected the damage to Toowoomba[v] and that Paul paid a visit to Senior Officer Western Australia Commodore Collins to further explain the structural damages to Toowoomba and to seek time to affect the required repairs. There are no written records extant of either Paul’s visit to John Collins or John Collins’ visit to Toowoomba. The Naval Board were in Melbourne and would not have visited the ship.

I do not say that Collins suggested to Hirst, ‘resign’, as there is no corroborating evidence such an exchange occurred. What we do know is that Hirst told his ship’s company he had resigned.

What I am suggesting is that there may well be several other parts to this section of the story. In particular I have little doubt that Commodore Collins took in Paul’s explanation of the repairs considered essential before Toowoomba could return to War Time duty anywhere. I think it is fair to assume, Commodore Collins, at this time, was (nearly) out on his feet following those hectic days in Singapore, Tanjong Priok and Tjilatjap when all that he was concerned about was the safety of his staff and the prosecution of Australia’s wartime commitments in the region.

There could be only one winner in the apparent disagreement between Paul and Commodore Collins over Toowoomba’s seaworthiness.

Vice Admiral Jones makes a most salient point. “The date was 1942, however Paul’s principled stand then resonates today where there is much greater appreciation on ensuring the material condition of ships ‘ship safe’ regime”.[vi] So I remain bemused that Collins and the Naval Board (apparently) dismissed Hirst’s caution out of hand.

Despite Collins having been closely associated with Hirst’s promotion to Commander and Hirst’s exemplary wartime record in the Dutch East Indies in 1942, Paul would no doubt have given serious consideration to all Collins had to say before he (Hirst) decided ‘Resignation it must be’.

Both men were true gentlemen, outstanding Naval Officers and leaders (particularly in the case of Commodore Collins) and each would have known what the outcome of their disagreement had to be. First and foremost though was that Australia’s Naval Activities in the Dutch East Indies and also in Australian waters would take precedence over personal friendships. Paul would have understood this clearly.

Paul then returned to Toowoomba keeping much to himself until the following day. At an appropriate time, he assembled the ship’s company on Fremantle wharf, advised them of his meeting with The Senior Officer Western Australia, Commodore Collins, and told the crew (words to the effect) – “I’ve decided to resign my Commission. I will be returning to my family in Tasmania. You have been an amazing crew. I wish you well for the future”.[vii] On Paul’s departure, a period of considerable gloom settled over Toowoomba.

The Aftermath

Repairs to Toowoomba were not affected until November 1942. Yes, a new Commanding Officer was appointed shortly after Hirst’s resignation, but the original crew remained aboard until Toowoomba arrived in Adelaide for docking and repair.

The obvious question as far as I am concerned: ‘Why did Paul Hirst feel compelled to resign IF the repairs to Toowoomba were essential and arranged to be completed in Adelaide soon after his resignation’?

On arrival Adelaide, Toowoomba was docked for repairs and her original crew (including all officers) were reassigned (posting notes and appointments) far and wide within the RAN.

Clearly, the Naval Board wanted a lid put on the whole incident. On 22 November 1942 Toowoomba was assigned to duty to the British Eastern Fleet involved in escort and patrol duties across the Indian Ocean reaching as far west as the Persian Gulf operating with the fleet until returning to Fremantle on 3 December 1944 for refit. That refit was completed in March 1945, and Toowoomba joined the British Pacific Fleet, assigned to escort and patrol duties between Australia and New Guinea until the end of hostilities.

Following the end of World War II, Toowoomba spent time in Hong Kong, performing minesweeping and hydrological survey duties; returning to Australia in December 1945. The corvette earned two battle honours for her wartime service, “Pacific 1942” and “Indian Ocean 1942–44”.

Following his resignation, Paul returned to his beloved Tasmania. However, he was not done with service in our Armed Forces. In September 1945 he volunteered for duty as a Captain with the Australian Army and was appointed Master of Craft with the Army’s water transport corps. Paul’s appointment in the Army was terminated (at his request) in January 1947. He then returned to farming in Tasmania. His wife Evelyn passed away in 1963 and Paul was laid to rest in Carrick Church Cemetery, Tasmania, in 1973.

Shipmates attending Paul’s funeral in 1973 at Low Head, Tasmania, recalled: ‘Digger had an uncanny ability to avoid the bombs from Japanese aircraft’. Norm Smith, another shipmate, wrote, Paul Hirst ‘had brought the ship through several close encounters with the enemy of the time so I and 80 or so others revere his memory in perpetuity’.[viii] Vale

HMAS Toowoomba (1)

HMAS Toowoomba During Pre-Commissioning Trials 1941

HMAS Toowoomba at Fremantle on return from Active Duty in Singapore and Dutch East Indies
March 1942

Namesake:	City of Toowoomba, Queensland
Builder:	Walkers Limited in Maryborough, Queensland
Laid down:	6 August 1940
Launched:	26 March 1941
Commissioned:	9 October 1941
Decommissioned:	5 July 1946
Motto:	“Fearless”
Honours and awards:	Battle honours: • Pacific 1942 • Indian Ocean 1942–44
Fate:	Transferred to Royal Netherlands Navy

Acknowledgements

Vice Admiral Peter Jones AO DSC RAN (Ret’d); Mr John Perryman Sea Power Centre, Canberra ACT; National Archives of Australia; Signalman Donald Fraser and his family; The Australian War Memorial; The Hirst Family (Tasmania and Toowoomba QLD); Historical Societies of Hobart Tasmania and Carrick Tasmania; Dr Ian Pfennigwerth [Captain RAN Ret’d] and The Royal Australian Navy.

References

[i] Undated letter from Able Seaman Donald Fraser – commissioning signalman HMAS Toowoomba.

[ii] Australia’s Argonauts, Vice Admiral Peter Jones AO DSC RAN (Ret’d), Echo Books, West Geelong 2016. Pp428.

[iii] Vice Admiral Sir William Rooke Creswell RAN.

[iv] Royal Australian Navy papers 1911.

[v] Vice Admiral Sir William Rooke Creswell RAN.

[vi] Australia’s Argonauts, Vice Admiral Peter Jones AO DSC RAN (Ret’d), Echo Books, West Geeelong 2016. Pp. 17.

[vii] Australia’s Argonauts, Vice Admiral Peter Jones AO DSC RAN (Ret’d), Echo Books, West Geeelong 2016. Preface.

[viii] Australia’s Argonauts, Vice Admiral Peter Jones AO DSC RAN (Ret’d), Echo Books, West Geeelong 2016. Pp19

[ix] Royal Australian Navy papers 1911.

[x] Australia’s Argonauts, Vice Admiral Peter Jones AO DSC RAN (Ret’d), Echo Books, West Geeelong 2016. Pp. 640.

[xi] Paul Hirst’s personal papers.

[xii] Australia’s Argonauts, Vice Admiral Peter Jones AO DSC RAN (Ret’d), Echo Books, West Geeelong 2016. Pp. 428.

[xiii] Personal communication Vice Admiral Peter Jones AO DSC RAN (Ret’d).

[xiv] Signalman Fraser interview by Vice Admiral Peter Jones AO DSC RAN (Ret’d) for Australia’s Argonauts).

[xv] Australia’s Argonauts, Vice Admiral Peter Jones AO DSC RAN (Ret’d), Echo Books, West Geeelong 2016. Pp. 636.

Occasional Paper 31: Captain Edmund Anstice, RN

October 29, 2018

July 2018

The following is a brief passage from the memoirs of Geoffrey Dobbin who was both a Merchant Navy and Royal Naval Reserve Officer. Geoffrey Dobbin was related through marriage to Vice Admiral Edmund Anstice, RN who served on loan with the RAN from 1946 to 1948. At that time the Admiralty had generously offered the assistance of the then Captain Anstice, RN to advise on RAN Fleet Air Arm Matters. In Australia he was appointed Fourth Naval Member (Commodore 2nd class). Given his rapid promotion whilst in Australia he was most successful. This paper provides insight into his career as a pioneer naval aviator.

Arrival in London

After a brief call at Tilbury Deebank sailed to Falmouth for docking and I was able to bid farewell to Captain Rivett and Gravel Gertie, a drunken Radio Operator and my fellow officers with whom I had travelled halfway around the world and sign off and join P&O.

I travelled up to London by train and booked into a hotel in Lancaster Gate which was not too expensive and then thought about how I would spend the month before actually starting with P&O. An immediate telephone call was to my Mother’s cousin, Lesley Anstice who, with her husband, Ned, lived in London and had asked me to come and stay,

Lesley Ritchie, as she was before she was married, was born in Australia and had fallen for a dashing Royal Naval Officer, married him and had gone to live in various naval posting around the world.

Ned had had a very interesting career in the RN. He had been a cadet at Osborne and Dartmouth, having joined the navy at thirteen, as was the practice in those days. It was the time of the First World War and Ned was then fifteen when the RN sent all the final year cadets away for training in a cruiser which came to a sticky end after meeting a German battleship and virtually all of the cadets were lost. This left a great gap in the fleet and there was an urgent need for Midshipmen so Ned and his other fifteen year olds were sent to war.

After the war, and by then a Lieutenant, Ned decided to specialize in Naval Aviation and so became a pilot. Naval aviation in those days consisted of seaplanes being launched off cruisers and battleships by a catapult and then having to land in the sea after the flight and be lifted back on board by a crane. A rather precarious lifestyle. Ned was appointed to a cruiser which was to escort the Australian contingent to Gallipoli from Egypt. His role in the landing was to be in charge of one of the naval boats used to land the troops and in the process he was wounded by rifle fire. This put him out of action and he was sent home to the UK to recover in hospital and allow him to get a little older before risking his life again in the service of King and Country.

A later form of naval aviation was where the forward guns of some of the older cruisers were removed and a flat forward deck was laid in lieu. The ship was provided with several Walrus aircraft, fitted as amphibians, and these would be choked at the after end of the foredeck. The ship would then be steamed flat out into a head wind, the aircraft engine started and also put full ahead, the chocks would be removed and with any luck the biplane would become airborne and not fall into the water and be run over by the ship. Getting back on board also necessitated landing the aircraft in the water and being craned back to safety. Ned’s promotion was quite rapid as he managed to keep alive whereas many of his contemporaries did not.

With the advent of the Second World War Naval Aviation had progressed rapidly and there was a fully functional Fleet Air Arm of which Ned was a leading light although he had passed the combat flying age by that time unless he chose to go up in plane just to show that he could fly. Although no longer flying off the decks of carriers he was still heavily involved as the captain of Ark Royal operating in the Atlantic and Med.

I first met Ned and Lesley when they were living in Melbourne in 1946. Ned, by then a Captain and soon to be a Commodore, had been sent to Australia to start the Royal Australian Fleet Air Arm. We had been given the HMAS Sydney as our first carrier and she sailed from Devonport on 12^th April 1949 with her Australian crew. Nearly ten year later I was to find myself as her navigator during my time with the RAN as a Reserve Officer.

I can recall meeting Ned in Melbourne and being somewhat overawed. I was a cadet in Mungana and we were lying in Victoria Dock when I got a phone call from Ned’s secretary to say that he and Lesley would be delighted if I and one of the other cadets would join them for dinner and if so a car would collect us at 1800. This meant that Bob Champion, the other cadet and I went on a frantic search for clean collars, clothes brushes to get the coal dust off our black uniforms and ties that were respectable.

At 1800 a large black car drew up at the gangway with a naval rating at the wheel and a white ensign flying on the bonnet and Champion and I climbed aboard to the fond farewells of the other cadets and travelled in luxury so seldom experienced in our lowly world strata.

Dinner was a little overawing as Ned was there covered in gold braid and so also was an assortment of other high ranking naval officers and their wives. However, they all took a great deal of trouble to ensure that Champion and I were put at ease and made to feel part of the dinner party.

Later, we were returned to Mungana by the same car and driver and retired to the cadets half deck along with the multiple question from our fellow curious cabin mates. Champion did mention that he felt he was better suited to dining and conversing with the higher echelon of society rather than having to mix with lowly riff raff with which he was obliged to share a cabin. This resulted in him being taken forcibly on deck and having several buckets of fire water thrown over him.

Now, here I was in London and Ned had had even further promotion. He was now a Vice Admiral, CinC Fleet Air Arm, Fifth Sea Lord and a KCMG. It was still a little overawing as I was a sub-Lieutenant and you don’t really get much lower on the pecking scale. However, Ned and Lesley made me very welcome in their rather luxurious and very big flat in Sloane Avenue where they lived with a large black Labrador. It was Spring and I would take the dog for a walk in Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park and other people who were walking their dogs would smile at me and say good morning as I was obviously of the class that did not need to work and was therefore presentable and of a status similar to themselves. If only they had known.

One day Ned asked me if I would like to visit the Admiralty in Whitehall. He had already arranged for me to visit the House of Parliament and have tea on the terrace with some members and also a quick tour of the Palace Gardens. I said yes I would love to see the Admiralty and he said it would be arranged. On the appointed day I repaired to Whitehall at 1700 and reported to the Royal Marine Sergeant at the main desk and was escorted, with some deference, to the Board of Admiralty.

I was greeted at the door by a Flag Lieutenant who welcomed me and said that the board would be entering any moment now and that I was very welcome. It was a very large room with a big oak table in the centre with finely carved chairs set around it. The walls were covered with paintings of former admirals and ships of the line and at the far end stood two stewards in white coats alongside a well-stocked bar.

Just then a door at the other end of the room opened and about ten or twelve men entered.

This was the Board of Admiralty lead in by the First Lord of the Admiralty and he was followed by the Sea Lords and their assistants. They were all in civvies so there was not very much gold braid around.

Ned came over and greeted me and introduced me to several people whom I cannot remember and a steward handed me a gin and tonic. Mountbatten was the first Sea lord and very much a hero of mine and there he was actually in the flesh talking to somebody or other. After a few minutes he must have noticed the strange young face in the room and he came over and stood in front of me.

“Don’t think that we have met”, he said. “I’m Mountbatten and you are?”

“Dobbin, Sir”, I managed to say. Very much in awe at the great man to whom I was speaking. “A guest of Sir Edmund’s”, I added as some justification for being there.

“Ah yes”, he said. “Ned mentioned that he had somebody from Australia coming along this evening. What rank are you?” “Sub-Lieutenant, RANR sir”.

Mountbatten smiled and said, “Subbie eh! You know my father used to run this place and I did not get inside it until I was a commander. Congratulations, you better come with me and we’ll freshen up your gin.” He then took me over to the bar, had the steward give me a fresh drink and then took me around and introduced me to the First Lord and others whom I had not already met. He was a very gracious host and had that ability of putting people at ease.

By this time I had been seeing the P&O Officers Department, arranged the date when I would be joining Perim and had made all of the expensive and necessary visits to Gieves in Bond Street to be measured foe all of my black uniforms, mess dress uniform and tropical uniforms. All at vast expense which I did not have but with the usual favourable credit system for which Gieves was famous.

Soon after this I was off to sea again but always saw Ned and Lesley when I was in port until they moved to Scotland when Ned retired.

Note: Career of Edmund Anstice, RN

Naval Aviator

On attachment to the Fleet Air Arm of the Royal Air Force (all naval aviation being under the control of the RAF at that time), he attended No. 1 Flying Training School at Netheravon, Wiltshire, from June 1924 until January 1925 before being posted to No. 462 Flight, Fleet Air Arm, aboard the aircraft carrier Furious in the Atlantic Fleet, receiving the RAF rank of flight lieutenant on 1 July 1927. On 1 September 1927 he became Flight Commander of No. 464 Flight, FAA, aboard the carrier Courageous. He was promoted to lieutenant commander on 15 February 1928, and in October 1929 transferred to the battlecruiser Renown.

Anstice returned to Courageous in November 1930 to serve as Flight Commander of No. 463 Flight for the next two years. He was promoted to Navy commander on 31 December 1932, and to the RAF rank of squadron leader on 1 January 1933, and from 26 September was attached to the Directorate of Training at the Air Ministry. On 19 June 1936 he returned to Courageous once more, this time as Senior FAA Officer and Squadron Aviation Officer, receiving promotion to wing commander on 1 July. On 28 July 1937 he was appointed Executive Officer of the heavy cruiser HMS Shropshire in the Mediterranean Fleet, remaining there until receiving promotion to the rank of captain on 30 June 1939.

World War II

Anstice spent the early part of World War II, from October 1939, serving at the Admiralty, and was appointed Deputy Director of the Naval Air Division in February 1941. He returned to sea duty in August 1942 serving briefly as Commanding Officer of the escort carrier Striker, before taking command of Fencer until 19 January 1944. In March 1944 he returned to shore duty at HMS Monck, the Combined Training Headquarters at Largs, Ayrshire, where he served as Chief of Staff for Aircraft Carrier Training.

Post-War Flag Officer

Anstice was appointed Commanding Officer of Royal Naval Air Station Lee-on-Solent (HMS Daedalus) as a commodore (2nd class) on 30 October 1945.

In November 1946 he was appointed Director of Naval Aviation Planning for the Royal Australian Navy, and in October 1947 as appointed to the newly created post of Fourth Member of the Australian Commonwealth Naval Board to advise the board on all matters related to naval aviation.

Promoted on 10 July 1948 to rear admiral, he served as Flag Officer of the Training Squadron, then from 26 August 1949 as Flag Officer, Flying Training based at RNAS Donibristle, Fife (HMS Merlin).

Promoted to Vice Admiral on 15 September 1951, he served on the Board of Admiralty, as Fifth Sea Lord and Deputy Chief of Naval Staff (Air). Vice Admiral Anstice retired on 16 September 1954. He died on 30 August 1979.

Occasional Paper 27: Royal Naval House, ‘Johnnies’: Some Personal Reminisces

October 29, 2018

May 2018

Royal Australian Naval House has always been known affectionately as ‘Johnnies’, although the origin of the name is hard to trace. From 1968 to 1970 a young Able Seaman Brian Love posted to HMAS Waterhen lived at Johnnies. These are his personal reminisces.

By CPOSV (Retd) Brian Love

I arrived at Central Station Sydney around eight thirty on a bright Monday morning in November 1968 in full uniform with my life’s possessions jammed into my regulation Navy issue ugly yellow kit bag slung over my shoulder. Being a 17, almost 18 year old country boy from Gippsland Victoria not having ventured far from the land of coal mines beautiful hills and dense bush, being deposited right in the middle of the biggest city in Australia was almost more than I could take, rows and rows of trains all disgorging what appeared to be the populations of everywhere and this being what appeared to be a dead end for all trains stopped at a white picket fence where the rails ceased.

The trip up from Melbourne had been a sleepless night and my kit bag felt far heavier than it should. Here was a bunch of young sailors, a day earlier under the control of almost everyone at the place everyone wanted to get out of, HMAS Cerberus. We were out, proud in our uniforms and ready to take on the world. As to be expected, all were in a mood for celebration so the night up was one to remember. Virtually all of us were off to join ships at Garden Island as ordinary seaman ready to wash dishes mop floors clean toilets and basically be everyone’s ‘dogsbody’. However, I and a couple of others had left Recruit School and gone straight on to Supply School and had completed our category training. This was quite unusual as it was normal practice to go to sea first. I can only deduce that stores ratings were in short supply so we had to wait for another day to experience sea time. Anyway, foregoing the experience of being the master of the heads or scullery etc was a highlight of Naval life I could do without. Having the right arm rate proudly displayed in new shining gold gave me a real sense of ‘I’m something’ the majority of the sailors on the train had not yet achieved.

I was in awe as I wandered along pushing and shoving through a cacophony of people who did not speak or dip their lid to anyone at all least of all me. I was sure more than the population of all of Gippsland were fighting their way through this place. Central Station was bigger than any building I had been in or had seen, little newsagents big enough to fit one man in, pie shops, sandwich shops gift shops all under great swooping arches. I made my way to what looked like daylight and I figured this must be the exit. It was. I was out on an elevated ramp with taxi after taxi arriving and leaving with their passengers getting in and out at a great rush. Everything was like a huge bee hive with never ending comings and goings, a great buzz of cars, trucks, horns, engines and the first double decker buses I had ever seen. I dropped my kit bag down and tried to figure out my next move amongst all of this activity. I really had no idea. Here I was in the middle of a great sea of huge buildings and not recognising anything or anyone. I was on my way to HMAS Waterhen. All I knew was it was in Sydney somewhere. I was not sure about a taxi as I did not have a lot of money in my wallet and I did not know how far it was. What I did know was I had to be there by midday and it was now past 9am.

Off to my right and about 50 metres ahead I spotted a blue station wagon that I believed looked like a Navy vehicle, I grabbed my bag and headed for it, as I got closer out of the driver’s seat jumped a sailor “G’day mate” he said ‘where are you off to?’. It was so great to hear those words. Waterhen I replied. Throw your bag in the back I’II drop you off. What a beauty and soon after he had finished his business at the station we were off. I don’t remember his name but he was a stoker and I think he came from HMAS Platypus I actually never saw him again but he was a life saver.

As we drove through the city he chatted away, I must have appeared pretty rude as, everything we were driving past and through was new. I had trouble concentrating on his words of wisdom. At one point he mentioned I would be living at “Johnnies” unless I was under 18 then I would probably be living at HMAS Penguin. I did not take this in too well as by this time we were on the Sydney Harbour Bridge. It cost us 5 cents for the privilege I could not believe I was actually on this huge structure I had only seen in pictures and had dismissed it as something other people would experience, not me. There were trains and buses everywhere, both double deckers. I had also only seen these in pictures.

We were so high up, I had never been that high before. I could see the harbour, what a sight. In no time we were off the bridge and into another city of huge buildings traffic lights more people and endless rows of cars, we turned off the main road we were crawling along and wound through hilly suburbs of mostly red brick houses and eventually came upon a park area called Balls Head Drive. We did a U turn down a slope and there it was, my first glimpse of HMAS Waterhen nestled under quite large cliffs with some sort of what looked like class rooms clinging to the top. At the foot of these blue grey cliffs was a flat area with buildings at either end with a cleared area between them and workshops along the water’s edge. Two long jetties ran out from here with another wharf running along the water’s edge to the north. I had previously learnt that this facility was the home base for mine sweepers and patrol boats. There were quite a few alongside at this time. Also secured alongside was a larger ship looking a bit bedraggled. This was the decommissioned ship HMAS Culgoa which was used as accommodation for duty watch. Waterhen did not have its own accommodation.

Without the help of my Navy driver and the much-needed lift to my new and first posting I really don’t know how I would have found my way. I was extremely grateful.

Well, here I was at my first posting which was in a beautiful setting. Although pretty tired I felt pleased with my luck. This is where I stayed for the next eighteen months. After checking in with the gangway staff and getting directions I made my way down the steep drive way to the Coxswains Office. When given my ‘post in’ card it was explained to me that I would be living at Johnnies. A bus would pick me up at 1600 and ferry me to Johnnies with everyone else, I think at most, forty. I did not ask any questions at that time, just agreed and remembered what the driver had told me, under eighteen you will live at Penguin. I considered that from the tone of the driver’s voice Johnnies was the better choice so no mention was made of my age. I finally made it to my new workplace and met my work mates. Obviously, I was the new kid on the block but everyone was pretty good. I found the whole place so much more relaxed than the formality of HMAS Cerberus. I had been previously told “Waterhen” was a great posting.

By the completion of lunch, I had had the full run down on where I would be living and where it was and what Johnnies was all about. All afternoon I tried to impress but the shadows of a long previous night were not helping my judgement. At four o’clock on the dot, a red and white dull looking old tour bus pulled in adjacent to the volley ball court and all climbed aboard. In general, those that lived at Johnnies were young. The majority of the ships company either lived ashore in their own rented accommodation or were at home with parents or married and lived in their own homes or Navy provided housing. Off we went winding our way through the familiar red brick houses on to the freeway and back over the bridge this time being higher I was able to glimpse the harbour. It was a picture postcard with peak hour activity on the blue water with white churned water following all forms of water craft. It was not long before we slowed to turn left into Grosvenor Street a relatively short steep street running down to arguably the busiest street in Sydney, George Street. We alighted on to the wide asphalt foot path with my, by this time, unloved burden of yellow peril.

Royal Naval House Grosvenor Street, circa 1970. Image by Tim Collis-Bird, Sydney Harbour Foreshore Authority

I stood there looking at my new home of dirty grey concrete, it was quite old, five floors high, from what I could see, with perhaps three little balconies on each floor out over the footpath. I grabbed my bag and went up the three large concrete steps in through the rather narrow entrance of heavy, green wooden doors. In front of me was a beautiful polished staircase sweeping to the right and the next level. To my left was the reception area. Again, the whole wall was polished wood with a little reception window and a glass windows either side. It looked old and worn.

Arriving at the window I was greeted by an old grey-haired man with glasses that made his eyes look like something out of a Boris Karloff movie. He looked much older than my old granddad who I considered to be a very old man. He mumbled ‘what can I do for you’ in an accent which I thought I recognised as something between Scottish and Irish at the same time dropping his false teeth and putting them back in place with a poke of his tongue. I soon learnt that a number of these very old gentlemen who looked very much like brothers, worked in shifts behind this window, 24 hours a day. Coping with drunks from all services and all countries looking for a cheap accommodation it’s understandable that they all looked grey and old. He told me what floor I was on gave me a number which was my bunk and locker number and explained that a corresponding locker was provided on the lower floor.

It took me a while to work out his instructions. I was to supply my own locks which of course I did not have at that time. To the right of reception was a doorway which he explained led to the Cafeteria on the ground floor. With all this knowledge, off I went up to the first floor out onto a wide walkway with a railed fence surrounding an atrium, the two floors above were of the same design. Looking down over the railing to the sunken area below were tables, chairs and umbrellas advertising various types of rum. A number of people were sitting at tables and a few on stools at a bar. This I was soon to learn was the notorious “Snake Pit” one of the roughest bars in Sydney. The source of loud music below, I later discovered was a pretty good but well used and loud juke box. It blared away all day and a lot of the night and I am sure played the same four or five songs repeatedly.

I walked into a large dormitory area of bunks which was to be my accommodation for quite some time. Being a person that considered a good night’s sleep to be essential and finding my allocated bunk was right at the entrance to the dormitory and close to the Snake Pit, action was required. Reviewing the alternatives, I picked a top bunk next to a window with the bottom bunk not in use and proceed down to see the old man with coke bottle glasses I had met earlier. I put my case. It was then that I had the first of many conflicts with these old gentlemen. Regardless of the matter, negotiations were always difficult. We eventually came to an agreement that the bunk I picked would be allocated. It turned out to be a good choice, apart from the “Gold Fields” sign that flashed off and on all night from on top of a large building down at Circular Quay. My window did not have a blind so I wore it. It was a little quieter and away from the entry point for the lads returning after a good night out. For the whole time I was there I did not have anyone within close proximity, maybe the old fellow looked after me after all.

After claiming my little bit of Johnnies, I went down to the dungeon to find the allocated locker. The room was basic, small and nothing more than lockers about six feet tall. As very few lockers had locks on them I came to the conclusion that the area was not well used. At least the lockers were twice the size of those in the dormitory. However, both were quite useless as they were designed for hanging clothes, no shelves at all. I invented shelves out of shoe boxes with the fronts cut out and stacked on top of each other. Anything that needed hanging went to the dungeon although I did fit a couple of shoe box’s there as well.

On the lower level I discovered a small TV lounge. It had a big TV black and white (it was before colour TV) and big black arm chairs which were really quite comfortable. I did end up spending quite a bit of time in this room during my time at Johnnies. From memory, it was adjacent to the “Pit” as I came to know it. It did not have windows and was very quiet.

On my return I stopped off at the Pit and had a drink. No mention of my age. I had never had a problem with this as I had been six feet five from age fifteen. I enjoyed my first drink in my new home. The Pit was a bit knocked around. The tables and chairs had seen better days, the floor was covered with ceramic tiles and the bar was regulation pub. All the umbrellas were old and a bit mouldy, from above they looked okay but underneath not so. By this time my stomach was growling so I went upstairs to look at the cafeteria, past the old fellows, onto the atrium decking across to the other side, turned right then left into what would be my place of piscatorial pleasure every day for the time Johnnies was home. It was nothing fancy, like an old-style cafe with booths to seat 4 or 6 at a squeeze around an off-white Laminex table. The seats were hard varnished wood. The kitchen at the rear was quite open except for a divider about 4.5 feet tall. You could see a lot activity and steam. The whole building experienced cooking smells regularly, some that made you feel hungry and some that compelled you to eat down at the Quay.

Overall, Johnnies provided a good introduction to Sydney. Everything was close, trains, buses, ferry’s really you could walk to everything. As a place to live it was nothing like being in the Navy. We did not have rounds we did not have to clean anything, our beds, showers toilets and floors were all looked after. The food was generally good. It was amazing how often T-bone steaks were on the menu, bacon and eggs every morning all cooked by a team under the control of an Irish man who was known as “Paddie”. He always seemed to be happy. I don’t recall ever seeing an officer or senior sailor in uniform at any time.

We had a very good pool room next to our dormitory, two full sized tables for the exclusive use of Waterhen personnel. We all spent a lot of time sinking the balls.

Many experiences and events that added to my early Naval education occurred at Grosvenor Street. These included the following.

The flying Birdie

Whilst playing pool one evening we heard a lot of yelling. As this was a regular occurrence we thought another fight was going on in the Pit but on piling out onto the landing we discovered the noise was coming from the floor above. A man was balancing on the barrier looking into the Pit three floors below. Other people were grabbing at him, some laughing, others swearing or calling him back. All it seemed had a little too much of the amber fluid. Next thing the fellow jumped and performed a perfect swallow dive into the pit. All looked over the rail and followed him down. I know my legs went wobbly as I am sure did everyone who witnessed this event. I thought I was witnessing a death first hand. However, this fellow landed on an umbrella then a table and finally the tiled floor. He was moaning and groaning but was still very much alive. An ambulance soon came and took him away. I later learnt that he was on weekend leave from Air Force and had broken a shoulder and some ribs. A very lucky boy.

The Snake Pit

The Pit was not only used by Army, Navy and Air Force personnel, it was also used by some of Sydney’s less savoury characters. Although not a regular user of the Pit being more of a social drinker I did, from time to time have a night out and learnt about some of these characters. Those that come to mind were “The Beast”, a regular bar fly from another dive near Garden Island known as the Macquarie Hilton or as all sailors knew it, “Rockers”. This big lady with more muscles and tattoos than a seasoned old salt was renowned for grabbing young sailors by the scruff of the neck and claiming them for the night.

There was also had a couple of ladies known as “Granny and Vivienne”. Every time I saw them, Granny had bandages wrapped around her wrists. They may have been mother and daughter. Then there was Rachael and Rosa, two gay fellows who always sat on stools with their legs crossed. I once met them in the Brooklyn Hotel next door and had my bum pinched.

Next, was a big lady known as “Big Lou.” who worked at the stores complex at Randwick, she really had a thing for sailors. I regularly spoke to her by phone from Waterhen on work related matters. She was helpful and seemed very good at her job. I was fortunate to never meet her in person. Another lady was known as the “Sausage Machine,” her normal haunt was Rockers however she was also a regular at Johnnies.

The last that I can remember was a little dumpy fellow with thick glasses known as “Lenny the Loop”, almost a piece of naval folklore at this time. I have no idea the reason why he had this nick name. There were no doubt other ladies and gentlemen of note but these are the ones I recall.

HMAS Albatross Patrol

At one point during my stay at Johnnies uniformed personnel were posted at the entrance on weekends. They consisted of one Petty Officer and a couple of able seaman from HMAS Albatross. I am not sure what hours they kept or why this duty was required. They basically stood on the front steps and footpath in uniform, white gaiters and white belt. They did not seem to have a real purpose apart from a presence that maybe acted as a deterrent. Perhaps some trouble had occurred that I was unaware of, and the old gentlemen had requested security assistance.

Johnnies was a pretty rough place and fights were a regular occurrence. Many times, the police were called as they would be seen around the front entrance and at times in the Pit. However, I never witnessed anyone being taken away. The Albatross sailor’s presence continued for a few weekends only and stopped as quick as it started.

Cafeteria and Rum Session

The cafeteria was always busy on weekends with sailors, soldiers and airmen making use of the facility. Bunks in the transit dormitory above ours were available for visitors. Females were also catered for with a number of one bed cabins. The cost of a bed was about $1.25 a day and meals in the cafeteria were normally under a dollar. It was really a cheap way of spending a weekend in the city.

Every Friday night the cafeteria put on a rum session where any service person could indulge in the black elixir provided at a dirt-cheap price. I suppose being the Royal Naval House, rum was a tradition. I can certainly attest to its power. On the occasions when I did attend this cheap night out, I did not rise for breakfast and had trouble stirring for lunch. At least I was not far from my bunk.

The Phantom bed wetter

At one time we had a phantom bed wetter. This particular person was an out and out alcoholic. Every night he would pile off the bus with the rest of us straight to the Pit where he stayed until closing time, stagger upstairs and prostrate himself on a bunk, any bunk. Early in the morning he would get up shower dress go down to breakfast. Each night he would follow the same routine with the exception of falling down on a different bunk. The rest I leave to your imagination. Needless to say, following an investigation the culprit was removed to HMAS Penguin.

Weekend Getaways

From time to time we fellows liked to get away from Johnnies for a weekend. As none of us had sleeping bags or any form of camping gear we ‘borrowed’ bedding from Johnnies. Walking out with a handful of blankets etc was a bit risky, the old fellows would go off the planet if they caught us. The alternative plan devised involved parking my car in Milson lane directly under my 2^nd floor window. Pillows and blankets could be dropped straight into the boot. Blankets however went all over the place as they fell. Over a period of time that bedding travelled to Palm Beach, The Entrance, Gosford, Wyong and the Blue Mountains. These weekends were great fun and a real break from Johnnies.

The Commonwealth Bank Agency

The reception desk was also a Commonwealth Bank agency. I know of no other place that had a bank agency open 24 hour a day. As many will recall, in the days of bank books prior to plastic cards and ATMs, if you missed the bank on a Friday there was no money for the weekend. Although the old men behind the desk were very conscientious and took forever to adjust the balance in a pass book to ensure no mistake was made, they provided an excellent service. Although Johnnies was close to everything the convenience of having a bank available any time we wanted was invaluable.

Johnnies Location in Sydney

For a young fellow not having been to sea and experiencing no other naval establishment other than Cerberus, HMAS Waterhen really was a posting that forced a naive country boy of 17-18 to grow up very quickly. The meals were good, we did not have to make our bunk or change our sheets. Everything was done for us. We came and went as we pleased, no short leave cards, no uniforms apart from when we were at work and no senior sailors or officers. It was very un-Navy like. I learnt to drink at Johnnies, taught by many seasoned, purple-nosed old salts who also taught me the pitfalls and good times to be had in the Far East, “up top” as all who had been there termed it. I was introduced to The Brooklyn Hotel where I met many of Sydney’s less salubrious characters. The Pit had a back door which led to a back door of the Brooklyn. This allowed a flow of all types back and forth.

The position in Grosvenor Street, Sydney would have to have been hard to beat for any tourist let alone a sailor. A ten-minute walk from Circular Quay, Wynyard Station and short bus ride to Kings Cross. Every shop bank pub, cafe you could imagine was within an easy walk. To my knowledge, Johnnies was the accommodation for HMAS Waterhen personnel for a period of about 2 years, most of that two years I was a resident.

The names of fellow sailors I remember from Johnnies include;

Jack Spratt ABSAV

Barry Liegh ABSAV

Alan Naughton ABME

Pete Geoghan ABME

Doc Soley POSAV

Geoff Chilman ABSAN

Dennis Booth ABSAN

Those who served with me at HMAS Waterhen include:

Sid Hinkley CPOSAV

Soapy Hudsen CPOSAV

Bluey Ashton POSAV

Wendell Howe LSAV

Ron Sheay ABSAV

Danny Ballock ABSAN