
Originally Posted by
bob10
I joined the Vampire at the end of 1968. We had a couple of Voyager men on board. One ended up a good mate of mine. Didn't talk much about the Voyager, but he and his mates had a mantra " always carry a torch, and KNOW YOUR SHIP " It was drummed into us, even to the extent of finding our way blindfolded from the mess deck to the upper deck. Turns my mate was asleep in the stokers mess aft [3Q from memory] when the Melbourne hit, thrown out of bed, with no lights, he used his torch to neatly fold and replace his kit back into his locker after the clothing had been thrown out ,until told by the mess deck kellick " get out you dopey bastard, we're sinking".
Some more trivia. My first ship. Up top, learning the ropes. I think my job was Tels and Temps, or 3rd hand, can't remember. My job was to do a set of rounds on all outside spaces, check oil levels and temperatures. My first set of rounds, at night, making my way to the port Plummer block [ the structure that carries the weight of the shaft on a bearing, just before the stern glands.] I topped up the oil as much as I could, leaving the can empty. Now it was good practice to have two oil cans [ large containers] when one empties, fill it up, then you have at least one full for emergencies. I made my way to B engine to top up the can, when we suddenly got the order " Full ahead " . Turns out Melbourne had hit Evans, and cut her in two. We were part of the force playing the enemy, some distance away. I made my way back to the Plummer block, and to my horror, noticed the Temperature had skyrocketed. It was not far off melting point. [ the bearing was splash lubricated from an oil sump, via a ring around the shaft. The extra speed had emptied the sump, and it was the oil that not only provided lubrication, but cooling.
The Plummer block was in the bottom of the ship, at its lowest point. Access was thru a hatch on 1 deck, iron deck level. A long way. I flew to B engine in a mild panic, filled up the oil tin, flew back, filled up the sump, and heart beating like a drum , watched as the temp. dropped, painfully slowly. I put my ear to the block, to see if there were any unusual noises, a patient in intensive care would have had the attention I paid that Plummer block. I could see my career ending before it started. After it settled down, I made my way to B engine room, where the ERA2 pulled me aside, and quietly said " lesson learned? " You bet Chief.
There is a postscript. At the end of the watch, ERA2 said to me, grab us a coffee each, meet me on the quarterdeck. Sitting there, at full speed , with the noise and the vibration, it was easy to think the ship was a living thing. Then he gave me the best advice I think I ever had. He said " Most people think a ship is just a lifeless steel shell, full of machinery. It's not. That machinery talks to you. Every time you do a set of rounds , engine room or boiler room, listen. Place your ear against the machine and listen. When you are in charge of your own boiler room or engine room, be attuned to the sound. Any change in pitch , or a strange noise, investigate. Learn to be one with the machinery. " It was at this point I thought he had been too long at sea. But he was right. It was my first step towards becoming an ERA.
At days light we joined the search for bits and pieces in the water from EVANS, but that is another story.
Bookmarks