Thread: Navy History- A little warrie and some very salty 15 &16 year old Gents- 35 years on

Originally Posted by bob10

Yes, the Frisco, Bells, Buncha's, I see a pattern here. Not to mention the SCG, standing on eskies full of beer to watch the footy. My future wife was a student at the Catholic girls school next door to Johnnies, whilst my mates and I partook of the rum session. Unknown to both of us, of course. To balance the ledger, Dempster cup rugby, at Rushcutters Bay, sailing out of Rushcutters bay, up to goat island for the weekend. Lots of memories.

Dont forget the Bogna .

Originally Posted by Fatso

Dont forget the Bogna .

How could I forget the Bognor.

A bit of HMAS Vampire trivia for you.

Back in the day when I was a lad and a very junior PMG telecommunications technician working in a major Melbourne telephone exchange I had a request from an 'associate' if I knew anything about ATM uniselectors, an antique piece of telephone switching equipment (pre war) even then. This would have been around 1975ish. These were used in a very 'steam age' but very reliable 20 line PABX telephone system used on board. I think they were referred to as 'voice powered' phones or something similar but were actually nothing of the sort.

As luck would have it the original exchange fit out where I worked used these when 'cut over' in 1939 though long gone from use. Amazingly there were still brand new units including the assembly jigs and specs in the back of the store and the boss said "help yourself". So at the end of the day I brushed up on the antique uniselectors and made up some units to fit the application, two sets actually as I had parts galore.

The Vampire berthed in Melbourne shortly after and a navy car came and picked me up from the exchange and took me down to (probably) Station Pier, it was on a Saturday and there was an open day sort of thing going on.

The funny part though was fitting the parts. My contact was a young Lieutenant who I guess was the comms officer who took me into the bowels of the ship to this cramped little compartment with a 1/2" thick steel box mounted on the wall that I don't reckon had been opened since it was built, probably in the '40's. This box could have withstood an atomic bomb blast and was bolted together like a pressure vessel. When opened a cloud of brass filings from worn contacts wafted out. I was amazed that such a unit was still operational. It took longer to clean the brass filings up than it did to fit the new parts and unless the Vampire's been gutted (it looked a bit high in the water to my untrained eye when I was in Sydney a couple of years ago) I reckon it will still be there.

My main impression of the ship was that it was an absolute rabbit warren and ponder the Voyager and how difficult it would have been to exit especially under adverse conditions. Quite sobering.

At the end of the day and a successful rebuild I was given the hospitality of the wardroom and personally thanked by the Captain, which was a pretty big deal for a lowly junior telephone technician feeling very much like a fish out of water though I was made to feel very comfortable by all concerned.

I was 'poured' out of the ship several hours later and duly driven home by the same driver who'd been waiting all this time. It all made me feel quite special.

Deano

Originally Posted by bob10

sailed

I always go on a walk down memory lane, if I can get a leave pass. Trouble is, The Rockers is a yuppie pub [ They don't even raffle prostitutes on paydays any more.] The Brooklyn doesn't exist [ or I couldn't find it] I'm afraid the Sydney of my youth has grown up. Still a beautiful place, around the harbour. I make a point of walking past where Johnnies used to be, one day I was deep in thought standing in the doorway, a smile on my face from some of the memories, when an old dear came up asked me If I was alright. Still there is the Manly ferry, the trip to Manly is worth the trip to Sydney, I see North Head, and remember when we sailed away, my Wife used to go to North Head with the kids, to wave. [ We lived at Manly] It was a bit of a tradition, I'd go to the flying bridge , each time we sailed. And watch until I couldn't see them. Same coming home after a deployment. [ Unless I was on watch, or SSD. ]

Anyway, enough of that. I remember once when ammunitioning on Vampire at some small island right up the harbour, they had a museum in a building there, chock full of relics. This museum at Garden Island sounds good, definitely worth a look. I also try to get to the Naval Chapel, for some quiet reflection. Getting on the grog in the Rocks is not what it used to be. Jolly Jack can't get jolly any more. I normally give a mate a ring, and we do a pub crawl [ a very small one] large groups at the Rocks are scrutinised closely, one or two people blend in.

Still, a walk down memory lane down there just reinforces why we live where we live.

The Brooklyn went probably 20 years ago. Most of the George Street pubs are now high rise offices, converted into professional chambers, or restaurants/bistros. Land values beat them. In to 60's and 70's it was a popular pastime amongst young knockabouts to do a pub crawl up George St. from the Harbour View having a middy in every pub on the way. The holy grail being the Great Southern almost at Railway Square. I got to the Tatler once but was not in good shape by then. A mate who was a walking beer tank got to the Town Hall but he had a schooner in every pub, not a middy. A mighty effort. He told me he got to the Town Hall, bought a schooner and couldn't finish it so went out onto Park St. to hail a cab, had leg trouble and sat down on the kerb and was having a little sleep when two nice policemen offered him over night accommodation at Darlinghurst. A Methodist minister could do a pub crawl up George St. nowadays.

The Rockers have not had live raffles for decades. The Fortune of Wars is now a flash bistro not a sailor's and poofter's pub. How could one forget the Bognor. The tables and chairs bolted to the floor. I remember the min-buses from the Tilbury and Frisco that waited at the GI gate to take GI workers to lunch at the pubs. What a tasty lot of pubs in the 'Loo then. Tilbury. Frisco. Rockers, Bells, the Lord Roberts with its interesting mixed clientele of sailors, prostitutes, poofs, local slum dwellers ruled with an iron hand by big Dawn and Bricky. The Montgomery at Pyrmont which is just about the roughest pub I have ever been in. Prostitutes banging merchant seamen up against the wall in the passage between the public bar and the Gent's toilets. Most of the small family run corner pubs in the Loo, East Sydney, Darlo, Surry Hills, Redfern have gone. You could almost get drunk on the beer fumes in King St. Newtown there were so many pubs there. Alas, no more. All ethic restaurants now. Even the Erko has been gentrified.

Originally Posted by Bigbjorn

The Brooklyn went probably 20 years ago. Most of the George Street pubs are now high rise offices, converted into professional chambers, or restaurants/bistros. Land values beat them. In to 60's and 70's it was a popular pastime amongst young knockabouts to do a pub crawl up George St. from the Harbour View having a middy in every pub on the way. The holy grail being the Great Southern almost at Railway Square. I got to the Tatler once but was not in good shape by then. A mate who was a walking beer tank got to the Town Hall but he had a schooner in every pub, not a middy. A mighty effort. He told me he got to the Town Hall, bought a schooner and couldn't finish it so went out onto Park St. to hail a cab, had leg trouble and sat down on the kerb and was having a little sleep when two nice policemen offered him over night accommodation at Darlinghurst. A Methodist minister could do a pub crawl up George St. nowadays.

The Rockers have not had live raffles for decades. The Fortune of Wars is now a flash bistro not a sailor's and poofter's pub. How could one forget the Bognor. The tables and chairs bolted to the floor. I remember the min-buses from the Tilbury and Frisco that waited at the GI gate to take GI workers to lunch at the pubs. What a tasty lot of pubs in the 'Loo then. Tilbury. Frisco. Rockers, Bells, the Lord Roberts with its interesting mixed clientele of sailors, prostitutes, poofs, local slum dwellers ruled with an iron hand by big Dawn and Bricky. The Montgomery at Pyrmont which is just about the roughest pub I have ever been in. Prostitutes banging merchant seamen up against the wall in the passage between the public bar and the Gent's toilets. Most of the small family run corner pubs in the Loo, East Sydney, Darlo, Surry Hills, Redfern have gone. You could almost get drunk on the beer fumes in King St. Newtown there were so many pubs there. Alas, no more. All ethic restaurants now. Even the Erko has been gentrified.

I remember the Hilton, Sunday session, off pay week. It was well known if you grabbed an OD or two, made your way to the bar, there were always characters like Jim the Barrister, Lenny the loop, willing to pay for all drinks, hoping to have a new conquest. The trick was to extricate said OD's and yourselves before it got out of hand. All good fun. The blue rinse set that watched the ABC TV would have been horrified to see the goings on of some high profile ABC actors, quite the education. But hey, a free day out, and the stokers mess stuck together, looked after each other. occasionally you had to fight your way out, but not often. Another memory from the Hilton. The day started out normal enough, a few of us went to the Rockers after work on a Friday, the ship sailing for the far East on Monday. Broke up into little groups, each going its own way, pub crawling through Sydney. As happens , we all caught up in a bar in the Cross, somewhat worse for wear, and decided to go back on board together, safety in numbers. Approaching the Hilton, we could see an almighty commotion.

One of our stokers, nickname MAMMAL, was busy throwing motorbikes into the street, with a crowd of bikers and police looking on. Now mammal was of limited intelligence, Greek extraction, strong as an OX with size to match. He was the go to man if you needed something heavy lifted on board. He presented a fearsome sight, wild beard speckled with spit, growling something in Greek. We settled in on the other side of the road. This was better than the movies. We had with us a grizzled old 3 badge stoker P. O. who casually walked up to the Police SGT. had a quiet chat, then walked over to Mammal, another quiet chat, whereby mammal meekly walked over to the Sgt and accepted his fate. The Sgt led mammal away like a little lamb, to the watch house. The looks on the faces of the onlookers was priceless. We all agreed it was a perfect end to a run ashore. Great theatre. Turns out the Sgt and PO stoker were old adversaries, from years back, who had become friends, as they progressed up the ranks of their professions, PO stoker said there was a room in the watch house with his name on it. [ he had been a bit of a lad, until marriage and age slowed him down ] PO said he told mammal if he didn't go quietly with his SGT friend, PO would make sure he had no leave at all on the coming Far East Trip. Many a beer issue at the dusties bus stop on the Stbd side was enlivened by asking mammal " hey, mammal, tell us about that night at the Hilton. "

Yes, the Quarterdeck Bar at the Chevron Hilton. Lenny the Loop who described himself as the poorest poofter in Sydney. He did it for love, not money. Gordon Chater, a terribly nice bloke. Head barmaid was Big Dawn and cellar man was her husband Bricky. The pair later took on the licence at the Lord Roberts in East Sydney. Dawn's rule was that the pros could only come down into the bar area to buy drinks and not to tout for trade. They could do that at the tables and chairs area at the top of the stairs. Dawn was a retired pro and with the zeal of the converted she chased "you two bob molls" out of her bar.

Loop regaled us with the story of a sailor from a destroyer who gave Loop a dose. He said he returned the favour by sending it back to the navy on board Melbourne.

Then there was Mrs. Harry at the Cafe de Wheels. All levels of Sydney society met at Harry's for late night pie and goffa.

Originally Posted by DeanoH

My main impression of the ship was that it was an absolute rabbit warren and ponder the Voyager and how difficult it would have been to exit especially under adverse conditions. Quite sobering.



Deano

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.

Thanks bob, another great read.

The advice given to your Voyager mate ( re torch) could stand us all in good stead.

They are so small & inexpensive these days & so bright & batteries so long lived, there is no excuse not to carry one at night & just about every garment has a multitude of pockets.

Case in point for me was, we went into the CBD here at night, & as we parked up the bloody power in the area went out (for a couple of hours, as it happened.) Power Utility was making an after hours big re-connection down the road it seems.

For some unknown reason I had grabbed a small LED torch as I went out the back door. Why? Dunno, not the sort of thing I would normally have done. Of course, out came the torch & in the darkness of the little laneways & streets found our way to my Granddaughter's birthday dinner at a restaurant.

Fortunately the torch was of the type where the lens end could be unscrewed, stood on it's end & used as a candle so that lit the table until the juice was restored. Job done.

Now when out at night I always grab a torch. Can't rely on the Power Co to get the service restored in quick time.




Re Listening for abnormal noises etc. Yep I concur. Did it a lot in my previous life as a Fridgie & saved a fair bit of plant from a terminal life.