- Home
- HMS Devonshire
- HMS Devonshire 1964- 66 Commission
HMS Devonshire 1964- 66 Commission
- By Robby G
- Published 05/6/2008
- HMS Devonshire
- Unrated
Marine Engineering Department
After the refit in the autumn of 1964, the new year commenced with the trials period which is inherently a difficult and frustrating time for the engineering department of any ship and we were no exception. We were required to learn and understand strange new terms like “pecker motor”, “T max.”“integral action”, “carboblast”, and “servo-manual” in order to operate this complicated G.M.D. machinery. Naturally we
made mistakes, other people’s compartments became converted into fresh water tanks over night, water found its way inexplicably into fuel tanks, machines mysteriously tripped, and there was invariably a cloud somewhere. However, we learnt by our mistakes, and survived without too many tears through the Portland breakdown drills which were immense practical value to us, and the Staff.
On the day we should have sailed for the Far East, one of the main circulators disgraced itself and we were late sailing; rumours of bribery by Portsmouth natives were in fact groundless. The passage out was uneventful apart from some anxious moments over miscalculations of m.p.g. as we approached Aden.
Life for the Engineering Department whilst the Ship was in the Ear East had to follow the principle of “work hard, play hard”. Much hard work and overtime was put into maintenance periods to ensure that we were always ready to “Obey Telegraphs” as and when required. Boilers had to be cleaned, evaporator elements had to be changed, leaky head exchangers had to be plugged, thermal units required cleaning, and there was the perpetual requirement to maintain the hotel services of air- conditioning, fresh water, ventilation, and electric power. We rarely seemed to have enough time or enough people, but, to everyone’s credit we have always (well, nearly always) managed to keep it all functioning.
Our efforts were often hampered by factors beyond our control, and many of our mysterious clouds are probably attributable to dissolved bodies which had been fed to the sharks in the main feed tanks by Guts Ostler or Spanner Hale. We have proved beyond doubt that all the polythene bags in the world have a compulsive urge to migrate to Hong
Kong where they breed profusely. Typhoons invariably seemed imminent just after we had entered harbour, shut-down, and started our maintenance.
We have learnt many interesting facts about a G.M.I).’s engineering character too, it takes two to tango on a run-away spill valve, Radio visors are not transistorised crash-helmets, You can drink beer in the bar at the top of Hong Kong Peak Railway and still be deafened by the Ruston. You will get an instant sun-tan if you take the cap off of the Huntress radiator when the engine is hot. We have also learnt that a G.M.D. drinks 50-60 tons of fresh water per day and that it is essential to have a ‘Fresh Water Fred” to tune the evaporators, and an expert team of water-babies to steam them. The P.O.M.(E)s learnt how to achieve good results in the machinery spaces when using Chinese contract labour, probably because many of
the employees were female.
Work has not limited our sporting prowess, and we were fortunate to have Bob Boardman as the ME’s Sports Representative; and whilst the Ship’s soccer team always played conventional local military opponents the ME’s invariably organised matches against local universities and suchlike, who usually proved themselves excellent hosts. Basketball was so keenly played that one ME’s team landed in Singapore and failed to return in time to sail for Australia. Bob Bruce established himself as a boxing champion, and the Engineer Officers distinguished themselves as useless deck-hockey players, having been soundly beaten each time we went to sea by the C.E.R.A.’s.
All in all, despite technical difficulties, overtime, approximately 250,000 manhours spent watch-keeping and no sugar for the “Limers”, the commission has been a unique and memorable experience.
Guts Ostler
The battle between these two started in the Naval Stores Office and roamed all over the ship—each thrilling episode that appeared in “The Buzz” held us spell bound. Below is one such episode.
The story so far—Guts Ostler, evil cabbage-smelling leader of the Black Gang is dragging lightly bronzed, highly polished, glamorous, Mike Spanner towards what looks like certain death in the chip machine.
Can Jasmine and Fine Old Horsehoof Polish-smelling Mike Spanner escape from the grips of Ancient monument Guts Ostler? Will the brutal murder of Double-o-Bese Bond be avenged? Read on:—
The chips were down, it looked as if I’d had it. Guts stopped sawing
my foot off and turned his bland oriental face on me. “You’re finished”, he said. “A little co-operation on your part now will save me a great deal of trouble. Now if you will kindly get up and throw yourself in the chip machine you will save me the bother of writing the next episode.” I attempted to rise but it was no good. “I’ve had it, Guts. You finished me when you sawed my foot off,” I grated. With a snarl Guts leapt over, I saw my chance and took it. Into Guts’ throbbing stomach I delivered
the most deadly of all Karate chops, “The Five Fingered Spread”. Without waiting to see the results of this strategy I hurled myself into a corner of the Galley and hid myself in a pile of disused catskins.
The pain hit me. I slept. I awoke many hours later to the strains of the Hallelujah Chorus. Outside the milling swarms of happy, smiling, singing Middle Watchmen were making their way back to their stations. With an effort I m.anaged to call one of the smiling simpletons over. In his broken pidgin English he explained that he would get his local practitioner to see me. Four hours later two shadowy figures appeared leading a third. The third man I knew must be the Doctor by the straight jacket he was wearing. His bearded face lit up in a snarl. He flung two codeines at me and then the strange trio disappeared into the mist. Nastily I ate the two pills, within two minutes a new foot had grown. Now I was ready for Guts.
Without thought I made my way to the Wardroom where I secreted
myself on a shelf fullafAerosol Artificial Sweat sprays. Within the hour
Guts Ostler entered, slowl3’ I raised my Seaslug Launcher and drew a
bead on the bald spot on the back of his head . .
Mike Spanner
After the refit in the autumn of 1964, the new year commenced with the trials period which is inherently a difficult and frustrating time for the engineering department of any ship and we were no exception. We were required to learn and understand strange new terms like “pecker motor”, “T max.”“integral action”, “carboblast”, and “servo-manual” in order to operate this complicated G.M.D. machinery. Naturally we
made mistakes, other people’s compartments became converted into fresh water tanks over night, water found its way inexplicably into fuel tanks, machines mysteriously tripped, and there was invariably a cloud somewhere. However, we learnt by our mistakes, and survived without too many tears through the Portland breakdown drills which were immense practical value to us, and the Staff.
On the day we should have sailed for the Far East, one of the main circulators disgraced itself and we were late sailing; rumours of bribery by Portsmouth natives were in fact groundless. The passage out was uneventful apart from some anxious moments over miscalculations of m.p.g. as we approached Aden.
Life for the Engineering Department whilst the Ship was in the Ear East had to follow the principle of “work hard, play hard”. Much hard work and overtime was put into maintenance periods to ensure that we were always ready to “Obey Telegraphs” as and when required. Boilers had to be cleaned, evaporator elements had to be changed, leaky head exchangers had to be plugged, thermal units required cleaning, and there was the perpetual requirement to maintain the hotel services of air- conditioning, fresh water, ventilation, and electric power. We rarely seemed to have enough time or enough people, but, to everyone’s credit we have always (well, nearly always) managed to keep it all functioning.
Our efforts were often hampered by factors beyond our control, and many of our mysterious clouds are probably attributable to dissolved bodies which had been fed to the sharks in the main feed tanks by Guts Ostler or Spanner Hale. We have proved beyond doubt that all the polythene bags in the world have a compulsive urge to migrate to Hong
Kong where they breed profusely. Typhoons invariably seemed imminent just after we had entered harbour, shut-down, and started our maintenance.
We have learnt many interesting facts about a G.M.I).’s engineering character too, it takes two to tango on a run-away spill valve, Radio visors are not transistorised crash-helmets, You can drink beer in the bar at the top of Hong Kong Peak Railway and still be deafened by the Ruston. You will get an instant sun-tan if you take the cap off of the Huntress radiator when the engine is hot. We have also learnt that a G.M.D. drinks 50-60 tons of fresh water per day and that it is essential to have a ‘Fresh Water Fred” to tune the evaporators, and an expert team of water-babies to steam them. The P.O.M.(E)s learnt how to achieve good results in the machinery spaces when using Chinese contract labour, probably because many of
Work has not limited our sporting prowess, and we were fortunate to have Bob Boardman as the ME’s Sports Representative; and whilst the Ship’s soccer team always played conventional local military opponents the ME’s invariably organised matches against local universities and suchlike, who usually proved themselves excellent hosts. Basketball was so keenly played that one ME’s team landed in Singapore and failed to return in time to sail for Australia. Bob Bruce established himself as a boxing champion, and the Engineer Officers distinguished themselves as useless deck-hockey players, having been soundly beaten each time we went to sea by the C.E.R.A.’s.
All in all, despite technical difficulties, overtime, approximately 250,000 manhours spent watch-keeping and no sugar for the “Limers”, the commission has been a unique and memorable experience.
Guts Ostler
The battle between these two started in the Naval Stores Office and roamed all over the ship—each thrilling episode that appeared in “The Buzz” held us spell bound. Below is one such episode.
The story so far—Guts Ostler, evil cabbage-smelling leader of the Black Gang is dragging lightly bronzed, highly polished, glamorous, Mike Spanner towards what looks like certain death in the chip machine.
Can Jasmine and Fine Old Horsehoof Polish-smelling Mike Spanner escape from the grips of Ancient monument Guts Ostler? Will the brutal murder of Double-o-Bese Bond be avenged? Read on:—
The chips were down, it looked as if I’d had it. Guts stopped sawing
my foot off and turned his bland oriental face on me. “You’re finished”, he said. “A little co-operation on your part now will save me a great deal of trouble. Now if you will kindly get up and throw yourself in the chip machine you will save me the bother of writing the next episode.” I attempted to rise but it was no good. “I’ve had it, Guts. You finished me when you sawed my foot off,” I grated. With a snarl Guts leapt over, I saw my chance and took it. Into Guts’ throbbing stomach I delivered
the most deadly of all Karate chops, “The Five Fingered Spread”. Without waiting to see the results of this strategy I hurled myself into a corner of the Galley and hid myself in a pile of disused catskins.
The pain hit me. I slept. I awoke many hours later to the strains of the Hallelujah Chorus. Outside the milling swarms of happy, smiling, singing Middle Watchmen were making their way back to their stations. With an effort I m.anaged to call one of the smiling simpletons over. In his broken pidgin English he explained that he would get his local practitioner to see me. Four hours later two shadowy figures appeared leading a third. The third man I knew must be the Doctor by the straight jacket he was wearing. His bearded face lit up in a snarl. He flung two codeines at me and then the strange trio disappeared into the mist. Nastily I ate the two pills, within two minutes a new foot had grown. Now I was ready for Guts.
Without thought I made my way to the Wardroom where I secreted
myself on a shelf fullafAerosol Artificial Sweat sprays. Within the hour
Guts Ostler entered, slowl3’ I raised my Seaslug Launcher and drew a
bead on the bald spot on the back of his head . .
Mike Spanner