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- HMS Devonshire 1964- 66 Commission
HMS Devonshire 1964- 66 Commission
- By Robby G
- Published 05/6/2008
- HMS Devonshire
- Unrated
The First Six Months
The Commission officially started in September, 1964. This marked the end of the trials of the First Commission (literally and metaphorically) and the beginning of the refit. During the following five months the Ship languished either in dry dock or in the basin while the “natives” combatted the problem of avoiding the dockyard rush and the inhabitants wrestled with the problems of shoreside heads and bathrooms, heat, cold, night spraying parties, etc., etc.
The first refit of a G.M.D. presented many unknown and unforeseen technical and logistic problems to both the Dockyard and Ship’s staff. The main task in hand was the removal and refitting of the gas turbines —involving the gutting of the Gas Turbine Room by the Dockyard and the manufacturers, and the removal of the bits through a hole cut in the deck where the starboard Seacat normally sits!
A new vocabulary was born; ERA’s wandered around the Ship muttering darkly about PIG and POG, SIG and SOG—all eventually explained by the identifying marks made on all the bits and pieces.
Machinery “laid apart” was placed in railway wagons on the jetty (these were shunted along various far-flung branch lines of the dockyard railway system—without our knowledge!).
Meanwhile P.C.T.’s went on with gay abandon. Hardly a week went by without a band of men, led by an extraordinarily large number of officers, disappearing for a while to CULDROSE or PORTLAND or PHOENIX, DRYAD or VERNON—anywhere to get a few day’s rest from the noise of windy hammers, to keep warm or to have a bath.
However, all this yearning for knowledge was to be of great benefit to us all later when we really got going.
This particular refit was officially classified as “a clean refit”—what this meant still remains a mystery. Admittedly it did all start with a merry team of men covering all the tiled decks with hardboard and the “wall-papered” bulkheads with polythene, but main feed pumps still managed to get up ended in the Canteen Flat emptying oil which seeped everywhere, and the portable H.P. air compressor on the Flight Deck never did get out of the habit of “walking about” disgorging oil and water at frequent intervals.
However, we managed. The domestic services were provided (on a limited scale), everybody got to know the Ship and what was their job (although not necessarily how to do it), the rum queue sorted itself out in the correct order of precedence, evil looking run-ashore teams were established and all the while the Ship’s Football team was earning itself a reputation and a following that remained for the rest of the commission. The last match of their glorious run in the Navy Cup saw three coach loads and innumerable car loads of spectators heading east to Deal. The team were defeated after a gallant fight but the supporters won their match easily.
Of course refits are times during which nests have to be feathered and every mess and department had hawk-eyed scavengers patrolling the dockyard looking for ships being placed on the disposal list. The Master- at-Arms prepared himself for a Far East Commission by having a new, larger regulating office constructed with a special observation window giving full coverage of the N.A.A.F.I. Canteen queue. From which Wardroom did the M.E.’s Mess Deck get their fridge, carpet and fireplace?
Extra-mural activities went on apace—outward bounders trekked over Dartmoor—a highly successful Ship’s Dance was held.
As the old year went and the weeks went by the chaos seemed to sort itself out and everything did finally appear to fit back in the right places, with only a few odd unaccountable pieces left over, so that by the end of February the Ship began to look something like her old self again. A coat of paint all over and we were ready!
March 1st, 1965
This was the day when, after a final walk round by the Admiral Superintendent, we eventually became acquainted with “procedure ALPHA”, slipped . . . and proceeded. The next few weeks were testing as we organised ourselves into a sea-going ship again.
Damage control exercises reared their ugly head, full power trials were successfully accomplished, we had a fire in the boiler room, the Butcher locked himself in the fridge, the after heads were blocked and we had our first water shortage—gradually, however, we got organised and we were soon off to the Moray Firth for heeling and alignment trials. During this period we made our first “foreign” visit—to Rosyth. Runs ashore were generally led by ex “tiffys” who introduced their less well informed chums to the delights of Edinburgh.
As a result of the trials we were informed that we now had an operational Seaslug system—things were moving and following a post-refit inspection by the Commander-in-Chief Portsmouth, Admiral Sir Wilfred Woods, DEVONSHIRE was declared “operational” on April 8th, 1965. This enabled us to proceed to Portland to introduce ourselves to Flag Officer Sea Training and his staff’, and to have a riot! The IS. platoon battled manfully with the uglièst looking mob we could muster, while the P.O.G.I. succeeded in getting himself blown up by a booby trap while demonstrating how to deal with them. Our visit was brief, however, and we returned to Portsmouth for the Easter Weekend.
We Fire the Beetles
Before getting down to the work-up (!) we made our way to Aberporth to carry out firings of both large and small missiles. These were highly successful (and expensive) until a damaged loader caused us to abandon the last shot and sail to Devonport for repairs. However, it was at Aberporth that the Seacat aimers came into their own and the expert advisers lining the Ship’s side were first heard—”down a bit, left a bit, up a bit Probably the most memorable sight that stays with us though was that of the Seaslug warhead round—a ball of fire, literally.
And so to Liverpool……..
.. . . for the Battle of the Atlantic anniversary ceremonies. We became the Flagship of Commander-in-Chief Plymouth, Admiral Sir Nigel Henderson, on arrival and our ceremonial guard were put through their paces while our platoon who marched through the streets on completion of the Cathedral Service did us proud. Liverpool will also be remembered for the fantastic reception given to the Liverpool Footlall Club team returning from Wembley—with the Cup. We had our first experience of being open to visitors (it is not true about the 992 Office!) and with plenty of entertainment later on in the way of dances, brewery runs and expeds. to Snowdon (!) we all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.
The Work-up
A brief stop was made at Devonport to pick up missiles before finally presenting ourselves at Portland to the tender mercies of “The Staff”.
Memories are dimmed of what went on during the following five or six weeks. We casexed and distexed, fired guns and missiles, replenished, towed and were towed, boarded and quelled boarders, we treated infiltrators with realistic severity, fought fires, dealt with 100 ft. gashes in the Ship’s side, received “Royalty”, and generally coped with the fiendish minds of the Staff Officers and Ratings—we even developed enough restraint to not ditch one or two during transfers at sea.
Time passed quickly—we were so busy—and it didn’t seem so long before we went to Torquay for Whitsun to rest just before the sea inspection. At last the great day dawned and for ten hours we were subjected to every possible permutation and combination of disasters and exercises. Somehow we coped, and with relief we finally landed our tormentors and sailed for Portsmouth to give leave and carry out one or two minor adjustments.
Having all had a little leave we returned for Families’ Day and the delayed commissioning ceremony before a large gathering of Ship’s Company.
And so on Friday, 16th July, after the Commissioning Warrant had been read, the Ensign hoisted and the Commissioning Pendant broken, Captain Williams addressed us:
“Seeing that in the course of our duty we are set in the midst of many and great dangers and that we cannot be faithful to the high trust placed in us without the help of Almighty God, let us unite our prayers in seeking his blessing upon this ship and all who serve in her, that she may sail under God’s good providence and protection, and that there may never be lacking men well-qualified to offer in her their work and skill for his greater glory, and for the protection of our realm and dominions.”
The Commission officially started in September, 1964. This marked the end of the trials of the First Commission (literally and metaphorically) and the beginning of the refit. During the following five months the Ship languished either in dry dock or in the basin while the “natives” combatted the problem of avoiding the dockyard rush and the inhabitants wrestled with the problems of shoreside heads and bathrooms, heat, cold, night spraying parties, etc., etc.
The first refit of a G.M.D. presented many unknown and unforeseen technical and logistic problems to both the Dockyard and Ship’s staff. The main task in hand was the removal and refitting of the gas turbines —involving the gutting of the Gas Turbine Room by the Dockyard and the manufacturers, and the removal of the bits through a hole cut in the deck where the starboard Seacat normally sits!
A new vocabulary was born; ERA’s wandered around the Ship muttering darkly about PIG and POG, SIG and SOG—all eventually explained by the identifying marks made on all the bits and pieces.
Machinery “laid apart” was placed in railway wagons on the jetty (these were shunted along various far-flung branch lines of the dockyard railway system—without our knowledge!).
Meanwhile P.C.T.’s went on with gay abandon. Hardly a week went by without a band of men, led by an extraordinarily large number of officers, disappearing for a while to CULDROSE or PORTLAND or PHOENIX, DRYAD or VERNON—anywhere to get a few day’s rest from the noise of windy hammers, to keep warm or to have a bath.
However, all this yearning for knowledge was to be of great benefit to us all later when we really got going.
This particular refit was officially classified as “a clean refit”—what this meant still remains a mystery. Admittedly it did all start with a merry team of men covering all the tiled decks with hardboard and the “wall-papered” bulkheads with polythene, but main feed pumps still managed to get up ended in the Canteen Flat emptying oil which seeped everywhere, and the portable H.P. air compressor on the Flight Deck never did get out of the habit of “walking about” disgorging oil and water at frequent intervals.
However, we managed. The domestic services were provided (on a limited scale), everybody got to know the Ship and what was their job (although not necessarily how to do it), the rum queue sorted itself out in the correct order of precedence, evil looking run-ashore teams were established and all the while the Ship’s Football team was earning itself a reputation and a following that remained for the rest of the commission. The last match of their glorious run in the Navy Cup saw three coach loads and innumerable car loads of spectators heading east to Deal. The team were defeated after a gallant fight but the supporters won their match easily.
Of course refits are times during which nests have to be feathered and every mess and department had hawk-eyed scavengers patrolling the dockyard looking for ships being placed on the disposal list. The Master- at-Arms prepared himself for a Far East Commission by having a new, larger regulating office constructed with a special observation window giving full coverage of the N.A.A.F.I. Canteen queue. From which Wardroom did the M.E.’s Mess Deck get their fridge, carpet and fireplace?
Extra-mural activities went on apace—outward bounders trekked over Dartmoor—a highly successful Ship’s Dance was held.
As the old year went and the weeks went by the chaos seemed to sort itself out and everything did finally appear to fit back in the right places, with only a few odd unaccountable pieces left over, so that by the end of February the Ship began to look something like her old self again. A coat of paint all over and we were ready!
March 1st, 1965
This was the day when, after a final walk round by the Admiral Superintendent, we eventually became acquainted with “procedure ALPHA”, slipped . . . and proceeded. The next few weeks were testing as we organised ourselves into a sea-going ship again.
As a result of the trials we were informed that we now had an operational Seaslug system—things were moving and following a post-refit inspection by the Commander-in-Chief Portsmouth, Admiral Sir Wilfred Woods, DEVONSHIRE was declared “operational” on April 8th, 1965. This enabled us to proceed to Portland to introduce ourselves to Flag Officer Sea Training and his staff’, and to have a riot! The IS. platoon battled manfully with the uglièst looking mob we could muster, while the P.O.G.I. succeeded in getting himself blown up by a booby trap while demonstrating how to deal with them. Our visit was brief, however, and we returned to Portsmouth for the Easter Weekend.
We Fire the Beetles
Before getting down to the work-up (!) we made our way to Aberporth to carry out firings of both large and small missiles. These were highly successful (and expensive) until a damaged loader caused us to abandon the last shot and sail to Devonport for repairs. However, it was at Aberporth that the Seacat aimers came into their own and the expert advisers lining the Ship’s side were first heard—”down a bit, left a bit, up a bit Probably the most memorable sight that stays with us though was that of the Seaslug warhead round—a ball of fire, literally.
And so to Liverpool……..
.. . . for the Battle of the Atlantic anniversary ceremonies. We became the Flagship of Commander-in-Chief Plymouth, Admiral Sir Nigel Henderson, on arrival and our ceremonial guard were put through their paces while our platoon who marched through the streets on completion of the Cathedral Service did us proud. Liverpool will also be remembered for the fantastic reception given to the Liverpool Footlall Club team returning from Wembley—with the Cup. We had our first experience of being open to visitors (it is not true about the 992 Office!) and with plenty of entertainment later on in the way of dances, brewery runs and expeds. to Snowdon (!) we all thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.
The Work-up
A brief stop was made at Devonport to pick up missiles before finally presenting ourselves at Portland to the tender mercies of “The Staff”.
Memories are dimmed of what went on during the following five or six weeks. We casexed and distexed, fired guns and missiles, replenished, towed and were towed, boarded and quelled boarders, we treated infiltrators with realistic severity, fought fires, dealt with 100 ft. gashes in the Ship’s side, received “Royalty”, and generally coped with the fiendish minds of the Staff Officers and Ratings—we even developed enough restraint to not ditch one or two during transfers at sea.
Time passed quickly—we were so busy—and it didn’t seem so long before we went to Torquay for Whitsun to rest just before the sea inspection. At last the great day dawned and for ten hours we were subjected to every possible permutation and combination of disasters and exercises. Somehow we coped, and with relief we finally landed our tormentors and sailed for Portsmouth to give leave and carry out one or two minor adjustments.
Having all had a little leave we returned for Families’ Day and the delayed commissioning ceremony before a large gathering of Ship’s Company.
And so on Friday, 16th July, after the Commissioning Warrant had been read, the Ensign hoisted and the Commissioning Pendant broken, Captain Williams addressed us:
“Seeing that in the course of our duty we are set in the midst of many and great dangers and that we cannot be faithful to the high trust placed in us without the help of Almighty God, let us unite our prayers in seeking his blessing upon this ship and all who serve in her, that she may sail under God’s good providence and protection, and that there may never be lacking men well-qualified to offer in her their work and skill for his greater glory, and for the protection of our realm and dominions.”