A Very Ordinary Signalman
THE OLYMPIC REGATTA 1948
There wasn't very much that the battlewagons of the Fleet Training Squadron could do. Normally our ship's company (as opposed to the trainees from Shotley and Dartmouth) on the Anson was barely that of a destroyer; so we never stayed at sea overnight. But we did find ourselves guardships in Torbay for the Olympic Regatta. It struck me at the time - and still bemuses me somewhat - that only a couple of years after the end of the war, when Britain was still rationed and in a dismal economic state, that the bay could be filled with the luxury of so many flashy yachts of mainly European origin - including those from Switzerland of all places ! When and where did all these amateur sailors have the opportunity to practice their arts and skills under the Third Reich ?
For me there was a special treat. For the occasion, a flotilla of Motor Gunboats had been reactivated with "wavy navy" crews. They were used for marshalling purposes; but they needed signallers who were up to date on procedures etc. So I was seconded for the week to the flotilla commander and had a very happy time for a few hours daily in the more informal atmosphere of small ships. The races were started by gun, backed up with a visual flag signal. So you might way the high point of my naval career was to start an Olympic race by pulling down the starting pendant. What I hadn't realised until I got back "home" the first afternoon was that, of course, my tot had been kept for me and I had the luxury of having "neaters" for a whole week - to the envy of my mess colleagues.
Back on the Anson, late one afternoon, there came a signal in English from a French Destroyer inviting our Skipper for drinks the next day. He felt in honour bound to reply in French but his schooling was long ago. So he said to the Chief Yeoman, "Any of your men speak French, Chief ?" Chief replied: "Well sir, there's young Vigeon - he seems an eddicated sort of bloke". "Ah, said the Captain, with a name like that he is probably a Channel Islander and speaks it like a native." So I was ordered down aft to the great cabin, and explained that No I am not a Channel Islander; but Yes I did have what today we would call an "A Level" in French; but I didn't really speak it all that well. We sat down at the "Captain's table" side by side and cobbled together a genteel reply in best schoolboy French, accepting the invitation "avec grand plaisir". That was one of the things I appreciated about the Andrew - sometimes I was treated as a human being - not often but sometimes !
The trouble was that when I flashed the signal to the Frenchman, he got it into his head that we were bilingual and started sending messages in high speed morse in his own language. My mess colleagues were very impressed when I needed some confirmation of a text and sent the request "mot apres ....." and got the word we were looking for.
Later that year, during the Berlin crisis, there was a political decision to extend the two year's National Service by an extra three months in case things escalated dangerously. The information came through to my office in Top Secret code. The coding officer came up to the Bridge Signal Office, and sat at the desk wrestling with his books. I looked over his shoulder and saw what was coming up in translation. He turned to me and winked and said "You are, of course, not reading this, Vigeon, are you !" "No sir ! " replied I; but I enjoyed going about for a few weeks thinking "I know something you don't know !" before the news was made public.
Just before Christmas, I was tranferred to SORF Harwich where the ships sat on the bottom at low tide! (HMS Tyne) On my last morning on the Anson, I was deputed to raise the ensign at Divisions . As I was making everything shipshape at the end, I was amazed to find the skipper sauntering over to the stern with the remark "I hear you are leaving us today, Vigeon". And he stopped for a few minutes making enquiries where I was going at the end of my service; and wished me well in my future studies at Cambridge University.
I enjoyed my college days of course; but I am always glad that before that I experienced the "university of life" in my two years on the lower deck. It has stood me in good stead.
There wasn't very much that the battlewagons of the Fleet Training Squadron could do. Normally our ship's company (as opposed to the trainees from Shotley and Dartmouth) on the Anson was barely that of a destroyer; so we never stayed at sea overnight. But we did find ourselves guardships in Torbay for the Olympic Regatta. It struck me at the time - and still bemuses me somewhat - that only a couple of years after the end of the war, when Britain was still rationed and in a dismal economic state, that the bay could be filled with the luxury of so many flashy yachts of mainly European origin - including those from Switzerland of all places ! When and where did all these amateur sailors have the opportunity to practice their arts and skills under the Third Reich ?
For me there was a special treat. For the occasion, a flotilla of Motor Gunboats had been reactivated with "wavy navy" crews. They were used for marshalling purposes; but they needed signallers who were up to date on procedures etc. So I was seconded for the week to the flotilla commander and had a very happy time for a few hours daily in the more informal atmosphere of small ships. The races were started by gun, backed up with a visual flag signal. So you might way the high point of my naval career was to start an Olympic race by pulling down the starting pendant. What I hadn't realised until I got back "home" the first afternoon was that, of course, my tot had been kept for me and I had the luxury of having "neaters" for a whole week - to the envy of my mess colleagues.
Back on the Anson, late one afternoon, there came a signal in English from a French Destroyer inviting our Skipper for drinks the next day. He felt in honour bound to reply in French but his schooling was long ago. So he said to the Chief Yeoman, "Any of your men speak French, Chief ?" Chief replied: "Well sir, there's young Vigeon - he seems an eddicated sort of bloke". "Ah, said the Captain, with a name like that he is probably a Channel Islander and speaks it like a native." So I was ordered down aft to the great cabin, and explained that No I am not a Channel Islander; but Yes I did have what today we would call an "A Level" in French; but I didn't really speak it all that well. We sat down at the "Captain's table" side by side and cobbled together a genteel reply in best schoolboy French, accepting the invitation "avec grand plaisir". That was one of the things I appreciated about the Andrew - sometimes I was treated as a human being - not often but sometimes !
The trouble was that when I flashed the signal to the Frenchman, he got it into his head that we were bilingual and started sending messages in high speed morse in his own language. My mess colleagues were very impressed when I needed some confirmation of a text and sent the request "mot apres ....." and got the word we were looking for.
Later that year, during the Berlin crisis, there was a political decision to extend the two year's National Service by an extra three months in case things escalated dangerously. The information came through to my office in Top Secret code. The coding officer came up to the Bridge Signal Office, and sat at the desk wrestling with his books. I looked over his shoulder and saw what was coming up in translation. He turned to me and winked and said "You are, of course, not reading this, Vigeon, are you !" "No sir ! " replied I; but I enjoyed going about for a few weeks thinking "I know something you don't know !" before the news was made public.
Just before Christmas, I was tranferred to SORF Harwich where the ships sat on the bottom at low tide! (HMS Tyne) On my last morning on the Anson, I was deputed to raise the ensign at Divisions . As I was making everything shipshape at the end, I was amazed to find the skipper sauntering over to the stern with the remark "I hear you are leaving us today, Vigeon". And he stopped for a few minutes making enquiries where I was going at the end of my service; and wished me well in my future studies at Cambridge University.
I enjoyed my college days of course; but I am always glad that before that I experienced the "university of life" in my two years on the lower deck. It has stood me in good stead.
Owen
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