Chapter 4

The War Years

War had been declared and Australia found herself in the middle of a conflict she was not prepared for. 

Jean and I had been married eight months when I decided to go back to sea, a decision neither of us were ready for but had to take.

I now had to register as a merchant seaman and was signed on as Fireman on the SS Tirana, plying between Townsville and all ports south.  At the end of the second articles change over, she was taken out of service for a complete refit which included gun emplacements.  How badly this country was prepared for war when we had to consider mounting a three inch gun on the stern of a rust bucket like the Tirana was clearly apparent.

On presenting myself at the maritime-pick-up, I was told to report to the Purser of the Queen Mary with my credentials.  The Queen Mary was lying at anchor off Rushcutters Bay and no indication was given as to where she was bound but the fact that she was going to be a troop carrier, indicated England or Europe.  I returned to our flat to get some more clothing and to let Jean know which ship I had been assigned to and to warn her about speaking to anyone, including her parents about what ship I was on.  I left her about 11 am after advising her to give up work and also our flat, and go back to Ma McColl who had a nice flat in Bray Street, Bronte as by this time I knew I was going to be a father in about six months, so it wasn't the easiest of partings.  Both of us were under the impression that my next stop would be England or Europe.

Being taken out and put aboard the Queen Mary about noon was an awesome experience after being used to coastal vessels.   She was huge and after being taken down to my quarters, I was certain I would never find my way back up again.  My mate, Tommy Auliffe and I unpacked our gear and with no idea of her sailing date or time, we were sitting talking.  I remember telling him that this would be my first trip home since 1927 and what was more, I was going to be paid for it and his reply "hang on mate, we have got to get there yet and this one doesn't travel in convoy".  That did spoil my anticipation somewhat.  

We were enjoying a smoke when a steward entered and announced we were to report to the Purser at once and to bring our gear which we had just unpacked and stowed.  On reporting to the Purser we were told that we were no longer required because two English crewmen had been found and that being English they had to have preference.  We would be taken by tender to Circular Quay where we would be picked up by an American jeep and taken to our new assignment.  I looked at my watch to find that my association with the famous ship had lasted four and a half hours.

The driver of the jeep was a well spoken American negro with rank of sergeant, who informed us that we were being taken to the CSR wharf and would be joining an American Lend Lease vessel called "Alamo".  Naturally we both envisaged a fairly large well appointed Liberty ship and that made up for our recent disappointment with the illustrious Queen Mary;  however on arrival at the wharf which is one of the longest on Sydney's foreshores, there didn't appear to be any ships tied up there.  I asked the driver if we were to wait until she arrived.  "No buddy", he replied, "She is right at the end" and he pointed to a small spot at the far end of the wharf.   I have had many disappointments in my life, but the "Alamo" beats them all by a big margin.  She was built in 1914 for World War I and after a term in what we know as the grave yard, she was put into commission as a laker for which assignment, her engine room and stoke holds were closed in because of the very extreme cold conditions she was subject to on the Great Lakes in the USA.  She was again returned to the grave yard where she remained until her commissioning for her trip to Australia as a Lend Lease ship.  It was considered that she had paid for herself if she arrived here in one piece with a cargo of wartime necessities.

She was loaded to capacity with aerial bombs and carried a deck cargo comprising of a complete saw mill bound for Port Moresby.  The Bosun was instructed to take us to our quarters and on the way we came upon a couple of sailors chipping the deck.  The rust was coming off in decent sized flakes and the Bosun exploded with "You stupid bastards! I told you to use the BLUNT end of the chipping hammers!  How the hell are we going to cover those holes now!"  I thought - how the hell are we going to get to Port Moresby?  I suddenly realised that Jean was under the impression that I was on my way to England, where airmen were flying on a wing and a prayer and we were floating on hope and a million "Hail Marys".

As he opened our cabin door, I noticed a three inch gun or cannon on the Poop Deck above me and on enquiring if they had any need to fire it in defence I was informed that it had just been placed that morning and would be tested when we put to sea.  It was located right above my bunk and on being asked if we would be notified when it was to be tested, was informed that the Gunnery Officer would be in charge and to ask him.  Needless to say on the initial test there were seams opening up in half a dozen places and rivets popping everywhere.   This required a three day stop over in Gladstone, my cabin was flooded and the stench was dreadful, water having penetrated to parts of the ship that had not seen daylight in almost 30 years, and dead rats by the dozens.

She was a poop decked vessel, a raised deck forward, a well deck then a raised deck midships, another well deck and a poop deck aft on which our heavy artillery had been placed, namely our three inch gun ..... being replaced with two Oerlikon guns.  She was anything but a lovely sight as ships go, however it must be admitted that she was still on active service.  The stoke hold and engine room had never been opened up after her spell on the cold American lakes so we worked wearing only a pair of shorts and a heavy pair of boots.  The boots had to be emptied of sweat every so often as the temperatures reached 127 degrees F and the only relief coming from ventilators that were rusted to one spot and that more often than not, were out of the wind and doing nothing to cool the stoke hold.  She had been converted from coal to oil for the trip to Australia but the job hadn't been done very well as she emitted a thick volume of black smoke and could be seen miles away and naturally was a dangerous menace to any convoy she was in.

My watch mate was a Yank from New York whom I decided had bladder trouble because he spent more time on deck urinating than he did down below working.  Earl was a nice young fellow of about 25 or so and not long married and absolutely convinced we would be torpedoed.  He had a claustrophobic dread of being on watch when and if it happened, even though we pointed out that the cost of the torpedoes on the Alamo was bad value.

We started rifle practice two days out from Townsville and the weapons were the most up to date rifles then being produced in the States.  After a morning of instruction from the Gunnery Officer, a target was set with each of us allotted two rounds, however after the second day I was relieved of my rifle and told to concentrate on firing the bloody boilers, as the richochets from my efforts were endangering the lives of some of my shipmates.  One richochet had apparently landed too close to the "Old Man" whilst he was concentrating on the toilet throne and had probably cured his constipation for a few trips so I don't know why he should have been so upset.  My inability to sight a target and even get close has always been disturbing, however it is when they start coming backwards at me that I instinctively knew I must be doing something wrong.

Our crew consisted of a number of hillbillies, some of whom had been runners for Southern stills and had been chased and fired on by prohibition police.  One of them, known as Cincinatti, probably because he originated from that area of America, had an ugly ulcer on his left shin which never seemed to heal.  He had been caught in a raid and had just managed to escape being left with a leg which would never heal.  They were a sentimental lot and of an evening would get out on the deck with their crank up gramaphone and all their tear jerker records and actually sit and cry over the music.  Most of the others were from New York and as one officer said, the dregs of the States.  Recalling that they had deliberately overflowed the boiler oil, requiring a month's stay in port cleaning up the oily mess, some of them had never been to sea before.  The Bosun was apparently the only one with sea going experience and that had been acquired as a crewman on a paddle steamer on the Missisippi.

I had written my wife Jean, informing her of the change of ship and telling her how she should address all future mail;  however on receiving my letter she found that all information regarding my location was blacked out and she was instructed to get in touch with the Department of Foreign Affairs.  She was then told to contact the American Transport Service;   however I was informed by the skipper that any repeat of this infringement of security would have a penalty behind bars as my reward.

Sadly, my father died in February 2004 at the age of 93 and never finished his life story.  My sister and brother and I miss him terribly and with their help I will try to complete it for him in coming months.