EX-SERVICES NEWS

Beauty culture and embroidery courses for Ex-Service Women

An embroidery course for six months commenced on September 20 and a beauty culture course for two months commenced on September 24 at the Viru Daru Pre - School Auditorium, Manning Town, Narahenpita. These courses will benefit women retirees of the three Armed Forces, and are sponsored by the Office of the Chief of Defence Staff.

CNVF – CRNVR

It must have been in 1943 that, one evening at the Royal Colombo Yacht Club, P J B Oakley (who held a Master’s Ticket and was Marine Superintendent for the P & O with Mackinnon Mackenzie) told me that, plans were being made to form a type of Ceylon territorial Naval force.

W G Beauchamp (then with J M Robertson & Company) was to be in command, and was approaching the then Ceylon Legislative Council for approval and the necessary finance. Exactly what went on behind the scenes, I do not know, but in the course of three years, approval was granted and recruitment began.

Our first parade was held on Flag Staff Green when the first 12 volunteer ‘Probationary Officers’ were given our first lesson in semaphore. There were six Ceylonese, amongst whom were Susantha de Fonseka, Van Langenburg and Sansoni, and six Europeans mainly from the Yacht Club.

A few months later, all who could come, were taken out in the Tug Hurcules for our first mine sweeping exercise. It was in the South West Monsoon, and in the choppy sea, several of us suffered from sea-sickness (not the least of whom was our CO !)

In 1938, we were given our first taste of real Naval conditions when most of us were attached to H M S Norfolk, for a few days while she sailed from Colombo to Trincomalee. As probationary officers, we were given midshipman’s quarters rather cramped, but for our one night at sea, we were allowed to sleep on deck under the guns!

The voyage was uneventful, but soon after dropping anchor, we were tested in reading semaphore signals from shore to ship. Three of us read (or tried to read) through telescopes while another three took down the message, and then we changed places. We were not particularly good.

Before leaving the Norfolk, a sailing race was arranged R N vs Ceylon Naval Volunteer Force in the ship’s cutters. Oakley was skipper of our boat and as crew, he had Sansoni, Ohlson, one of the ship’s ratings and myself. The race was to start at 1430 and we allowed ourselves a good 15 minutes to go over the side, down the Jacobs ladder, along the ship’s boom, down the rope ladder and into the cutter.

Although quite a long way down, it only took us a few minutes; but when we got there to our dismay the boat had not been rigged! We had to step the mast, secure the shrouds and forestay, set the mainsail and jib, and ship the rudder and tiller. All this, in a boat none of us had seen before, and only the skipper and myself had any idea of what we were trying to do. Even the rating, had not helped to rig a boat before.

Anyhow, we did get away to a rather late start and we had a good, but rather strenuous race in a very fresh breeze and choppy sea. Which side got the finishing winning gun, I cannot remember, but we all enjoyed the race.

Our next task was to sail back to the ship, and secure the cutter to the rope hanging from the end of the ship’s boom from which we had cast off at the beginning of the race. Needless to say, we were all a little tired, and were looking forward to having a well earned drink in the Ward Room. Nevertheless, we were taking a careful note of the instructions our skipper was giving us about lowering the sails smartly, as he gave us the orders on approaching the boom. As the whole of the ship’s company was on deck watching us, he emphasised that we must jump to it, when he gave the orders, but not before.

We approached the boom from a perfect position on port tack with wind free. In due course, in what seemed to be good timing, the skipper ordered “Stand by jib halyard”, “Down Jib”, soon followed by “Stand by Main halyard”, “Down main-sail”.

As the mainsail came down smartly, our skipper put his tiller down slowly, and our boat was in perfect position heading straight for the end of the boom.

Everything had gone according to plan. One of us was in the bow ready to secure the boat to the rope, and we were feeling proud of being in the C N V F: but the fresh wind and choppy sea had taken all the way off our boat and instead of securing smartly as intended, we started to drift astern.

Our efforts to reach the rope, even with a boat hook were all in vain. And we were being watched by the whole of the ships company or at least a great number of them so what were we to do? We could, of course, have re-hoisted our sails and tried again, but it was in any case a tricky manoeuvre. It was better to stop short, than to risk running under the boom with the possibility of breaking the mast. So our skipper ordered “Out sweep”. Unfortunately none of us knew what a “sweep” was, but we soon learnt that it was an oar.

One of us put an oar out and pulled, but we continued to drift astern. Put out another sweep came the next order, then another, until finally our skipper handed the tiller over to Sansoni, while he and the other three of us, pulled on our oars as hard as we could. It was, I believe, Sansoni’s first experience in a boat, and he did not know how to steer.

In any case, he seemed more interested in the spectators than in steering the boat to the rope. Our skipper repeatedly yelled to him “Put the tiller down no, away from you now mid ships” etc, etc, and after about 15 minutes hard pulling, we reached our mooring.

We left the cutter ship shape, then crawled up the rope ladder, along the boom, up the Jacobs ladder and over the rail on to the deck. How glad we were to be back, and down to our quarters for a long over due, drink and a rest. But no; hardly had we sat down, when we were given a message from the Captain of the ship, that he wished to see us on deck in 10 minutes to bid us farewell! Puffing and painting, we hurriedly changed into our uniform and, still out of breath, fell in on deck. Fortunately the ceremony was a short one, and we were soon able to go ashore.

When we left, the Norfolk was the usual light grey, but that night, just about one year before war was declared, the whole of the ship was repainted in camouflage. Just one night’s work a master piece.

That was, in fact, in August 1938 and during the next 12 months, training was intensified. Thirty two Signalman/ Gunners were recruited (among whom were, I believe, Cdr D V Hunter, Cdr (S) K M Martinus and Lt Cdr Thiedeman) and their training was started by the remaining probationary officer, (I say “remaining” because at least two of the original 12 retired quietly, after their experience of Naval life in H M S Norfolk!) However, it was not long before a CPO Instructor was transferred to us from the R.N. and he kept us all on the right lines. Later an Officer instructor from the R N was also permanently attached to us.

It was, I see, on November 1, 1938 that I was first “granted a Commission”. I was 38, and I was made a Sub Lt. on “one year’s probation”! (I must have been the oldest Sub Lt in the Service)

At about that time, the Tug Samson was fitted out for mine sweeping duties, and we had a number of practice runs in her putting out our double Oropesa Sweeps and recovering them.

On September 1, the day before war was declared, all members of the (by this time) CRN V R were called up and ordered to report for duty on tife following morning. My orders were to report to Samson. Not the Tug Samson but to H M S Samson, as she had then become. The Officer Instructor was in command, I was his “No. 1” and we had two or three signalmen with us, and a Lascar crew from the Port Commission, as seamen. (Incidentally, our CO was not the only one who suffered from sea sickness. One of our S/Gs was always so ill while at sea that he had to lie down on deck until the ship returned to harbour. Nevertheless, he went, to sea no longer worried him and he became a most efficient signalman in both calm and the roughest seas. His name was Wickremasinghe now Commdr E P Wickremasinghe).

We had to report on board at 5 am, so as to be able to leave harbour before it was light, and to start sweeping by day-break. We had breakfast at sea and were back in harbour by 11 am. On those sweeps, the signalmen’s duty was to keep a keen watch on the sweeps for a real live mine. (It may be remembered that, in the early days of the first World War a ship was sunk by a mine just off Colombo).

For some weeks, I spent the remainder of the days trying to keep up with my work in Mackwoods office; but an end was soon put to that by my being transferred to the Port War Signal Station as Trincomalee, which I believe had been manned by the CRNVR from the day the war was declared.

Recruitment of both officers, signal/gunners and other ranks continued and later, when H M S Samson was stationed at Trincomalee (working as a tug but manned by the CRNVR in the absence of a civilian tug master) and I was Captain. I had the privilege of giving two new Sub Lts.

Instructions in taking compass bearings. They were Carl Ohlmus and Rear Admiral Royce de Mel, R Cy N (Retd).

There are many others, I would have liked to mention in these notes, e.g. Dassanayake, Proctor, and others who were shipmates with me; but time has run out. Lt Cdr A H H BOYNS

7, Moreton Place, Harpenden, Herts, England

Contributing to 25th Anniversary Souvenir of CRNVR Association