- Author
- Southcombe (Cornwallis), Gwenda
- Subjects
- RAN operations, Naval technology
- Tags
-
- RAN Ships
- None noted.
- Publication
- December 1988 edition of the Naval Historical Review (all rights reserved)
Another of the DG Wran Operators’ duties was calibration of the instruments, a periodic check-up to ensure that the instruments themselves gave a true recording of the effectiveness of a ship’s degaussing installation.
Normally, there was only one possible warning of an arrival in port and this was when the pilot vessel Captain Cook slipped her mooring in Watson’s Bay just inside the eastern boom gate and steamed quietly and quickly out through the Heads to deposit a pilot on board but it could mean one merchant vessel or thirty. Naval vessels didn’t need pilots, hence no warning at all and submarines, needless to say, were barely discernable and were often upon us almost before we’d had time to adjust the instruments ready for their crossing.
A typical signal to an incoming vessel was ‘Please signal name, draught, beam, length and coil settings’. Transmitting to and receiving from a Naval ship was almost always quick and efficient. Many US merchantmen carried a Navy signaller but a number of the world’s merchant fleet had a cook doubling for a signaller, I feel sure, judging by the woeful hotch-potch we sometimes had to figure out.
A very vivid recollection from the confessions-up-to-now-suppressed department! On one occasion, a destroyer was to make a check run on her way out to sea. It was a weekend because there were no Engineers on duty. I don’t recall the nature of the diversion, although this is the only thing I don’t recall, but she had come flying around the point from the direction of Garden Island and was ON the range by the time we saw her. What to do? No time to debate. That ship just HAD to cross the range again, somehow. Without a moment’s hesitation we signalled ‘Run unsatisfactory. Please make further runs south and north’. No one to this day (except those three nervous Wrans) was any the wiser. And ships did, after all, sometimes make unsatisfactory runs. Can you imagine the reaction of the skipper (and the repercussions which would inevitably have followed) if, instead, we had sent ‘Sorry Sir, we missed you that time. Please be a dear and turn around and do that run again.’ Well, I’ve finally confessed to my part in the crime! Destroyer ex-Skippers don’t read ‘Ditty Box’ do they?
It was a period of great extremes for most people and we were no exception. Several of our number were married and one lass lost her husband in Perth. We were witness to all the maimed and crippled ships which came limping into port, to be patched up and sent back into action once more. There were times when one could only marvel that they had managed to stay afloat at all.
When the Range closed I spent some months, before my deferred demobilisation, at the Kuttabul SDO. I know then (if I had ever doubted) that I have been one of the privileged few to do my wartime service at Bradley’s Head. These days, there is only a small oblong brick structure remaining. A concrete memorial perhaps? The septic tanks, would you believe?
To end on a serious note: When one reads of the number of ships which have disappeared without trace or warning in the intervening years, one cannot help but wonder about the unaccounted-for magnetic mines which may still be bobbing around in the waters of the world. Makes one stop and think, doesn’t it?