Smudger Snippets
Created | Updated Nov 12, 2003
I suppose it's because I have so much time on my hands these days, that all these memories come flooding back to me.
Perks of The Job
When I joined my first ship straight from basic trainig in the RN they put me in the boiler room on watch-keeping duties; this was normal procedure for rookies. They put you there first for a few months, then the engine room before going on to the gear room. I must admit I hated it. The noise, the heat and the whole routine. It just seemed totally pointless to me especially when all the readings we had to take every hour, on the hour, were then taken up top to the MCR (Machinery Control Room) where the petty officer would compare them to his remote dials which had exactly same readings. The whole idea of the MCR was to do away with men down the holes (as we called them) so that the ship could be run and fully controlled from one point, the MCR. The same thing happened down in the engine room. They had some poor bloke running round in all that heat and noise, taking readings just for them to compare them! It just got to me. That plus the fact that we had to work one in four watches, which meant that you only got one night in four to sleep for eight hours.
The chief stoker noted my objections and transferred me to the engine room where at least I was doing some thing useful while working the evaporators. This was, basically, a large condensor which made fresh water from sea water; at least it was doing some thing worth while. In fact it was quite an important job as, without fresh water, the boiler could not work and the ship could not function plus the water was used by the crew for washing, cooking and drinking.
It was about this time that I realised the potential for perks! For example, when we had to go on water ration. Some idiot tried taking a short cut during a de-scale, and punctured the coil on the main set of evaporators. This put us all on water ration, as the other set of evaporators in the gear room could only make enough water to supply the boiler. I was able to go down into the boiler room and drain a bucket of the purest water on board (as only 100% pure water could be put into it) from the main tank, and swap it for beer! This was the start of my very own black market!
I was not down in the engine room for long before I was moved on to 'outside machinery' (or outside runner). Now this was, indeed, the job for me as the potential black market ace. The job itself was to maintain and control all machinery that was not part of the ships main systems. Things like diesel generators, air conditioners, ice making, fridges and steering gear - in fact I could go anywhere on the ship and still find a reason to be there! I could control how much air went to certain parts of the ship during hot spells, how much ice went to certain messes, transfer water and electrical power and, best of all, have a key to the officers fridges!
Now it was a well known fact that the fresh fruit and veggies were all gone within a few days at sea - for the men that is - while the officers always had enough to last a lot longer as their fridge was the same size as ours1. Now the reason I had a key was due to the fact that the temperature dial on the outside of the officer's fridge was always broken so I needed a key to enter and take a temperature reading every watch. During this time it was quite common for some fruits etc to fall into my pockets. From there they would make their way to various messes where they could be swapped for beer!
The same could be said for the air - that could be diverted to various parts of the ship, ie the parts that had the most beer - and the ice, which was always weighed, as the ice boxes could only make three large slabs a day. Now the Navy's way of issuing this ice was unfair, to my way of thinking, as the ward room2 would get one whole slab! This meant that the remaining two slabs had to be shared between some three hundred senior and junior ranks. Bearing in mind that we were still receiving the TOT3 at the time, the ice always got broken as it came out so had to be weighed and the fact that we were in the Gulf, where it was really hot, this seemed grossly unfair. All I had to do was slip the steward - who checked the weight at the ward room - a few cans of beer while my elbow leant against the scales and it was shared more equally!
My problem, now, was finding the space to store all this beer I was gathering. This was soon solved. We all had boot lockers at our mess to store our messy, oily boots. I would lease a few of these lockers from the owners, at the cost of a few tins of beer, then store my stock in them. It was not long before all these lockers were full, as were my various hiding places throughout the ship. When this happened, I would arrange with all my mates to attend the nightly movie, where we would sit and drink the lot during the film!
It was not all plain sailing though. There were times when I almost got caught out, but the best part of that job was that you could go anywhere on the ship and find a reason to be there. On one occasion, during skipper's rounds on Saturday morning, I received a phone call from one of my mates down in the boiler room. He told me that he could hear rumbling coming from one of the vent fans. I knew right away what had happened; some of my stash which was inside the vent had been knocked loose by the rough weather we were having and was sliding down the vent. My main worry was to make sure that it didn't come flying out while the skipper was there during his rounds. The only way I could ensure that this would not happen was to climb up the vent and stop it sliding. I had just got my feet inside and my mate was screwing the grill back on, when the skipper's party came down the boiler room steps. The chief stoker, who was a member of the party, noticed my mate was behaving weirdly and came over to talk to him. While he was there he pointed out to my mate that the airflow from the vent was not as strong as it should be. Now these chief stokers were blokes who had come up through the ranks and they 'knew the score'! He looked up inside it and told my mate that he would get the outside runner 'to look into it'. We both knew what he meant and he also knew it! So, from then on, no beer was ever stowed up inside the vent shafts.
In fact, looking back on it now, that chief stoker could have had me court martialled at any time, especially over the 'drain pipe' story.
While tracing pipes one day, I noticed one small bore pipe that seemed to change colour. After tracing it, I found out it was the drain pipe of the drinking water cooler just above our mess. Now this was the very spot where the rum was issued every day at dinner time, and where the left-over rum was poured away. I soon devised a way to cash in on this willful waste and needed a partner to carry it off. It was just so simple; all I had to do was unscrew the joint, hold a bucket below the break, and wait! I would receive the nod, catch the wasted rum which was being poured away and share my spoils with a few trusted mates.
All was going well until one particiular day, when someone who was not aware of our scam, 'invited' the chief stoker 'round4' for a drink! There I was up on a chair, with a bucket hanging from the deckhead5 catching this run-away rum! Well he had me, right where he knew he would have me, 'one day' - as he kept telling me. My only option was to let him in on it, and 'Call him Round' every day after that. I also had to take even more care with my other activities. Being caught out once meant I must be very careful from then on, and not rock the boat!
