Newsletter 1/2003 january
Follow the story in the next newsletter when Alf and his mum go to Alexandria
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Follow the story in the next newsletter when Alf and his mum go to Alexandria ___________________________________________________________________________________ Book Review One of our members had a book drawn to his attention at his local library. It was titled “Sink HMS Cossack”. He sent the details to George Toomey and, as a result, we obtained a copy. Having read it, I was appalled. It wasn’t until it arrived that we realised that it was fiction. About the only similarity to the events which actually occurred was the ship’s name! According to this book, HMS Cossack was sunk by torpedoes fired by a U-boat just as it was about to be rammed, in an operation in the Mediterranean off the North African coast. It portrays the men aboard in a very poor way and demeans the memories of those who fought and died in Cossack. ___________________________________________________________________________________ Can you help? An e-mail from Mike Varley asked whether any of our members can provide any information about his father, Lt. Cdr. P.D.M. Varley, who died in 1997. From information previously provided to me by Lieutenant Hugh Walker, Peter Varley served in D57 on its first commission 1945 - 1947 as the Gunnery Officer. Can anyone from that commission remember any special incidents which occurred involving him? Have you ever served with him elsewhere? According to Hugh Walker’s notes, Peter Varley had been promoted from the lower deck and was very much the typical Whale Island Gunnery Officer. Hugh finished his RN service in 1947 but they met again in the 70’s when Peter Varley had also left the Navy, had read English at Balliol College, Oxford and was then enjoying teaching at a prep school. Any information you can give will be much appreciated by Mike. __________________________________________________________________________________ 2003 Tribal Reunion Information just received from Canada gives bare details of a Tribal Reunion to be held in Hamilton, Ontario 27th August to 1st September 2003. They are hoping for good representation from both the Royal Navy and the Royal Australian Navy Tribal veterans. At that time they will be welcoming HMCS HAIDA to her new home. At present she is undergoing a refit which is expected to last until July. She will then be towed to her new berth at the Royal Naval Base at Hamilton where she will be a floating museum. Further details are expected in due course but, in the meanwhile, will anyone interested please let the Secretary, Peter Harrison know. ___________________________________________________________________________________ Trawling through my computer files I came across one of John Batty’s stories about Life Down Under which I had not used. At a time when Australia is suffering appalling fires, we here are suffering floods, we only need a plague of pestillence to provide all the ingredients for a biblical end to the world. Enjoy this last bit of JB’s before we go! Life Down Under Number 12 By John Batty ''Guess what dad'' challenged my older son, John, as he stood watching my facial expressions. As I was up a ladder in the dining room, struggling with a length of wet wall paper he soon realised that the particular expression that I was wearing, meant that he could be more helpful if he went far, far away; so that I could release all the words that I'd told him over the years were only used by naughty men. Unsticking the wallpaper from around my neck, realising how unfair I had been,I called him back, tripped on the end of the paper, slipped off the bottom rung of the ladder, gritted my teeth and asked, 'Well, - What?' ''The scouts are having a father and son weekend in two weeks time, and 'cos Kevin (younger son) is in the Cubs, he can come too. I have to telephone the Scout Master as soon as possible if we are going.". Still wondering why nobody had ever produced a velcro backed wallpaper to save pasting, I offhandedly gave my permission. Knowing that I would gain a bucketful of Brownie points from Joy, because Edna, my brother's wife, wanted her company on a shopping expedition to Melbourne that particular weekend. Why not? Melbourne is only 500kms from Adelaide..... John Jnr. returned to tell me that we were all booked in with the Scoutmaster and ended his report with, "And guess what dad----Carl and Clifford are coming too, with Uncle Ron"..... It was a miserable two weeks, I spent most of the time wondering IF or HOW Ron had contrived this whole business. Eventually the Friday arrived when we would be travelling out to Tailem Bend.. Where the heck was Tailem Bend? No need to worry, even though I lived in Adelaide and didn't know, Ron, who was only a visitor, knew where it was, ''We had all better go in my car he said, the roads are unsealed and it's quite a distance. We'll throw the tents into your trailer." Tailem Bend was three hours away, over roads which were not metalled and badly needed grading, It's a wonder how the car springs lasted out. The sun was a brazen ball about six inches above our heads (or so it seemed). The air conditioner broke down after we'd travelled about four miles. With six of us in the car, we soon had all the windows open, which immediately helped to take some of the dust off the road, Unfortunately it made itself comfortable inside the car. Roll on the scout campsite. After the worst bush drive I'd ever experienced up to that point, I was brightened to see a vast expanse of water which turned out to be the 'Mighty' River Murray. Famous amongst fishermen for it's massive Murray Cod. It meanders for miles, starting in the Great Dividing Range, later joined by The Darling and Murrenbidgee rivers, twisting and turning along the N.S.W. and Victoria border. Splitting Albury--Wodonga into two separate towns, through Echuca, an old loading base for the mighty paddle and side wheelers which had traded up and down the river in past years.. The Murray Queen, following an extensive re-fit after lying neglected for several years, once again paddles up and down the river with tourists instead of timber, wheat and other goods. Sometimes paddling between broad flat lands and at others under huge jagged cliffs, the river follows the borderlands, providing life to thousands of acres of grain country plus the cattle paddocks. The mighty Murry finally ducks under the 734metres long Swanport Bridge at Murray Bridge and on to Tailem Bend, soon to feed Lake Alexandrina and Lake Albert before losing itself in the Southern Ocean. The scout camp, which, consisted of an old stonebuilt four roomed cottage in a five acre paddock with frontage to a Billabong which joined the river at both ends. appeared to be deserted. Well, I thought, eyeing the cottage, at least the dads don't have to camp out... Wrong. !!! 'The scouts and cubs will use the house in case of colds, sleep walking near the billabong or lively snakes. The dads would camp out'. This and other information was passed to the assembly which was held immediately the last car entered the gate, gasping and spluttering. That first day, or what remained of it, was used as an introduction to camp life and initially each family found their own plot of land. Ron, who had been a scout, many, many years ago, suggested that as it was now 1300hrs, (very technical) the boys could cook a meal. Strangely , the boys were no longer behind us. So I decided to make the firebox and Ron could do the cooking.--- ---Wrong again.---..Ron wanted to make the firebox ! "One that will last all weekend," he boasted. I busied myself with emptying the trailer until he called out that all was ready for the food. I gathered it together, placed it near the firebox and realised two things. The fire wasn't lit yet and even if it were, I didn't know how to use a firebox. I had envisioned something like my mothers kitchen range, fire, oven, grill and kettle hob all conveniently placed juxtaposition. This one was a series of boxes cut out of the clay on the high bank of the Billabong, built on two levels, much too complicated to describe without a drawing, Finally, I worked out, just in time for Ron to return with kindling and larger dead branches, that the fire was supposed to be lit in the bottom box. This I did, trying to be as nonchalant and knowing as possible. I then unpacked bacon, eggs and bread. Now I faced the second problem......I figured that the bacon and eggs would go together in the top right hand box, but what went in the top left?? I didn't think that Ron was taking much notice but as I stood there a little undecided, he said, without looking up, ''The toast goes in that one'' . ''I, know, I lied, "I was just wondering whether to put it all in at once or a couple at a time." No answer, Ron was awake to my fib., had lost interest and, breaking the first rule, "No strong drink on camp", unpacked a couple of Tooey's Old. I must admit that I was more than ready for one. With the food in the fire box, (All the toast at once) I sat back and enjoyed the ice cold liquid. "Ahhh,' Quoth my younger son, "haven't you had lunch yet"? all four boys had approached from behind without being heard. "No," growled Ron, 'You are just in time for it" A little muttering amongst the boys, then Clifford, Ron's youngest and youngest of the four, gabbled, "We went in the camp bus to the town and had a pie, chips and lemonade 'don't think that I could eat anymore.". A true son of his father!! Ron and I sat on the river bank, slowly plodding through enough toast, bacon and eggs for six people. Luckily we had plenty of Tooey's Old. The boys were sitting on the far side of the billabong with bent pins and strings, we weren't, at that moment, a happily bonding family. It was dark before we realised that the boys had disappeared into the house and then we both remembered together. We hadn't erected our tent!! The following day, the family bonding was extended to include every other scout and dad on the camp. Ron was off like a shot before it was even light, about 7am he returned to our tent, boasted about the free tea and toast breakfast I had missed in "The Den"and urged me to hurry because he had organised a Flying Fox competition. As an ex sailor, I was supposed to know something about pulling on ropes and sliding down them etc. ""None of the other dad's know anything about it and the boys are relying on you"" I swallowed it, hook line and sinker!! I won't enlarge, sufficient to say that by noon, my hands were red raw, my back felt broken, and I was ready to crawl into my sleeping bag... No such luck, the boys had vanished again and I was the duty cook!! So it went on until the last morning when somebody had volunteered my name in the canoe race. 4 canoes, (I could have sworn they were skiffs) but, (what do I know about boats, I was a sparker) each with a crew of four. Not only our four delinquants were missing at ''Start'' time, most of the other scouts were out of sight too. Wearily, we dad's found a place in one of the canoe/skiffs and after about fifteen minutes playing at dodgems, were able to mover up to the starting line. That was when I saw Ron, clean and smart, on the banking, holding the starting pistol..... Ron fired the pistol and the crews' showed their skill, some paddles were used like oars, others were used as poles to try and push the canoe along using the bottom of the Billabong, My paddle was still at my feet, a big fellow was sitting on it after sliding off his seat. I didn't mind. (I'm a small, quiet chap, not given to argueing). A scuffle near the bows and a big splash. I didn't think that we would win this race. The fellow who had taken a swim, grasped the side of the canoe/skiff and tried to haul himself on board. As my head ducked under the surface, I knew that we wouldn't win the race. Leaving the boat ,( be it canoe or skiff,) to it's own devices, the crew scrambled as best we could, to the shore. We were in time to see the winner, with a two man crew, and two in the water, pushing from astern, crawl their way past Ron, standing on the bank, waving a scout flag. With everything packed up and stuffed into the trailer, the kids packed into the car, we dragged ourselves home. The ladies still in Melbourne for another day, failed to see Ron's great surprise! He insisted on unpacking the trailer by himself, and eventually staggered into the kitchen hugging a three feet long Murray Cod. Ron dropped the cod and opened two bottles of Tooey's Old before he answered my unasked question....''Some of the dads brought nets. You would have enjoyed it if you hadn't insisted on doing the cooking and kitchen chores all the time" !! It was useless for me to murmer, "Netting the Murray is illegal''. He was already gutting the fish on top of a tarp spread out on the garage floor. I had to silently admit that there would be enough Cod Cutlets to last a month even after giving some to the neighbours. Somehow, I could never bring myself to attend another Father and Son Weekend. After losing his right hand man (Me) Ron also retired from scouting. ___________________________________________________________________________________ Josing Fjord - The Song Ron Maynard's recent death reminded me about a photo-copy of a piece of sheet music that he sent me over two years ago. It was "The Song of Josing Fjord". He told me that it had been advertised in the Daily Mail in 1940, soon after the Altmark Incident. Since a few of us were going over to Norway to take part in some commemorations of the incident I decided to take a copy of the music with me and presented to Finn Nesvold of the Sokndal local history society. Jokingly I suggested that the next time we went over we would expect them to have learnt the words and music sufficiently to give a concert! In September 2002 I received an e-mail from Finn in which he said that on the previous Saturday evening they, the history group, had invited local senior citizens to a concert. There an English singer, Sybil Richardson, who was born in Liverpool but now lived in Oslo, had berformed a Vera Lynn-type programme. She also sang the Jossingfjord song, which was very popular with the audience. Subsequently a journalist in Sokndal wanted to give the song and its history a presentation in the local paper and asked if I could find out more about it. If fact the journalist found out more than I. Both he and I wrote to the Daily Mail - he got a reply, I didn't. The Daily Mail sent him a photo-copy of pages from the 19th February edition of the paper which reported on Cossack's rescue of the merchant seamen. The words from the song originated as a poem by Gordon Bushell and was published as such in the Daily Mail under his psuedonym "Bee". It was set to music by Gerald Carne and the sheet music was then advertised for sale in the Daily Mail. Ron Maynard was then able to provide a little more information. As far as he knew, the only public performance given was by a singer named John Ellery in a hall in Willesden High Street, in March 1940 he thought. John Ellery was Ron's father-in-law and had obtained the music via the Daily Mail advertisement. Ron happened to be at home on a short leave from HMS Cossack and, even then an accomplished musician, accompanied his father-in-law during the performance. Which of course is how Ron came to have the music. Subsequently, it came to light that it had been sung by Dennis Noble on Henry Hall's Guest Night programme on radio. 
Eastward we sailed from the Falkland Isles And Westward to the Plate; We searched the waves for a ship of slaves With a ceaseless, burning hate. South from the Caribbean - Northward the white wakes scored, And the set of the sun brought vengeance At night in Josing Fjord.
The Norseman had let her go. A floating hell on the night-tide’s swell, With Britons locked below. And thirty men on the Cossack Waited the word to board From the hidden lights in London To the stars in Josing Fjord. Grappling irons and then attack - A fight in a frozen sea … When thirty men came back again Three hundred men were free. For Drake unslung his hammock, And he stepped once more aboard, And he fought again beside us That night in Josing Fjord. BEE Gordon Bushell (Bee) was a sub-editor on the Daily Mail and was the Daily Mail’s wartime poet laureate from 1940 to 1943. After the war he wrote a series of children’s books on a character called “Captain Cobweb”. The Norwegian journalist, Asbjørn Hegdal. Was able to complete and publish his piece in the local paper and I received a copy from Finn Nesvold. However, since it is in Norwegian I won’t inflict it upon the readers of this newsletter. Asbjørn was kind enough to send photo-copies of what he received from the Daily Mail and I’ll try to get it displayed at the reunion in April.
___________________________________________________________________________________ The latest list of e-mail addresses for members is given below. Margaret Atherton MAAthert@aol.com Bill Bartholomew bill@hmscossack.freeserve.co.uk Fred Barton fred@fbarton90.freeserve.co.uk Keith Batchelor keith@beaconroad.freeserve.co.uk John Batty cossack@flatrate.net.au John Bishop jbishop.cossack@virgin.net Tony Brown tony@beaufort83.fsnet.com Tom Brown t.mbrown@bmts.com Philip Bryant philip.bryant@ukonline.co.uk George Bye g_bye@talk21.com Jack Caswell Jack1cas@aol.com Mike Cook MikeStensonCook@aol.com Fred Cooper frederick.cooper@ntlworld.com Colin Dean colinsuedean@lineone.net Stan Edgell edgellas@aol.com Alan Edinborough aedinborough@o2.co.uk Geoff Embley naughtycal@ns.sympatico.ca Dave Fenton dfenton@rogers.com Liz Foster-Hall liz@foster-hall.freeserve.co.uk Pat Gaffney patrick.gaffney@talk21.com Stan Hannaford stan.hannaford@lineone.net Peter Harrison cossack@attglobal.net David Higgins dhiggin8@ford.com Tom Kay tom.kay@lineone.net Alec Kellaway Alec.Kellaway@ukgateway.net Graham Keyes Gkeyes@btinternet.com Brian Lambie bds.classics@ntlworld.com Geoff Lane Geofflane@chinachat.freeserve.co.uk Stan Leadbetter alanesewell@hotmail.com Bob McLean maroaram@aol.com Peter Marchant peter.bosun@virgin.net Terry Matthews matthewsllb@msn.com Dusty Miller GEMSPEC@FSBDial.co.uk Brian Patterson bhp.ports@virgin.net Jack Price Ppamelajack@aol.com Jack Race jackrace2@activemail.co.uk Harry Ripp hripp@hotkey.net.au Don Rush Donandvalrush@netscape.co.uk Ken Satterthwaite kensatt@tinyonline.co.uk Paul Saunders PaulSaunders@bensonclimate.fsnet.com Dr. Neil Shand nshand@zip.com.au Anne Smith annepsmith@talk21.com Carol Taylor carol@snookerdebts.co.uk F.M. Thomas f.m.thomas@ntlworld Colin Trigg colin@northgate99.freeserve.co.uk Mike Tunks miketunks@hotmail.com Frank Weedon frank.sheila@fweedon.freeserve.co.uk John Williams john@josylanja.freeserve.co.uk ______________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Directory: download download -> Performance Tuning Guidelines for Windows Server 2008 May 20, 2009 Abstract download -> Northern England’s set-jetting locations download -> Bbc archives: Beyond the programme download download -> Occupational health and safety download -> Dynatest 3031 lwd light Weight Deflectometer download -> Forth coming competitive exams download -> English Olympiad Tasks: 10 th form Аудіювання, 10 клас. Текст download -> Brush High School Morning Announcements Friday, September 05, 2014 all school download -> Year 9 The Arts — Music download -> Years 7 and 8 standard elaborations — Australian Curriculum: Music draft Download 1.44 Mb. Share with your friends:
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