I read that In World War 2. One in every four-merchant marine died, a higher percentage of losses than the Royal Navy, the Royal Air Force or the British army.

 

A glimpse into my time on the training ship Vindicatrix before going to sea in WW2.

 

A preface to my article

The Vindicatrix sailing ship was built in the 1800's, and tied up permanently to the quayside as a training ship for the Merchant Navy in Sharpness UK. The accommodation on board was to say the least shocking. Sleeping with all sorts of vermin, cockroaches, mice, ants, bugs, etc. in a totally overcrowded environment.

 

After my time there, cabins were built on shore that I believe accommodated 15 boys to each cabin. I can only describe the comparison as living from day to day personal hardship to that of luxury.
 

 

First thing in the morning.
I was awakened every morning, by an Officer calling out as he made his way through the bed deck. " Hands off cocks and on to socks"
We dressed and headed for the gym deck, but on the way had to pass through a narrow alleyway, pick up a glass of pink stuff, take a mouthful, gargle, and spit out into a trough. Quite stomach churning looking into that trough three or four times a week, before doing about a 15-minute warm up then going down the gangway to the towpath for the morning run. I remember on our last morning when we had warmed up the instructor said quote" This is your last morning so you should get a special treat" (everybody cheered)." Instead of the usual three miles it will be five". That was typical.

 

I was there in mid-winter with ice around the ship. I had fractured my ankle before joining, so I used to be trailing the field with the gym instructor hitting me across my back and buttocks with his baton, and shouting "last man in gets no breakfast". He was always true to his "no breakfast "word until I managed to grit my teeth and get amongst the rest at the finish.

 

We did our beds after the run and before assembling for breakfast, down on the mess deck. A doorstep of bread and Jam, and a bowl of porridge with a scattering of salt on it, but here's the rub. If you came across anything solid it would be a cockroach, giving you only two options. Push it to the side and carry on eating, or go hungry. Take your pick. In the galley they had a big cast iron pot that they used to cook the porridge in.  The steam would rise up on to the low deckhead and the cockroaches would lose traction and fall in. I think the cook must have just given the porridge an extra stir, rather than scoop them out.

 

With regards to the desertion rate. I vividly remember hearing the sobbing on the bed deck at night and they were gone the next day. Could not remember what happened to them.

 

Instruction.
This is where my mind gets a bit hazy. All I can remember is, two or perhaps three classes going on at the same time. The boys would be seated in circles all on the same deck. I experienced one bad incident during classes, don't know which class, but if a boy could not come up with a quick answer the instructor would strike the boy around the head with his baton. It all blew up one day when all the boys in the class stood up as one and descended on him. I have no doubt in my mind that if the other instructors had not intervened, he would have been subjected to grievous body harm. This one thing could have shut out my memory of the day to day happenings during classes.

On the other end of the scale I do remember the Knots. The reason I remember is easily explained. The instructor of the day used a sexual connotation to explain every knot, splice, bend and hitch in the book. I have an image of him in my mind but do not remember his name. They were the only light hearted moments I had on that ship.

 

Boxing.
I arrived on the ship in the early evening of the boxing night. I had befriended a small quiet chap during the train journey down. After we had stowed our gear and had a bite to eat, or should I say after taking one look at the food and wondering what the hell we had let ourselves in for, we meandered down to see the boxing.

The scene when we arrived was of this big brute of a chap standing in the ring with his arms above his head in a victory position, blood all over the place, and some poor sod being carried off. Apparently, this was I think the third bout of the evening with a similar result. There were shouts for the next Christian to enter the arena but there were no takers everybody was backing off for the obvious reason.

My friend started to take his coat and shirt off. Looking at his size and the big one in the ring." What the hell do you think you are doing " I asked. He took no notice just got into the ring.

 

All the laughter and calls for how many seconds he would last before being annihilated continued until the fight started. The big chap came across the ring, his arms resembling a threshing machine. My friend side stepped leaving his opponent bouncing off the ropes. There was dead silence in the crowd. He did that twice and after getting his measure on the third time planted one on the big chap's chin knocking him out. There was a loud thud as he hit the canvas. My friend happened to be an amateur boxer. We kept together throughout my time there and guess what I never got bullied. We never went down to another boxing night. I am sorry to say I only have his picture in my memory not his name or number.

 

Under the clock.
Yes, I was under the clock and what happened afterwards dictated the whole tenure of my stay there. It was made clear early on that there would be no shore leave except under extreme circumstances, and only on compassionate grounds. I had been there only a couple of weeks when my Mother wrote to the ship and I found myself on a weekend pass to sort out a problem at home.

 My father was serving in the artillery overseas at the time. I lived in a village which was completely shut off by snow drifts after a storm. I could not get back to the ship until the roads had been cleared, which happened to be at about 10 pm on the Sunday night (5 hours behind) I was promptly ushered up to stand under the clock next to the captain's cabin.

There were about 3 or 4 others standing there, one since 5.30 pm (only 30 minutes late). The captain came out. "Bonner you are abaft" "yes sir but we got snowed in" " We don't accept excuses stand here with the others and wait until the rest have shown up" We were not allowed to lean against the walls or sit on the floor. The last boy arrived back at 1.30am in the morning. The captain came out in his pajamas. He pointed at the last boy in. "This is the one that's caused you all the trouble. After I've gone you can do what you want with him. From now on you are all on permanent fatigues" I'm not sure if he said fatigues or Jankers but it amounted to the same thing in the end.

There happened to be a couple of rough types in the group. They grabbed the poor devil and carried him out on to the deck and up to the bowsprit and threw him over. He crashed through the cat ice into the cold water. We ran down to the quayside and helped him out.

 

On permanent fatigues, everything went downhill for me. At any time of the day or night weekends included I would be dragged out to do some menial task. They only left me alone during actual class time.

 

First thing every morning we would assemble in lines on the open deck for divisions. Some were picked out to do a chore, but being on permanent fatigues I would always be selected with a sarcastic joke " Bonner help to move the piano" what he really meant was clean the toilets.

 

On occasions they would wake me up at around 1-1.30 in the morning with others to row the boat down to a Sharpness warehouse and pick up stores and off load them when we got back, only getting about an hour of sleep before having to get up at 5 am.

 

Which brings me to an incident that happened during lifeboat instruction up and down the canal. We were using standard lifeboat oars about 14 foot long. On instruction "up oars" we had to lift them upright and hold them. A little boy next to me lost his balance and fell into the water. He was floundering, and obviously didn't know how to swim and we were drifting away from him. The boys were all calling out "Sir he's drowning" his response " leave him alone he's got to learn how to swim" Apparently he died later and it was wartime so I could just imagine the report to his family "just another war casualty"
 

Coal shipment

I was there when the coal shipment arrived, and being on fatigues I had to work below decks in the storage room. The derrick would come over the open hatch cover with a Hessian bag full of coal. They would open the bag and the lumps of coal would plummet down into the center of the room. We had to run forward, pick up the coal and quickly stack it against the walls before the next lot came down. As you can imagine as the size of the room got smaller the circumstances became hazardous. The boy next to me did not get out of the way quickly enough and a big lump of coal fractured his leg. He was replaced and the work went on. Our reward for working in what was known as the Black Hole of Calcutta was an extra cup of cocoa at suppertime. The youngsters of today would have a big laugh about that.
 

Punishment

On the pure punishment side of my fatigues, I would be taken up on deck in the middle of the night and put on the Holy Stone, (a rectangular block of cement, which I pushed back and forth on my hands and knees) to clean the wooden surface of the deck usually during the 12 midnight to 4 am watch. One particular officer used to enjoy piling it on. He would say the same old thing about making the deck as white as a hound's tooth, and when he left me to go below, he would warn me that if he heard the stone stop, he would add an extra half an hour to my time up there.

Down on my hands and knees and with every push and pull of that heavy stone I would swear to god that I would somehow eventually get even. Having said that, I now know it helped me later in life to cope with some demanding challenges and life-threatening moments.
 

The irony came during my last days there when I was doing exams. I was approached by the Navigation officer; he was a Welshman, before I went in to do my lifeboat final.  "The boys are failing. Get in there and be the first one to pass" I looked at him. " What do you expect me to do, you've had me on permanent fatigues, with no chance to study, I reckon I'm bound to fail" "Christ he said not another one. I'll promise to get you off punishment straight away if you pass".

 

During my exam in the test room, I was given a navigation instruction to perform. I froze. Unbeknownst to me the captain had entered the room but I heard the roar of his voice" Bloody think man, Bloody think" " It shook me back to reality and I passed. In a twisted sort of way, it was the only good thing he ever did for me.   Promises were kept and I relished the moment of being released from my permanent fatigues, during my final days on the Vindicatrix.

After I left the training ship, I did a gunnery course, on the Thames and at Shoeburyness Southend-On-Sea firing different types of weapons across the open beach. Then on to a troopship from the Clyde, Scotland taking troops to fight in Burma. After that another ship sequestered by the US for service in the pacific, and finally, at the end of WW2 on converted ships taking British wives and children of Australian servicemen to Australia.

 

Yes, I travelled to many parts of the world, with lots of stories about the good people I met during and after the war.

 

A couple of final notes.
 

I was seasick on every voyage when things got choppy. On one voyage I sailed around Cape Horn on my way back to the UK from New Zealand. Really bad. Don't ever want to go around again. I know now why they called it the devil's cauldron.

 

After leaving the training ship I lost contact with my boxer friend and 3 or 4 others I got acquainted with.

 

I was in London awaiting transfer to another ship. Standing at a bus stop a voice called out to me.  It was my boxer friend. We had a long chat whilst having a meal in a nearby cafe. I asked him about the others. They had all been killed on convoy's in the North Sea, to Russia and Sweden, which was called the ball bearing run to keep the tanks and other military equipment mobile.

 One young man in particular was torpedoed only 2/3 miles off the UK coast and he managed to struggle ashore covered in oil and survived. Then torpedoed again on his next ship but this time killed.

I refer you back to my comment at the beginning of this article   
 

After growing up in the quiet English countryside, yes, my short period on the Vindicatrix was a big shock to my system. It was compounded by my permanent day and night fatigues, which started only 2 weeks after I arrived on board and continued until my final week before leaving. I can only sum up my short period on the Vindicatrix as the time when I developed rapidly from a boy into a man, and it served me well during the hardships of WW2 and beyond.