Electrickery

I’ve just got back from the eldest daughter’s house (Again) and on arriving there I was tasked with fitting a couple of dimmer switches. A simple task not really requiring much brainpower. Isolate the circuit, unwire the existing switch, replace with the dimmer switch, and reinstate the circuit. Job done.

Of course some would have it that I should, at vast expense have called in a qualified electrician. They would be wrong in their thinking. I actually hold a high voltage certificate that allows me to work with voltages over 1,000 volts. I had to obtain this in order to enter spaces and work upon machinery operating at 6.6 kV. (6,600V for the non technically minded).

The other qualification I had was that I’d worked on a class of ship that was not complemented for an Electrical Officer. I became that man. Alongside my other duties of looking after the main diesel generators, and the refrigeration plant. Being somewhat suspicious of a killing energy that can’t be seen I took extreme care to make sure that I followed the rules of “Isolate, test, test again, and work on it”. (Once I disobeyed my rules and touched a live circuit with 440V. Never again. It threw me six feet and I was probably unconscious for a minute or two).

Now to the crux of this post. Familiarity, adverse conditions, and sheer bad luck come into play. My outfit started to man the ships with electrical officers. Of course, us amateur electricians were told by these electrical officers that we had done a piss poor job. This pissed off most of us that had done the job, whilst holding down at least two other jobs (See above).

There was a problem with the control panel for the refrigeration rooms. The only way of sorting this out was for the electrical officer to switch of the power, open the door, and fiddle the door interlock controlling the main power switch to reinstate the power to enable fault finding to begin.

The sad part was that the ship  was rolling, the deck was oily, and oh dear, the lecky pitched headfast into the cubicle, striking his head on the 440V bus bars. And sadly that was the end of him..

Now you may say that I’m being disrespectful of the dead with the next part of the post.

After the body was removed from the vicinity it was realised that the body would have to be preserved until a post mortem could be carried out. That was the excuse for all the engineers to collectively define the initial problem and rectify it. The body needs to be preserved in a cool room. (Bye the way, never store the body in the deep freeze. Coroners will crucify you for that).

However I heard through the grapevine that the real cause for concern was that one of the refrigeration chambers was exceeding it’s set temperature. This was the “Beer Room”. Engineers can’t abide warm beer.

OK I’ll rot in hell if you wish. But I’ve heard this from multiple sources that I trust.

Moral of the story: You might be the expert, but circumstances can kick you up the backside without warning.

Those words I hated………

on joining a ship. “You’re in charge of the Fire and repair party”.

Now the fire and repair party (FRP) usually consists of twenty or more men or women of a variety of specialisations. Deck, engineering, catering, electrical, etc.

Of course I’m in charge of this motley cru (sic) and have to work out who is going to do what.

I have a junior officer as my number two and general dogsbody.

There is usually an officer from the catering department who is delegated to maintain the incident board, marking up on the wall mounted plans of the ship, the incidents as they occur. The incidents can range from fire and flood, to chemical hazards or radioactive contamination. (I don’t like the last two. They usually mean that I’m going to die a nasty death).

Fire is the most likely  scenario. Naturally a thousand miles from land and  dialling 999 does not get a response from the fire brigade. Ergo, we must fight fires ourselves.

To that end I have to form two five man firefighting teams. The problem is that all I have is a list of names. So I pencil in the names of the people against the duties that they will do. Simples.

Before I go on, I’ll just give you a run down on a five man team. All five are to be dressed in full fire protective suits and Breathing apparatus. each member will have a specific duty.

No.1 is the water wall number whose job is to be slightly in front, operating his hose in a circular spray to protect the team from the heat and flames.

No’2 is the fire-fighter who has his hose in ragged spray mode to actually fight the fire.

No.3 is the team commander who is slightly behind the front two and is surveying the situation with his thermal imaging camera (TIC).

No’4 is the hose handler.

No.5 is the ship protector who’s job is to seal the doorway to protect the ship to prevent the spread of fire into the rest of the ship.

Now comes the crunch. I’ve put names to the duties so everything is fine. NOT.

No’1 is a gay steward (Lovely chap) who suffers from claustrophobia.

No.2 is a female who is 5’ 2, who when turning on her hose is instantly bowled over backwards by the force.

No3, the team leader is afflicted with a stutter and is unable to communicate with the rest of the team over the radio.

No.4 is morbidly obese and struggles to carry his own wait let alone two fully charges hoses.

No.5 is no problem. Anyone can sit in a doorway watching the rainbows glistening off his water wall..

These are the problems when you have names and not faces. It doesn’t help that you usually have half a dozen of the FRP who make any excuse as to why they they should be exempt from a particular duty. “I’ve got gout, a rash, don’t know how to use the BA (Rubbish. You have to have done the course to even be there)”. Of course they don’t have a leg to stand on when I state that they wouldn’t be there without their yearly medical check up being passed.

This is a bit of a moan. However it is satisfying when it works. For some reason the majority of fires I’ve had to contend with have been at night. In every instance I’ve been amazed at the speed my teams have mustered, dressed and put the fires out.

Just goes to show, that with a little planning the system works.

The best fire-fighter I’ve ever had was actually a 5’ 3 inch, female cook, shaped like a beach ball, with a tenacity that was second to none. I would have made her team leader. However she couldn’t see over the two firefighters in front of her.

The only good thing about these drills is they are usually held towards the end of the working day. The upside is that TFE can rush off, have a shower, and get into the bar early.

Every story has a happy ending.

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The smoking war at sea.

This is the era when the badly researched science of second hand smoking was just starting to waft it’s ugly aroma.

Here we are off the coast of Iraq in early 2001

There I was onboard a massive grey painted ship just over the horizon from an enemy shore. The vessel in question is the Navy’s helicopter training ship and is sailing in her secondary function as “casualty receiving ship”. Not to be confused with a hospital ship. The reason being is that the vessel is fitted with a variety of armaments.

Hostilities have commenced and my Action Station post was I/C (In Command) of HQ1 (Command post for Fire fighting, damage repair, & Nuclear, Chemical and Biological threats). Adjoining HQ1 was the machinery control room run by a team of engineer officers and ratings.

Smoking areas on ships were a bit hit and miss at that time. It varied depending on which ship you were on.

I’m quietly sitting in my command seat when over my head set comes the somewhat worrying report from the Bridge that a Russian made anti ship missile search radar was sweeping us, and that the ship was going to turn and head out to sea at maximum speed. (Max speed being  a sprightly seventeen knots and sea skimming missiles have a habit of speeding in in the hundreds of knots).

Well naturally anyone would do what I did. I reached into the top pocket of my action coverall produced a packet of cigarettes and lit up. After a few moments a shout rings out from the adjoining control room, “you can’t smoke here”. My reply. (In wind up mode) “ Fuck off. I’m allowed to have a last cigarette before we all die in a blazing fireball in the next few minutes”. No reply.

Funnily enough no smoking in that space was never mentioned again.

Aside: One of the reasons I retired when I did, was the draconian rules on smoking that came about after 2007 onboard ships.

My First ship

It’s the one at the bottom on the Port (Left) side of  HMS Hermes in the Indian Ocean back in 1967. The good ship RFA Retainer (Royal Fleet Auxiliary). The ship on the other side of Hermes is RFA Tidereach.

Retainer was replenishing the Hermes with ammunition, whilst Tidereach was topping her up with fuel. Incidentally Tidereach was my second ship.

Fancy a cruise?

I used to do this for a living. Just imagine yourself in that position. Mountainous seas, reduced propulsion, and terrified passengers. Fun heh.

Let’s sing. “A life on the Ocean wave”.

Altogether now.

Note the cargo vessel trying to fire a line across. Really should allow for the wind. 2/10. Must do better.