Vignettes from my life in the Navy

VIGNETTES FROM MY LIFE IN THE NAVY

(In no particular sequence)

Enjoy!

*19 July 1975 - the fateful day when destiny led me from Hyderabad to CHTS via Madras (to pick up another victim called Ramachandran)! Never knew that joining up the Navy would be questionable…and did the officers at NAVAC question us…! All lined up, moral lecture given and heard, zero cuts given and taken, now once again lined up after freshening-up (consisting of slithering past soap-covered slimy bodies to get to that single shower dripping woefully like it was overworked b...y the sweaty bodies underneath…trying to catch the watery drops…oh…it was water…with a bit of brown added)! The interrogation began…question one was fired away…why did you want to join the Navy? One intrepid low-life quoted some long forgotten hero and said ‘Sir, I love my country and want to serve it’ which brought the response ‘Good, you can join the Mess staff in serving dinner, but for now, legs up hands down!’ Another, a lower-life gave patriotism as the reason for going through this humiliation…same result…legs up hands down! A still-lower-life (me) responded ‘I want to die fighting for the country’ which brought out guffaws and ‘You will die alright by the time we are finished with you…but for now…’, the still-lower-life understood and up went his legs and down went his hands!!! By the time it was time for dinner, around 20 low-life forms were trying their best to look dignified with their legs up askance and hands down all tensed up, visage sweating out drops at a rate better than the shower in the bath! And we were initiated into the hallowed portals of the Indian Navy and lived to tell the tale! Prem Suthan, KV Subba Rao, Ashok Piplani, HA Gokhale, DV Singh were the mentors and tor-mentors equally and we had a lovely (in retrospect) time learning the ropes and not to forget the great medicine man Gopal Rao who could freeze a loose motion with a single look! Unforgettable and some…unmentionable!

*Back to the medicine man Gopal Rao (retired as Surgeon Commodore) who was the PMO (no, nothing to do with the one in South Block), INS Venduruthy located on Willingdon Island Naval Base, Cochin (yes it was known that way till not so long ago). We were 96 low life forms at NAVAC and more than enough for a single PMO to handle…but then the medicine man was made of tougher stuff.

Every Sunday morning and real early at that, 0600 or six hundred hours or just plain 6 AM, we were shepherded like cattle and sent off on a meaningless chase called ‘Cross Country Run’! This was by no means of imagination a cross country run…it was all along on the black topped roads of Willingdon Island, the course meandering through the lovely greens (no, golf was not even born then…at least in the Services and high score ACR could be had by gamely losing at Tennis, Badminton, etc or so we realised much later in our low-life) of the Naval Base, Katari Bagh and along the fencing of INS Garuda…the so called ring road to CHTS!

After the initial josh, the idle minds started to whirl and we decided enough was enough and by rotation we would take SIQ (sick in quarters…though the medicine man found that very sick!) and every Saturday, we would draw straws and Sunday morning line up at the MI Room…! The medicine man was an observant fellow and was already exposed to this affliction and attraction for this human failing called ‘loose motions’ through successive courses and by the time we joined up…he was a veteran detector of ‘loose emotions’!

He never had faith in us…so I can safely say that he never really lost faith in us…he made us sit in his consultation room on a hard-bench-with-no-back and await deliverance…! He went to the extent of offering his private WC with the confidence that we would never deliver (though Domino’s wasn’t even heard of, he gave us 30 minutes to deliver or perish). When none delivered in the given time period, he extended it by another 30 minutes (we wouldn’t do that with Domino’s, would we…so unforgiving…but, wtf…who wants to eat a cold pizza anyways) and so on and so forth…so the desired sleep was never to be…! This went on for a few weeks by which time the medicine man got tired of it and started having faith in our false promises of deliverance…!

He changed the rules…those who did not deliver, got one day’s SIQ (sick in quarters, in case you missed it the first time somewhere above) and those who did deliver, spent some time in a resort called INHS Sanjeevani situated on the banks of the channel, which was then, without climate control…which meant that one sweated it out even while resting the tired soul…no not the LM…oh yuck…dirty mind et al…just sweat!

And so it went…everybody learnt not to deliver on the false promise…and everyone was spared the stay in the resort called INHS Sanjeevani…by the 17th Week, we also got over this affliction and the spirit of competition caught us up in its whirlwind grip…and we ran…like shod horses…on black topped roads…through the Naval Base, through Katari Bagh and on the ring road to CHTS…and back through North Gate to NAVAC to a waiting ChPTI who thought nothing of sending us rolling (not in splits of laughter…no way) through the storm drains…so that they look spic and span! More on that later…!

*This destiny thing never really left me…however, on this occasion; it was fate that played with me! On leave from Trishul of yore (restricted to 45 days due to some requirements which only the Fleet Commander and the C-in-C understood, but never by the not so young not so old guys like me and my ilk). At home enjoying three movie shows a day and suddenly my mom gets a whim…visit Putaparthi Ashram…and we end up in a jiffy over there. That was when fate dealt its blow…! The Governor of the State of AP decided in his wisdom (and not of the rest of the State) to dismiss one NTR who was the CM of the State and all hell broke loose…everything stopped except the blood coursing through everyone’s arteries and re-coursing through the veins and so on and so forth. All trains came to a halt wherever they were like some Supreme Being said ‘statue’…ditto with buses, taxis, autoricks, bullock-carts, et al. And everyone in government service decided this was the right time to take a break and went on strike…so no P & T, which meant that I couldn’t call anyone (even through the venerable 180) nor send an Urgent Telegram…stuck as in the Fevicol ad! No option other than walking it across the border to Bangalore (a good 120 Km…only) and catch some form of transportation to Mumbai…I even dreamt and beseeched the Supreme Beings to spare Garud…but even they were supporting NTR…so no go! Finally, the brouhaha got over and everything sprang back to life…and I could make it back to Mumbai and Trishul! Fate had not yet done with me…as I crossed the gangway and saluted the lady, everyone was giving me strange looks as if I was resurrected from the dead or so I perceived…made it to the Ward Room without anybody touching me (to check if I was for real or was I a spook)…and there was a big heave of collective relief from all therein…! The ExO immediately dragged and presented me on a platter to the CO…the old man was a cool cat (if ever there was one) and only asked me ‘Why?’…out came the story and then he told me that a Genform was raised after the due waiting period of seven days (weak memory…is that period correct?) and that I had the singular distinction of being marked ‘R’ (marked run)…! Hoo boyo...was fate cruel...marking a hot blooded Gunner as RUN...I mean RUN...like it was OK for a kid called Nandu...but me...the Gunner...egads! A copiously sentimental letter followed from me, countersigned, covering letter et al and I was rushed off to HQWNC where another copiously sentimental verbal explanation followed (this time to the P & A boss)! After due negotiations by the CO with this P & A boss, I was let off as I still had 15 days leave in credit and the excess was adjusted as extension to leave…and it dawned on me...the intelligence of the C-in-C and the Fleet Commander...in keeping 15 days in reserve...just for sods like me who get stuck! Heaved a sigh of relief and got back to some serious elbow exercising (not allowed at home)…and it was back to the living and enjoying on the redecorated, ooops, renovated…oh shit, yeah, modernized Trishul!!!

*Fly by Beer!
NCB, Vizag (prior to being converted into a residential hub) circa 1978:
The 'town' is approx. 14 - 18 km from the Naval Base (depending on which part of the town one is in) and when coming out for a movie or to meet a friend...and the thirst gets to you...the NCB Ward Room was like manna from heaven...like a blessing in disguise...a by-the-sea watering hole! And if you are in a group, then nothing better! So it happened that we made our detour for a first visit - as youngsters in the Navy not knowing better, that is! The smell of drying fish and rotting fish hit us like a blast wave and we hurried inside in the hope that the WWI ceiling fan could do wonders in creating a counter wave to keep the stench out. Well, after about ten minutes our minds and nostrils and our sense of smell got numbed and we ventured out into the verandah and sat down for our 'order'. Came the tray full of Golden Eagles with a misty look and that cheered us up like nothing else. We opened up a bottle each and told the waiting steward that we would not be burdening him with washing of beer mugs...we went straight to those misted up bottles...a few flies also joined us in our times of happiness and we just shooed them away...possessive as we were of that precious liquid! Lo and behold, the 'shooed off' flies got back with reinforcements...and what reinforcements...it appeared as if the entire 'fly' population of Jalarpeta wanted to join in the celebrations...and our efforts to be selfish (plus thumb in the mouth of the bottle) and not share our sustenance with them appeared to be like some crazed voodoo dance probably more apt for Rwanda Burundi! Then advice came from above...somewhere far above...an unseen force invaded our senses to make us wiser...and we sacrificed a saucerful of that chilled golden nectar...kept it in the farthest corner of the verandah and we threw in a few of those tasty nuts as bonus...and made peace with the hummers!!! Enjoyment at last!!!

*1989 - Going to the ship (INLCU L31) from home in Port Blair...0820 hrs. Down the last slope before entering BRO (PB)...a goat beginning to cross the road...I raced ahead to beat the goat...goat won...scooter (Hamara Bajaj) on its side screaming away and I went flying (despite being grounded in EFS, Bidar back in 1978) and made a landing without undercarriage...shirt (8's) partly torn and thoroughly blackened by the BT...! Went back home to change.
Lesson learnt: Never compete with a goat! 

*Vizag circa 1979 summer-time; INS Kiltan. Tanked up in the Ward Room with a course mate. Bright idea of seeing a matinee. No bike either with me or with my friend (scooters were considered fit only for senior officers and for the namby pamby). Borrowed a Yezdi; fuel tank already in reserve, but did not check quantum of reserve. After crossing ND(V) bike stopped. Kicked and kicked and threw tantrums...bike indifferent. Brain worked, opened fuel tank cover and yes...we were tanked up and the bike's tank was empty...no wonder it was so indifferent to our tantrums. Pushed, cajoled, dragged said indifferent bike to the first petrol bunk at Chavula Maidan (Telugu for cemetry) and filled 'er up. Bike happy, we happy, miss matinee, see first show, more happy, dinner out, even more happy, back to Finger Jetty, returned bike, back to ship. The Ward Room was still lively (2300 hr)...so tanked up all over again! What a happy life it was as a junior officer!!!

*And talk of cars reminds me of INS Kiltan 1978. Our CO, a happy go lucky kind of a guy had an imported Hillman, red in colour to match his verve and zest for life! He belonged to the legendary cult of pink ginners and was a blue-blooded gunner to boot...you see already so very colorful! One of those afternoon sessions ended around 1530 hrs after frantic calls from his home...something to do with lunch getting cold (I think it was a Wednesday or a Saturday as it was make n mend). Before I proceed further, this Hillman had a safety interlock and that was after ignition, the key had to be turned another notch to unlock the steering wheel. From Finger Jetty he took off like a 76.2 shell on steroids and in his hurry forgot that extra notch. The car swerved to the right and took a plunge into the toxic harbour waters. It was his presence of mind that made him open the door before hitting the water and he got out safely. We were watching the scene from the Fox'le with our jaws dropping progressively southwards. My course mate (a ship's diver) happened to be on duty and without further ado, jumped into the water (No. 8's and all) and picked up the CO and guided him to the nearest ladder on the side of the jetty. The CO came back on board to a hero's welcome, washed/dried/changed and of course, he had to have some more pink gins. The FOCEF (Adm Dawson) was informed and he put the entire machinery of ND (V) into action (and this would have shamed the Uttarakhand government). Mobile Cranes of all sizes and shapes arrived and divers were summoned and hey presto, the car was lifted out of the murky depths...hung out to shed the excess weight of liquids and put out on the jetty to dry. The next day, it was my turn to get into action as I was a local. Liaison with the Insurance firm, liaison with the workshop at St. Aloysius' (no other workshop would handle the Hillman) and so on and so forth till the car was restored to its original, albeit a little less pristine condition and the insurance firm paid the 40 grand + in damages settlement! Cdr Mohan Chandy was the CO and SLt RMC Bakshi was my course mate who was the rescuer. That it became the hot topic of town was but a mere conjunct to the event!!! 

*Punjab and Himachal are far away from the sea and to some extent understandable as the Army holds complete sway with the Air Force coming a very distant second...! Now, I did not expect Hyderabad to be that way...but whenever I introduced myself as Captain... I used to get disdainful looks as if I was still the lowest form of life. Commander is still the top rank of the Navy understood in civvy street and after that it is straight to Admiral...so according to most on civvy street the Indian Navy officers come under three categories...Cadet, Commander & Admiral...no more no less!

*At NAVAC in 1975, the cooks along with the Supply Officer ganged up against the cadets...and the torture was initiated by the Duty Training Officer...kacha aam...and a fork & knife!

*1976 Spring Term on board INS Delhi and 5 months of scrubbing decks and giving a shine to the wood with a holy stone!!! And not forgetting the 6" shells/cartridges on the shoulders...the sweating it out in the turrets... the boom of the six-incher...the front/back rolls on a rolling/pitching deck... the Sub of the Gun on the prowl...not knowing whose towel/socks/shoes you were using...community living at its peak...unforgettable memories! Life was fun and on a song with Amar Prem viewed once a week for twenty two weeks...on a rickety creaking vintage projector!!!

*Circa 1978-79: Woe me when my CO's car took a dive at the finger jetty in Vizag. The recovery of costs from the insurance company was made my responsibility as I was a local. Then started the interaction with the go-between (or agent or middle-man or surveyor...take your pick) and this guy was only interested in three things...money, daaru and chicken...pretty much in that order! Obviously, my job was to ensure that the MONEY aspect was kept to zero (as Naval Officers including COs are generally bereft of this precious commodity at any time of the month after the seventh day...maybe that is what is meant by Seventh Day Adventists!) and to increase his intake of DAARU & CHICKEN as compensation. Happy situation...the guy was aware of the monetary aspect of Naval Officers and he, fortunately, did not go in that direction and was quite happy with gulping down 'Scotch on the rocks' by the largest peg at lunch time (it was pre-decided that lunch time it would be...to obviate his witnessing the way we imitate Bacchus in the evenings)! Now, this was OK...but then his third interest cropped up...he could not 'enjoy' the 'Scotch on the rocks' without the accompaniment of this particular bird...well cooked that is!! And as we are all familiar with the Messes and Ward Rooms, the chicken would not come as it was not on the menu...and this guy was one unhappy tippler as he was given a choice of peanuts and potato chips!!! On his second visit, I was better prepared...I read the menu in advance and told him to come on so and so day...and that was the day when 'chicken roast' was on the menu...one piece per officer (ha ha this was not mentioned on the menu)...!!! As this guy was hyper-ventilating, the steward served him that one piece of chicken...and he did not like it...he wanted 'chicken masala'! A little bit of convincing on the wayward ways of the Mess operations and he was satisfied with the 'chicken roast'! Then came the time for lunch and he did not get chicken...gawd...he had eaten his 'one piece' while imbibing 'Scotch on the rocks'! The ultimate peace-time sacrifice was made and I gave him my 'one piece of chicken'...anything for the CO you see...and when the CO happens to be Mohan Chandy (RIP), then no holds barred! All was well that ended well and the CO got the entire damages reimbursed.

And what about the trips to St. Aloysius School Workshop to oversee the return of the prodigal Hilman...that is another story!

*Circa 1977-78 - Messing around in Satavahana, courtesy Zapata..!

Nobody ever credits bed-bugs with intelligence... they hide in dark niches in wood work and natural fibres like cotton mattresses, newar, etc...they suck blood, smell awful and generally remain a pestilence! However, in the make-shift Officers' Mess (it remained make-shift for decades) in INS Satavahana, the bed-bugs were of an entirely different calibre...!!! We were three sharing a room and after having got fed up of these troublesome guys making their daring attacks from the wooden cot's niches, from under the newar and from the depths of the mattress...we threw out everything made of wood/newar/cotton... slept on the floor, kept the lights on through the night, used our suitcases/trunks as table/chair/stool... but they would still come... they were in every nook & corner of the walls... so it was that one overly troublesome night, we stayed awake and for a time-pass kept observing their tactics! As their favorite furniture was missing, as the lights were on (leaving not even an iota of a dark nook/corner)...they climbed to the ceiling and positioned themselves just above the area where we slept on the floor...and then let go...no parachute...but a soft landing on our makeshift mattresses in a makeshift room in a makeshift officers' mess...and carried out their midnight raids for their bloody attacks!!! Thankfully our stay for the Sub-Lieutenants' Courses (equiv: YO's Courses) was for only three weeks and we were spared the agony of donating too much Plasma/RBC/WBC/ Platelets to those intelligent bugs of Satavahana...!

*Sometime in 2013. Now in the Merchant Navy - Oh wow...cockroaches and rats make life interesting on board ships and it is said that even before man steps on board a ship (that he made), the cockroaches and rats have right of passage!!! The variety and size are vast and it boggles the mind to identify and list out! People start googling and trying to identify what type of roach or rat has come home to roost and what possible poison should be used...! The GM F & B in our company even went as far as to stake his reputation on the identification of roaches (miniature versions of those found in drains) abounding in my ship to be of German origin and so and so to be the right antidote...but to no avail...the roaches continue to make merry and the pest control guy continues to make money! The Deck Store has become a repository of various poisons and needs to be access-controlled to prevent perennially losing punters from imbibing the same!