By Tony McCrum
Captain Tony McCrum's naval profession all started in 1932. He survived the sinking of HMS Skipjack at Dunkirk and went directly to serve on minesweepers and at sea in the course of the landings at Salerno. His wartime reports have been lately released as Sunk by way of Stukas.This e-book covers the second one a part of his naval profession among 1945 and 1963. Having arrived again in Plymouth from Trincomlee as a lieutenant aboard the destroyer Tarter in November 1945, his first appointment used to be as senior teacher on the RN signs institution in Devonport. There then appointments as Flag Lieutenant; first to Admiral Pridham-Wippell, CinC Plymouth Command after which Admiral Sir Rhoderick McGrigor, CinC domestic Fleet, the place he was once additionally Deputy Fleet Communications Officer. He was once in keeping with the admiral's flagship, the battleship HMS Duke of York which he joined in 1947. The fleet exercised within the Atlantic and Mediterranean and 'showed the flag' in numerous ports within the united states, Caribbean Islands and the Baltic. In May...
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Extra info for Abandon Ship!. The Post-War Memoirs of Captain Tony McCrum RN
This regular routine of demobbing produced a slap-happy atmosphere amongst both officers and ratings as they waited for their release dates. Being a career officer, I was in the Navy for life. Discipline at this time was lax and there was no enthusiasm for new ideas, least of all from the Captain, who was an alcoholic. It was a world apart from being on a ship at sea. The only bright spots were my two assistants, Len Hubbard and Fred Tarling, nuggets of gold, men from the lower deck who had risen to a single-stripe commission as commissioned signal boatswains – a lovely title.
In naval terms, it was a time for ‘letting go the end,’ an expression harking back to the days of sail, describing the moment after sailors had been hauling on a rope with a heavy load on the end; task completed, they’d drop the rope on the deck and ‘let go the end’, heaving a sigh of relief. ’ My time in the bottom of a dry dock soon ended and from being a staff officer to a warrior captain who had long departed and responsible for the communications of six destroyers, I was whisked away to a hutted camp on the outskirts of Plymouth, where the Devonport Naval Signal School languished.
The sad end to his personal dilemma was that both of them died within eighteen months of setting up home together. I had no entanglements and went to my home on Dartmoor to await my next appointment. Chapter 4 Seagoing Flunkey Having said goodbye to Plymouth I wondered what those who must be obeyed had in store for me. Civilians imagine that one naval job is much the same as any other; in reality, the variety is huge. For the past two years I had spent most of my time as a typical social butterfly, a flunkey attending on my admiral, divorced from my equals and probably getting above my station.