Memories of

T.S. INDEFATIGABLE

1941-42

11 October 1997 I was one of the Indy lads
I was one of the boys
We learned our manners
We earned our tanners
We were respected
Wherever we went
On a cold, damp typical February morning the young boy and his widowed mother stepped off their train from Llandudno and out into the busy Liverpool Lime Street en route to the Sailors Home in Canning Place. The boy was due to take a medical and educational examination as a pre- entry condition to join the T.S.Indefatigable as a trainee seaman.

On arrival at the Sailors Home the boy reported in and joined a number of other hopeful applicants. There was an aura of fear and trepidation and some uncertainty during all the preliminaries and once these were completed the results were then collated and the unsuccessful candidates were let down as lightly as possible, whilst the "fortunate few" were informed that they were due aboard that very afternoon, much to the surprise of the boy's mother who had an unused return ticket and a very difficult explanation to make to her mother [Nain] as to why she had left her grandson in Liverpool. It turned out later there was a very frosty atmosphere at home for a considerable time.

Goodbyes were said with a touch of embarrassment as the boy did'nt want to appear to be a Mummy's boy, so kisses were kept to a minimum. After all the farewell's were made, the boy's with an escort were tendered out to the Indy, which on first sight appeared very large and very daunting. All the boys' aboard the tender were quiet and fairly apprehensive about what was in store, and what the future may hold for them. Could it be a somewhat unusual dream and could we possibly wake up in our beds in the comfort of our own homes?

However the embarkation took place and it was down to the messdeck for tea!!! No cups or mugs to drink out of, but basins!! Never having drunk out of a basin before this was another shock to the system. Thick slabs of bread and Marge and some form of Bread Pudding, which to say the least was very sloppy. After all the excitement of the day it was all very unappetising and not wanted which suited all the old hands who more than took advantage of the situation and the unexpected food bonus. Our appetites soon recovered, and by the time of the next new boy intake we were as avaricious as everyone else and tried to take advantage of their queasy stomach's.

After our meal, we were taken to our part of ship and shewn how to sling our hammocks and as no one had ever slept in a hammock before this was probably the highlight of the day. We were also shewn how to lash up and stow in readiness for Reveille, and as this was February 1941, Air Raids were very frequent at that time so all our clothes and footwear had to be placed near at hand in case of enemy action and possible evacuation. Eventually Pipe Down occurred and everyone climbed into their hammocks (not without initial difficulty) and settled down after a most traumatic day. With all these thoughts racing around his mind, the boy had great difficulty in getting to sleep. However, sleep finally came and when Reveille sounded, at a very unearthly hour, a new day, in strange surroundings, dawned with everyone, but for the nozzers, knowing what was required and where to go and what to do. Strange loud shouts of Lash up and stow, more ribald shouts of Let go your*** and grab your socks rang out and the first full day of "Indy" life had begun.

Breakfast was as exciting as last evenings tea, and then we had a tour of the ship and an introduction to the ship's Officers, then it was discovered (horror on horror) that schooldays were not over and that there were classrooms and even a schoolmaster on board. The Captain's name was Bambra and his wife (forever after known as Madame) was in charge of the sickbay and her alter ego was a form of Matron. Chief Officer (Jimmy the one) Unwin was in charge of day to day running and responsible to the Captain for discipline. Charlie Roseavre "Daddy" Mash, and "Bandy" Williams, who doubled as schoolmaster and bandmaster were some of the names the new intake had to remember and it was quite difficult initially to put a name to a face.

Another excitement for this day, was a visit to the Slop Chest for kitting out. At first nothing seemed to fit but eventually a reasonable compromise was reached. After this, Official Numbers and parts of ship were allocated and the boy now found he was no longer Derek Evans but now was to be known an Number 162 of the 4th. Division and his part of ship, for cleaning stations, was the Poop Deck and these cleaning duties would take place as from Day 2 onwards. All these rules and regulations took a lot of getting used to, presumably the idea was to keep everyone busy and fully occupied as a form of therapy. After this very busy day, whilst in his hammock, which incidentally had turned out to be surprisingly comfortable, a little self doubt crept in and whilst muffled sobs and presumably tears from adjoining hammocks as homesickness reared its head and he was no longer sure that he had done the right thing. However, sleep took over and all of a sudden Reveille sounded and a new day had dawned.

New routines of a daily nature took over and gradually homesickness receeded until the first letters from home arrived (plus a parcel) and a big lump in the throat was there for most of the day.. Popularity was very apparent until the cake, which had arrived in the parcel, was all gone and then everything returned to normal.

The older hands were a mine of information about everything and in particular an initiation rite or ceremony which went by the peculiar title of "so many aboard" which consisted of a series of punches to the upper arm muscles, one for each month aboard, by any boy senior to the recipient. This could only take place on the anniversary date of coming aboard, so one learned to keep a low profile on these days, but human nature being what it is we all looked forward to the next entry intake when one would not be a nozzer but at last senior to someone!!!

Several of the older boys had what seemed to be good or cushy jobs, which carried some kudos, such as the Post Boy who had to go ashore most days to take the ships mail to Rockferry Post Office and to collect the incoming mail and of course to do a bit of shopping for essential supplies such as Woodbines or Players Weights etc. The going rate was, at this time, one cigarette for a penny and as the retail price was five for twopence ashore a thriving business was being conducted except for the difficulty of buying the cigarettes as they were in very short supply due to wartime production and privatation. The boys in the stokehold had a very well scrubbed shovel and could supply, for a penny, a slice of fried bread, fried to perfection on the aforementioned shovel. This helped to supplement the messdeck rations, the difficulty again being the pennies to purchase these delicacies. They were definitely budding entrepeneurs.

Lessons, the three "R's" were conducted daily by "Bandy" Williams, so known because of his second stringed bow as Bandmaster of the Drum & Bugle Band, of which organisation the boy soon became a playing member because the Band being in great demand for the various Fundraisers ashore, obviously meant the Band being allowed ashore for various marches especially Warships Weeks and generally that meant "Big Eats" somewhere and a good run ashore was always welcome.

Other lessons, which were compulsory, were Boat Handling and General Seamanship,and these were a relief from the three "R's", after all this was what it was all about, the main reason for joining the Indy!! not boring old school lessons but Bends & Hitches, Knots & Splices,Anchors & Cables. They took a great deal of mastering but once mastered they are still remembered to this day.

Clear Lower Deck was piped one day. All hands fall in on the main deck. Everyone fell in at their stations; Mr. Unwin "Jimmy the one", announced that one of the older boys had been having trouble with his personal hygiene and was failing to wash either himself or his clothes and an example was to be made and he was to receive a public scrubbing. The water was obtained from the River Mersey by buckets. A combination of long handled deck scrubbers, disinfectant and liberal quantities of soft soap was used with vigour if not expertise by the crew and it left the unfortunate boy red raw and very humiliated. This public exhibition had a very salutary effect on everyone who had witnessed it and resulted in everyone being very fussy about their own personal hygeine for quite a considerable time afterwards. When the ships company fell out there were many huddles and sotto voce comments about the harsh discipline aspect but it was a lesson readily understood and stood the boy in good stead for the rest of his life. Cleanliness is a very necessary requirement in confined spaces like shipboard accomodation. Discipline, although hard at times, was generally fair.

After several days, routine established itself and as time passed homesickness was forgotten and everything became very ordered with plenty of cleaning [spit & polish] plus seamanship lessons and the hated 3"R's" and then the business of greeting the new intake of nozzers thus losing the hated title and trying to behave like "old hands".

A buzz went around the ship one day that one of the boys had been taken ill and was to be taken ashore to hospital. Apparently the first diagnosis was he had contracted spinal meningitis and was going to have various tests to confirm or deny this. He was placed in an ammunition stretcher and lowered over the side into a waiting tender and thence to hospital. A favourable report was received later but he never came back aboard.

Shortly afterwards,the Captains two Coolies [so called because of the high buttoned white mess jackets worn] were due to be drafted either to the Royal or Merchant Navy and their successors were duly chosen and the boy was ordered to report aft to the Captain and Madam's quarters where he and his new "oppo" were to be initiated into the mysteries of Domestic Life under the eagle eyes of Madame herself. Cleaning and polishing were easily mastered but cooking [when in reality he could burn water] was much more difficult but Madam was a very, very patient lady. This job had one great consolation because it meant the boys ate the same food as the Top Brass and a little of the leftovers sometimes ended up with mates on the messdeck which guaranteed a modicum of popularity. Lessons, of course, had to be done but there was to be no more deck scrubbing to be done, which was a blessing, because winter and summer it was always done barefoot and with cold water out of the Mersey.

Liverpool at this time was suffering nightly Air Raids and when it was discovered mines were being dropped by parachute, [and a magnetic mine was found near the wooden training ship Conwy, lying astern of the Indy] the powers decided that an evacuation of the Indefatigable crew be made and to this end everyone was tendered ashore to the "safety" of the Sailors Home in Canning Place. All the crew were installed in the cabins on the various landings [these were reminiscent of American prison movies] and when the air raid sirens sounded we were all required to muster down in the cellars which doubled as an air raid shelter. During one of these raids the Customs House, which was opposite the Sailors Home received a direct hit through the dome so the following morning when we emerged it was a sight of utter devastation that we beheld. It was then that the decision was made to send the boys on extended leave whilst alternative accomodation could be found in order that schooling could be continued.

During the stopover at the Sailors Home a very serious incident occured. During a high staked game of cards a Lascar seaman suffered a fatal stab wound apparently by one of the other card players. This had been witnessed by one of our boys, if memory serves right he had to stay behind in Liverpool as one of the witnesses in the ensuing murder case. We never did find out the result of this occurance as we left the Sailors Home within a couple of days and with home leave being offered this was a more interesting prospect and even after regrouping nothing was further heard of this matter.

After a few weeks at home all boys were ordered to report to the ex. Merseyside Holiday Camp at Clawdd Newydd, nr. Ruthin in North Wales. However that could be another story.

RETURN TO THE INDEFATIGABLE AT CLAWDD NEWYDD

After a few glorious weeks at home, a very unwelcome arrival was received at home in Llandudno, in the shape of an official looking envelope containg my recall papers and requiring my presence at the ex. Merseyside Holiday Camp at a place called Clawdd Newydd which apparently was near Ruthin in the then county of Denbighshire which was not too far from home although it would necessitate a couple of trains to reach there.

The due day arrived and I and my kit duly left Llandudno Railway Station, changed at Llandudno Junction and eventually arrived at Ruthin Railway Station, a town I had never visited before. I walked up the hill to the Town Square and then made enquiries as to the whereabouts of Clawdd Newydd and the best way to get there. Information received was it was only a couple of miles to the camp and as there were no buses running in those days due to petrol rationing, it would be a stroll and as it was a nice day off I set. As I remember it was about five miles , but then I always believe Welsh miles are much longer tnan English miles, so eventually it was a very tired,thirsty and hungry boy who arrived at the Merseyside Holiday Camp [at least that was what the sign at the gate said!!!]

At first appearance it all seemed uphill or at least on the side of a small mountain and in the distance were a lot of what appeared to be long huts or bunkhouses!!! Just inside and to the left there was a house, which turned out later to be the Captains Quarters and where I would spend a considerable amount of my future time. To the right of the path was what seemed to be a summerhouse, more of which later, and to the extreme right [as I found later,a covered swimming pool].

Reporting to the main office, which was halfway up the hill!!! I think it was Charlie Roseavere, one of the Officers and Instructors, who detailed one of the other boys to guide me up to the Fourth Division hut - this was further up the hill again. We duly trudged up to the hut and I stood in the doorway and my heart sank more than a little as I surveyed ther interior. There were double rows of bunks on both sides with wire bases, I don't think I ever counted them, but there appeared to be dozens. I chose a lower bunk towards the far end on the right hand side and placed my kit on it. I was then shewn to the galley and mess deck to find out if there was any food to be had. As in everything else, nothing changes about growing boys' appetites, and whatever was on offer was gratefully received and the inner man (or boy)satisfied. Curiosity then took over and a tour of the new "Ship" and her amenities was undertaken. Bedding and towels were supplied from the "Slop Chest" and my bunk was duly made up. It wasn't going to be as comfortable as a hammock however, but with my kit stowed away and everything looking more shipshape, the world looked a little better even if there was an uncertain air about everything. It turned out that the boys who lived the nearest to Ruthin had been sent for first so that we would be the advance party to get things shipshape and to smooth things out for the rest of the ship's company when they were due to arrive over the next weeks. The rest of the ship's company arrived in dribs and drabs for day's after, whilst we were squaring things off and generally tidying up and making everything shipshape.

There was, as previously mentioned, an indoor swimming pool on site, and as summer was approaching this was to be a very popular activity and many sporting contests were undertaken, although I must confess this was not one of my better attributes.

After a short settling down period, routine reared it's ugly head and all lessons and duties were resumed, all on a similar basis to the ship's routine. My fellow" coolie "and I
returned to our duties as general factotems to Captain and Mrs. Bambra - incidentally the nickname "coolie" which we had to put up with, referred to the white mess jackets, buttoned tightly up to the neck,which had to be worn at all times whilst on duty "in aft". This meant a considerable amount of dhobeying to keep them in pristine condition, as Madam could spot a dirty spot from a thousand paces, and it was easier to do the washing than risk a tongue lashing from Madam. Rationing was heavily in force at this time but we lived very well indeed taking everything into consideration as we coolies ate the same food as the Top Table!!! Whenever we could we would supply our mates with a few tidbits and these were always gratefully received and looked forward to. Some distance away from the Captains Quarters there was a quasi summerhouse,and whilst on cleaning and polishing duties there was a great deal of reading done as there was a considerable library contained in this quiet and friendly bolthole. I think my love of books and literature probably stemmed from this period of my life.

Contact from home and parents,at this time, was by letter and parcel so the arrival of the Postman, on his bicycle, each day led to eager anticipation, which was not always realised, of a parcel from home. This was one of the day's happenings and one's popularity with the other boys reached a zenith until all the contents had been consumed , and then returned to normal until another treat arrived from whatever quarter.

The farms, in the locality, supplied us [The Top Table] with hard to come by provisions, most of these were on ration, so one of our perks was to be sent out to fetch a previously ordered pile of "goodies". This was fine until one day I was told to go and fetch some new laid eggs from one of the farms nearby. Armed with Madam's wicker shopping basket I made my way to pick up the eggs. There were possibly three or four dozen eggs in the basket and the sun was shining, all was well with the world until in a moment of utter bravado and folly I decided to swing the basket over my head, to see if centrifugal force would keep the eggs in the basket. Guess what happened next? Of course, sod's law entered the picture and I dropped the basket. The eggs smashed, or at least, it seemed that most of them had. Heart in mouth, and with my budding omelette leaking out of the basket I rushed back to confess to having fallen over, hence the broken eggs. Madam was very good about it and managed to salvage some of the wreckage enough for scrambled eggs or an omelette, I forget which, but she appeared to accept my "eggsplanation" although my oppo never let me forget my"eggsiting" outing!! He always went to fetch the eggs afterwards.

. There was also a very unusual custom which took place every night before lights out, a very large bucket was placed just inside the hut doorway in case anyone needed to go to the "heads" as a complete blackout was the order of the day and as the heads were some distance away, it was a safety measure in case anyone fell whilst attempting this perilous journey, These buckets were called "Pumpship" buckets for obvious reasons. They were to be a boon during the winter months as there was no heating in the huts and it was absolutely freezing so if you couldn't wait until morning you didn't have to venture outside. Although it was somebody's unpleasant duty to make sure they were emptied and cleaned out every day ready for the next night. Reveille would sound and it was then time to find out what the weather was like outside, then it was a quick dash to the ablutions (it was always a quicker dash in the winter) and another day had dawned.

We had a very large nightwatchman whose nickname was "Roughhouse" and it was rumoured that his pre-war occupation was that of an all in wrestler - it was his job to patrol the camp and also to give early morning calls to galley staff and to me whenever I was duty bugler and had to rise and shine in order to sound Reveille. I can vouch to the Roughhouse title as he
was none to gentle with his waking up techniques. This "gentleman" used to roll his own cigarettes and his tobacco was always either Bacco Bryniau or Amlwch Shag, both of which were very strong and had a very pungent odour, hence one was always aware of his presence (before he even arrived) because of his personal aura.

In a letter from home, my mother told me that my Auntie Dilys, (my father's sister) who lived in Penrhyn Bay, had a relative in Clocaenog, a village a few miles from Clawdd Newydd, so one Saturday afternoon (with official permission) I made my way to Clocaenog and called at the cottage and then to my surprise I found another Indy boy visiting. It tuned out later that we were related and were indeed second cousins. His name was Ieuan Evans and it was my regret that we never kept in touch after leaving the Indy so I have no idea whatever happened to him. We spent many afternoons in that rural cottage.

Daily routine was Reveille, Ablutions, Breakfast and then morning Divisions when the Colours were hoisted to Sunrise then lessons - the three R's of Seamanship. However, we "coolies" had to do our duty to the heirachy and see that their quarters were spick and span after their breakfast was prepared and served and as I remember they always had porridge - we used to prepare enough for the week and cook it in a Bain Marie. Our days were very full and by the end of the day we slept soundly.

Part of our seamanship lessons consisted of Boatwork and there was a lake a few miles away where a cutter and a whaler were moored and the arts of pulling and sailing were installed into our not to willing lives. Nearby the lake was a freshwater spring and I swear the water within was the coldest and purest in the Northern Hemisphere. We would march there and back and sometimes in the most inclement weather so it was not always the most popular of our outside pursuits.

"Warship Weeks" were a very popular method of getting the public to donate cash to a fund to buy a warship, so the Bugle Band and the ship's company were often called upon to take part in Parades up and down the North Wales coast, plus some inland towns. Denbigh, Ruthin, Rhyl, Prestatyn, Colwyn Bay and Rhos-on-Sea, Llandudno, Bangor, Mold Buckley, to name some of them. They were always popular because we would more often than not get a good feed after the Parade and we felt that our little war effort was being appreciated.

One of the local clergymen used to come to the Camp to take Sunday Services and Church Parade and it was decided to hold Confirmation Classes for anybody who wished to become Confirmed, so after a number of lessons, we the chosen few, arrived at Derwen Parish Church and were duly confirmed into the Church of England by the visiting Archbishop. I really must go back sometime to remember my vows.

The camp's electricity was powered by a generator, which was somewhat tempremental and theboy whose job it was to supervise this beast had many a bruise to prove how obstinate and hard to start, it was. There was a hook handle which fitted onto the flywheel and this when cranked had a nasty habit of slipping off and cracking him in the ribs. He was probably the best customer in the Sick Bay, which was the province of the Captain's wife Mrs. Bambra.

Summer and Autumn led to Winter and it was a very cold one that year (1941), but being young and reasonably fit, plenty of excercise and good food helped to pass the winter by, and in the Spring it was time to Pass Out and leave the comparitive safety of the Indefatigable to make my way into the dide, wide world and the Royal Navy. Overall I had enjoyed my time both on the ship and at the camp and had achieved some self confidence, some cooking ability (thanks to Madam)and a belief in my self which has stood me in good stead for the last fifty five years.

As I write, I have in front of me my Apprentice's Indentures which were signed by me on 13/02/1941 and my discharge was signed on 18/05/1942. After this I served in the Royal Navy until being badly wounded after H.M.S. Spartan was sunk at the Anzio Beachhead in Italy and consequently discharged as unfit for further service with a 70% Disability Pension.

These memories are of happenings of fifty six years ago and are to the best of my recollection accurate, but who knows, someone may differ, as their memories might be better than mine. However, I wouldn't have missed it, whatever the outcome and I'll always be proud of being "One of the Indy lads, One of the Indy boys".

Footnote to Indy days.

Recently my wife and I took a voyage of rediscovery to Clawdd Newydd and Derwen. We drove to Ruthin and then took the scenic Cerrigydruidion road and discovered that the length of the Welsh mile, if anything, had increased in length. Signs which read 3 miles invariably found a differential with our car mileometer. However we arrived at Clawdd Newydd and failed to recognise any landmarks which I had thought were indelibly etched in my memory.

Sadly we traced our way to see St.Mary's Church in Derwen to see if that held any memories. First we had to negotiate a series of very narrow roads, just wide enough to take one medium sized motor car. The road was tarmacadam with plenty of grass growing down the centre of the road which I presume was there to clean the exhaust system. The journey to Derwen was not achieved without a considerable amount of prayer in anticipation of hopefully not meeting up with any other road user as someone would have had to give way and back up until a suitable passing place was found. Our fears proved groundless [or our fervent prayers had worked] and no other vehicle came into our view.

After parking opposite the Church, we went through the churchyard and into the Church and then memories took over. This indeed was the Church of my confirmation and where I had taken my first Communion back in the long distant days of 1941 .Where had all the years gone and what had happened to all my shipmates ?. These obviously were answers I would never know. The interior of the Church was as I remembered it but it seemed much smaller, perhaps this is the penalty of ageing, whereby ones memory is not as fallible as it should be... I signed the visitors book before we left, stating I was an ex. Indy boy and was there in 1941.

We safely negotiated the narrow roads again without any intrusive motor cars and made our way back to Colwyn Bay. I had many, many thoughts of the old Indy days on the way home buy I was glad to have retraced my steps in time and somewhat satisfted my curiousity of the good old days
Derek E.K.Evans 1941-42. No 162