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This unglamorous little ship was my first official
appointment to sea as an officer, and the last I would have chosen.
Minesweepers are the unappreciated Cinderellas of modern navies. They are also the
only warships expected to do their extremely dangerous jobs -- even in
peace time -- with no real form of self protection, but I didn't think
of that when I joined James Bay. I was just pissed off because I hadn't
been given a "Cadillac" (one of the super modern destroyers) like
Fraser.
My juvenile annoyance was nothing compared to the
feelings of the handful of officers comprising a minesweeper's wardroom.
I was still a Midshipman ("snottie"), and Nelsonian tradition dictated
that one of the ship's officers would have to act as a "Snottie's Nurse".
Human nature being what it is, everything worked out backwards. To begin
with, I joined James Bay in Santa Barbara, California. She was at anchor
between minesweeping exercises off the Santa Catalina Islands, and so
was a large yacht. Some girls came by in a high speed launch and invited
me to a party on board. The yacht belonged to Errol Flynn. He was absent
but the party continued. (In one of the curious interlockings which mean
nothing, shortly after this episode the woman who would become my wife
was on duty as an Emergency nurse at the hospital in Vancouver when
Flynn was brought in, and died.)
Aboard James Bay, everything I thought I would
hate, I loved. Because of her small size -- and a first class Captain,
John Coates -- I was immediately given responsibility, and treated almost
as an equal in the wardroom. The unfortunate Reserve Sub Lieutenant stuck
with the burden of being my Nurse had both brains and a sense of the
absurd: Ed Mortimer became a lifelong friend.
The navy being the navy, I had no sooner got my sea
legs, and begun to thoroughly enjoy being a lowly sweeper, than I was
appointed away -- to the very dream I had first begged for:
HMCS Fraser
. Human nature repeating itself, I didn't want to go.
There is a coda to this story. Five years later I was
re-appointed to James Bay (the only ship I served in twice) as Second in
Command. When the captain introduced me to the crew he said, re my departing
predecessor, Lieutenant Bloggins, "I have just lost my right hand
man, but with Lieutenant Gurr we have a new left hand." My respect --
for his ability as a commanding officer -- was mutual.
P.S. After her decommissioning, James Bay continued
a working life at sea with Greenpeace.
For a juvenile view of her youth, in Technicolor, see this
Indifferent Sketch
from my 1957 Snottie's Journal.
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