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FLOODING UP

As most of you who have experienced the evolution of flooding up will know, from a whole ship requirement it can become a major cause of nausea.   The need for flooding sentries and all kinds of other safety numbers can stretch the section manpower and thus cause all manner of inter-departmental rivalries.   It is one of those occasions when the “Departmental Top Secret Excuses For Not Being There Manual” (BR one-and-a-half) is given an airing.   We were being floated in the dry dock so that the ship could be moved forward and re-docked to access the areas of the hull hitherto resting on the blocks for scaling and painting.   As zero hour approached it became noticeable that the now sizable Indian Ship’s Company were becoming harder and harder to find, everyone put this down to them having a better excuse book than ourselves.
 
Once the sentries were posted and the evolution was in the hands of the dockyard officials, we began detaching and setting about our other daily tasks.   I had a brief on matters aviation to give to the British Commander, Roger Lockyer.   We were in his cabin engaged in, “what if” scenarios when the Indian Commander, Rambir Talwar, burst into the room in a state of near hysteria.
“Roger, Eric come quickly, come quickly” he urged us in a thick Indian accent.
I sat in polite silence at the abrupt intrusion and waited for the Commander to take up the running.
“Rambir, this is a rather important meeting, can your requirement wait?” enquired Roger.
“No this is a very urgent matter and will not wait, quickly you must both come with me now!” at which point he turned on his heels and raced out of the cabin heading forward.
The Commander rose and nodding for me to join him we hurried after Rambir.
“What is going on Rambir?”  enquired Roger as we caught up.
Rambir replied, “We are having a launching ceremony on the forecastle!”
“A launching ceremony?” queried the Commander.
“Yes, yes!   This is the first time we will have been afloat in the ship so we are having a launching ceremony.”
Roger Lockyer looked at me and said, “Come on, Eric this we have got to see.”
 
When we arrived on the forecastle, the mystery of the disappearing Indian Ship’s Company was instantly resolved; there they all were sat cross legged on the deck facing the eyes of the ship where some form of religious shrine had been erected.   As we stood and looked on, Commander Talwar began to explain what was happening.   He told us that the person officiating, the ship’s senior Warrant Officer, was the only person onboard authorised to conduct religious ceremonies.   Such ceremonies had to be non-denominational because there were so many different Sects amongst the men, if they each wanted to worship in their own following, the ship would be full of shrines.   The Warrant Officer was also fluent in the religious tongue of Sanskrit.   I thought to myself at this point what any Navy Padre would have given to have such a problem!
 
Unbeknown to us, the Indians had organised Stornophone contact with the docking staff so as to know the instant the ship became “unstuck”.   Rambir continued his explanation, “Of course, we do not use Champaign to launch the ship, no no, we use the Cocoanut!”
“Cocoanut?” enquired Roger.
“Yes, the Cocoanut because it is considered in our faith to be the fruit of all wisdom.”
“I see,” said Roger examining more closely what was happening near the shrine.   “But I don’t see any coconut, Rambir.”
“No, alas we could not find one” said Rambir.
The Commander shot me a glance and asked me if we could get anyone off the ship and down to the market.  
“The crane suspended gangway was in place for access throughout the evolution and I could get the Duty Driver to have a scout around for a coconut.” I offered.
“No no,” said Rambir in a dismissive and somewhat amused manner “that will not be necessary.”
“Well how can you have your ceremony without a coconut?” enquired Roger.
“Well” said Rambir, “we have the next best thing.   We have been down to the NAAFI and bought a Bounty Bar.”
Sure enough, there on the shrine was a Bounty Bar ready to be broken across the fairlead when the word was given.
 
Roger Lockyer turned to me and said quietly, “Eric, I’ll be dining out on this story for many years to come!”   Sadly, Roger didn’t have that many years left; he died of cancer a few years later.
 
Submitted 6/7/07