The HMCS Algonquin was my first ship, and was small enough in the Communications Department, for fast friendships and for a great esprit de corps to develop. Some of the names I remember (all the way back to 1961!) are Chief Cliff Howell, PO1 Moe Ash, LS Frank Arsenault, LS Ed Gale, LS Bruce Manson, ABs Whitney Wiper, Rick Forward, Jonno Johnson, Arnie Sevigny, Dennis Nolan and Ordinary Seamen Jim Fanning and Rick Stayzer.
HMCS Algonquin (DDE224 callsign CZJX) was a converted V Class destroyer, along with her sister ship, HMCS Crescent. I joined Algonquin in July of 1961 and left her in June of 1962. On Algonquin I travelled to Frobisher Bay, Hamilton Inlet (Labrador), St. John’s, Charlottetown, Bermuda (twice), Newport, Rhode Island, New York City, Charlotte Amalie, US Virgin Islands, Culebra, US VI, San Juan, Puerto Rico.
As a very junior OS, part of my duties was to clean the Officer’s Head. I shared this dubious honour with Jonno, Rick S. and Rick F. We had imaginary contests where we saved and traded pubic hair from the various Officers in the ship. For example, 1 Executive Officer’s pube was worth 3 of the Engineering Officer’s pubes, and so on. Simple things amused us, but best of all was the cockroach races in the main cafeteria. Sailors would catch the roaches in matchboxes and bring them to the cafeteria to race on the tables. Many tots of rum were won and lost during the occasional Saturday night races.
Bruce Manson was about 30 years old, a good Leading Telegraphist, and a quiet, well-liked man. Bruce was living with a woman in Halifax by the name of Mary, and, when we were at sea, he missed her terribly. On our second trip to Bermuda, we tied up at Ireland’s Island, in the old RN dockyard. One afternoon the off-watches from our mess got a bunch of sandwiches and several boxes of beer and walked up to the narrow strait (20 feet across) that separated the island from the next (and main) island of the archipelago.
We had a great time, singing (Whit Wiper brought his guitar) calypso, drinking beer, swimming, and eating sandwiches. Bruce Manson had been extremely homesick all week and the beer soon made him quite maudlin. We laughed at him when he started talking about swimming to Halifax. I believe the distance between Halifax and Bermuda is over a thousand miles.
Time passed, and suddenly Ed Gale called out, "Bruce, get back here!"
Bruce was about 500 yards out to sea, swimming strongly in a slow but determined Australian crawl, his head showing only occasionally above the waves.
Whit ran back to ship and got the Bosun’s Duty party to launch the motor launch, take it up the strait and off after Bruce. He was soon hauled aboard and taken back to ship, protesting all the way.
Bruce spent the night sobering up in Ship’s Cells, and when released in the morning, was suitably chagrined.
Funny thing was, when Ed and I were cleaning the bridge that afternoon, we checked the Navigator’s charts and discovered that Bruce had been swimming bang on the heading for Halifax Harbour approaches.....
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