Leading Seaman Sullivan and HMS Victory

A recent visit to the website of HMS Victory brings to mind my several visits to HM Dockyards in Portsmouth, the site of HMS Victory. HMCS Bonaventure made three visits to Portsmouth in the early to mid 60s. This was at the height of the British Invasion of music, and the sounds of the Beatles, Dave Clark Five, Freddie and the Dreamers, Cliff Richard and the Shadows, the Rolling Stones, Herman's Hermits, the Yardbirds, Billy J. Kramer and the Dakotas, the Hollies, the Animals, the Bachelors, and the inimitable Bonzo Dog Doo Dah Band, were everywhere.

The Bonnie was tied up at a jetty about 10 minutes walk from the SouthSea Gate, and to get to the Gate, we had to walk past HMS Victory. One of our favourite haunts in Pompey (RN nickname for Portsmouth, as Slackers was for Halifax, and Diggers was for Digby) was the NAAFI Club, where thirsty sailors could get bargain basement Watney’s Red Barrel, Double Diamond, Rum and Black, and, of course, Newcastle Brown Ale. Oh, and as an aside, the less important things like steak, egg, and chips, Pork Pies, and Steak and Kidney (called Snake and Pygmy Pies by the non-PC Brits) Pies. On the way back to the Dockyard, one passed the Roundabout by the WREN’s Quarters, where Larry Tyce, in the nude, stalked returning WRENs (see my story in Files “Larry Tyce and the NAAFI Roundabout”). Further down the road was the HUGE dancehall called Sunny Southsea, where many of my mates found stimulating female companionship, and excellent music. (One of my mates, Steve “Spiff” Patterson, met his future bride there) Then, just before arriving back at the Dockyard gate, there was typical Fish and Chip shop, in the finest British tradition, where, at that time, they still served wonderful battered slabs of haddock, and the greasiest, but tastiest, chips in the civilised world, wrapped in greaseproof paper and the morning’s newspaper.

Leading Signalman Sullivan was an outstanding sailor, and, as Signals Yeoman, was the Flag Officer’s favourite during exercises. Sully liked his drink, to use a hackneyed euphemism, and was given to closing the NAAFI Club bar every night. He also, as was his right as a Canadian of Irish extraction, disliked the arrogance of the British Navy (remember this was in the early 60s, when the sun never set on the British Empire).

Each night at the NAAFI Sully would hold court over a table of messmates and discuss how we could, in the centre of the British Navy heartland, strike a blow for Canadian naval supremacy. Finally he came up with the idea of floating the Victory. Nelson’s Flagship was in a functioning dry dock, the flooding of which was controlled by hand operated wheels. Sully figured, after a night of Watney’s and several Rum and Blacks, that he was the man for the task, and set the timing of the deed for the next night.

The following night Sully showed up at our usual table with the Canadian Flag hidden under his tunic (no, not the Maple Leaf, but the ‘other’ flag that we had). Our navy flag, the White Ensign, would be no good for masthead flying as it was the same flag used by the RN. Sully left about a half hour before closing time. We tried to prevail on him to wait for our help, but we wanted to close the bar, and Sully was anxious to get on with his challenge.

Walking back to the ship later, replete with fish and chips and a full load of Watney’s aboard, we encountered a flurry of activity around HMS Victory. Shore Patrol were out by the score, and a platoon of armed Royal Marines were surrounding Nelson’s pride. We spoke to Shore Patrol and found out that an RCN Leading Seaman had been taken to cells after being caught trying to flood Victory’s dry dock. What both the Marines and the Shore Patrol missed was Sully’s calling card: we looked up at the Victory, and there, proudly flying over Nelson’s Quarterdeck, was the Canadian Red Ensign.

The flag was discovered by a RCN sub-lieutenant returning to ship later on in the evening, and duly reported to the authorities. Sully was released to our Bosun the next morning, and charged with contradition to the Queen’s Rules and Regulations for the Canadian Navy, in that he “did commit an act to the prejudice of good order and discipline in the Queen’s Royal Canadian Navy” and was sentenced, I believe, to 14 days stoppage of leave.

This epic event so inspired Sully’s shipmates that three of them, Leading Seaman Jim Fanning, Able Seaman Paul Thrasher, and Ordinary Seaman Dave Lister went on the following year, while visiting Roosevelt Roads US Navy Base in Puerto Rico, to liberate the American Flag complete with brass eagle, from the Quarterdeck of the US Marine’s Enlisted Mens Club, much to the chagrin of the United States Marines. Hey, they might be good at the Halls of Montezuma, and really proud on the Shores of Tripoli, but EM Club security leaves them scratching their heads.

The following was my favourite marching song while in the RCN. It never failed to bring goosebumps to my arms, and send a frisson of pride down my spine. Here then, the first verse and chorus of Heart of Oak:

Come cheer up, my lads! 'tis to glory we steer,
To add something more to this wonderful year;
To honour we call you, not press you like slaves,
For who are so free as the sons of the waves?

Chorus
Heart of oak are our ships, heart of oak are our men;
We always are ready, steady, boys, steady!
We'll fight and we'll conquer again and again.