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In early January of 1966, the largest Canadian Task Force ever to sail in peacetime departed for South America. Under the command of Commodore (Scruffy) O’Brien in HMCS Bonaventure the force included fleet supply ship HMCS Provider, the mobile repair ship HMCS Cape Scott and destroyers HMC Ships Nipigon, Saguenay, Kootenay, Skeena, Terra Nova, Margaree and Restigouche as well as the Royal Navy submarine HMS Acheron. These were to meet up with the west coast ships HMC Ships St. Croix, Antigonish and Stettler and the submarine Grilse after the first port visit and continue as a group to ports of South America.
The east coast ships split up once we reached the Caribbean. The Bonaventure went into San Juan, Puerto Rico; the remainder branched off to smaller islands. My ship, the Kootenay, pulled into Kingstown, St. Vincent in the British West Indies. The main objective of the first port visit was to paint the ships, so that we’d all look smart when entering South American ports over the course of the next two months.
For us young fellows, St Vincent was our initiation to the so-called ‘Third World’. When we arrived about six bum boats full of young men pulled up alongside our starboard quarter. They wanted to dive for coins; we accommodated. After a few tosses we realized that they were adjacent to the discharge for the after heads (shithouse). We then started throwing the coins into the discharge. One guy came up triumphantly holding a coin, but had an ‘Oh Henry’ sliding down his face. God! We were mean – taking advantage of poor people that way, so that we could get a good laugh – but Oh Henrys notwithstanding, they encouraged us to keep throwing. We did; that is, until we lost interest. Robbie got a few good photos of the episode.
The ship’s company was given the first afternoon off to explore the town and we got down to the task of painting the ship the next morning. We Sonarmen were responsible for painting the quarterdeck and one third of the ship’s side – both port and starboard and the stern. An eight piece steel band from the town took up station on the jetty and played that wonderful music that the West Indies are famous for; they played all morning every morning and their reward was free lunch. In the afternoon the sailors chipped in and paid them. I don’t suppose the group earned more than $5 per afternoon.
One evening a bunch of us went ashore and hooked up with some local girls. They indicated that there was a good bar on the outskirts of town and it was on a beach. “OK; let’s go,” we said. We hired a taxi and everyone piled in. Buck Taylor, a young Ordinary Seaman who had joined the ship after the European cruise, was part of the group, as were my best friend Robbie and I. Along the way we saw a guy from the ship named Woodcock. Someone yelled his name out the window, much to the amusement of our female companions. They giggled, “Wood cock! Hee hee!” When we arrived we weren’t surprised to see that several of our shipmates were already there drinking.
It wasn’t long after we arrived that the girls invited their favourite guys to take a walk on the beach. Need I say more? At one point Robbie and I looked at some movement on the side of the hill leading down to the beach; it was the silhouette of Buck Taylor doing his thing with one of the young women. We snuck up on him from behind and stole his pants. We took them back inside and hid them behind the bar, and then went back to peek over the side of the hill to watch the fun. When Buck finished, he reached for his pants and found them missing. He started shouting all kinds of things and eventually walked into the bar naked from the waist down except for his boots. One of the guys was holding up his pants (white bellbottoms) at the far end of the barroom. He walked over and retrieved them, with the girl behind sobbing, “Where’s my money. I want my money.” Just then a taxi arrived. We all piled in and the poor little kid that Buck was with ran after it while sobbing “I want my money.” Poor thing; she never got paid for the services she rendered. Buck Taylor, by the way, passed away in April 2009.
One afternoon – it was an afternoon off for the crew – a group of us took a taxi to a recommended beach on the other side of the island. When we arrived, there was an air of excitement all around. Two of the Beatles – John Lennon and Ringo Star and their wives – were going to arrive at the spot in order to catch a boat to a small island about a quarter of a mile off the beach, where they’d spend a peaceful vacation.
When they arrived, they were surrounded in a big circle of locals and of course sailors from our ship. Two escorting policemen pushed away some people allowing the four celebrities (two rock heroes and their wives) to get through. I stationed myself at the halfway point of the 3’ wide pier that they had to walk out onto in order to get into the waiting boat. They came out along the pier in single style, with Lennon leading. When he got to me he said, “Excuse us please.” I had to turn sideways in order for them to pass. That was the closest that anyone got to the celebrities.
Later that afternoon, crazy Ted Duffy and a friend swam out to the island. They got close enough to John Lennon and Ringo Star to invite them down to 8 Mess on the ship for tots (rum) the next day. He said, “And bring your guitbox (guitar).” They didn’t show up though.
We sailed from St Vincent after a week there, and met up with the other east coast ships and those from the west coast before proceeding southward in formation.
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