"Norwegian"
12) Seventeen Knots
13) Jimmy Hobbs, and Cap'n Poole
12) Seventeen Knots
Back in the "good 'ol
days" when the Military Sea Transportation Service -
MSTS ( now the
Military Sealift Command - MSC ) serviced the U. S. Air Force
Bases in Thule,
and Sondestrom, Greenland, and Goose Bay, Labrador, I was
plucked out of the
Chief Mate pool to act as liaison between the U. S. A.
F., and the Navy, and
Coast Guard.
My first year was in Sondestrom, Greenland...a beautiful place
in the
summer, but this story takes place the following year, where I wore
two
hats...covering Goose, and Sondestrom.
Goose being the larger of the
two, I set up my office there, having three
Navy enlisted as communications
types.
It was a great job, in a great place, and I hit it off with the Air
Force
right off the bat...they giving me a brand new Air Force sedan while
there.
My other vehiclle was an International Harvester Crew Cab - Navy, that
we
shipped up every season on the first ship in. It had seen better days,
but
"ran".
It so happened on the day that I was using the
"truck", that the skippers
off three ships in the harbor asked to
be chauffered up to the "PX" on the
base. The USCG Icebreaker -
SouthWind was in port with two of our
freighters, and had been there several
day already, me and the three
skippers well aquainted after many
heave-arounds over time in the "O" club.
The drive from the port to
the base was about fitteen miles if I remember
right, and a beautiful drive
at that, through thick green forest, the air
pure as gold, and at this time
of the year - April thru September - the
weather delightful.
We checked
through the Main Gate, all four of us trying to out-do the other
with
sea-stories, or who's wife was that you were dancin' with last night at
the
club. I knew the two MSTS skippers for years, the USCG Captain for just
a few
days, but seemed like forever...a great guy, in fact all of them
cheerful
fellows.
After about a mile onto the base, an Air Police truck pulls us over,
a young
Airman getting out, and approaching us, looking over the Navy truck,
and
then asking why I didn't hear, nor see him behind us a mile or so back.
We
all looked at each other, none of us having heard his siren, and me
telling
the young fellow that the windows were up, and we were old friends
chatting
up a storm. He bought that excuse, and then told me that we were
going
three-miles over the twenty-mile-an-hour speed limit.
"Oh?' I
says. "Well, you see here...', pointing down the the lettering
on
the side of the truck, "...what does it say?' I asked
him.
"It says for Official Use Only, U.S. Navy.' he
answers.
"Well, that means it belongs to the Navy, and as a Navy
vehicle, all the
speedometers are calibrated in "Knots'. I guess I was
doin' twenty-knots,
and that would just about be twenty-three-miles per hour.
I should have been
doing seventeen, or so knots to be legal, but I wasn't
thinking. I'm really
sorry about that.' I told him.
"Okay for
now...but from now on, keep it at seventeen knots, or less.' the
young
airman advised, and let us go.
We couldn't stop laughin' over that, telling
the Base Commander, and other
Air Force friends we made over subsequent
nights at the club, until the
ships sailed days later.
I do believe to
this day, that that young fellow believes what I told him,
and his
buddies too, whom he no doubt told that
day.
Carlos
13) Jimmy Hobbs, and Cap'n Poole
If you
ever sailed into Goose Bay, you had to meet the gent on the right - Captain
Francis X. Poole - Canadian Harbour Master, and if you've sailed the Greenland
Sea, or the Davis Straits, you had to cross wakes with Captain Jimmy Hobbs,
Captain of the
Redbud...back in the fifties, and sixties, that is.
Opposites in every respect, Poole being the epitome of decorum, and
service etiquette, and Hobbs every bit a pirate at
heart.
A book
could be written on these two, so I'll not attempt any stories, leaving the
photo to revive memories for those who did know them. Both have crossed the bar,
but live on in our memory.
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