MY KALVARI DAYS - Lieutenant Commander Deepak Sikand (Retd.)

I have written stories about my days in the submarine service. These may please be treated only as stories and nothing else. Some facts may have been dressed up a bit to make them appear humorous. My memories of events which occurred more than 25 years ago could have become a bit foggy. We were a quarter century younger then and had our moments of fun. I have mentioned some names in the stories. No malice is intended towards anyone. I shall bear full responsibility if I have inadvertently affected the feelings of any veteran by my writings.


IT IS KALVARI!

I was not always at the bottom of the Navy List. When the Manniya Rashtrapati ji granted me his commission, I was automatically placed at the bottom of this August Book of Reference. IJ by virtue of the fact he came two courses later, started out below me. But IJ was an impatient man. When the post MR list was being made for Kalvari, he somehow wormed his way into it from some back door. Being a fair man that he is, JMS was ticking off names strictly as per descending order in the book. It did not require the genius of JMS to notice IJ’s name at serial 6-A and mine at 7 in the Kalvari list to infer that there was some kaala in the daal. IJ was shown the door. I retained my place at honorable No.7. Thus began a glorious chapter in my life that was Kalvari.


The mood was upbeat when the crew assembled in Bombay. A new star was rising in the East who, for the sake of brevity, we shall call Gary. A film by the name of ‘Godfather’ was showing at the Regal in which the late Marlon Brando played a stellar role as the Don. Picking up from where the late Don Corleone left (Godfather II had yet to be written) Gary decided to have his band of loyal followers. I of the ‘Black Dog’ fame was the first Capocini to be recruited. Chops, JK and others came in later. Like the Don in the film, Gary decided to do away with all competition. The gentle, ever smiling and overly professional KV was the natural enemy to be eliminated. He was also a course mate you see. Gary devised a North – South divide. He divided India into two parts, namely Punjab and Madras. Not only I, a Rajasthani was made a Punjabi but Sivarao from Kakinada also hailed from Sadda Punjab as per Gary’s interpretation of the Country’s Geography. The only Madrasi in the group was KV! I remember later in Vladivostok when Vinod Choudhry and KV went to place calls to their respective mates, the lines got crossed. Unknown to him VKC found himself greeting Lakshmi in Chennai, ‘Shagun Oye Ki haal hai tera?’ and KV to Shagun, ‘Varas, Amundi Chepundi.’


Coming to this Punjabi-Madrasi imbroglio, I am reminded of Both Watches at Vladivostok. While we had all fallen in and Ashim Gupta waited for the Coxswain to make his report, Marwah Singh Marwah would arrive from the Gastanitsa Primorye with his mustache and beard dripping with melting snow. Gary would not be able to contain himself at the sight of an army of Sava Lakh coming from the opposite direction. He would do a Line Tor while a helpless Gupta ji looked on and hug the Electrical Officer with a hearty ‘Marwah Oye Drastutya! In his Punjabised Russian. Enthused by the fervor of such greetings in their Mother Tongue, Marwah and his assistant JK declared Punjabi as the Official language to be spoken in the Motor Room. Poor Sundram, the motor Chief, had to do a crash course in Punjabi if he had to make himself heard. It was good that Thicky, the Cap at the time, did not get to hear of any of this.


Let me not divert you with this language controversy and take you back to Bombay where we had assembled. Gary had by now issued his own CTM. As his No.1 Capocini I was appointed as the Assistant Navigating Officer. Others got their portfolios in accordance with the Don’s wishes. It was only later when JMS took over command from Thicky that this Mafia was disbanded. Having witnessed my sterling performance in the Aft Ends, I was made KV’s assistant. It was business as usual for me. Only difference was that there was no sound powered telephone or summons from Fore Ends to worry about. Saby, the no nonsense Malyalee was made Assistant Navigating Officer. Thus was broken the back of the emerging Mafia. Or was it? You will have to wait for the next serial of this narrative to find out. Ciao.


KALVARI- II


We lived in a highly competitive world of our own making while in service. If you look back, you may realize that so much of what we did then is really quite irrelevant today. The undeclared cold war between brother officers somehow reveals its ugly head in a foreign land. That is bad news. But the good news, if it may be called such, is that such things happen with people of all nationalities. I can say that on firsthand experience since I have worked with crews of several nationalities on board Merchant Ships.


I believe some such situation had developed in Vladivostok when JMS came and broke the ice; literally I mean. One of his first actions was to organize a picnic for the entire IN Detachment. The Parivochikas were included for the sake of Indo-Russian friendship. This should have been an eventless picnic since we had left Michael behind in Goa. But Michaels of this world have a habit of taking Avatars. In Russia he appeared in the Form of Sasha. ‘Indiski Sasha’ he called himself.

Earlier, PK the Electrical Officer had lost his heart to one of these pretty Parivochikas. The rules were strict. PK had to be repatriated to India. The boys at the Submarine Directorate in Delhi thought they had the problem solved when they sent the Sidha Sadha Bhramachari JK to replace PK. What they failed to reckon was that he too was a Sharma.

The Parivochikas were curious at the arrival of this new Sharma. They bombarded JK with questions. Since he was yet another Sharma, one of them asked if he was related to PK Sharma. ‘Yes’, he said, ‘I am JK Sharma, brother of PK Sharma.’ ‘Are you also a Engineer?’ enquired another while handing him a bottle of Vodka. JK, who was by now the center of attraction among this crowd of appreciative young ladies, did not want to disappoint them. ‘I am a Vodka Engineer’ he said putting the bottle to his mouth and not letting go until it was empty. You know a foolhardy act when you see one. The effect of the spirit was instantaneous. JK fell on his back; knocked out flat. Holding on to each of his limbs the Parivochikas carried the now passed out JK to the relative comfort of the heated Aftobus of the Soviet Navy. This was the time when Gary pronounced that JK had lost his soul.


I do not know where lost souls go but JK found himself in the Soviet Navy Hospital. He got Pneumonia due to exposure to cold. Not many people in India get Pneumonia. If you were one of the unlucky one to be afflicted with the disease, you will agree that it does restrict your mobility somewhat. You are mostly confined to bed if you manage to live through it. Not so with our very own JK, who according to Gary had lost his soul. Lost souls burn in the fires of hell. So what is a bit of Pneumonia to them? Not so with our very own desi Sasha. Our Cap decided to visit this Sasha at his Hospital bed. He took me along to see how this lost soul was faring. We were met with the Director of the Hospital. He took us personally to Sasha’s Hospital Bed to enquire about his health. Lo and Behold! Not only was our Sasha missing from the Hospital but his attending Nurse was also found AWOL.


Saturday Nights was the time when we visited the restaurants for a bit of song and dance. Purged out of lurking Pneumonia, Sasha joined us for this Saturday Night revelry. A young Russian Lass had taken fancy to this Indiski Sasha. The two of them decided to celebrate their newfound friendship. In his broken Russian Sasha spoke of the evening’s plans to his friend. What he wanted to say was that they would go and pick up some Champagne from Avangard Stadium (Where our Depot Ship was berthed) and party. What he conveyed was that he was a performing Chimpanzee who had escaped from Avangard Stadium. Thus ended what appeared to be a very promising evening.

KALVARI – III



‘Navigation is an art of taking a vessel safely from one place to another.’ The opening line of Vol. I of Navigation published by the Admiralty begins with words to this effect. The underlying word is art and not science. Study of Navigation is Science but its practice is an art. Ask Commodore Vishnoi if you do not believe me. I was his navigator on Kalvari in subsequent years. Though the ND School allowed me to pass through its portals without any black mark to my discredit, VSV thought otherwise. But let me not join issue with the venerable Commodore and focus on this Ace Navigator whom we have all agreed to call Gary.


Air India (We all traveled Air India in those days) published Maps charting out the routes of their Craft. You could get these maps on board if you demanded one. Gary got his. With this he proceeded to monitor the progress of the 707. In Moscow we were transferred to an Aeroflot IL flight, which took us to Khabarovsk. We missed the morning connecting flight to Vladivostok and had to wait until evening. The Intourist were good enough to arrange for a sightseeing trip of the city so that we need not wait all day at the Airport lounge. Weary of the Jet Lag, most of us slept through the entire bus trip through this beautiful city on the banks of the river Amur. Gary who had studied the Air India map like the back of hand decided to test our knowledge when we had boarded the Aircraft especially arranged for the Indian crew. ‘You had such a nice trip of the city’ he said while we waited for the Yak to take off, ‘Do you even know where you are?’ he queried. Some of us looked blank while others shook their heads in forthright honesty. ‘I will tell you, where you are’ he said as if addressing a bunch of nincompoops. Running his finger through the map he said, ‘You are, you are…..’ The noise made by the Yak’s engines saved Gary further embarrassment as he too forgot where we were!


Once bitten, twice shy goes the saying. Gary decided to take no chances for the return trip to India by sea. He ‘liberated’ the bridge of the PKZ and proceeded to equip it with charts, publications and other necessities in order to make the arduous task of passage planning as simple as possible. This, according to him, was a full time job. In his opinion a mere six months was too short a period to plan such a long passage. Gary’s ‘bridge’ could easily have become tourist attraction but for his obsessive need to maintain privacy. One morning he invited me to visit his citadel as soon as the Marwah Drastutiyas were over. I thought I was about to be rehabilitated as his Capocini in order to bring some unfinished business to its logical conclusion. However, I was in for a surprise of a different kind. Having waited for a full minute after my first knock, I was received by Azad Kumar, the Navigator’s Yeoman. ‘Please be seated. Gary Sir will join you soon’ Says Azad who also doubled as Gary’s Butler. I flung myself on a comfortable sofa also ‘liberated’ from the Soviet Navy. His next question took me by surprise. “What is your drink?’ Nine ‘O clock in the morning!! “I shall have some Mineral Water Azad’ I say. Capocinis are not expected to show any emotion. I am served some of the harmless bubbly stuff in the finest of crystal on a platter. Gary makes a grand entry after I have gone through my first sip. ‘Sikki, I am so pleased with you. There is a Padarak for you.’ And Azad brings a telephone instrument on the same platter, which bore my drink some time ago. I go off happily bearing my present thinking that it was a thank you for services rendered in the past. Later, I was to discover that all Officers barring the lone Madrasi received this gift from Gary, which was also ‘Liberated’ from the Soviet Navy in the form of Indo-Soviet Druzba!


KALVARI –IV


If you think I was questioning Gary’s Navigational skills in my last dispatch, you have missed the Bulls Eye by several yards. He is a different man at sea. So what if he kept the Air India map in his back pocket as a ready reckoner. It is said that some famous seagoing Captains have kept little green and red balls in their closets for inspiration. If you knew your port from starboard then the rest was easy. Didn’t we as junior officers learn our ROR from Gary’s rhymes?


Green to Green, Red to Red; perfect safety, Go Ahead!

Red over White, fishing at night. White over Red, Pilot Ahead.

Didn’t we, for that matter, reach the Indian shore safely without any untoward incident? If that is not enough, then let me provide some clinching evidence. In subsequent months, a different Captain commanded Kalvari. My position as the Capocini was restored. I became the Assistant Navigating officer. We had sailed from Port Blair to Vizag on surface. On reaching the Sentinals, Gary set a course of 301*(T) I think. We did not have any of the fancy electronic aids for Navigation then. Gary handed over the good ‘ol sextant to me and said,’ She is all yours, Sikki.’ Morning, noon, evening I took sights and placed the boat all over the Bay of Bengal. But Gary wouldn’t budge. He maintained a steady 301*(T). Sure enough, on the appointed day and appointed time we found ourselves within rubbing distance of Dolphin’s Nose.


There were fun times in between. Port Blair had only one jetty then. We were berthed alongside two other fleet ships. On a Sunday morning these two ships were to sail. This would have meant that we had to lay off and consume valuable battery power until reberthing. The consequence would have been that Marwah and his boys would be charging the batteries while we consumed six packs at the Megapode’s nest. Gary had been sincere in his Drastutiyas with Marwah. He could not bear to stand the elekys slog it out while we enjoyed. He convinced the Cap that instead off laying off why we didn’t go on a sightseeing trip of the scenic Andaman Islands and save battery juice. On setting sail for what was to be picnic, Gary announced on the circular,’ Gentlemen, this is your Navigator speaking. We are now on a sightseeing trip of the islands. You may come up to the bridge and feast your eyes.’ But Allah, may praise be upon the lord, had willed otherwise. The sea became very rough as soon as we left the sheltered waters. The boat rolled and pitched heavily. That put an end to the much touted about picnic.


In our next Avatars, I became a mate on one of the Indian Tankers carrying oil and Gary was code named Pilot ‘Uniform’ by the Bombay Port Trust. All I had to do was give a shout to Gary on the VHF and he would have himself assigned to bring our ship alongside the Tanker Berths at Butcher Island. The Mate is stationed at the Foxle for berthing Merchant Ships. I would meet Gary at the Pilot Ladder when he came to board the vessel in the official discharge of his duties. The Drastutiyas and hugging would go on while the rest of the Ship’s Company waited for the bonhomie to end and get on with the country’s oil trade.


Shipping Companies all over the world keep cartons of Marlborough’s and bottles of Black Dog/White Horse, which are padaraked to Pilots, Customs, Port Officials etc. as tokens of appreciation for the selfless work done by them. Now, Indian companies feeling the resource crunch go on cost saving mode. A Black Dog saved is a Black Dog gained is their axiom. The Captain was sure that his Mate would contribute to the Company’s cause. I hinted to Gary that a Black Dog less would go a long way in helping him and me maintain better health. But Gary had his sights set on the Harbour Master’s job. The Marlborough and Black Dog were for the present incumbent. Gary could only expect to get the coveted job if a few kind words are written about him in his ACR. Gary decided to meet my request halfway. He did not speak a word about it to the Cap. He merely put his empty bag on the chart table with a body language which said,’ Fill her up!’


It is not that Gary did not have a soft corner for his erstwhile Capocinis. Let me illustrate this point with this story. Owing to a strange rule devised by the Customs, we used to be paid our salaries in fifty rupee currency notes. I was signing off from this vessel, which meant that all the arrears of salary had to be paid to me and my dues cleared before I signed on the dotted line terminating my contract. This meant several bundles of Fifty Rupee notes. You were bound to be searched regardless of which gate of the Indira Docks you exited. Now the Custom boys who thought they were the only ones doing all the hard work demanded a share from what they considered to be our loot. I sent an SOS to Gary to help me save my hard earned money. He rose to the occasion and collected the bag of my spoils. The game plan was that I would reclaim the cash in the evening when I visited his house at the Port Trust colony near Sasoon Docks. While collecting the cash, Gary gave me the good news that his daughter Riga was getting married in a few days time. When I reached his house in the evening and requested my money, Gary surprised me by saying,’ What Money? I thought that was a wedding present for your niece.’ My heart missed several beats before I could say anything. Dons have soft corners for their Capocinis, serving or retired. Not only did he return me my money, we spent the rest of the evening polishing off a bottle of Black Dog.


KALVARI – V

(On the subject of Love)

Some Emperors have forsaken kingdoms, others have built immortal monuments. Epics have been written with love as its central theme. Helen, the face that launched a thousand ships has been immortalized in the Iliad. Battles have been fought; lives have been lost; all in the name of love. I do not know which line divides love, infatuation or plain attraction towards the opposite sex. I have found myself in and out of love as a younger man. Like several other things I have attempted in life (Dive a boat for instance) I have come a cropper in this very passionate form of human emotion. However, let me not bore you with how I have been a dud in whatever I have done and let us talk about Kalvari.


Which red blooded Indian Seaman can resist the charms of the Gori Chitti Rusi Mem? You had to be our Gadra Padra Jatt from Gurdaspur (the late Navin Chopra) to be impervious to such temptresses. If Gary is to be believed then even our Bal Bhramachari Peeks had lost his soul to not one but two Devushkas at the same time. Matters of the heart are best left as private affairs of an individual. I shall try to be more general in my approach. In my opinion it was the sailor who had better looking and more savvy girlfriends. How did they do it, I do not know. But one thing I know for sure. Each one of them passed himself off as some Officer or the other. The Chulmois smugly called themselves Comandeer. The girls knew that the boat had a Chulmoi Comandeer. Impersonating the Old Man was easy because the Cap did not interfere in such matters. So the claim would go uncontested. Now there is a fair sprinkling of Blondes among Russian ladies. They are not necessarily dumb as far as blondes go. A bright spark among them once quipped, ‘If there are so many Comandeers, Starpoms, Sturmans and the like then who is the Michman, Who is the Matros?’ ‘I am the Michman, says Thami the 40 plus Torpedo Chief’. So it came to pass that the Top Heavy Kalvari had so many Captains, Exos and such and only one Petty Officer. No sailors. Absolutely no sailors. You see it is like this with girls, once you have lost your heart to a Guy then it does not matter if he is Commandeer or Matros.


Peeks had this Guitar and he had practiced this ‘Bum, bum, bum..Bombay Meri hai’ number to near perfection. He was lustily belting out the ‘Ladies are nice, Gents are full of pride.Come to Bombay’ routine on a Saturday evening at a local restaurant. I was dancing with this pretty little thing (I myself am five foot something) when she asks, ‘Who is this Indiski Tavarish’. ‘One of the lads who can sing a bit.’ I shrug. ‘But who is he?’ she insists. ‘Never mind, let us dance.’ Says I. ‘But I want to meet him’ she persists. ‘Peeks, this one is for you’ I tell a triumphant Peeks and pack up and go back to my Rum and Water at the good ‘ol PKZ.


I was not good with Bombay lasses either. I had brought this Gold Spot model on Vela to show off to my shipmates a couple of years earlier. We were going down the Sangway from Amba when she ‘Spots’ Krishna Hyphen Subra-Manian elegantly sucking his pipe on the Captain’s deck of Amba. Spotting the sexily graying side burns adoring the Hyphen, she goes into this ‘Who is this’ routine. That takes the steam off me and I am waiting for the evening to end. Sporting graying side burns myself today (with a balding pate, beer belly and a pair of specs to complete the description) I am always at an edge when my wife of 27 years may go into this ‘Who is this’ questionnaire when a good looking guy may happen to pass by.


Drifter. You can call me that. I have moved away from the subject in hand with relation to Kalvari. Let me pick up from where I left off in the next serial. Ciao!


SUCH ARE THE WAYS OF LOVE


Dry Dock repairs were complete. The party was over. She was ready to go home. Kalvari I mean. Parting is always a sorrow. The scene at the PKZ was a real tearjerker. What with those pretty Devushkas clinging on to their Indiski beaus. And the Mahurat was coming to an end. The Soviet Navy Brass band was huffing and puffing on their Trombones or whatever they are called. The Captain First Rank detailed to see us off seemed keen to bring his arm down from the salute he was holding on to for the last half hour or so. But no Admiral Goroshkov or his Teekhi Okeanski Flot could persuade those determined lasses to let go their Chorni catch which sustained them on chewing gum, jeans et all for the last couple of years or so. What about the Patriotic Indian Matros yearning to return to his Motherland you might ask. Even his resolve seemed to waver. ‘What was the dashing young Captain doing?’ you would insist. His commands on the Loud Hailer went over deaf ears. The combined might of the Soviet and Indian Navies seemed ineffective over the powers of love that July afternoon.


The band stopped playing. Captain First Rank brought down his tiring arm. No command emanated from the Indian Captain’s hailer. The spell was broken. The men came on board. Lines were cast off and we set sail for home.


We were to touch Kobe and Hong Kong enroute. The programme was rescheduled and we headed straight for Manila for a 9-day R&R. What an R&R it turned out to be! Manila’s Hotel Admiral is adjacent to Rizal Park where the city’s lovelorn Filipinas congregate in search of a lover. And what better targets can there be than the recently heartbroken Indian sailor. Never lacking in good ‘ol hospitality, the boys invited the ladies to their rooms. Admiral Hotels of this world do not object to visitors being entertained by guests in their rooms. All they do is to make a small notation in their registers.


Some of us preferred to date the Hotel’s front desk instead of entertaining the ladies of Rizal Park in our Hotel Rooms. On a day when the Ship’s company went to see the famous Pagsanhan falls at the other end of the Luzon Island, we were dancing to the tunes of Salsa with them at the local disk. Needless to say we received one hell of a hollering from the Cap the next day. Great leaders are known for their compassion. The Cap not only forgave our trespass but also loaned us the use of his car to see the most beautiful of water falls in one of the oldest rain forests of the world.


Like I said, all good things came to an end. This time too, there were tearful scenes at the jetty. The actors were the same. Only difference was that the Filipina had substituted the Devushka.


This story could have ended happily but for one small hitch. Veterans of Foreign cruises would recollect that we had to surrender unspent foreign money before leaving port. One spent the last dime shopping (entertaining guests in hotel rooms in this case) so that there was no money left to surrender. The Cap had only X amount to settle the hotel bills. Imagine his surprise when the Hotel slapped an additional amount as guest charges. They not only had the name of the guest but also the time and number of visitors each had entertained. There were a lot of red faces on Kalvari that day and a very very angry Captain. We all emptied our pockets and pooled in our combined resources to pay for the deficit. The boys on the jetty had to be declutched from some very determined ladies with exotic names like Judith Carlos, Fleur-de-Liza Lauz, Marilou Concepion, Luz Manalo….. and sent down the hatch before the boat cast off.

For those who cannot visualize the full impact of this story, I recommend you read the Odyssey or its condensed version if you please.


CHOPS


A diverse lot that is what we were on Kalvari. Friendships, which developed after only a few months of association, have endured even to this day. It was not only on Kalvari but similar associations developed and endured on other submarines too. Rather unfortunate we lost such a fine ex-shipmate. He was a real Officer and Gentleman. Let me end this Kalvari series with a tribute to Navin Chopra.


We first met when he joined Vela for his Dived Watch keeping Ticket. I was his senior but Chops was on a fast track. We got our tickets on the same day. The competitive spirit never left him. In later years we met again at Venduruthy. He had come to do the TAS course. I was there for my ND. It is said that Chops made his position very clear to his classmates. ‘Gentlemen’, he said ‘I have come here to stand first in the course. Some of you may be smarter than me but I intend to overcome that drawback by sheer hard work. I shall out study each and every one of you. If you study 24 hours, I shall study 25 and achieve my goal.’ That was the kind of resolve, which Navin Chopra had. He did come first in his course.


Chops was always an outdoor man. He was not among the Salsa dancers. He preferred hiking, jogging and adventure instead. A teetotaler, Chops joined in the fun whenever the Ward Room was celebrating. I never recall him to be a bore or loner. Chops was just Chops. That’s it.


He loved to swim. When the US Navy PC3 Orion dropped its Sonobuoys around a surfaced Kalvari in the Straits of Taiwan, it was Chops who dived into the sea and retrieved them as a Souvenir for Cochin’s NPOL. It is said that he was once carried away by the strong current while swimming off Vizag’s Coromondal beach. His friends ashore tried to draw the attention of boats, which were fishing, at some distance but to no avail. Just when it seemed the large waves were going to get the better of Chops, a helicopter belonging to the Circars flight happened to fly overhead. Attention of the Pilot was drawn towards Chop’s near drowning situation and a real life rescue at sea was effected.


Weeks after returning from Russia, we were to take part in Fleet Exercises off Andamans. Chops was the Torpedo Officer then. We had a very hectic day storing and loading Torpedoes. Chops was on his feet all day. We finally sailed late at Night. Chops had the first watch after we cleared Vizag harbour. Passage Routine had been announced by then. It was a full moon night. The sea was calm and placid. We were 20 to 25 miles from land. Dolphin’s Nose light was still visible. A tired Chops was perched on top of the Fin. He asked the lookout to fetch him some coffee. There was no sign of Chops on the Bridge when the lookout returned with coffee. The helmsman steering from the Fin too had no idea of Chops’s whereabouts. As the second Navigator, I was plotting in the Chart House when the lookout called me on the Kahstan. He informed me of Chops absence from the Bridge. I asked him to check out the Fin toilet but Chops wasn’t there. It was then I made the announcement on the circular about the missing Chops.


Sam Dan was in Command of Kalvari then. He came up on the bridge. It was clear by then that Chops was not on board. I saw a firm resolve on the Captain’s face. He clenched the railing in front of the Captain’s seat on the Bridge and said,” By God, I will get him.” Thus began, what at that time appeared to be a hopeless search for a Man Overboard.


Someone gave a wheel order and forgot all about it. Yours truly forgot to mark the position on the plot and so on. The initial response to the emergency was mildly chaotic. Order was soon restored and proper search put into effect. Periscopes were raised, searchlights rigged, extra lookouts positioned and loud hailers brought on the bridge. The sub went on a maneuvering mode and began a search pattern. We did a number of unsuccessful passes around the position where we thought Chops might have fallen overboard. The Radar Chief, Kanwar, had only recently joined the submarine arm. No one took him seriously when he reported what he thought was a coconut on his screen. For want of a better option we altered course to investigate this ‘Coconut’ and directed the Projectors (Searchlights) in the same direction. Lo and behold, there was Chops swimming towards us about 2 cables on our starboard bow. A cry of jubilation went out from the ship’s company. We had found our man.


Recovery was simple. Fore Planes were rigged out. Casing party went on the deck with Lifebuoy and heaving line. The boat was maneuvered to stop next to Chops and he was picked up on board. The first thing that Chops did after being rescued was to apologize to the Cap for having fallen overboard. The Cap magnanimously decided to overlook the incident. We recommenced our passage and went on to carry out some very successful operations with the fleet that season.


Chops didn’t remember how he fell off from the relative safety of the Bridge in calm weather conditions. He told us that survival instincts took over once he was in the water. After watching the boat’s stern light dip in the horizon, he decided to swim for the shore. Soon he realized that it would not be possible to swim the 25 miles to shore. He decided to conserve energy and float. Hopelessness gave way to excitement when he saw the Masthead light of Kalvari. But the sub passed a few cables away without noticing him. Again, Hope gave way to despair when he saw the boat turn around and the stern light dipped once again. These mixed emotions continued to trouble him until he was finally rescued.


There may be many other instances from Chops’s short but exciting life that you may remember. In the end, all I can say is that Chops lived and died on his own terms. He may have had his own reasons, which convinced him that life was not worth living from the point of time he ended it.