Exclusive Feature Serial on www.thisisUll.com Part Four - 1973: Super tug to defend fishing fleet By John Boldock Part One,  Part Two,  Part Three ,  Part Four,  Part Five.

A few weeks at sea now and really settling down to a routine, if only a boring one! When action is scarce it becomes a case of simply steaming up and down around a pack of several trawlers and keeping an eye out for the Icelanders.

Eventually boredom led to us creating some action roleplay games to pass the time. Our most exciting days were when we used to go on a stagecoach ride, me and several of the lads, one of whom was a Mr Rutter, whose brother was a famous sitcom actor in those days. We used to get sat on the old settee in the officers' mess, two on the front controlling the invisible horses and a couple sat up on the rear of the settee riding shot gun. We would ride like the wind through the hot sandy desert, the two up front yahooing and yelling at the horses while the two at the rear would be fending off hostile Indians. This used to go on for ages until we all just fell about laughing in tears at our idiocy. It was silly when you think about it but great fun and a real boredom killer. Try it sometime - it beats Flash Crowding!

My friend Mr Rutter (I must apologise but I really can't remember his first name, I think it was Barry - but that might have been his brother's) used to do a great rendition of a train driver when on the controls at the bridge. Unlike the ships of old the modern pulling monsters like our super-tug were controlled by a simple lever at the side of the bridge, so he used to sit there with his head out of the side window pretending he was in command of a steam locomotive, with all flashing past him at an astounding speed. His patter was so funny he used to have us all in stitches - I think he had the same natural comedy streak that his famous brother had, although I haven't seen his brother on the box for some years now, where are you now Mr Rutter? Anyway it was lads like these that were the core of the crew - and what a crew! They were rough and tough and they used to like a drink and the odd punch up, but when it came to cutting the metal, then no finer men have I ever had the pleasure to work alongside.

One character I remember was a giant of a guy called Judd. Judd was a beast of a guy. I remember him coming aboard one day a little worse for wear and slightly over the required drink limit. Apparently he was laid on the galley floor shouting at the top of his voice and demanding to be fed.

The Skipper's answer to this debacle was to simply tip the contents of the swill bin all over his head, shouting "Feed ya? I'll feed ya!" - (splodge) - "Now get up, you bastard!". Judd was also the one who got alcohol banned on all flights to the Shetlands (thanks Judd) after starting a fight and wrecking a seat on one of the flights. But in fairness to him, when it came to doing the job, none were more committed. The guy could fight (and, by God, drink) but not many guys can splice a piece of two inch steel cable. My memories of Judd are pleasant ones and I sincerely hope he is still doing the job which I am sure he loved. continued below

Exclusive Feature Serial on www.thisisUll.com Part Four - 1973: Super tug to defend fishing fleet continued By John Boldock

In amongst the crew there were also the cooks. Most of the time we had great cooks on board the vessels, however in life there is always the exception! Enter the North brothers. The North brothers somehow ended up as cooks on board our ship. Harry was the overweight one whilst the other one - "Mother" as he was nicknamed (never did learn his real name) - was a slightly out of this world character. These two were the Abbot and Costello of the tug world and could they cook? NO! Mother was always spaced out and seemed to live in another dimension.

I always remember one day - we were in Lerwick for radar repairs and restocking of supplies. Mother was, to say the least, exceptionally pissed and the local agent took advantage of this. Mother was talked into buying enough food to last us the length of the Second World War, never mind the Cod War! We were not complaining but I do believe his nuts got a real roasting over that incident. Now Harry was a special case, at times a nice chap but under pressure, God! And the more pressure he was under the worse he would get, stuttering and spluttering - I can picture him now in the early hours of the morning, making "bread". He would be leaning over a stinking hot stove kneading the dough and the sweat would be dropping off his face, helping to moisten the slightly grey coloured dough. In the corner of his gob would be a lit fag. Got the picture When the "breakfast rolls" of dough, ash and sweat were duly distributed at breakfast time, well they looked okay at first glance until, that is, you attempted to break them in half. The outside was nice and crusty but the inside was just a pasty ball of gooey, grey-coloured gunge. We used to roll it up and leave it on our plates which would result in another load of verbal abuse from Harry! We used to pin his "eggs" up on the notice board to indicate their tensile strength, another thing which would start him off! Harry was the only person I've ever known who had to turn the loaves of bread over in the oven so the other side would cook! Ahhh! I fondly remember his torrents of abuse, using the F-word before every other word while standing in the galley entrance with a large knife in his hand. We knew just how far to go with Harry!

Still on the subject of food (and why not?), we had a young Radio Operator who had recently replaced our original guy. The original Operator was relieved of duty due to sickness (sick of the job I think). He was a real gas and was continually spaced out on whatever it was he was smoking. He had these constant red rings around his eyes. I think it was all that dit-dit-dit and dah-dah-dah that caused it. Yes, in those days we still used Morse Code.

It was rumoured that there were never any old operators as the constant dits and dahs eventually took their toll on the old grey matter. Thank God for modern day satellite communications. Anyway our new radio guy was a young cock-sure buck and was obviously from a higher intellectual plane than the rest of us riff-raff. Whilst sitting at lunch one day in the company of the Skipper, Charlie Noble, the chef presented us with a very large platter of jam and lemon curd tarts. This was a treat for us and the young buck dived in as if he had never been fed before. The Skipper sat back with a look of disgust on his face and everyone but the radio ham noticed. Then, in complete silence, the Skipper simply and slowly pushed the whole platter of tarts over to the young guy's plate as if to say "There you go, you greedy bastard, why not take 'em all?" I remember the crimson colour of the young guy's face to this day - a lesson in manners well delivered by the Skipper.

Continued on www.thisisull.com...... Part Five - 1973: Super tug to defend fishing fleet.

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