Trafford Publishing: Mandalay to Norseman

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Mandalay to Norseman

by Tom McCulloch

248 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #03-0434; ISBN 1-4120-0071-8; US$22.50, C$25.99, EUR18.50, £13.00

Youth in an atmosphere dominated by ships and the sea, when the British Empire was a mighty power and one in four deep sea vessels sailed under the Red Duster.

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about the book about the author about the author sample excerpts or Table of Contents catalogue info

About the Book

This is the story of the author's life and experiences from his childhood on the River Clyde to his joining his first deep sea ship in 1941 in war-torn Liverpool and his various adventures as cadet and junior officer during World War II and its aftermath to 1948 before emigrating to Canada. There is an obvious attempt to tell all that can be told while maintaining a certain standard of decorum. Seafaring in those days, for the author, was a mixture of hard miserable work interposed with periods of intense exhileration and satisfaction. A worthwhile endeavor.
Reviews

The coincidence of word-processing and the eigth decade of life spawns autobiographies, written largely to provide records of grandparents' antecedents and lifetime achievements, sometimes of dubious veracity, intended to impress, or at least inform, succeeding generations of their families. You reviewer, having already followed that route himself, approached Tom McCulloch's own effort with trepidation - expecting, perhaps: "I was born .... and then .... and so on ..." - only to find himself absorbed in a gripping account of life as an apprentice deck officer in wartime Britain's Merchant Navy.

By 1939 the Red Ensign (affectionately termed "Red Duster") flew from ensign staffs on 8,900 commercial ships totalling 19,700,000 tons gross. The industry recruited huge numbers of boys to be trained on the job in its ships as deck, engine room or catering staff at all levels, but individual companies varied in their balance between using boys as cheap labour and undertaking proper training programmers - and there was a noticible difference between big liner companies and those smaller concerns operating plodding tramp steamers seeking cargoes wherever they could be located. After 1939, the system of training remained the same, but our Merchant Navy was at full stretch, suffering losses from enemy submarines and surface raiders; however it remained essentially a civilian organisation manned by volunteers. tom's book cover what was probably the industries finest hour before peace brought the start of its decline to what today is a pitiful state.

After a boyhood on the banks of Clyde steeped in sights, noises and smells of ships and shipbuilding, young Tom sought, like hundreds of other young men, to go to sea for a living. Not for him the advantages of one of a well-known, or even lesser-known, pre-sea training establishment, he took a job instead as an office boy with a stevedoring company and attended evening classes in navigation and seamanship. His diligence was rewarded: in the Spring of 1941 at the age of sixteen when when he was accepted to serve as a Cadet in the ships of Henderson Line of Glasgow and promptly found himself in that company's Mandalay in the middle of the blitz on Liverpool Docks during which the centre of the city was destroyed.

Either Tom is a meticulous diarist or he has the facility of total recall. His personal experiences have been amplified by careful research of facts, background detail and the social scene of the day so that each stage of the book tells the engaging story of young Tom afloat or ashore in terms of the Battle of the Atlantic, Durban Harbour as the staging point for supplying Allied Forces in North Africa, the port of Rangoon before the Japanese swept through Burma, discharging cargo in London's docklands, carrying troops and war materials across the Indian Ocean, supporting D-Day in a tanker,or working on cable laying and repairs in mid-ocean.

"Paddy" Henderson & Co specialized in cargo and passenger ships trading to the East, particularily Burma; it was one of 426 British shipping companies of the time and Mandalay was one of their older vessels: a coal burning thirty year-old "three-islander" wherein her four cadets were regarded as useful, inexpensive help in a crew of seventy-five Europeans and Asians. Young Tom began to Learn the fundamentals of his chosen profession in practical terms, most of the time clad in overalls. After his first voyage to Burma and back, he was employed in succession in Henderson's Kindat, Salween, Amarapura and Ocean Victory, before resigning and taking pot luck in the Merchant Navy "Pool". This move led to him serving as Third Mate in an 8,000 ton tanker, El Ciervo, supporting the Normandy invasion by refuelling Allied warships off the beaches. By then it was June 1944, he had completed the neccessary sea time, and when the action had died down he came ashore to take his Second Mates Certificate.

That September he qualified and was back as sea in another tanker, Benedick to be followed shortly thereafter by another move to an iron-ore carrier Cape Breton. Casting around late in 1946 for a more stable career prospect in peace-time, Tom was accepted by Cable and Wireless for service as a deck officer in its fleet of cable ships; he joined Recorder in Singapore and transferred to Norseman in Durban the following year. During this time he was exposed to many percise navigation techniques that would one day lead him to hydrographic surveying. Having clearly been an enthusiastic tourist in strange places and. on his own admission, an avid missionary to ensure ladies in far flung places were kept entertained, the book ends in June 1948 with a now matured Tom, equipped with a shiny new First Mate's Ticket and with his wife on his arm, arriving in Canada prepared for a new life. how he progressed to become the Director-General of Bayfield Laboratory of Marine Sciences in 1978 is another story.

The book is well written and edited, very informative about the times, places and events of the 1940s at sea described as the author experienced them and the pace is fast with wry comments and humour along the way. All in all, as such autobiographies go, Tom's is a success and makes an important contribution to the written word of the era, even though sixty years elapsed before he sat down and patiently tapped out his tale.

A review by Geoffrey Haskins
The Hydrographic Journal No. 110 October 2003

They say that everyone has a "book in them". I guess the skilful bit is matching the need to produce a book with the actual decision to do it. How glad we are that Tom McCulloch has written this very readable account of his early years at sea. How many of us can relate to the yarns that flow from the pen of the author. Certainly a tome worthy of a place in the Merchant Navy hall of fame. It goes a long way to explaining that special spirit that beats in the heart of so many seafarers and which goes a long way to explaining the almost invincible attitude of the many unrecognised heroes of the Merchant Navy. A real adventure story across 232 pages. Illustrated with black and white photographs.
Review in Sea Breezes' Bookshop Newsletter 'for the best maritime books and videos', Isle of Man, UK, Aug 2003
Tom McCulloch's narrative of his childhood and early years at sea provide us with a valuable first-hand account of life in tumultuous times. The Great Depression, the Second World War and the decline of the British Empire- all took place during the period covered in this book. Those of us old enough to have lived through that era have our own personal memories, but for the vast majority of the population of North America and Europe these events are historical; learnt from textbooks, film of dubious quality and occasional speeches at Remembrance Day parades - none of which really tell us how day-to-day life was affected by the deprivation and destruction which occurred.
Tom grew up in Greenock, on the banks of the Clyde, and had a typical childhood for these times; the discipline of school and church tempered with the freedom to roam the hills and countryside in spare time. Parades, strikes, the Empire Exhibition and the mobilisation of shipyards and militia which occurred in the years leading up to the commencement of the Second World War are all vividly recalled by Tom.
The Battle of the Atlantic was well under way by the time the sixteen-year-old youth joined his first ship, S.S. Mandalay, as a cadet in Liverpool - just in time to experience the MAy 1941 blitz which destroyed the Liverpool city centre and caused extensive damage in the dock area. A voyage to Burma, "a Paddy Henderson fiefdom", occupied the remainder of 1941 and included convoy duty in the North Atlantic, welcome shore leave in South Africa and the culture shock of a first visit to the teeming city of Rangoon. Before the war ended in 1945, Tom also spent time on the East African coast, the Red Sea, a convoy to Murmansk and refuelling of vessels engaged in the D-Day landings. Somehow or other, in the midst of it all, he found time to meet his future wife Doreen and obtain his Second Mate's Certificate.
The final chapters of Tom's book describe the time spent on vessels owned by Cable and Wireless, including the C.S. Norseman of the book's title, and finishes with Tom and Doreen's arrival in Canada, ready for the "trials and tribulations... joy and accomplishment" which will be the subject of a later book.
I trust that my brief review of "Mandalay to Norseman" will encourage others to read this well-written, remarkable account of life before, during and just after the Second World War. Most of the history books I have read have been written many years after the events they are describing- here we have a first-hand account of history in the making.
A Review by Captain Alec Provan (Vancouver Division)
On The Bridge
The National Voice of the Society of Canadian Master Mariners
July 2003
Mention shipping, seafaring and a local connection and you immediately gain the interest of a large number of our readers.
And, these are certainly the ingredients of Mandalay to Norseman, Thomas, (Tom) D.W. McCulloch (Trafford Publishing). Now a 'retired' marine consultant living in British Columbia, Tom was born in Greenock in 1925 and brought up in Benview Terrace, and proud of his roots he includes a description and history of the town as he recalls his childhood on the river in his opening chapter.
The book is dedicated to Tom's brother Gordon, the last of the family in Greenock, who sadly died on 26 March of this year.
With many illustrations this in brief is the story of a young las raised among the ships and the sea, who in 1941 at the age of 16 became a cadet then a navigating officer of several merchant ships until 1948 when he emigrated to Canada. In his own words it describes his growing up in the Grennock of the 20s and 30s together with the impact of war on the Tail of the Bank and its adjacent wateres in the early 1940s.
Wartime adventures at sea follow in various parts of the globe, with post war service in deep sea cable ships, the white yachts of the sea.
It records the tale of a time when the British Empire was still a mighty powere in the world and one in every four deep sea vessels proudly flew the Red Duster.
But even more, it records another excerpt and another life in the maritime aspect of this area of the Clyde, and indeed much further afield on his journeys to Burmah via the Cape and back home, the various ships and always a mention if there was a fellow Scot on board, a further travel to Egypt and a convoy through the treacherous sea routes to Murmansk.
This varied and interesting life at sea, so well remembered and described also takes the reader to Dingapore, Bombay, Gibraltar, the Amazon Coast of Brazil and to Madeira before he and his wife settled in Canada.
Even there he continued seafaring on deep sea and Great Lakes vessels until 1953 when he joind the Canadian Hydrographic Service in Victoria as a hydrographic surveyor.
In 1968 Tom was appointed Regional director, CHS Central Region and Director General, Bayfield Laboratory of Marine Sciences in 1978, retireng from Government service eight years later.
Since then he has been directing hydrographic training programmes in the Caribbean and Malaysia.
Stewart Peterson,
Greenock Telegraph
Friday, 6 June, 2003

About the Author

Tom McCulloch was born in Greenock, Scotland in 1925. He went to sea at 16 during World War II as a Cadet with the Henderson Line of Glasgow. He was prompted to deck officer in 1944 and joined Cable & Wireless in 1946 before emigrating to Canada with his wife in 1948. In Canada he continued seafaring on deep sea and Great Lakes vessels until 1953 when he joined the Canadian Hydrographic Service in Victoria BC as a hydrographic surveyor. He was appointed Regional Director, CHS Central Region in 1968 and Director General, Bayfield Laboratory of Marine Sciences in 1978. He retired from Government Service in 1985, and since then has been directing hydrographic training programmes in the Caribbean and Malaysia. He has five children and thirteen grandchildren and resides in Victoria BC.

Reviews

The coincidence of word-processing and the eighth decade of life spawns autobiographies, written largely to provide records of grandparents' antecedents and lifetime achievements, sometimes of dubious veracity, intended to impress, or at least inform, succeeding generations of their families. Your reviewer, having already followed that route himself, approached Tom McCulloch's own effort with trepidation - expecting, perhaps, "I was born...and then...and so on..."-only to find himself absorbed in a gripping account of life as an apprentice deck officer in wartime Britain's Merchant Navy.

By 1939 the Red Ensign (affectionately termed 'Red Duster') flew from ensign staffs on 8,900 commerical ships totalling 19,700,000 tons gross. The industry recruited huge numbers of boys to be trained on the job in its ships as deck, engine room or catering staff at all levels, but individual companies varied in their balance between big liner companies and those smaller concerns operating plodding tramp steamers seeking cargoes wherever they could be located. After 1939, the system of training remained the same, but our Merchant Navy was at full stretch, suffering losses from enemy submarines and surface raiders; however, it remained essentially a civillian organisation manned by volunteers. Tom's book covers what was probably the industry's finest hour before peace brought the start of its decline to what is today a pitiful state.

After a boyhood on the banks of the Clyde steeped in sights, noises and smells of ships and shipbuilding, young Tom sought, like hundreds of other young men, to go to sea for a living. Not for him the advantages of one of a well-known, or even lesser known, pre-sea training establishment, he took a job instead as an office boy with a stevedoring company and attended evening classes in navigation and seamanship. His diligence was rewarded: in the Spring of 1941 at the age of sixteen when he was accepted to serve as a Cadet in the ships of Henderson Line of Glasgow and promptly found himself in that company's Mandalay in the middle of the Blitz on Liverpool Docks during which the centre of the city was destroyed.

Either Tom is a meticulous diarist or the has the facility of total recall. His personal experiences have been amplified by careful research of facts, background detail and the social scene of the day so that each stage of the book tells the engaging story of young Tom afloat or ashore in terms of the Battle of the Atlantic, Durban Harbour as the staging point for supplying Allied Forces in North Africa, the port of Rangoon before the Japanese swept through Burma, discharging cargo in London's docklands, carrying troops and war materials across the Indian Ocean, supporting D-Day in a tanker, or working on cable laying and repairs in mid-ocean.

"Paddy" Henderson & Co specialised in cargo and passenger ships trading to the East, particularly Burma; it was one of 426 British shipping companies of the time and Madalay was one of their older vessels: a coal burning thirty year-old 'three-islander' wherein her four cadets were regarded as useful, inexpensive help in a crew of seventy-five Europeans and Asians. Young Tom began to learn the fundamentals of his chosen profession in practical terms, most of the time clad in overalls. After his first voyage to Burma and back, he was employed in succession in Hernderson's Kindat, Salween, Amarpura, and Ocean Victory, before resinging and taking pot luck in the Merchant Navy 'Pool.' This move led to him serving as Third Mate in an 8,000 ton tanker, El Ciervo, supporting the Normandy invasion by refuelling Allied warships off the beaches. By then it was June 1944, he had completed the necessary sea time, and when the action had died down he came ashore to take his Second Mate's Certificate.

That September he qualified and was back at sea in another tanker, Benedick, to be followed shortly thereafter by another move to an iron-pre carrier Cape Breton. Casting around late in 1946 for a more stable career prospect in peace-time, Tom was accepted by Cable and Wireless for service as a deck officer in its fleet of cable ships; he joined Recorder in Singapore and transferred to Norseman in Durban the following year. During this period he was exposed to the many precise navigation techniques that would one day lead him to hydrographic surveying. Having clearly been an enthusiastic tourist in strange places and, on his own admission, an avid missionary to ensure ladies in far flung places were kept entertained, the book ends in June 1948 with a now matured Tom, equipped with a shiny new First Mate's Ticket and with his wife on his arm, arriving in Canada prepared for a new life. How he progressed to become the Director-Genral of Bayfield Laboratory of Marine Sciences in 1978 is another story.

The book is well written and edited, very informative about the times, places and events of the 1940s at sea described as the author experienced them and the pace is fast with wry comments and humour along the way. All in all, as such autobiographies go, Tom's is a success and makes an important contribution to the written word of the era, even though sixty years elapsed before he sat down and patiently tapped out his tale.
Geoffrey Haskins, The Hydrographic Journal

Sample Excerpts

My cabin mate on the ship was a small chap called Angus Paterson. I had met him briefly before when he was serving on board Burma in Kilindini harbour. After leaving Burma to return to Britain, he was a passenger on the Empress of Canada when she was torpedoed off the West African coast. There was heavy loss of life, mainly caused by shark attacks. Angus said he survived by being small and finally managing to get on a small raft. He had joined Ocean Viceroy in June 1943 for a voyage to Buenos Aires. When the convoy broke up, another Henderson ship, Henzada, was sunk but Ocean Viceroy made it safely to South America and returned to the Mersey. He had a good sense of humour and was a fine shipmate. Once, we had a discussion about family crests or coats of arms. He told us, with a perfectly straight face, that the Paterson family coat of arms was depicted as a flaming penis on a field of monkeys' fundamentals. After that description, the rest of us were speechless with admiration.
The mate was Charlie Weir, a longtime employee of Paddy Henderson and rumoured to have considerable shares in the company. He certainly behaved like an owner at times, threatening severe punishment for losing or damaging any deck equipment. He was a Chi Chi of Anglo-Burmese stock, which was most unusual on board Henderson ships. The master was known to us as MacFadyen the bad yin, although he got that appellation more from a naturally rhyming sense rather than anything specific. The chief steward was from Leith and was a jolly soul who kept us cadets well fed and supplied with chocolate bars. We got to know the gunners early on in the voyage as we practised on the twin Oerlikons on the bridge and boat decks and the twelve-pounder located on the bow. All the other vessels in Loch Ewe were similarly armed, with Bofors guns prominently displayed. It was indeed an armed merchant ship fleet that was being dispatched to North Russia.
Our convoy departed Loch Ewe on the 21st December 1943, accompanied by a number of escorting frigates. It was blustery out in the Minch as we formed up in two columns. Just north of Cape Wrath, we were joined by another convoy that had sailed directly from North America. We then commenced regrouping ourselves into six lanes of merchant ships with five vessels in each lane. While all of this manoeuvring was going on, a drifting mine was spotted just ahead of Ocean Viceroy. While attempting to avoid the mine, our helmsman managed to get the spokes of the wheel caught up in his life jacket. I was on watch at the time and helped bring the panic stations scenario under control. Several of our gunners took pot shots at the mine as it drifted closely by, and an escort finally sunk it. Shortly after this event, the enlarged convoy was joined by a large number of tribal class destroyers from Scapa Floe as we proceeded north and west of the Orkney Islands.
The weather was moderate, with good visibility, but getting colder by the hour. There were many air attack alarms, as German aircraft shadowed the convoy from the horizon. Additionally, U-boats were reported in the vicinity, and the thump of depth charge explosions could be heard from time to time. The convoy did a fair amount of zigging and zagging as we awaited the arrival of our heavy outer escort of cruisers led by the battleship Duke of York. While the weather remained moderate, every ship took advantage of the few hours of daylight to practice gunnery. In the middle of one exercise, two German aircraft decided to have a go at the convoy and its close escorts. It was as if one had upset a wasp nest, with the sky partially blotted out with myriads of tracer shells. The German attack was unsuccessful, but had made sure that everyone was on their toes and ready for anything.
We slept fully clothed close to our battle stations when off duty and were frequently called to stations by the noisy alarm located on the deckhead. The weather deteriorated badly and we spent much time in the stormy darkness securing cases of aircraft parts that were part of our deck cargo. It was miserable work, but very necessary. There were U-boat attacks on the convoy at this time, and two merchant ships were reported sunk. Christmas Day went by with little time for celebration as the weather worsened still further. The convoy was now sixty miles or so north of the north cape of Norway. We would soon be making the turn eastward into the Arctic Ocean before heading south toward the Russian port of Murmansk.
Boxing Day 1943 was another dreadful weather day, with only about one hour of daylight. The convoy had altered course in response to the presence of the German battlecruiser Scharnhorst to the north of us. At around suppertime on Boxing Day, the flashes of heavy gunfire could be seen on the horizon and the convoy prepared to scatter. Our outer escort was engaging the enemy about ten miles away. Scharnhorst made her way to within six miles of the convoy before being halted and sunk. The British cruiser Belfast, supporting Duke of York, finished off Scharnhorst at about 1930 hours on that day. In the wild weather there were few survivors, with more than two thousand Germans perishing. Today the media would make a big play of such a "chilling" event. At the time, we were just thankful that we had escaped disaster. The use of the word "chilling" was all too appropriate in these circumstances as the survival time overboard was about two minutes maximum.
The following day, in the brief daylight period and in moderate weather, the convoy deployed in two columns as we approached the entrance to Kola Inlet. Russian coastal escorts and aircraft provided a welcoming committee. However, the most cheering sight of all was the appearance of HMS Belfast, with shell holes in her funnel and upper works, as she steamed past the convoy to great applause from all assembled on deck. We arrived off Murmansk in the early evening and went alongside our designated berth immediately. Lights were rigged preparatory to unloading, and numerous workers, all in heavy parka-type winter clothing swarmed aboard. They were not regular stevedores, but had been conscripted from their factory to do this work for which they were completely untrained. Consequently, a number of small accidents occurred within a short period of time. The workers were both male and female, although it was rather difficult to tell them apart in their identical clothing.
Shortly thereafter, the air raid sirens sounded and the lights were turned off as waves of German bombers from Petsamo in Finland flew over Murmansk. We had not realized it before, but the finger wharf we were secured to was a nest of anti-aircraft weapons that erupted in thunderous fire. As some of the weapons were very close to Ocean Viceroy we felt obliged to join in and manned our guns with glee. Whether we hit the enemy or not, it was a grand experience, which was repeated most nights we remained tied up alongside. Meanwhile we got to know the Russians, at least as much as they allowed.
Naturally, some of our crew made contact with the female workers in the holds and cigarettes, nylons and other tradable items were bartered for nookie. A close watch was kept on all the workers by Russian guards, and such transgressions could and did lead to punishment. Shore leave was permitted, but quite restricted. Identity cards were scrutinized carefully by guards at the dock gates who often could not read or write. Murmansk itself was a mess, being heavily damaged from almost continuous bombing since 1941. There were really only two places to go, the International Club and the Red Army Club, both well supplied with good-looking Russian hostesses who were bilingual and spouted the communist party line while smiling provocatively at the same time. Officially, two glasses of vodka were the limit but more could be obtained by a little bit of bribery. The Russian girls tried hard to convert us, but for the most part were wasting their time.
Some of the exchanges of conversation were worthy of record, if only a good tape recorder had been available. Even the implicit offering of sexual pleasure failed to shake the Allied seamen in their own beliefs. The vodka could cause problems, as our own lads could attest to. Fights broke out on the dock and on our deck as seamen, firemen and gunners grappled with one another after consuming the illicit firewater. It was a no-holds- barred affair, stripped to the waist, thumping, gouging and kicking, before being forcibly restrained. All of this in the ice and snow, while a Russian crowd of workers watched in obvious enjoyment.
These Russians did not have much else to enjoy, living in hovels and ruined tenement blocks, practically on starvation diets. On top of that, they had to put up with nightly bombing and the tight police and political control of their lives. Their soldiers and sailors were brave in fighting the enemy. One could only salute them and join them in achieving victory. We got to know the Russian gunners on the wharf quite well and shared many a drink and cigarette together.
An eyeopener to us was the arrival alongside of a Russian heavy lift ship that was manned completely by women. It was compelling to watch them grapple and lift armoured vehicles from our holds without problem or seeming effort. Was this the wave of the future? Shortly after this event, Ocean Viceroy moved out into Kola Inlet anchorage to clean up and prepare the holds for another cargo. It was now 1944 and very soon I would have my nineteenth birthday. A time for reflection on my personal life and also on what was happening in the worldwide war.
My personal reflections were enhanced by my medical condition. We had all been issued with winter clothing before departing Birkenhead. The clothing was not all new but in some cases had been worn previously. However, we were assured that they had all been dry-cleaned before reissue, and were clean. In some cases it was not so, and I was among a number who contracted what turned out to be ringworm. The parasite spread around my testicles in particular and by the time we anchored out in the inlet, it was causing a great deal of discomfort. The chief steward was our paramedical and prescribed iodine applications to the affected area followed by precipitant ointment.

Catalogue Information