tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-63447138781682159972024-03-14T03:01:55.554+00:00Life before bloggingMy retro diariesSteve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.comBlogger114125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-2072401314580544512008-04-08T21:01:00.007+01:002008-04-09T21:40:16.037+01:00Carnarvon Western Australia 1965 – 1967<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/R_vSKO2CCEI/AAAAAAAAAe0/wGdfE6_1tEU/s1600-h/carnarvon1.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/R_vSKO2CCEI/AAAAAAAAAe0/wGdfE6_1tEU/s200/carnarvon1.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5186970469072504898" /></a>
<p>Entering the town of Carnarvon for the first time in early November 1965 was reminiscent of going into a film set of an early Western Movie, the red earth, the swing doors in the saloon and the verandas which adorned the Hotels and shops in the main street were redolent of that era, apart from the names over the shops like Wesfarmers, Dalgettys, Fitz’s Newsagents and Fongs.
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The main street was incredibly wide to accommodate bullock carts and camel trains turning round when the bales of wool were transported to Geraldton by this method. The mature lady librarian, whose mother had lived outside Carnarvon all her life said that when it was proposed to include her mother’s name in a list of pioneers in the North West she had declined the honour saying “We weren’t isolated here as the camel trains came through every few weeks”.</p>
<p>We had just driven the 300 hundred mile from Geraldton along a recently graded and surfaced road, this work was paid for by NASA to enable easier access to the Tracking Station then being built on Brown’s Range just outside Carnarvon, the road only had tarmac on a middle strip leaving sand and stones along the outer edges. These stones were an ever present danger when vehicles were passing as many a windshield was lost in that exercise, this gave rise to certain sections of the road being called the ‘Crystal Highway’. There was an eighty mile stretch of the highway which was perfectly straight and monotonous to drive along and one had to be very alert to the dangers of falling asleep at the wheel. The only petrol station, called the Billabong, was situated halfway between Geraldton and Carnarvon.
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Just after the Billabong was a small faded sign saying Shark Bay was to the left. Seventy miles to the south of Carnarvon we had crossed over the dry river bed of the Wooramel, the wooden structure of this bridge was later washed away when Cyclone Elsie struck in 1967.</p>
<p>What were we doing in what the Australians then called ‘beyond the black stump’? Well, in early 1965 I had answered an advert in the UK Electronics weekly asking for engineers and technicians to work at a NASA Tracking Station to be built in Carnarvon Western Australia. Being interested in the Space program and also having a very stressful job servicing the first generation of commercial computers to go on the market I decided to apply. I obtained a position as Digital Engineer working on the operation and maintenance of the tracking data processor and antenna positioning equipment on the newly designed Unified S Band equipment. This necessitated a trip to the States to attend a training course held at the Collins Radio factory in Dallas Texas. This was to be a three month course covering all aspects of the S Band system. At the end of the course we paid a visit to the Greenbelt Maryland centre to see the operations there. During the time I spent in Dallas my wife took driving lessons so that when we arrived in Carnarvon she could use the car freely, this turned out to be a wise decision.
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So having flown from UK to Perth (it took 37 hours flying time in those days) stopping at Kuwait, skirting the east coast of India – there was a war on at that time - and landing in Ceylon then on to Singapore. Going into Singapore we encountered a tropical thunderstorm, the plane was thrown around violently. I spotted that the door seal had gone and that water vapour was entering the cabin. I then called the stewardess – who went as white as a sheet – who then called the flight engineer; they then spent the rest of the flight jamming a cot mattress around the door. After landing it took around six hours to get ready for the next leg of the flight to Perth. This last leg was a perfect flight; we flew down the coast line of Western Australia and could even see the dust trails made by the Gascoigne Traders trucks going up the Coastal Highway. We stayed in Perth whilst furniture and household effects were purchased for our new home in Carnarvon.</p>
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We called in at the Tracking Station in order to find out where we were going to be billeted, 4a West Street we were told and off we went to locate the house. We had all the essentials already sent up from Perth, beds table and chairs and a large refrigerator, our furniture and other personal effects shipped from the UK had arrived in a large crate which was unpacked later, it did not take long to settle in, make beds and a quick shopping excursion then blessed sleep.</p>
<p>Next morning, after breakfast we went on the porch and discovered a young kangaroo hopping around in the ‘garden’. This interested and pleased the boys somewhat. We set out to explore the town and to walk along the fascine, I was interested as to why the fascine was so called but no one seemed to be able to tell me but later digging into the origin showed that fascines were originally bundles of sticks tied together, hence the symbol of Fascism used by Mussolini. I presumed that bundles of sticks were put together to build the sea wall. It was possible to occasionally see sea snakes here in the water.</p>
<p>Wesfarmers was the only food shop in the town and the range of goods was initially very limited and sometimes one had to wait for the frozen milk to come on the Gascoyne Traders truck on the next weekly delivery. We eventually found that the powdered full cream milk made up and put in the fridge overnight was much more satisfactory than the blue tinged frozen variety. The bread – which was excellent - was provided by the local bakery with the delightful name of Memory and Shugg.</p>
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One of the first trips we made was to an area 40 miles to the north of Carnarvon known as the Blows. This was an area of soft rock where the sea had worn holes into its structure and the resulting effect of the waves was to produce plumes of water spectacularly into the air. There was an area of water protected by a reef in which one could bathe in comparative safety from sharks etc. We also went on the ‘road’ to Gascoigne Junction; this road ran alongside the dry river bed and the plantations, past the ten mile bridge. After about 20 miles of track we came to a pool in the river named ‘Chinamans Pool’. It was possible to swim safely in the shallow water.</p>
<p>Christmas 1965 was nearly upon us and we went to Geraldton to see what we could get for the boys’ presents. Geraldton suddenly appeared to be a very large town; it even had a set of traffic lights which was civilisation indeed.
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I had purchased a Volkswagen Combi in Perth to cope with boys and luggage on the way to Carnarvon, this proved a very good purchase as we were able carry all sorts of things to do the journey in relative comfort. Even in the high temperatures experienced in that part of WA the vehicle seemed to keep cool mainly due, I think, to the fact that there were no sloping areas of glass on the vehicle.</p>
<p>Christmas shopping over the real work began at the Tracking Station; a commissioning crew came over from the States and work for me started in earnest. Meanwhile Jean (my wife) and the boys settled down to coping with their new environment. We invited two of the Americans to Christmas day dinner, cooking a turkey in temperatures of nearly 100 degrees was a bit exhausting but the meal was a success. </p>
<p>The house we were in suddenly turned into a disaster area.
Firstly, there were pigeons nesting in the roof space, I dislodged three nests by the simple expedient of sweeping them off the roofing boards into the garden, I think that this rather surprised the pigeons but it got them moved out. Secondly when turning the light on in the middle of the night we found that the kitchen was swarming with cockroaches. These were much more difficult to remove and eventually we moved to newly built house on Babbage Island Road which was free of unwelcome guests. We had a large ‘huntsman’ spider which inhabited a space over the front door – I think he kept any insects away for a considerable time. This spider was not harmful, unlike the ‘redbacks’ which sometimes inhabited the mail box.</p>
<p>This house kept me busy in whatever spare time I had from the Tracking Station, the floors being made of Jarrah polished up wonderfully well.
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I had a load of clay soil dumped in the front of the house which we put over the sandy driveway in order to stabilise it. I borrowed an old roller made of an oil drum filled with concrete and together, myself and the boys with plenty of water sprinkled on the soil produced eventually a good solid surface. After this I got water on the knee which was pretty painful, the doctor wanted to give me drugs to reduce it but I refused and I eventually found a cure – not recommended to everyone but it worked in my case.
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We were invited to a party during which I consumed large quantities of Port, this dehydrated me so much that the next morning the water had dispersed from my knee and I was back to normal. The front and back areas of the house were nearly pure sand and to try and give some semblance of a garden I obtained some buffalo grass cuttings and some gum trees from the river bank. With frequent watering during the year we eventually had the sand covered with greenery. Returning to see Carnarvon some 30 years later we found the gum trees were shading the front of the house – as I intended - and the grass still green. The town had changed beyond belief, the verandas had gone and the main street had a central reservation, gone was the compacted red earth. The town had the appearance of a prosperous tourist location. </p>
<p>During this time work at the Tracking Station was proceeding and the systems were being put through their paces. When the night time winds were practically nonexistent then we would do ‘star tracks’ which consisted of pointing the antenna at known stars, passing the antenna positioning information to Houston enabling us to correct our angle displays and to verify our geographical location. Two films were made over this period, one by NASA and one by the Collins Radio personnel; we have only succeeded in locating excerpts from one of them.</p>
<p>The time came when the whole system needed to be tested. To do this NASA had several Super Constellation aircraft – known affectionately as ‘Connies’ – which were specially adapted to emulate the Apollo spacecraft. So our first task was to track the aircraft. We found that some information was not being downloaded correctly and I reversed a phase sensitive connection which cured the problem – silly me this action seemed to upset the engineer in charge and I had to explain – with drawings how a phase change occurred. </p>
<p>We were now ready to do some serious work, one of the first tracks we undertook was to monitor the Saturn V1b booster rocket in Earth orbit to ascertain the fuel movement when a small ‘ullage’ rocket was fired, and this had the effect of moving the fuel toward the base ready to be reignited. The video obtained and later shown to us was very psychedelic to look at as the fuel moved in a weird motion.</p>
<p>When I was working outside on the antenna, helping to install some cooled parametric amplifiers I was on the hydraulic lift platform chatting with the native Australian who was operating the lift. He had, as I remember a colourful background, being brought up on a Mission Station inland, in a place called Meekatharra, had worked on sheep stations in the vicinity and having learned to drive, obtained a job at the Tracking station. The day was hot, sunny and windy and I found out to my cost the penalty of not wearing sun glasses as the next morning I awoke with eyes on fire and light was painful. Going to the doctor I found that I had severe conjunctivitis caused by fine sand, it was a condition locally known as ‘sandy blight’. It took several years to really get over it and to this day I use an eye wash every morning. </p>
<p>On the 14<sup>th</sup> February 1966 we had the upheaval of the currency changeover from the Pound to the Dollar; sensibly the 10 shilling was chosen to be base unit. When some time later the UK changed over to decimal currency the Pound was chosen as the base unit and the subsequent chaos and inflation that followed would have been avoided – in my estimation – if the ten shilling had been the base unit. By this time Jean had obtained a job in the high school as a clerical assistant.</p>
<p>On April 8<sup>th</sup> 1966 a Surveyor Model 2 was launched with the objective of simulating a highly eccentric lunar orbit. This was our first real track and we eagerly awaited the outcome, our antenna pointing data came from the FPQ6 system at that time as we did not have any tapes to program the USB equipment.
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This caused some inter rivalry between us and the FPQ6 team however when at about 25,000 nautical miles they lost radar contact and we proudly boasted that we still had contact and remained so until the Earth’s rotation caused us to lose signal. The next day we tried to locate the spacecraft and discovered that without pointing data, locating the Moon was a long and tricky business. I obtained an Ephemeris in order to try and plot the Moon’s track, this worked alright when the Moon was just rising although I was always 4 minutes adrift. Afterwards I discovered that I had not compensated for the refraction of the Earth’s atmosphere. One of the team had a brilliant idea and constructed a device consisting of two school protractors and a pea shooter which gave the X and Y co-ordinates simply by looking at the Moon through the peashooter tube and taking the angles of the protractor. This earned us the jocular title of the ‘Moonrakers’.</p>
<p>We took a week’s leave and went to Perth, we put beds into the Combi and transferring the boys into them we were able to set out very early in the morning. As dawn was breaking we were greeted with the sight of a kangaroo hurtling its way on to the road at a great lick, I slowed down but the creature was still bounding along and just scraped the front bumper. We took many breaks on the way and nearing Perth we walked along the banks of the Murchison River – which still had water in it.
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Perth was and still is a very pleasant place to spend some time. King’s Park was an ideal place to wander around. My boys still remember the huge trunk of a Karri tree on display. Sadly this tree trunk deteriorated so much it was used as mulch.</p>
<p>Driving back to Carnarvon especially in the dark was fraught with problems of kangaroos and other nocturnal creatures crossing the road, there used to be a mob of kangaroos around the Wooramel and at other river crossings, sometimes I waited for a Gascoyne Trader truck to overtake and then follow as closely as I dared, keeping alert to dodge anything he struck – I should mention that the trucks had substantial ‘roo bars’ on the front.</p>
<p>In going to and from the Tracking Station we noticed that new houses were being built and a strange looking antenna was taking form, we later discovered that it was to do with satellite communication and was part of the Overseas Telecommunications Company (OTC). One day we had a visit from Kim Corcoran of the Australian Broadcasting Corporation who interviewed me and my wife; we didn’t know until later that we had been picked to be part of the first live TV broadcast between us and our families in the UK. The other people chosen were the Vinton family and the Brightwells, the Brightwells – if I remember correctly – owned the petrol station in town, the Vintons were, like us, a tracking station family.
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title="We're on the telly" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpeEDeQqu0I/AAAAAAAAAXg/mHSE7LZOdz8/s1600-h/ukaustv4.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpeEDeQqu0I/AAAAAAAAAXg/mHSE7LZOdz8/s320/ukaustv4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086679499335711554" title="We're on the telly" /></a>
The day of the transmission arrived (25<sup>th</sup> November 1966) and we assembled in the town centre waiting for the moment when contact was established. In the morning the town traffic was blocked off and the outside broadcast equipment was assembled and made ready, there was a temporary microwave link made between the town and the OTC Station and the Indian Ocean satellite. The first interviews between the Brightwell and Vinton families went off exceedingly well but when it came to our turn I could not hear any reply and we just stumbled our way through the exchange. It wasn’t until about 40 years later when I obtained a copy of the transmission that I realised the satellite had drifted out of position and contact was lost for the period of our interview. </p>
<p>Prior to the TV broadcast there was a tropical carnival and some of the station staff made up a mock flying saucer and Saturn Rocket,
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it was quite a big event and we won a prize cup. </p>
<p>By now, at the Tracking Station we were keeping occupied by monitoring and tracking quite a number of spacecraft which were being launched in order to survey the Moon. They were the precursors of the Manned Lunar vehicles. Namely they were the Surveyor and Lunar Orbiters which were to survey and plan the actual landing sites. There were seven launches in 1966, three Surveyors, two Lunar Orbiters, one Explorer and one Pioneer. The Lunar Orbiter 2 was memorable as we worked two full weeks from moonrise to moonset – an enormous amount of data was sent to Houston over this period.</p>
<p>In between our tracking commitments there was very little to do and I was asked to take some visitors around the station, this relieved the monotony and I became the unofficial tour guide for the Station. I remember taking the Chamber of Commerce people from Perth around the site as well as Miss Australia 1966 and various tour parties and members of the Press. I must have posed for and had many pictures taken. One recently came to light extracted from the Walkabout Magazine for August 1966. How many more are there hidden away I ask myself?</p>
<p>Another Christmas was upon us, the town was by now gearing up to the fact that it was growing rapidly and we found it could supply its expanding population and there was no need for us to drive to Geraldton. There was a party held at one of the ‘trackers’ houses where we counted out the number of different nationalities in the room - we were surprised that we counted 14.</p>
<p>1967 arrived and we experienced our first Cyclone in the days around 21<sup>st</sup> January.
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We battened down everything and waited for it to unfold. The rain came and we collected it from the down pipes and made tea with it, it tasted delightful – our town water was pumped up from the river bed and always had a sandy earthy taste. The word went round that the Gascoyne River was in flood inland and we went to the ten mile bridge to await its coming and what a sight it was. There was a tidal wave of debris at its head followed by sandy coloured water. The water level at the bridge rose to nearly 16 feet and the flow was tremendous, the causeway to Babbage Island was inundated and some boys had to be rescued from the water. After the water subsided we were able to swim by the pumping station for many weeks until the water eventually disappeared.</p>
<p>We were called to do a simulation and communication exercise on the 27<sup>th</sup> January for Apollo 1, we had just completed our preliminary tests when I was informed that there had been an accident. A little later we were told to stand down and go home. I learned later that the Apollo capsule had caught on fire and the astronauts had perished. This event saddened us all. All further astronaut and capsule tests were suspended until further notice. This event started me thinking about returning to UK as the future didn’t seem to hold its initial promise.</p>
<p>About this time I was asked to become the President of the local football federation, we had four football teams in the area mostly made up of people off the plantations. Keeping the peace between them was difficult because of the ingrained rivalries of the nationalities concerned. I held frequent meetings in the Gascoyne Hotel to help smooth things over.</p>
<p>There were several unmanned launches scheduled for 1967. The first being a Lunar Orbiter on the 5<sup>th</sup> February, there were no hitches on this track. When the next launch came along – a Surveyor on the 17<sup>th</sup> April there was a departure from routine when the rocket was suddenly put into a lunar phase without first coming over Carnarvon it being put into this phase when over Bermuda. There was an anxious wait and I calculated that we would see it over our Western horizon in about 10 – 15 minutes time, fortunately this turned out to be correct and I had a very relieved Station Director.</p>
<p>We took a two week break and went camping down in the South West, firstly staying in Perth for two or three nights. During that time I booked our passage back to the UK on the Canberra leaving in late October. For me, the Apollo 1 fire and the subsequent delays in a manned launch plus the fact that my boys needed a better education than that available in Carnarvon was the reason for this decision. I also purchased a new camera which I used later to do some internal pictures of the people in the USB area.</p>
<p>
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Then we went off down south passing through places with delightful names like Bunbury, Busselton, and Margaret River and down to the Diamond Tree forest where I climbed the 200 ft tree which had the fire look- out on top – I think that they called it the Gloucester Tree. We spent a night in the Porongorups near to Castle Rock which we climbed the next day. We looked in at Albany and then wended our way back to Perth and then the trek to Carnarvon. I should mention that to get from Perth to Carnarvon we had, in those days, to drive inland up the North West Highway through New Norcia, this was the only paved road at that time, then into Geraldton. Today there is the Brand Highway which runs up the Coast which makes it an easy drive.</p>
<p>Back at the Tracking Station there were a few more unmanned launches, a total of two more Lunar Orbiters, three Surveyors and a Mariner, the latter was for a Venus flyby. We began to prepare for our departure, when I spoke to the administration officer I found that they were prepared to give me some help with school fees if I wanted to send my boys to a boarding school in Perth – this was a very generous offer – but I had to decline it.</p>
<p>We packed, sold or gave away some of the things we had purchased whilst in WA and set off at the end of October 1967 back to UK. The journey to Perth was uneventful save when we had a ‘comfort stop’ and found two 6ft red kangaroos watching us with interest. We stayed in Perth for a couple of weeks to organise the finances – tax returns and such. In the bank we found an ex-Carnarvon manager who gave us some sound advice, delaying the money transfer to UK until devaluation had taken place in the UK. The journey on the Canberra was routine until we hit a Force 10 gale in the Southern Ocean. We called in at Durban and Cape Town spending enough time in them to take trips inland and see the sights, then it was Las Palmas and the UK and another period of upheaval till we finally settled down. I took a job as a system engineer, my wife (Jean) went into teaching and the boys both obtained Honours Degrees in mathematics at Emmanuel College Cambridge. This period spent in Australia has a special place in our memory.</p>
<p>Alan Gilham UK January 2008.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-4398280638980984382007-08-31T19:46:00.000+01:002007-08-31T19:52:04.298+01:00That bloody woman…<p>Ten years ago, I had just gone out for a curry, and on the drive home, turned on the radio to hear a solemn announcement about the Prince of Wales meeting a coffin.</p>
<p>"The Queen-Mum? The Queen?" I thought.</p>
<p>No, it turned out to be that woman. "A not-quite-accidental overdose of slimming pills?" I wondered, "But anyway, 'Ding dong! The bitch is dead!' -- and so that means that Charles should now be able to marry his first love."</p>
<p>The crazy disturbing emotional hoo-hah over the next days, made me ashamed to be British; and the shutdown for the funeral made it very difficult for me to get the provisions for my 40th birthday party on the Saturday following.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-42804697157058694912007-07-22T21:41:00.000+01:002007-07-22T21:42:14.933+01:00What Tarot card...<p align="center"><img src="http://www.flarn.com/~warlock/tarot/winged/9.jpg"></p>
<h2 align="center"><font face="Verdana"><b>You are The Hermit</b></font></h2>
<p align="center"><font face="Verdana">Prudence, Caution, Deliberation.</font></p>
<p align="center"><font face="Verdana">The Hermit points to all things hidden, such as knowledge and inspiration,hidden enemies. The illumination is from within, and retirement from participation in current events.</font></p>
<p align="center"><font face="Verdana">The Hermit is a card of introspection, analysis and, well, virginity. You do not desire to socialize; the card indicates, instead, a desire for peace and solitude. You prefer to take the time to think, organize, ruminate, take stock. There may be feelings of frustration and discontent but these feelings eventually lead to enlightenment, illumination, clarity. </font></p>
<p align="center"><font face="Verdana">The Hermit represents a wise, inspirational person, friend, teacher, therapist. This a person who can shine a light on things that were previously mysterious and confusing.</font><font face="Verdana"></font></p>
<p align="center"><font size="2" face="Verdana"><b>What Tarot Card are You?</b><br><a href="http://www.flarn.com/~warlock/tarot">Take the Test to Find Out.</a></font></p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-52751631243952470512007-07-13T20:09:00.000+01:002008-01-25T21:10:16.849+00:00HeroQuest Character Sheets<p><a href="http://www.glorantha.com/support/fan/hq_charsheets.html">I put these together</a> a while back and they are on the <a href="http://www.glorantha.com/">Issaries site</a>. Word 97 and StarOffice/OpenOffice 1.0 format.Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-42778237673337607242007-07-13T17:56:00.000+01:002007-07-13T18:05:53.701+01:00Genealogy<h4>Introduction</h4>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpevjuQqvBI/AAAAAAAAAZI/qduyE_4QUmc/s1600-h/familytree2.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpevjuQqvBI/AAAAAAAAAZI/qduyE_4QUmc/s320/familytree2.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086727332386487314" /></a>
<p>My branch of Gilham family originates from Dover, Kent. The name comes
from the Norman French - Guillaume, or William. This is in contrast with the
etymology offered by such sources as the <cite>Reader's Digest Condensed
Encyclopedia</cite>, which offered the meaning of the name as "dweller by the
head of the glen" - presumably ghyll-hame - which might explain the run of
Gilhams along the Great Glen in the latter part of the 19<sup>th</sup>
century, according to the recent trace-your-name display in the Science
Museum, if the Auld Alliance does not.</p>
<p>The name is quite a common one (including the <cite>-ll</cite> and
<cite>-llh</cite> variants) along the south-east coast, from Kent around
to Sussex at least, but is otherwise quite rare in my experience. It's
sufficiently rare that I've only encountered the name once in fiction
(a Senator Gilham in a series of SF stories on the subject of head transplants
written R.C. Fitzpatrick, and appearing in <cite>Analog</cite> in the mid 60's).
</p>
<h5>Overview</h5>
<p>On the direct male line, he family can only be traced as far back to the
Census of 1881 with any certainty, although the dates of birth can be taken
further back as the ages are listed in the census.</p>
<p>Running back, the ancestry combines with the Walters family from North
Staffordshire. Both of the early Walters family married Austins, so we suspect
that they could have been cousins. From this marriage the progeny moved to
London and the South East, and Australia respectively.</p>
<p>A branch of the Walters family strangely enough moved to Dover and created
their own dynasty. Their maternal line is also named Austen (spelt with an
E); another branch is now living in Norfolk.</p>
<p>So far we can only trace the maternal side of the Gilham family back to
the Pett and Wallis family. Other families are noted as they interact with the
main streams.</p>
<p>The Australian line needs to be expanded when information is available.</p>
<p>Unattributed ages are those of the 1881 census.</p>
<h4>Outline Pedigree</h4>
<p>The core of the genealogy I will take as my paternal grandfather Edward
John, and his marriage to Alice Walters. His father married a Pett, while my
grandmother came from two generations where a Walters married an Austin. Her
siblings married a Kemsley (Dover) and a Mountford (East Anglia). Of his two
sons, the elder emigrated to Australia, while my father Alan Edward stayed in
England.</p>
<h4>Kent Family Gilham</h4>
<p><cite>Henry Pett</cite> born 1838 at Leybourne Kent, Married
<cite>Elizabeth Ann Wallis</cite> born 1841 at Wrotham Kent and married 15th
November 1869. Children listed in 1881 Census were: <cite>Horace</cite> (15)
<cite>Elizabeth Ann</cite> (12) <cite>Charlotte Emily</cite> (9)
<cite>Florence</cite> (5) and <cite>Priscilla</cite> (10 months)</p>
<p><cite>George & Julia Gillham née Ashman</cite> of
Hougham Kent were the parents of Richard Edward, William John, and George (born 1870).
<cite>Richard E Gillham</cite> was born 14th Feb 1862.</p>
<p><cite>William John Gillham</cite> married <cite>Anne</cite>; their
children were called <cite>Ethel</cite> and <cite>Jane</cite>.</p>
<p><cite>Elizabeth Ann Pett</cite> married <cite>Richard Gillham</cite>
(note the double-l in the name at the time) who was recorded as being 19 in
1881 (born in Dover) and a militiaman stationed in Canterbury at that time.</p>
<p><cite>Richard E Gillham</cite> married <cite>Elizabeth Ann Pett</cite> on
the 29th March 1887 and had twins <cite>Edward John</cite> - my grandfather -
and a girl (Annie) who did not survive.</p>
<p>Later they had a daughter also called <cite>Elizabeth Ann</cite>,
who was always known as <cite>Cissie</cite>, who married
<cite>Walter Whiting</cite>.</p>
<p><cite>Edward John</cite> was born in 1889 at 4 Prospect Cottages, Dover. In
the 1891 census they were living at 35 Peter St., Dover. <cite>Richard</cite>
is noted as being a Bricklayers labourer, in 1919 he was a builder and later
became a member of the Dover Masonic Lodge.</p>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/stevegilham/799145739/" title="Photo Sharing"><img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1373/799145739_40880c2d1e_o.jpg" width="302" height="180" alt="Dover Masonic Lodge members, c 1920." /></a>
<p><cite>Edward John Gilham</cite> married <cite>Alice Maud Walters</cite>
(Christmas Day 1919 in Fenton, Stoke on Trent) He had served in the Royal
East Kent Regiment. (The Buffs) from Feb 1908 to July 1919. Returned from
India Oct 1914.</p>
<a href="http://www.flickr.com/photos/stevegilham/800019840/" title="Photo Sharing"><img src="http://farm2.static.flickr.com/1212/800019840_01526a1651_o.jpg" width="364" height="246" alt="Grandad in India" /></a>
<p>Promoted Sergeant Xmas 1914 then sent to “the Front” ie.
France. He fought in the trenches at Ypres and was wounded. He spent the
remainder of the war in charge of the Army Post Office in Marseilles.
<cite>Alice</cite> was a nurse and served in the military hospital in
Kent.</p>
<p>They had two sons.<cite>Eric John</cite> 12 May 1927 & <cite>Alan
Edward</cite> 26 Sept 1929. Eric later married Muriel Shenton and they
emigrated to Australia in 1951.</p>
<p>It is interesting to note that on my grandparents marriage certificate
that Harold Mountford was a witness. He married <cite>Alice</cite>'s sister
<cite>Gladys</cite>.</p>
<h4>North Staffordshire: Walters Family</h4>
<p><cite>Thomas Walters</cite> married <cite>Elizabeth Austin</cite> and had
five children recorded in the 1881 census: <cite>Sarah</cite> (17)
<cite>Elizabeth</cite> (15) <cite>Hannah</cite> (13), <cite>James</cite>(11)
and <cite>Thomas</cite> (5).</p>
<p><cite>James</cite> was born in Burton on Trent on the 21st October 1869
and is recorded in the 1881 census as living at 9 Gladstone Street, Stoke on
Trent. There is only a picture of <cite>Hannah</cite> and her family with
husband <cite>Charles</cite> who was an interpreter in the Army, branch
unknown.</p>
<p>It seems (but not confirmed) that <cite>Thomas Walters</cite> married the
sister of <cite>Charles Austin</cite> making <cite>James Walters</cite> and
<cite>Harriet Ann Austin</cite> cousins</p>
<p><cite>Harriet Ann Austin</cite> (12) was the daughter of
<cite>Charles</cite> and <cite>Mary Ann Austin</cite>, both aged 40. In 1881
they lived at 36 Spring Road, Longton Stoke-on-Trent together with other
siblings, <cite>Charles</cite>, (10) <cite>Thomas Henry</cite>,
(8)<cite>Frederick W</cite> (5) and <cite>William Jas.</cite> (16 months)</p>
<p><cite>James Walters</cite> married <cite>Harriet Ann Austin</cite> in
Normacot, Longton, Stoke-on-Trent 27 Jan 1889, both aged 21years. In 1881
they lived at 33a GregoryStreet Longton with <cite>Alice Maud</cite> then
aged 11 months, giving a birth date for her of 20th April 1880. They had two
more children <cite>Gladys</cite> and <cite>Fred</cite>.</p>
<p>They eventually lived at 37 Holly Place, Fenton, Stoke-on-Trent.</p>
<p><cite>Gladys</cite> married <cite>Harold Mountford</cite> (a miner) and
had two daughters <cite>Freda Patricia</cite> and <cite>Christine</cite>,
known as <cite>Chris</cite>. <cite>Gladys</cite> later remarried to a
<cite>George Perry</cite>. There was no further issue.</p>
<p><cite>Freda</cite> married <cite>Reginald Hunter</cite> and had a
daughter, <cite>Patricia</cite>. <cite>Freda</cite> became a sergeant in the
ATS during the war. <cite>Reg</cite> was a “Bevan Boy” and
worked in the coal mines. Now (mid-2003) resides in East Anglia.
<cite>Chris</cite> married <cite>Shearer Macintosh</cite> (known as
<cite>Mac)</cite> in 1953 and died in Scotland (Burntisland) in 1998.</p>
<p>It is possible that the Salt family of Dilhorne, near Stoke, has some
connections with this branch of the family.</p>
<h4>Kent Walters Family</h4>
<p><cite>Fred Walters</cite> married <cite>Ada Kemsley</cite>, born circa
1900 in Gillingham and died aged 98. They lived in Dover at 2 Redvers
Cottages, Kearsney They had one son and two daughters. <cite>Len</cite>,
<cite>Gladys</cite> and <cite>Joan</cite>. By a strange coincidence the
mother of <cite>Ada Kemsley</cite> was also an Austen but this time spelt
with an E.</p>
<p><cite>Fred</cite> was Company Sergeant Major in the 2nd Battalion on the
Royal East Kents (The Buffs) during the war.</p>
<p><cite>Gladys</cite> married a Mr <cite>Smithson</cite> and later they
emigrated to South Africa and then Australia.</p>
<p><cite>Joan</cite> married <cite>Joe Adkins</cite>; there was no issue.</p>
<p>They were both stationed in El Adem (Libya) when my father, <cite>Alan
Gilham</cite> landed there in 1948 en route from Tripoli to El Fayid (Suez
Canal Zone) as part of his <a href="http://beforeblogging.blogspot.com/2007/07/my-national-service-by-no21067688.html" title="My Father's memoir">National Service</a>.</p>
<p><cite>Len</cite> married <cite>Edie Dixon</cite> and had a daughter
<cite>Carol</cite> and a son <cite>James</cite>.</p>
<p><cite>Len</cite> served in the Royal Artillery and took part in the Burma
campaign. <cite>Edie</cite> was a “clippie” on the buses during
the war. The <cite>Dixon</cite> family took part in the Dunkirk evacuation
using small fishing boats.</p>
<h4>London Area Gilham Family</h4>
<p><cite>Alan Edward Gilham</cite> married my mother, <cite>Jean
Louisa</cite> in 1952.</p>
<p>He was a wireman with London Transport and she was a secretary with the
Ecclesiastical Insurance Office. He later became a Chartered Engineer (in
electronics engineering), and finished his career in electronics sales, while
my mother became maths teacher when her children were old enough for her to
return to work.</p>
<p><cite>Alan</cite> served in the Royal Signals (National Service) in the
Middle East. <cite>Alan</cite> later spent two and half years working for
NASA in Carnarvon W. Australia. They had two sons <cite>Steven</cite>
(yours truly) and <cite><a href="http://www.andygilham.com/">Andrew</a></cite>.</p>
<p>They both graduated with MA Cantab. in the Mathematical Tripos after
reading maths at Emmanuel College Cambridge. Steven also gained an MSc in
Astrophysics - like Trilian from the <cite>Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy</cite>,
really, only not so glamorous.</p>
<p><cite>Steven Alan Gilham</cite> was born in Wimbledon (St. Teresa's
Hospital) and educated at primary schools in Poplar Road, Morden (Surrey)
Carnarvon (West Australia), King Edward VI Grammar School, Chelmsford, won
scholarship to Emmanuel College. My <a href="../cv.html">CV</a> elsewhere on
this site brings the story up to date.</p>
<p><cite>Andrew John Gilham</cite> was born at home in 194 London Road Morden
Surrey (my earliest memory is of that day), and followed the same course of
schools and undergraduate degree. He now runs his own computer
consultancy.</p>
<p><cite>Steven Alan Gilham</cite> married <cite>Karen Alison Edwards</cite>
in 1981. Karen is a King's alumna, with MA Cantab. in Classics, and a Post
Graduate Diploma in Classical Archeology and is now an FCCA. Being childless by choice, this branch
of the family leads no further.</p>
<h4>Australia Gilham Family</h4>
<p><cite>Eric John Gilham</cite> married <cite>Muriel Shenton</cite> in 1948
in Stoke-on-Trent Staffs.</p>
<p>They emigrated to Australia in 1951 and became naturalised Australian
citizens later on. <cite>Muriel</cite> already had one son
<cite>Toni</cite>and later they had two sons and a daughter,
<cite>Richard</cite>, <cite>Stephen</cite> and <cite>Susan</cite>, all born
in Australia.</p>
<p><cite>Eric</cite> later married <cite>Fay McGuiness</cite> and finally
lived in Mt Gambier. South Australia. <cite>Eric</cite> died there on the 4th
April 2003 aged 75.</p>
<p><cite>Toni</cite> married <cite>Judy</cite> They reside in the Northern
Territory.</p>
<p><cite>Richard</cite> married and had two sons named
<cite>Christopher</cite> and <cite>Rodney</cite>. Later he married
<cite>Faye</cite>.</p>
<p><cite>Christopher</cite> married <cite>Kath</cite> and have (at least) a
daughter, <cite>Caitlyn</cite>.</p>
<p><cite>Stephen</cite> married <cite>Margaret Hopley</cite> and they have
two daughters <cite>Sandra</cite> and <cite>Kerin</cite>. They live in
Traralgon, Victoria.</p>
<p><cite>Susan</cite> married <cite>Philip Robertson</cite>. They have twin
girls, <cite>Lee</cite> and <cite>Ellen</cite>. <cite>Susan</cite> is a nurse
and has worked with the Flying Doctor service. <cite>Philip</cite> is now the
Clinical Nursing Manager at the Royal Melbourne Hospital.</p>
<p>This is just the start of an Australian dynasty, so the continuation of
the name seems reasonably secure. It will be interesting to see how all
the all relationships and families have grown by mid-century.</p>
<h4>Maternal line</h4>
<p>Recent data are redacted for obvious reasons. Research along this line has
been more fruitful, reaching as far as my great<sup>4</sup>-grandparents in
one place.</p>
<h5>My maternal great<sup>2</sup>-grandparents and their antecedents</h5>
<p>William H Moreton (~1835 - ~1897) born in Bucks. married Sarah Ann Martin
(~1834-?), born Sussex, in ~1860.</p>
<p>Alfred Arnold (~1829 - 27-Dec-1888) born in W. London. married Emma Gisbey
(~1829-?), born S. London, in ~1860. Alfred was the son of William (~1803-?),
Emma the daughter of Jacob (~1798-?).</p>
<p>Joseph Butler (~1835 - 22-Dec-1900) born in N. England. married Elizabeth
Miller (~1833-?), born London, in 1854. Joseph was the son of Joseph
(~1800-?), and Elizabeth daughter of Abel (~1800-?).</p>
<p>Henry Beeden (~1836 - 5-Mar-1907) born in N. London. married Jane Tomkins
(~1840-?), born N. London, in 1858. Henry was the son of Thomas (~1816-?),
and Jane daughter of Henry T (~1816-~1863) and Louisa Harris (~1815-?),
married ~1838. Louisa was the daughter of Henry R (~1790-?) and Sophia -
surname unknown - (~1792-?).</p>
<hr />
<h4>Acknowledgements</h4>
<p>The hard work that went into this was done by my parents for the Gilham line,
and my aunt Joan on the maternal line. Thanks to them all.</p>
<hr />
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpevdOQqvAI/AAAAAAAAAZA/t6N9SqDNpcQ/s1600-h/familytree.png"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpevdOQqvAI/AAAAAAAAAZA/t6N9SqDNpcQ/s320/familytree.png" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086727220717337602" /></a>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-17006770705127006112007-07-13T15:05:00.001+01:002007-07-13T15:11:16.972+01:00My National Service by No.21067688 Signalman Gilham A E<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpeG3-Qqu8I/AAAAAAAAAYg/xZ4NcliVMfs/s1600-h/MeDec48.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpeG3-Qqu8I/AAAAAAAAAYg/xZ4NcliVMfs/s320/MeDec48.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086682600302099394" /></a>
<h2>Call-up</h2>
<p>It all started - as things usually do - with a letter
addressed to me (Alan E Gilham) shortly after my eighteenth birthday. It
contained an invitation from His Majesty's Government to attend at
Whittington Barracks near Lichfield on the 1st January 1948, and asked "Did I
have any objections?". As I was not in a reserved occupation how could I
object? Later on, after a cursory medical with a local doctor, a travel
document arrived with train details and a travel pass.</p>
<p>January 1st was a Thursday and I - as was normal in those days
- had worked up to the end of December only having had Christmas and
Boxing Day as holiday. Fortunately the day was mild and dry and I left home
round about 9am, my mother went out to clean the front windows and I sneaked
out round the back so that there would be no tearful goodbyes on her part. I
walked to Stoke station and caught the specified train together with quite a
number of other youths. On arrival at Lichfield station we were met by
several NCOs from the South Staffordshire Regiment and two three-ton trucks
into which we were bundled for the journey to the barracks. This was to be
the first of many journeys like this either hanging on for grim death or
slouching on the floor and sides.</p>
<p>On arrival we were stood in line and marched to our barrack room which was
devoid of anything but empty frame beds with mess tins laid on them and
wooden wall lockers, whatever we had brought with us in the way of toilet
gear was put into the lockers and we then "stood by our beds" and waited till
our troop sergeant appeared who duly took down our names, it turned out that
his name was Bilham and we entered into a strained relationship from the
first. We then had our first experience of foot drill as we were marched off
to the cookhouse for a midday meal (dinner in those days). Foot drill was no
problem to me and many of my compatriots as a lot of us had been in
organisations like the Church Lads Brigade and similar, but many did not know
their left from their right causing quite a few observations from our barrack
room corporal. We learned about the cookhouse routine of having your mess tin
being filled with food ladled in from a height of several inches causing the
unsuspecting to lose their grip on the handle when such delights as a
"dollop" of potato hit it with force. When the meal was over mess tins had to
be rinsed in a communal bowl of lukewarm greasy water, cleaned and ready
inspection. Later that same day we were taken to the Quartermaster's
store and drew out three "biscuits" - these formed our mattress
- and two blankets and two sheets. We also were fitted with uniforms
and new boots; since the store personnel just gave you what size they thought
would fit there was much swapping about of trousers etc. until most were
reasonably dressed. That evening, after tea, we had to parcel up our civilian
clothes and send them home and learn how to shine up your boots, blanco your
belt and get a shine on your brass buckles.</p>
<p>The next day began in earnest, reveille at 6am, shave, perform your
"ablutions", have breakfast and assemble on the parade ground at 8am ready
for two hours of foot drill. Then there was a "NAAFI" break and continue till
dinner time, and back on the parade ground for the rest of the afternoon.
Evenings were always spent cleaning your kit or the barrack room or fatigues.
Since I would not let Sergeant Bilham get at me I always got the worst
fatigues such as polishing the brassware in the urinals and scrubbing the
floor in the officers' mess. Later came the issuing of rifles, short
magazine Lee Enfields, and rifle drill ad infinitum until that marvellous day
when we were marched to the ranges and actually fired ten rounds each. I
think I scored reasonably well although references to my pay book record of "
tests of elementary training" dosn't substantiate this. Then we took
our turn in the butts in order to signal where the shots landed in the
target, there is always some clever person who uses your signalling stick as
a target when you stick it up causing everybody to duck down and swear.</p>
<p>After rifle drill etc. came the Bren gun and we went through all the
drills on changing barrels, stripping it down and reassembling until we could
do it in the dark. I won a barrack room competition on how quickly I could
load the magazine on the gun, fire, clear an imaginary jam and commence
firing again. Going to the ranges with the Bren Gun gave Sergeant Bilham
great delight as I had to put the gun on my shoulder, hold an ammunition box
with the other hand another guy holding the other side of the box and in
double time we went to our firing point. I found that firing the Bren was
easy as there was hardly any recoil and I could obtain a good grouping on the
target.</p>
<p>During the above activity there was a requirement to parade outside the
medical block and receive the first of many "shots" for typhus A and B,
cholera, smallpox and a Schick test, the latter was having the delight of
having two needles stuck into your forearms, lack of reaction showed you were
free from TB. Having all these vaccinations done in the space of about ten
minutes caused several bodies to crash to the ground and I have to admit I
was very nearly one of them, according to my old army pay book this was on
the 2nd January.</p>
<p>There was also a lot of physical training during these six weeks of
primary training, the usual 3 miles route march with full kit, but
fortunately no extra weight in the form of ammunition, then immediately after
that a half mile run without respite, all this was quite a stress on a lot of
the men, some of them coming from very poor backgrounds.</p>
<p>A weekend leave at Easter was granted (25th March - 30th March) and
I remember enjoying it, I could walk the dog and go out with some old school
friends who were waiting to be called up. Then there was also a seven days
mid training leave during which invites were given to families to attend a
passing out parade at Lichfield.</p>
<p>This passing out parade date duly arrived. We spent a lot of time
practising drills etc. until the NCOs were satisfied. The actual day was damp
and was very nearly the cause of an accident, we had fixed bayonets and then
the order to slope arms came and my hand slipped on the rifle which started
to come up at an angle towards the back of the man in front of me, with my
left hand I managed to stop this and performed the rest of the manoeuvre
without incident. The rest of the parade was judged by all and sundry to be a
success and my mother was very proud.</p>
<p>The highlight of this time was the fact that I refused to allow my
sergeant to get the better of me and in one incident when we were having a
silent battle of minds he actually called me a "moronic robot" a phrase I
remember with pride as having caused him to resort to abuse. On reflection I
think this antipathy was caused by me being highly indignant by having to run
round a gas chamber without my mask for two turns instead of the one we were
told about, the sergeant keeping his mask on all the while.</p>
<p>We were all called into the troop commander's office to be given a
choice of Regiment or Corps to be posted to; I was given the choice of the
Household Cavalry or the Royal Signals as a telephone lineman, thinking of
all the ceremonies etc. I would have to do I chose the latter. I was given
the shoulder flashes to sew on and a travel pass to Richmond (Yorkshire) for
the next Monday. Another reason for choosing the Signals was that tradesmen
earned at least another shilling a day, which would make it more than the
basic three shillings a day which ordinary privates got.</p>
<h2>Catterick</h2>
<p>Arriving at Catterick we were put into asbestos huts - like Nissen huts
but not as substantial - and called Mons lines (all the lines were
named after first world war battles) and told the course we were to attend
would not begin until the next week so we were to get our fatigues unpacked
and be general dogsbodies. I drew a session on the Catterick golf course,
which was fun, playing with a tractor, very dangerously as I recall, and
keeping the greens clean. We subsisted on "haversack rations" collected from
the cookhouse every morning, together with whatever one could beg, borrow or
steal in the way of extras, potatoes for putting on a bonfire and any
leftovers from the day before, it was cold and we were very hungry.</p>
<p>The next week we started the course and I eventually became a D3 assistant
lineman on the 1st May 1948 halfway to becoming a fully-fledged B3 lineman.
During this time I was promoted to a lance corporal, this was not substantive
and I lost it on leaving Catterick. We were also moved into new accommodation
in Le Cateau lines.</p>
<p>My main duties were to march the squad to and from the parade ground and
lecture rooms and to perform what was known as "canteen cowboy" i.e. keeping
order in the NAAFI during break times, when I had to do full days I got
plenty of undisturbed practise on the snooker table.</p>
<p>During May the weather turned abnormally cold, so much so, that yours
boots literally stuck to the parade ground if you remained in one spot.
Everybody went to sleep with vest and pants on and your greatcoat put on top
of the blanket. There was a stove in the middle of the hut but no fuel until
we managed to scrounge some coal, it didn't throw out much heat at
all. There was a minimal amount of hot water for shaving in the morning, but
no hot water for showers etc. I finally managed a very cold shower in
desperation after about a month of skimpy washes.</p>
<p>Being an ever so junior NCO I had to have my back pack and ammunition
pouches all square and symmetrical, luck favoured me here in that the
carpenter was an old school friend of mine, by name Ernie Byatt, who said he
could very easily put a thin plywood inner frame in them, if I provided the
ply wood, which I did by visiting an empty hut one night and carrying away a
wooden locker on my shoulder past the Orderly Officer, who took no notice of
me, into the carpenters shop where good old Ernie carved it up exceptionally
accurately for me and disposed of any incriminating evidence. I threw them
all away when I left Catterick as not being necessary. I also used lead
weights on a piece of string to pull my trousers down over the gaiters in a
"regimental fashion"</p>
<p>There was a guard duty to do that was disliked by everyone; it was at the
School of Signals. Being the HQ of the Corps it was a "regimental" guard;
everything had to be just so, greatcoat pleated correctly, webbing and
gaiters freshly "blancoed" and brasses polished and boots shone until they
looked like mirrors. The rifles also had to have the treatment, the wood
being highly polished so everything looked like new. You had to salute every
officer by sloping arms and slapping the rifle butt smartly, when they were
above the rank of major you had to present arms, fortunately this was a
daytime guard only and I only did it once.</p>
<p>Tensions ran a little high as one might guess in this environment, one
night someone fixed one of the guy's beds so that it collapsed when he
got into it, and he tried to take it out on me with a rifle butt. Fortunately
being used to wrestling with my schoolmates I managed to subdue him and put
him in a headlock until he calmed down. I did not charge him for attacking an
NCO. Things settled down after that. There was a chap who came into my
section, whose name I can't remember but he was known as "Angel"</p>
<p>because he came from the Angel Islington. He was forever being slung into
the guardhouse for being insubordinate. His demobilisation group was 108,
mine was 125, so he should have left the army by that time, for some strange
reason we took to each other and I persuaded him to be sensible about things
and covered up for him in one of his escapades. He managed to steer clear of
conflict until I left Catterick when I lost track of him. I often think of
him and wonder what eventually became of him.</p>
<p>During this time (May) we went out on the Yorkshire Moors to set up some
telegraph poles and connect them all up, one section had to have an overhead
cable strung between the poles supported by a steel wire on which was put a
small chair pulled along by a rope. The idea was to put clips on the wire to
hold the cable; the problem was that this provided much "amusement" by the
chair being pulled from pole to pole at a great rate of knots with its
occupant having to hold on for grim death, this together with using climbing
irons on poles which had had so much traffic up them they were like shredded
wheat meant that many splinters and bruises were received during this
exercise. These exercises made one exceptionally hungry and many raids were
made on the cook house, returning to camp one night I remember finding some
cold rice pudding with sultanas in it, filled two mess tins with it, took it
back to the hut and several of us had really full stomachs that night. One
day two of us were collecting items left behind from previous exercises when
we stumbled across an old POW camp still being used for that purpose, mostly
being occupied by Italians who wanted to stay in UK, the cook provide us each
with two enormous slices of corned beef dipped in batter and placed between
two slices of bread which was at that time a taste of sheer heaven.</p>
<p>After this we took a course in making cable joints, sweating joints with
blowlamps and discovering that the Army fatigue dress was quite flameproof,
people who were caught bending over sometimes had a blowlamp applied which
soon straightened them up. Somehow we all managed to pass the course
successfully.</p>
<p>I managed to get a pass for Whitsuntide Leave (14th to 18th June). I did
not manage to get leave for Eric's wedding. The trains at this time
were always unreliable and slow (what's new) and I could not get any
further that day (14th) than Stafford so commenced to walk to Stone, it was
about 8am after a few miles a kind motorist picked me up and dropped me off
in Stoke. On returning to Catterick the train, as usual, was crowded but I
managed to find a space on the corridor floor and sat down and nodded off I
awoke when the train started to slow down to stop at York. When I woke I
found that I was sitting by a very pretty girl and my head was on her
shoulders, somewhat disconcerted by this I stumbled out an apology, she just
smiled, got up, collected her case and got out of the train to be met by an
Army Captain. I often wondered who she was. Train journeys were always a
hazard in those days; you never knew what was going to happen or how long the
journey was going to take.</p>
<p>On the 19th July 1948 I became a fully-fledged B3 lineman, moved to a
transit camp in Ripon to await posting abroad somewhere then send on
embarkation leave from the 23rd June to 8th July. Back to the camp in Ripon
we had no real duties to perform so we swam in the river Ure, looked at the
orders every day and hoped for a good posting. Some people were sent off to
exotic places like Washington and other Embassies, but others less lucky were
to go to Palestine, West Africa and other places like that. Five others and
myself were to go to Benghazi and later, after a very long train journey
ending up at the famous Lime Street Station; we dutifully embarked on the SS
Staffordshire at Princes Wharf Liverpool.</p>
<h2>At Sea</h2>
<p>On board we were ushered to our mess deck, instructed on how to sling a
hammock, where to stack our kit bags and where the galley was. The next day
we cast off and sailed, there were no bands or waving crowds, it was just
another troop ship sailing off.</p>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpeHRuQqu9I/AAAAAAAAAYo/pHr2u_cQiEo/s1600-h/Troopship.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpeHRuQqu9I/AAAAAAAAAYo/pHr2u_cQiEo/s320/Troopship.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086683042683730898" /></a>
<p>There were daily drills on assembling at your lifeboat stations, putting
on your life jackets and getting to know the ships layout. We sailed with a
battalion of the Royal Irish Fusiliers and they had a very callow 1st
lieutenant who explained to his men that the bows were "the pointed end of
the ship" causing us to have a little snigger</p>
<p>The food on board ship was very good, not only were there the usual three
meals but an additional one, afternoon tea, which consisted of freshly baked
bread and jam, we went through the Bay of Biscay without incident, the
weather being clear and warm, apart from the routine drills we had no other
duties so we could lounge about on deck, play cards and have games of
tombola. I used to get out on deck as soon as I could so I could see the land
we were passing with white painted houses just discernable in the far
distance and the dolphins playing around the bows. One day we spotted a swarm
of "flying fish" skimming over the water behaving just like small dolphins.
The voyage was not without incident, suddenly when we were off the coast of
Spain the ship's alarm bells began to ring and the ship veered round
and the engines stopped, several men with rifles appeared on deck and aimed
at an object in the sea which eventually turned out to be an old packing case
in the water and not as was suspected an old floating mine.</p>
<p>I only remember one chap who was seasick, he was in a terrible state, he
was found under a pile of spare hammocks nearly dead and was rushed of to the
sick bay, he eventually got over it.</p>
<p>We passed the Rock of Gibraltar and in to the Mediterranean and on toward
Malta, I tried one night to sleep out on deck to get away from the closely
packed decks below, (two feet between hammocks), this was not a success as
one blanket was not sufficient to keep the cold out and a steel deck is quite
hard.</p>
<h2>Malta</h2>
<p>Entering the Grand Harbour Valetta in Malta was quite an impressive sight
seeing what was left of the brickwork put up by the Knights Templar when they
held the island in I think about the 1400AD mark. We, that is, all the
Signals personnel, dutifully disembarked leaving the Fusiliers to go on to
Egypt. The transit camp was about three miles out of Valetta through Silema
Creek to a place we knew as St. Georges bay, looking at a modern map it now
seems to be known as Soldiers bay. A Maltese driver, whose driving skills
were reprehensible, conveyed us there in a three-ton truck; to put it mildly
this woke us all up!!</p>
<p>This transit camp consisted of rows of scruffy huts on bare earth
surrounded by a high barbed wire fence. The one entrance was tightly
controlled by military police who logged you in and out as well as making
sure you were properly dressed. We later found out that the CSM who ran the
camp had been posted there from the Colchester glasshouse where he was
reprimanded for cruelty to the prisoners.</p>
<p>This was the first time we put on our previously issued khaki drill
shirts, shorts and hose tops, now hose tops were a remarkable invention
consisting of a footless long sock which you put on your legs first, then you
put on a normal short sock and then your boots, your gaiters then went on
covering the gap between hose top and boot, the end result was that you
appeared to be wearing long khaki socks!!</p>
<p>We had started to take of our shirts on board ship and by now we all had
the start of an overall tan except one of the chaps, by name of Bernard
Hartley who had very fair skin and was prone to sunburn. He came from St.
Ives in Cornwall and years later we met there.</p>
<p>This camp was remarkable for two things, salty water and latrines which
consisted of long bench with twelve holes and a semicircular trough running
underneath with constant sea water flowing down it. During morning
"ablutions" it was common practise to set fire to a paper boat and send it
down the trough and watch everyone there suddenly jump up in sequence as the
flame seared their backsides. I was only caught once. The salt in the
drinking water was the biggest nuisance and we all volunteered for fatigues
which took you to the other side on the island where you could get fresh
water, you took as many canteens as you could with you to fill up. One chap
thought that he could use Andrew's Liver Salts to disguise the taste
and thought it was great until the combined effects caused great upheavals of
his bowels!!</p>
<p>After two weeks we were given orders to be on parade at 4am to get a boat
to go on to Tripoli in Libya, not Benghazi as our original destination was. A
chap I had palled up with by name "Bomber" Bates - I don't
recall his first name - and I decided to have the night out and
explore the island prior to embarkation, so we sneaked out under the fence
and went into Valletta.</p>
<p>We wandered around the streets of Valetta and outside a grand building
- its name I never knew - there was parked a small car with its
key in the ignition, my companion could drive - he was a vehicle
mechanic - I walked down the street and kept a lookout and he released
the hand brake and coasted down the hill and I got in, the motor was started
and we went for a ride around all the places we had not been before. After
two to three hours we decided to return to camp and got within half a mile or
so, parked the car in a side track, as I got out I saw some paperwork in the
side pocket and had a read, what we read made us replace everything and run
like hell back under the wire and innocently to bed. The car belonged to the
Provost Marshall of Malta!!!</p>
<p>Next day we passed the place where had parked the car the previous night
round about 11pm and saw that it was gone, it was now 6 o'clock in the
morning and we were heading to the harbour to embark on our boat to Tripoli.
We made a pact that when we returned to Malta we would take a "dhyso" (water
taxi) out of the harbour and see Malta by sea. I'm glad we split up
later on; I could still be in jail!</p>
<h2>At Sea</h2>
<p>Our ship was an ex Air Sea rescue vessel, small and fast, with only
sufficient accommodation for about 30 people, we took it in turns to get food
from the galley and take it into the mess. It was my turn to get breakfast
the next morning and I picked up a tray of sausages and tomatoes and a large
container of porridge, placed the tray at the bottom of the stairway and took
the porridge up, at the top of the stairs the boat suddenly lurched and I
grabbed the handrail the container of porridge went flying, most of it over
the sausages. I went to try and find something to clean up the mess and when
I returned, a miracle had occurred, someone else had cleaned it up, I think
that it was a crew member who did it as there was to be a ships inspection
that morning. I was very careful with the replacements. Later when we were
hanging over the bows I saw the cause of the problem, the bows were stove in
and bent sideways and any side wave hitting it caused a sudden lurch. I later
learned that the ship had hit a wreck in Benghazi harbour a few weeks
before.</p>
<h2>Tripoli</h2>
<p>We disembarked and were taken about a mile and a half out of the main town
to an elegant marble structure built by the Italians (pre-war) called Marina
Barracks that was to be home for the next seven months.</p>
<p>Tripoli was a good posting, during the summer heat you were dismissed
after the two o'clock works parade and unless anything else was
scheduled you could go swimming in the beautiful clear sea water, that is
unless you swam across to the wrecks in the harbour where you could easily
get coated with fuel oil, only once did this happen, it took a long and
painful session in the showers to get it off.</p>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpeHhuQqu-I/AAAAAAAAAYw/h1Hs-ONIwd4/s1600-h/tripoli.jpg"><img style="display:block; margin:0px auto 10px; text-align:center;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpeHhuQqu-I/AAAAAAAAAYw/h1Hs-ONIwd4/s320/tripoli.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086683317561637858" /></a>
<p>We were paid in Military Authority Lira, and to our joy we had a local
overseas allowance of sixpence a day, later in Egypt it was ten pence a
day.</p>
<p>The next thing we knew we were doing combined operations training spending
some time with the Grenadier Guards at their camp scaling 20ft walls using
nets to simulate a ships side. You had a full pack and a Sten gun -
not loaded, thank goodness as they had a reputation for suddenly discharging
after a knock. One chap dropped his Sten and I had to pause to listen to a
Guards sergeant major describing this poor chaps ancestry, I don't
think he repeated himself once in five minutes.</p>
<p>After this it was getting into a landing craft with fifty other men and
many reels of cable, going out to sea and then running on to the beach gather
up your Sten and one side of a reel of cable, run like blazes on to the beach
and lay out the communications lines for the Beach master. I realized that
this would be a dangerous activity if an enemy was firing at you at the time
and learned later that during the war linemen in the Royal Signals had a
large casualty rate!!!</p>
<p>They found out that I had had some typing training and I was asked to go
into the troop office, this I did and found it to be a good move. I worked
with a Captain Taylor who was seconded from the Kings Shropshire Light
Infantry to the Signals and we got on famously.</p>
<p>One advantage working the troop office was that I did not do any other
duties and went straight from the first works parade to the office to
commence typing out orders for the next day. I was not scheduled to go on the
combined operations exercise that we had trained for, as someone had to look
after the troop office whilst Captain Taylor was away leading the troop, when
they all returned several days later and I listened to some of the things
that had transpired I was glad I had had a few really quiet and lazy days.</p>
<p>Among the Arabic words we learned was the word "ghibli". There was a
forces newspaper called the Sunday Ghibli the word was roughly translated as
wind. It wasn't until one arrived around about October time that we
knew what it was. It was a wind from inland that brought dust storms that
clogged your nose and stung your eyes, got into the food no matter what you
did to avoid it and was generally an unpleasant experience.</p>
<p>With the advantage of extra pay, I managed to make two really worthwhile
trips, one to see Leptis Magna, an old Roman city to the East of Tripoli, and
was fortunate enough to have as a tour guide an Italian archaeologist who had
taken part in the rebuilding of the site pre-war, the city having been
subjected to an earthquake round about 600AD. The other trip was to a place
called Garian, inland and up in the mountains. This was a remarkable trip,
for the journey was across desert for the first part and then the road went
up into the mountains, it was very narrow and had many hairpin bends but
fortunately no one else seemed to be using it.</p>
<p>When we arrived at Garian we went to an Italian hotel and had a meal of
spaghetti topped with Parmesan cheese, which because we were unwise in the
ways of the world caused us great hilarity in trying to cope with removing it
from plate to mouth. I remember the air was sparkling fresh and the starry
night was exceptionally clear and bright. The next day we visited an
underground village, well the houses were really caves built in great pits
about 20 to 30 feet deep. The Emir came out and we were escorted down a long
ramp to view one interior, I would imagine that the temperature would be
pretty constant and comfortable all year round. Many years later in India at
a neurology seminar I was talking to a neurologist and his wife who had done
the trip when he was in the RAMC and she was a nurse, this gave us quite a
good talking point.</p>
<p>Being in the troop office I had the task of writing up the orders for the
sports day afternoon, by this time I had retired from playing cricket for the
Signals because of receiving a cricket ball in the face whilst playing
wicketkeeper. So I arranged to have driving lessons from my pal "Bomber"
Bates and we spent several afternoons with me driving around Tripoli. One
day, after nearly taking the gates of the sports field, we stopped and talked
to one of the Arab ground staff in a mixture of Italian, Arabic and English.
He was grateful to the British for looking after him when the Italians
wounded him during the push from El Alamein.</p>
<p>There was an old seaplane base in the harbour where an occasional guard
was required; this was an easy duty since all it required was someone to be
there overnight and report in at occasional intervals. I did this only once,
which was a great pity. When the ration truck pulled with my evening meal I
had enough to feed several people, so I spoke to an Arab watchman who had a
hut further down the jetty and gave him the remainder of the food. Later he
invited me into his hut to partake of a few cups of strong, sweet tea and to
meet his family who were devouring the now ex-army rations. Looking back I
can't remember any of the Libyan people being hostile - quite a
difference to the Egyptians!!</p>
<p>Around the end of September we had an influx of personnel who were moving
out of Palestine, their tales of the atrocities committed by the Jewish
terrorists were grim. Despatch riders had to watch out for wire strung
between trees, several were apparently decapitated. The same applied to
commanders of Dingo armoured cars who learned the hard way to keep their
heads in the vehicle. As usual there was a reverse side of the coin inasmuch
as that there were illegal transactions taking place with the military
equipment that was to have been destroyed.</p>
<p>November the 11th 1948 and we had a grand parade and service with all the
troops in the region, among them the 1st Battalion Grenadier Guards, we had
lost to them in a tug-of-war match earlier and we were not going to be
bettered at marching and foot drill, so we practised and practised until we
were as near perfect as we could be. All our Khaki Drill was washed and
scrubbed, carefully folded and placed on a towel under our "biscuits" and
slept on. If all went well they would have good creases in them. The day of
the parade arrived and all went well; we were complimented on our turn out by
the Brigadier, we all felt very satisfied that day.</p>
<p>Christmas arrived and we had what the army calls "gunfire" brought round
to us by the troop sergeant at six in the morning. Gunfire was tea with a
liberal portion of whiskey mixed into it. I later walked into Tripoli and
attended a communion service being held in a small chapel in the thick walls
of the old fortress, it was an impressive service, with only about 8
participants and has stuck in my mind because of that. Later that day I
disgraced myself by drinking too much of the local variety of Marsala, brewed
from wood alcohol I think, getting into the back of a truck going into town
getting out of the truck in the middle of a heaving mass of people struggling
with a lot of drunken Grenadiers and disappearing for a few hours. I woke up
on the beach in the out of bounds area completely intact with all my
possessions and proceeded to walk back to the Barracks. I met a few of the
troop walking into town to find out where I was. We then returned back, on
the way I picked up a bottle on the promenade and threw it into - I
think - some sort of receptacle, I did not realise that the bottle top
was already broken and the bottle cut my hand. Being still somewhat under the
weather I went to bed and woke up the next morning with a heavily bandaged
hand, washed and shaved with difficulty and went to the MI room, when the
bandage was removed I only had two nicks at the base of the index finger
which was easily plastered up. I still bear the scars to this day. I found
out later the lads had used up at least two bandages practising on me.</p>
<p>We had a raw lieutenant posted to us who thought he would catch the guard
out one night. He dressed in an old sheet and waited by the trucks in the
vehicle park to surprise the guard, well I happened to be the next sector
guard and this is what transpired. I heard a challenge of "Come out of there
you bastard or you will get a bullet up your backside" or something like that
which I leave to the reader's imagination. A sheepish lieutenant went
to the guard commander and complained that he was not correctly challenged. I
think that the retort was "If you do stupid things like that you deserve all
that you get". It never happened again!</p>
<p>In January 1949 came a request for volunteers to go to Egypt where the
Signals needed reinforcing and what did I do but volunteer, I only had
another year to go so I thought I would see some more of the Middle East
- silly me.</p>
<p>Later in that week we were asked to pack our kitbags, one with immediate
essentials and the other with our spare Khaki Drill etc. the latter would be
forwarded on to us. We never saw the second kitbag again; this was a problem
later on since we had to be reissued with things like battledress and denims
and as the loss was not our fault the quartermaster had to stump up and
smile.</p>
<p>My main memories of Tripoli are the walk along the sea front towards the
town and seeing the ancient walled castle ahead of you and the sweat
trickling down your back during first works parade and wondering if your
clean Khaki Drill was getting soiled by it.</p>
<h2>By Air</h2>
<p>Now we normally had egg and beans as a breakfast dish but on this journey
from Tripoli to Egypt we had five meals all the same in twenty-four hours
starting from about 1900 hrs on one day to about 1800 hrs the next day.</p>
<p>We first went for breakfast No.1 at our barracks before getting in the
trucks to go to the airfield. There we were given breakfast No.2 whilst our
kit was loaded onto a Douglas DC3 (Dakota) then we got on board, the
accommodation was as to be expected very crude, just bench seating along the
fuselage and no seat belts as I recall. No one had warned us that it was
going to be cold and we were still in Khaki Drill, after a while we managed
to get a blanket apiece and wrap ourselves up in it and sleep somewhat
fitfully. I watched the sun coming up over the desert and remember thinking
hurry up over it so we can get warm. It was my first flight on a large
aircraft - a flight on an old biplane over a seaside resort in Wales
for a quarter of an hour didn't count - and I watched the
wingtips shaking about with some sort of trepidation. We landed in the early
morning at a staging post in the desert called El Adem and promptly went to
the cookhouse for breakfast No.3. Now for a remote desert outpost it was
surprising that as we went from the plane to the cookhouse an old "schoolie"
I knew who went into the RAF waved and we had a short conversation. Later I
learned that my cousin Joan and her husband had also been stationed there.</p>
<p>Why we landed at El Adem I don't know, maybe the pilot wanted a
leak, I know we did. Anyway being now warm and fed we went on to the last leg
of the journey getting a good aerial view of the sandy wastelands of the
Western desert and eventually landing at Fayid in the southern part of the
Suez Canal zone and guess what, breakfast No.4 awaited us. Shortly after
landing we were packed into trucks and made our way north to Ismailia and
into the tented camp of 3 Infantry Division Signals and you guessed it,
breakfast No.5 awaited us.</p>
<h2>Egypt</h2>
<p>Here, because it was classed as winter we had to go back into battledress,
which meant getting re-kitted out. We thought that battledress was a bit odd
until we experienced night time temperatures especially when doing the
incessant guard duties demanded of us. On some of the early morning Signal
Despatch runs in open top Jeeps we had a greatcoat on. Anyway it was back
into Khaki Drill around the end of March.</p>
<p>Going into Ismailia one Saturday night we discovered that young lads would
threaten to throw ink or some similar substance over your Khaki Drill unless
you gave them money, the first time I encountered this I threw some lira I
had left over from Tripoli into the far distance and got them out of the way.
Later we usually went out in bigger groups and gave them as good as we got.
This type of activity was a menace in Egypt not at all like Libya.</p>
<p>During the time here we had plenty of work to do, some of which was quite
an experience, one time several of us were checking the lines going into and
out of the Main HQ when the portable phone which we had connected for testing
purposes rang and was answered by one of the chaps with "Chinese Laundry
here". He was told off by the Colonel in no uncertain terms and was collected
by the MP's in the space of about half an hour. Fortunately I was up a
pole at the time and only knew about it when the Military Police arrived.</p>
<p>There was a village nearby called Arishia, which had to be gone through by
truck to several destinations, one time I was standing up on the front seat
with my head through the observation port when a large stone came over and
just caught me on the nose. Being somewhat startled I raised my Sten gun up
and turned toward the rear of the truck to see several of the chaps who were
seated on the canopy diving like hell for cover. We kept our heads down after
that.</p>
<p>One day we were called out because some of the main lines to Cairo were
down and we were ordered out very quickly without any arms and proceeded to
where we had located the break, which was caused by some enterprising
Egyptian digging down into the sand and removing some twenty feet of cable.
We commenced to dig down to expose the two ends of the cable ready to insert
another length. The corporal and I went to see if we could trace the culprit
and followed the marks made by someone dragging something heavy in to a small
village. We were met by a very hostile crowd and we had to retreat because
the only weapon we had was my pair of pliers in a belt holster.</p>
<p>After digging and toiling in the heat - this was summer time - for
some six hours we were exceedingly parched. A ration truck should have
arrived but was delayed due to a breakdown, I remember climbing in the back
when it arrived and dipping a mug into some foul liquid that was supposed to
be tea and drinking this down with relish closely followed by another one. I
was glad to get back into camp that evening.</p>
<p>On the lighter side I was sent into the RAF camp in Ismailia to check the
tension on the overhead lines, the copper got stretched when it was hot. I
put on climbing irons and climbed the pole and was busily sorting out the
lines to re-tension when I realised I was being waved at from down below. I
was overlooking the WAAF compound and some of them were sunbathing in the
nude, well after all I had my job to finish, which I did exceedingly quickly,
climbed down and was off the site very quickly. I discovered later that the
pole had been condemned because of termites.</p>
<p>During the early part of the year my spare time was taken up by sailing
and swimming in Lake Timsah. Somehow I had made friends with one of the
corporals who had managed to get into the local boating club and we often
sailed a dinghy on and around the lake. The lake was connected to the Suez
Canal and we sometimes had to manoeuvre very quickly out of the way of the
shipping passing through. From the dinghy the size of even a twenty thousand
ton vessel looked very large.</p>
<p>Passing through the Canal at this time were a lot of emigrant ships
sailing to Australia and New Zealand and we always exchanged waves with the
passengers.</p>
<p>One day we were called on to go on to the banks of the Canal and give
rousing cheers to the destroyer "Amethyst" which was returning from China
having had a brush with the then Communist rebels.</p>
<p>The guard duties were getting monotonous, sometimes once every seven days
because we were short of personnel. These guards sometimes had their lighter
side, I recall the clear starry nights, which made all things seem peaceful
and unreal. Then there was the time we were called out to find a little
figure running in the distance with a huge load on his head and the guard
trying to take a pot-shot at him, we later found out it was a tent that had
been stolen. We had to fix bayonets and turn out the "dhobi wallahs" who were
resident in the camp and did all the laundry and remove them from the camp.
There was always a lot of thieving going on by the locals and they were
really ingenious at it and could carry items between their legs under their
robes and not look as if they were doing so. The "dhobi wallahs" were
replaced and life got back to normal but the searches on those entering and
leaving the camp were intensified.</p>
<p>I was sitting in the NAAFI one evening and there was the sound of a shot
and a hole appeared in the wall and roof, one of the guard had somehow put a
round up the spout and fired during the guard mounting inspection process
much to everyone's consternation.</p>
<p>On company orders one day it stated that a trip to Cairo and the Pyramids
was being organised and would interested personnel put their name down.
Having some back pay due I used it to finance the trip and having borrowed
some civilian clothes, later found myself on a bus heading toward Cairo.
According to a leave pass I still have it was 25th September 1949 [<em>the day
before his 20<sup>th</sup> birthday -- SG</em>]. We arrived in Cairo and went
to The National Hotel, which was an old fashioned place with marble interiors
and plumbing that didn't function very well, but it was a change from
living in a tent. The Pyramids were impressive, only spoilt by the antics of
the boys who wanted to sell you "genuine souvenirs". Inside the Great Pyramid
was impressive especially the huge blocks making up the passageway to the
"Kings Chamber". I later stood by the sarcophagus and felt strangely
disquieted standing right under all that mass of stone. Later we went into
the Cairo Museum, the guards there were not particularly friendly. Overall
the trip was enjoyable.</p>
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<p>There was a great flap one day; we had to prepare for a large exercise,
which was to take place in the Western Desert south of Suez. It was to a
combined exercise with mobile artillery, armoured vehicles and the RAF, all
utilising a few hundred acres of desert for bombing and shelling practice.
There were to be landlines running all over the place, put there previously
by another Signal Troop, we were to be just maintenance and support. We
arrived two days before the start of the exercise, our truck was so full of
equipment that there was no room to sleep there so I rolled myself in a
blanket, dug a hole for my hip to rest, and went to sleep under the truck.
The next day was uneventful, but at about 2am the next morning I was roused
from a surprisingly deep sleep to be ordered to go with several others on a
wire laying truck out into the middle of the range where some half tracks had
chewed up some of the landlines and get them repaired before 8am -
that being the time that the guns would open up. To cut a long story short we
suddenly realised that time was ticking on very quickly, so we stopped what
we were doing and the driver tried to break all land speed records. Now
hanging on in the back of and old "Guy" one-ton truck with a large cable drum
and trestle and other heavy items going like a veritable Jehu was to put it
mildly, disconcerting. To make matters worse the truck went up a mound and
suddenly swung round and back down. What we called the driver I can't
remember, he then went round the mound and stopped so that we could
disentangle ourselves and nurse our bruises.</p>
<p>We went to "question" the driver more closely when he pointed at the
muzzle of a self propelled gun pointing over the mound and then at his watch.
While we recovered the gun suddenly opened up and we reluctantly saw the
reason for the driver's actions. We had nothing to do for the
remainder of the exercise and later collected all our kit and returned to
camp.</p>
<p>There used to be a regular run from all the camps in the area to the main
stores in a place called Tel-el-Kebier, in Arabic the large mound or hill, it
was just known as TEK. One day I was told to draw a Browning 38 pistol and
five rounds of ammunition from the armoury and go on escort duty on the
aforesaid truck. I was instructed to keep my back to the driving cabin and
not sit on the sides as going through some of the crowded villages some of
the Egyptians were prone to stick knives through the canvas. We passed
through some very crowded places and I received quite a few hostile stares
from the populace. I felt very much like John Wayne entering an Indian
village except I couldn't draw as quickly as him, being hampered by a
lanyard and a holster flap. Anyway the trip was without incident and we
collected our stores and had lunch in the mess. TEK was staffed by the RASC
and protected by the Royal Irish Fusiliers who did their guard duty racing
round in a half-track at night and they claimed to bag at least one thief a
night who was left to hang on the perimeter wire until collection the next
morning. It is no wonder there were hostiles around the place! We returned to
our camp without any incident.</p>
<p>At the end of October 1949 I was suddenly informed that my demobilization
group (125) was being advanced, I presume that was in order to fill up a
troopship. So we caught a train in Ismailia and went to Port Said. There we
had the most remarkable medical I have ever had, it was called an FFI,
meaning free from infection. It consisted of stripping down to our Khaki
Drill shorts running past two medical orderlies with your arms held high,
stopping at a table where a medical office sat, dropping your shorts and
turning round, then running out and getting dressed ready for embarkation.</p>
<h2>At Sea</h2>
<p>Everything was uneventful, being an image of the trip out from Blighty,
until we ran into a storm passing by Malta. Swinging in hammocks took the
sting out of it - everybody swayed in unison, a few people were sick
and in the crowded space this was a trifle unpleasant. I got up and stowed my
hammock early and went on deck for some fresh air and as I passed the galley
I had a whiff of kippers being cooked for breakfast, I very nearly succumbed
there and then to being sick but struggled to the air in time and had a
bracing walk around the deck which settled everything down. I think I managed
a hearty breakfast after that, more so since the mess deck was comparatively
empty. We were with a lot of infantry; I can't remember which
regiment. One night there was some shouting and bawling; one of their
sergeants was shouting at the lads, I think he must have been drunk or rather
stupid, there was a thumping noise and peace and quiet reigned. I never
bothered to find out what had happened but you don't mess about too
much with troops returning home.</p>
<p>We arrived at Princes Wharf Liverpool early in the morning and commenced
disembarking by sections, being one of the last sections to disembark we took
a tour round the ship and found in the galley a lot of oranges some of which
we stuffed into our battledress blouses for sustenance on the interminable
train journey to Aldershot. How I got through customs without comment I
don't know, but I did. Several chaps were stopped and searched, one I
remember had a diamond ring in his field-dressing pocket, which the customs
unearthed and he had to pay a lot of duty, and fined for saying he had
nothing to declare.</p>
<p>On the train journey I had time to reflect on life in Egypt. The sight of
the ordinary fellahin squatting on the banks of the Sweetwater canal doing
their morning ablutions on the canal bank and washing their backsides with
canal water was disconcerting at first as was the sight of mothers feeding
their babies and afterwards expressing their milk in to a mug to be used in
tea later on. Life there seemed very primitive at that time.</p>
<p>Of all the people I served with I remember Bomber Bates for our escapade
in Malta, two Northern Irish signalmen Paddy Moreland and Paddy Morgan who
became my firm friends in Egypt. There was a troop sergeant in Ismailia
called Howard; I don't remember his first name, who had collected a
Military Medal in Europe somewhere and for some reason he and I got on
exceptionally well. We devised a method of reeling in cable over the front of
the truck so that the driver could see what he was doing and we didn't
need to continuously keep guiding it by hand. Once during a guard duty he
called me into his tent and supplied me with hot tea and against regulations
we chatted away for some while. The duty officer walked in saw us talking,
ignored me and spoke to Sgt Howard, I sloped off out of the tent and there
were no repercussions on me at all - such is the power of a Military
Medal in the army.</p>
<p>We arrived at Aldershot and exchanged out kit for old battledresses dyed
blue (no demob suits those days), paid up and given travel passes home. At
Euston station waiting for the train with several other chaps one of the
"ladies of the night" was highly indignant that the Army sent us home dressed
like that. These uniforms later had to be returned or paid for: I returned
mine!</p>
<p>Returning home was strange especially as my parents were moving from Stoke
to Barking in Essex and I had to adjust to many things. One thing
didn't change; I was still listed on Z reserve and was required to
attend camp in June 1951 and duly went to Penhale camp near Newquay where I
met my wife Jean, she had just joined the Territorial Army, later I joined
the TA at the same place at Brompton Road London and officially discharged
from the Army having served 1 year 330 days with the colours and 1 year 191
days with the reserve. In 1952 Jean and I got married and all service ceased
on discharge from the TA. I had stopped being No.21067688 Signalman Gilham A
E and was now a fully-fledged civilian.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-56803223814458273692007-07-13T14:48:00.000+01:002007-07-13T15:05:25.207+01:00Carnarvon Western Australia — 1965–1967 : Project Apollo in Australia<p>My father's recollections...</p>
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<p>It was during the early sixties, after the Cuban missile crisis of late
1962 and the J. F. Kennedy speech about putting a man on the moon that I
became interested in the space program. In particular listening to the
broadcast of the first Gemini flight with John Glenn, it seemed to be the way
to go. At that time I was working on some of the first main frame computers
of the time and spending more time going out and repairing them than there
were days in the week. In early 1965 I noted an advert in the
“Electronics Weekly” from Amalgamated Wireless of Australia
asking for people to go to Carnarvon, Western Australia to operate and
maintain the electronic equipment to be installed in the ground station there
for the Apollo project. I applied and was accepted.</p>
<p>In June 1965 together with several other people I attended a short course
arranged by AWA in London’s Tavistock Hotel. This course was really
“a get to know Carnarvon” and having obtained the appropriate
visas and clearances I was bound for New York (first class) and thence on to
Dallas for the inaugural course on the Unified ‘S’ Band system
designed for the Apollo project. This course was given by Collins Radio at
their factory in Arapaho Road in Richardson County, Dallas, Texas.</p>
<p>There were seven people on that course mainly Australians of English,
Irish and Italian ancestry, a “true blue” Aussie and three
Brits. At weekends we took the hire cars back to Hertz for cleaning and
refuelling and occasionally went with the Hertz people to Love Field to
collect the rental cars left by departing visitors. The Texans, being great
jokers, once allocated me a huge vehicle to drive back; it was very fast and
nearly got me into speed problems. Arriving back at Hertz they were all
laughing over it, but at least they had a cold beer waiting for me. One
weekend one of the instructors, me and two others went on a “self
drive” flight to Fort Worth and surrounding areas. I actually
“drove” the plane to Fort Worth under the eagle eye of the
instructor. This was an enjoyable experience.</p>
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<p>At the end of the course we went on to Washington for a few days to look
around the Space Centre at Greenbelt Maryland, and then we split up returning
to UK and Australia respectively. After the usual family visits and packing
up ready for our new life in Australia we set off from Heathrow in a piston
engine Bristol Britannia. This flight stopped at Kuwait airport, which was
then just a shack guarded by a man on a camel, then following the coast of
India to Ceylon. Back in the air to Singapore we ran into a tropical thunder
storm. The plane was tossed about like a straw in the wind and I spotted
water condensation coming in from the door, I called the stewardess who gave
me great confidence by turning as white as a sheet and calling for the flight
engineer. They then stood by the door jamming a cot mattress around it until
the plane landed with some violent skidding before finally coming to a halt.
We were delayed some six hours whilst the door seals were fixed and thence on
to Perth. This last leg of the journey was perfect, we saw the North West
coast of Australia very clearly and spotted a large dust cloud moving down
the coast road obviously caused by a large vehicle, later we came to know and
love the large Gascoigne Trader trucks which were the life line of
Carnarvon.</p>
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<p>Spending a few days in Perth we purchased a VW Kombi in which we explored
Perth and the surrounding countryside, after this we headed north through
places like Midland and New Norcia until we got to Geraldton some 300 miles
from Perth, I used to joke that Geraldton, situated some 300 miles south of
Carnarvon was where you had to go to get your hair cut, the haircut
wasn’t bad but it was the tar they dabbed on if they nicked you with
the shears that stung.</p>
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<p>Heading north from Geraldton to Carnarvon was through a much more desolate
landscape made memorable by having a petrol station called the Billabong some
150 miles along the way. There was a very small weather beaten sign a few
miles from there indicating that Shark Bay was down the track to the left, if
you cared to take it. There was also a sign at the 26th Parallel so that you
knew where you were. We spotted the antennas of the tracking station on
Brown’s Range from quite a distance away having crossed over the dry
river bed of the Wooramel River. We called in at the tracking station to find
where we were going to live and then on to 4 West Street which we were going
to call home for at least a few weeks. At West Street we had pigeons nesting
in the roof but with the aid of a broom I gently eased them over the edge and
into free flight, nest and all. Later we were infested with cockroaches which
caused us to move to a new house in Babbage Island Road.</p>
<p>The next few months were hectic, an American team had arrived to
commission the equipment and we had problems on the angle sensors on the
antenna and had to wait until there was very little wind at night whilst the
antenna was pointing to set star positions, the angles were then set to
correspond to the star positions. If I recall correctly at the end of that
period the antenna was .0023 degrees out on the X axis and about .004 degrees
on the Y axis, but to all intents and purposes it was “spot on”
since any corrections were to be undertaken by Houston during actual
missions. The memory of those clear star filled nights was brought to the
fore when having a meal outdoors at Ayers Rock some 38 years later.</p>
<p>Christmas Day 1965 arrived and the American team were given invitations to
meals and parties, we had two for dinner, Don Park and Bill Ross (whose daddy
was a tail gunner on a beer truck during prohibition). We managed a
traditional dinner, much to their delight, although the temperature was
touching the hundred degree mark.</p>
<p>My job was to operate and maintain the Antenna Positioning Programmer and
the Tracking Data Processor with some secondary responsibility for the pseudo
random numbering range calculation system and an item of telemetry equipment
which I can’t remember the name of but it was the source of some
disagreement between myself and the supervising engineer when during a test
flight I changed the phase in the input feed to correctly get the information
in and processed. I justified this later by drawing innumerable phase
diagrams to prove the point. We then had a slack period whilst we waited for
an actual mission.</p>
<p>We then moved to Babbage Island Road and new neighbours with whom we are
still in contact. My wife got herself a job at the local High School as
school secretary which led to her becoming a maths teacher when we returned
to UK.</p>
<p>I suddenly found myself giving guided tours of the Tracking Station to
visiting dignitaries or tourists, most notably Miss Australia 1966, this
exercise gave me a much needed break from doing very little during slack
periods.</p>
<p>The American team left a large coffee machine and for some time I ran a
coffee club which for two shillings a week provided unlimited coffee for the
participants of the scheme until we had a fully operational canteen. When the
club closed down the money in the kitty provided for a large barbecue. The
wives provided salads and sweet dishes and it proved to be a big success.</p>
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<p>Over the next two years, if my recollection is correct, there were 5
Lunar Orbiter missions, one Surveyor mission and several Saturn VIB test
flights. The last Gemini flight was in 1966 but we were not used to track
this. In those early days there was insufficient tracking data available for
us to use and locating the moon’s position was quite a headache so I
obtained a Nautical Almanac and used it to locate the moon’s position
on the horizon, my positioning was correct but I was always 4 minutes adrift
in time. I never really found out why but suspect it was the refraction
caused by the Earth’s atmosphere. Locating the moon when it was away
from the horizon and overhead was much more difficult to do “on the
hoof” as it were, with a present day PC it would have been easy. One
of the chaps came up with an ingenious device which simply consisted of two
school protractors mounted in an X and Y plane with a peashooter as a
sighting tube. This worked extremely well for the few weeks we were without
pointing data. I laugh when I think that two protractors and a peashooter
were used on a multi million dollar project to enable us to check out the
equipment. After this we were called the “Moonrakers” by the
rest of the Tracking Station. The device is shown on the console in the
picture right.</p>
<p>One of the first missions we undertook was to gather information from a
Saturn rocket on the behaviour of rocket fuel when in orbit. The TV pictures
we obtained had a surreal quality about them especially when in free fall an
‘ullage’ rocket was fired to send the fuel to the rocket
engines.</p>
<p>When we were given our first Lunar Orbiter mission it was quite a
thrilling experience made more memorable when at a distance of 25,000 nautical
miles the other radars on site lost contact and we announced that “USB
was still in contact” and remained so until it passed round the other
side of the moon. This more than made up for the Moonraker comments!!</p>
<p>At about this time I was asked to see if a device could be made to check
for any discrepancies in the Pseudo Random Number ranging equipment when we
had Lunar Missions. I thought about this and came up with some circuitry made
of the standard logical circuits used. I never used it myself being on leave
when it was used but apparently it functioned OK and did pick out generated
errors successfully, which was a good job since I could not remember how I
had worked it out! </p>
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<p>We were allocated leave, expenses paid to Perth twice a year and a long
distance trip once a year so we usually took ourselves off to Perth for a
week staying in what was then The Terminal Motor Lodge and watching Star Trek
on television, what luxury! There was no television reception in Carnarvon
although I recall in Fong’s Chinese emporium there was one which
showed mostly interference patterns although I gather occasionally they could
actually see a program.</p>
<p>On one holiday we toured the South West as far as Albany and the karri
forests, I actually climbed the 220ft “Gloucester Tree” which
had a fire lookout post on the top, and how I managed to crawl into the hut
on the top I don’t know but the view was worth it. We camped in the
Porongorups near to Castle Rock; this photograph taken there still graces our
sitting room.</p>
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<p>Carnarvon was classed as a desert area since it had less than an inch of
rain per year but in 1966 we had a cyclone whose centre passed some 80 miles
north and brought with it torrential rain. We battened down the house and
waited, when we discovered it was not going to be too traumatic we went out
on to the verandah and watched the rain teeming down, I suddenly realised it
was pure water cascading down the pipes and filled a kettle and some
saucepans with it and made some tea, it tasted delicious. The tap water in
Carnarvon was pumped up from the river bed and tasted of “red
earth” the rain water by contrast was veritable nectar. When the rain
ceased we went, in company with many other townspeople to ten–mile
bridge to watch the river flood. The flood water carried a huge amount of
debris with it consisting of all manner of trees and sundry small animals.
The flood left enough water depth for us to use the river as a swimming area
for quite a few weeks, and then it dwindled into a small pool by the pumping
station.</p>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"
title="We're on the telly" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpeEDeQqu0I/AAAAAAAAAXg/mHSE7LZOdz8/s1600-h/ukaustv4.jpg"><img style="float:right; margin:0 0 10px 10px;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpeEDeQqu0I/AAAAAAAAAXg/mHSE7LZOdz8/s320/ukaustv4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086679499335711554" title="We're on the telly" /></a>
<p>In about June 1966 a strange looking antenna began to be built near the
Tracking Station, it turned out to be a Cassegrainian Horn device being built
by OTC (the Overseas Telephone Company). It was built to utilize the Early
Bird satellite which was in place over the Indian Ocean. Little did I know
then that my family and I would be asked to participate in a trans-world link
up with UK. On 25th November 1966 this took place, from my point of view it was nearly
a disaster since the satellite was drifting out of position and whilst the
initial people could hold a conversation when it came to my turn I could not
hear a thing and I had to keep starting my spiel, fortunately my wife managed
to talk away without bothering about a response. However it was recorded and
38 years later I obtained a video copy.</p>
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}" href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpeD0eQquzI/AAAAAAAAAXY/eTsteN9UQJc/s1600-h/tropfestival4.jpg"><img style="float:left; margin:0 10px 10px 0;cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpeD0eQquzI/AAAAAAAAAXY/eTsteN9UQJc/s320/tropfestival4.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086679241637673778" /></a>
<p>A tropical festival was going to be held in the town and some of the USB
personnel built a flying saucer which was a success winning a cup, the other
station personnel built a Saturn VIB rocket which I thought was very good.
The festival made a change from the daily routine.</p>
<p>We used to be picked up by mini bus and taken to the Tracking Station: one
day I looked at the bus and it appeared to be weighted down on one side. Our
lady driver (known as the local Stirling Moss) asked us to sit on the other
side to balance out the weight of a huge man who was joining the tracking
station staff, in later conversations with him I discovered he was the sub
chief of a local Aborigine tribe. After a few weeks he disappeared and I
found out later he was in jail in Geraldton having taken part in the ritual
tribal killing of a young girl.</p>
<p>One of the local policemen came from Surrey and he was a big man, he had
red hair which he said was strawberry blonde (and who was ever going to say
he was wrong). At that time he used to go on horseback inland to visit the
sheep stations and local tribes. I asked him if he could get me a genuine
boomerang on his travels and I gave him, I think A$10 to get me one. I still
have that boomerang which he assured me was carved especially for me by one
of the tribal elders he contacted.</p>
<p>One other notable occurrence at this time was the changing over of the
currency from Australian Pounds to Dollars. The new system was based on the
10 shilling as the base unit (Dollar), this to me was a sensible decision and
took place on 14th February 1966.</p>
<p>At last a real mission, one of the Lunar Orbiters which we tracked from
near launch to the Moon and for two weeks after. The equipment worked so well
that a card school flourished, we had only one breakdown in the relaying of
information to Houston and this was cured within twenty minutes. I think it
was during the Surveyor 3 launch there was a sudden change of plan and the
rocket instead of making a first pass over Carnarvon was sent directly into
orbit over Bermuda, a slightly worried station director called me in to
discuss when we could hope to acquire it, fortunately I had worked out the
position on the horizon from Bermuda's geographical location and
assured him it would in about 10–15 minutes. This turned out to be a very
good estimate and we acquired to rocket in that time.</p>
<p>On the 27th January 1967 we were preparing for a real network simulation
when we had the news that the capsule had caught fire and the astronauts had
perished. I think we were all stunned by this event and the Apollo program
was halted for an indefinite time. At that time it had become evident that
both my sons needed to be in a good educational establishment, so I prepared
myself and family to return to UK. In the event this turned out to be a good
decision since both boys obtained degrees in Mathematics from Emmanuel
College Cambridge, the elder boy also obtaining a Masters degree in
Astrophysics.</p>
<p>In early November 1967 we made our last trip to Perth, this was not
without incident as when we had a “comfort stop” we were
confronted with two 6 foot kangaroos. We sold the car to our old bank manager
who was now in Perth. There was another bank employee from Carnarvon in Perth
who advised us on our money transactions to our advantage — Harold Wilson's
famous “Pound in your pocket” speech happened just before we
bought Sterling!</p>
<p>We shipped home on the Canberra, visiting South Africa and the Canary
Islands on the way; it was a fitting end to what was really a unique
experience.</p>
<div style="width:380px;padding:5px;border:1px solid black;margin: 0 auto;">
<a onblur="try {parent.deselectBloggerImageGracefully();} catch(e) {}"
title="all that remains"
href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpeDSeQquyI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/VImKR0jr-FE/s1600-h/cplaque.jpg"><img style="cursor:pointer; cursor:hand;" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_Y0-w-d5dpBA/RpeDSeQquyI/AAAAAAAAAXQ/VImKR0jr-FE/s320/cplaque.jpg" border="0" alt=""id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5086678657522121506"
title="all that remains" /></a>
<h3>Carnarvon Tracking station</h3>
<p>The Honourable Allen Fairhall, M.P., Minister of State for Supply, opened
this station on 25<sup>th</sup> June 1964 on behalf of the Government of the
Commonwealth of Australia and the National Aeronautics and Space
Administration of the United States of America.</p>
<p>This fountain was presented to the station by Amalgamated Wireless
(Australasia) Limited to commemorate the occasion.</p>
</div>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-8733278409189520252007-06-28T00:14:00.001+01:002008-12-08T22:53:32.388+00:00Auxiliary Languages<p>Auxiliary languages, the invented "universal languages" have been a
long-standing fascination of mine, and was re-awoken during an earlier tidying up of
my web presence, some years back.</p>
<p>Most of the technical terms will be explained by a quick visit to
Google.</p>
<h4>Esperanto</h4>
<p>Unfortunately, this is the most popular invented language, the one that
most people will have heard of, and the only one with easily available
treeware documentation, but it has problems. The first is the one that really
stopped it for me, back in the '70s and '80s, when all I had was a manual
typewriter, with no accented characters…</p>
<h5>The very alphabet</h5>
<p>The Esperanto alphabet is:</p>
<p>A E I O U; B C Ĉ (or Ĉ) D F G Ĝ (or Ĝ) H Ĥ
(or Ĥ) J Ĵ (or Ĵ) K L M N P R S Ŝ (or Ŝ) T
Ŭ (or Ŭ) V Z</p>
<p>Maybe you didn't see all those letters - C^, G^, H^, J^, S^ and
U-inverted^ - as they don't live in the ASCII, or even the Latin-1 range of
common characters. In the full Unicode standard, they are in the next block,
the Latin Extended-A set, and in the character justifications, while
U-inverted^ is shared with Latin, the rest are Esperanto-only.</p>
<p>For a language that was happy to throw away X in favour of 'ks', the
addition of these accented characters seems strange. If you have only ASCII,
I'd prefer the following reform.</p>
<p>The letters involved are ones with multiple sounds - C is a 'ts' and C^ a
'ch'; G as in 'gay' and G^ as in 'gem', H^ as the 'ch' in 'loch', J is as the
'y' in 'young' (or the Germanic 'J' in 'Jung'), but J^ is a 'zh', S as in
'gas', but S^ as 'sh' in 'ship', while U-breve is as W.</p>
<p>Why not one of the following?</p>
<p>C->S (merge the 's' and 'ts'), C^->C, G->G, G^->J, J->Y,
H^->Q,S^->X,U-breve->W, J^->* if you're stuck with ASCII, or</p>
<p>C->ç (soft C as in French <cite xml:lang="fr" class="breakline"
title="boy">garçon</cite>), C^->C, G->G, G^->J, J->Y,
H^->Q,S^->X,U-breve->W, J^->Ð using Latin-1.</p>
<h5>The assumptions</h5>
<p>The Sapir-Whorf hypothesis is that language constrains the thoughts we can
have, as without words, we cannot articulate a thought. Esperanto shows the
reverse is true. The language was first published in 1887, and shows some of
the values of the time - the word for 'father' is the obvious <cite
xml:lang="eo">patro</cite>, but the word for 'mother' is <cite
xml:lang="eo">patrino</cite>, using a feminine modifier. You can't even say
"single parent" in the language as the word parent only formally exists in
the plural, <cite xml:lang="eo">gepatroj</cite>, ('ge-' meaning "both sexes
together") from which one has to hack off the pluralizing <cite>-j</cite> to
coin a clumsy singular.</p>
<p>Similar value-laden decisions in the vocabulary have us use <cite
xml:lang="eo" class="breakline" title="left (not-right)">maldekstra</cite>,
rather than something based off gauche or sinister, for left. But south is
<cite xml:lang="eo">sudo</cite>, rather than "malnordo"!</p>
<h5>The long words</h5>
<p>In natural languages, common words are short words. Esperanto's
systematization leads to long words for simple common concepts. For example
rust (iron oxide) is <cite xml:lang="eo">rusto</cite>; iron rusts (<cite
xml:lang="eo">fero rustig^is</cite>), and becomes rusted (<cite
xml:lang="eo">rustig^inta</cite>). In this case, there is the shorter <cite
xml:lang="eo">rusta</cite> (rusty), but that offers a slightly different
shade of meaning in English.</p>
<p>Admittedly, English does have an unusually broad vocabulary with different
shades of meaning, having assembled fragments of a number of other languages,
something not common to other languages, so this may be an idiosyncrasy.</p>
<h4>Interlingue</h4>
<p>I discovered this one when searching for the ISO-639 language code for
Latin (la) and Classical Greek (there isn't one, but there is an ISO-639-2
standard 3-letter code (grc), for Greek from before the fall of Byzantium).
But there are first-class, 2-letter codes for Esperanto (eo), Volapük (vo),
Interlingua (ia), and Interlingue (ie). I'd been aware of the first three,
but it took Google to unearth the last.</p>
<p>It's a real minority choice among auxiliary languages, being kept alive by
the ability of the 'net to bring together scattered individuals of like mind.
It starts with the same sort of brief - gather together common European
Romance word roots and a systematic grammar, but is much more accessible.</p>
<p>It uses just the 26 ASCII letters. There are some apparently complex rules
for pronunciation, such as for whether 'C' is soft or hard, or whether 'T' is
sibilant (like in caution) - but they are just the ones we use everyday in
English.It is quite happy to use doubled letters, usually with H, - 'ch' as
in 'church', silent h after g (ghetto) or k (khedive) or r (rheumatisme),
'sh' (or occaionally 'sch') as in 'ship', 'th','ph' for Greek derived words
that had θ, φ - but 'ss' for a hard S, 'zz' for a 'ts' as in
<cite xml:lang="ie">plazza</cite>.</p>
<p>I like its use of shorter words - for example, its use of simple and more
obviously European <cite>e,o</cite> for <cite>and,or</cite>, as opposed to
Esperanto's <cite xml:lang="eo">kaj,aŭ</cite> (that's u-breve); and it uses
forms that are much more natural for an English speaker.</p>
<p>This remains my current favourite.</p>
<p><a href="http://www.windsong.demon.co.uk/jottings/eo-to-ie.html" target="_blank">Esperanto to Interlingue dictionary</a></p>
<p><a href="http://www.windsong.demon.co.uk/jottings/ie-to-eo.html" target="_blank">Interlingue to Esperanto dictionary</a></p>
<h4>Ceqli</h4>
<p>This is the c.2003 state of the language. More at its now somewhat spammed <a href="http://tech.groups.yahoo.com/group/ceqli/">Yahoo! group</a>.</p>
<p>Pronounced Ching-lee, a Loglan(lojban) derived language with a Mandarin
influenced grammar, and a global reach in populating its vocabulary, being
constrained to have fundamental words with alternating vowels and consonants.
Being a language of the 1990s, it has a neutral form, <cite
xml:lang="x-ceqli">pam</cite>, for parent, with father, mother, being <cite
xml:lang="x-ceqli">pamzo, pamxi</cite> by adding systematic elements meaning
man, woman.</p>
<p>It does use some "funny pronunciations" - C is 'ch', Q is 'ng', X is 'sh'
(that being only half-funny, being akin to the familiar use in the Portuguese
place name, Xeres, that gives us the English 'sherry'), so where I've used it
as a quasi-gibberish language in my SF, elsewhere on this site, I've written
it in a phonetic style.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-91842958987956500812007-06-27T23:43:00.000+01:002021-08-21T22:17:11.649+01:00Forgotten Cults<p>One project that I considered
was to use the <cite>Forgotten Realms</cite> maps for an alternative far
future Glorantha, where Orlanth and the Red Moon fought to a standstill,
and Jar-Eel ended up in a role akin to the Lady, out of Glen Cook's
<cite>Black Company</cite> books. The campaign would be set long ages
after the fall of the Red Dominion. The <cite>AD&D2 Complete Priests'
Handbook</cite> is assumed. The inspiration was sparked when a player
chose a priest of Strength with the Barbarian kit, and it looked a lot
like a Storm Bull cultist…</p>
<h5>Commentary</h5>
<p>Mother Night is probably not an attractive choice for players; Lady
Starbow will gather some women warriors; the Secret Moon is not really a
player character option, given its secrecy and restrictions; the Blood Moon
is a relict cult, found only in a few out-of-the-way places and usually
despised. The Red Magic secrets it teaches are one of the prized posessions
of the Red Wizards in their mountain lands, rumour of which makes them hated
and feared beyond what their own efforts can achieve. Mistress Moon is a
semi-fighting and partly mystic priesthood, suitable for player
characters.</p>
<h4>Mother Night</h4>
<p>One of the nameless spirits of the Dark under the Earth, Mother Night
first became noted when Thunder Father struck down Emperor Sun from his
throne at Skytop. As the dying, bleeding Sun fell down the sky into the
underworld, its inhabitants fled the sudden light. Mother Night led those who
ascended into the sky, spreading her protecting cloak of darkness over the
land, as she still does to this day.</p>
<p>She has only a small following, as she is content to spread her benefits
to all, each night. Her importance is more mythological and practical than
spiritual.</p>
<p><em>Alignment</em>: True Neutral. Priests and worshippers may have any
alignment.</p>
<p><em>Minimum Ability Scores</em>: Wis 9</p>
<p><em>Races allowed</em>: Any, though most common are creatures of the
underdark.</p>
<p><em>Proficiencies</em>: Recommended — Religion, Blind-fighting (no extra
out-of-class cost).</p>
<p><em>Duties</em>: Protecting those who are distressed by the raw light of
the Sun.</p>
<p><em>Weapons and armour</em>: Chain, shield, any club or similar blunt
weapon.</p>
<p><em>Other Limitations</em>: Function at -1 level in natural light, and
half level (drop fractions) when in direct sunlight.</p>
<p><em>Spheres</em>: major — All, Sun(reversed), Protection, Wards, elemental
fire (reversed); minor — Healing, Necromantic.</p>
<p>The reversed form of Summon Fire Elemental summons an elemental of darkness,
with similar stats to a Fire elemental, whose attack has the effect of a
Cause Fear along with regular damage.</p>
<p><em>Followers and strongholds</em>: As a minor deity, her priests only
have those followings they can personally attract.</p>
<p><em>Powers</em>: <em>Darksense</em> (sonar based sense, including
“acoustic daylight”, rather like dolphins); Hide in shadow 50%+5% per level,
modified by race, armour and Dexterity as thieves; <em>Carpe Noctem</em>:
Once per level per night, the priest may cause a 10' radius sphere of night's
darkness around him or herself to become fixed, and endure through the coming
day. If the priest has cast any spells during the day, one of the priest's
choice is renewed at sunset.</p>
<p><em>Symbols</em>: A black disk.</p>
<h4>Lady Starbow</h4>
<p>As Emperor Sun fell dying into the underworld, splashes of his burning
blood fell onto the sky. When even Lord Gloaming, the least and last of the
sons and retinue of the Emperor, had followed his master beneath the Earth,
the spiritual nature of these bloodstains quickened them to life. Nurturing
these last remnants of light came a hitherto nameless and despised sister of
Lord Gloaming (the Sun having considered the only feminine spirits of worth
to be the fertile Earth, and then worthy only for their fertility).</p>
<p>Defending Heaven and Earth against the encroaching Night, she took up the
great Sky bow her father had let fall, defending each remaining spark until
the Sun was finally freed from Hell.</p>
<p><em>Alignment</em>: Neutral Good. Priests and worshippers may have any
good alignment.</p>
<p><em>Minimum Ability Scores</em>: Wis 12, Dex 12, Cha 12</p>
<p><em>Races allowed</em>: Human, elf(except drow), half-elf; only women may
advance beyond 4th level, and only those who have quested for and won a
Unicorn mount beyond 8th.</p>
<p><em>Proficiencies</em>: Required: Riding(land-based) Recommended -
Religion, Blind-fighting, Tracking. Crossover: Priest, warrior.</p>
<p><em>Duties</em>: Protecting the weak and oppressed, especially women.</p>
<p><em>Weapons and armour</em>: Chain, shield, spear, lance, javelin,
shortbow, short sword.</p>
<p><em>Other Limitations</em>: Often despised by patriarchal Sun worshippers
(her worship being most common in areas that revere her father and brothers).</p>
<p><em>Spheres</em>: major — All, Sun, Protection, Combat, Elemental Fire;
minor — Healing, Necromantic.</p>
<p><em>Special spell</em>: <em>Shooting Star</em>: as the mage spell
<cite>Flame arrow</cite>, but the spell is cast on the weilder's bow, which
then transfers the spell's effect onto each arrow fired and lasts until the
maximum number of arrows have been affected, or one hour has elapsed.
<em>Detect Silver and Gold</em> (1<sup>st</sup> level)</p>
<p><em>Followers and strongholds</em>: As a minor deity, her priests only
have those followings they can personally attract.</p>
<p><em>Powers</em>: <em>Infravison</em> 60' (120' for elves and half-elves);
May track as a ranger if there are stars visible in the sky if she has the
Tracking proficiency. At 4th level, if virgin, may quest for a Unicorn mount
(stats as for a Paladin's war horse). May choose one melee and one missile
weapon to have Warrior THAC0.</p>
<p><em>Symbols</em>: A silver bow; a labrys (double bitted axe) — note that
this is a weapon that the Starbow priests may not actually use in combat.</p>
<h4>The Secret Moon</h4>
<p>Only initiates of her mysteries know any but the barest rumours of her
past and current actions. She was the barely visible moon only glimpsed in
the radiance of the Unfallen Sun, and who fled beyond the sky at his fall.</p>
<p><em>Alignment</em>: True Neutral. Priests and worshippers may have any
alignment, but usually tend to Lawful Evil.</p>
<p></p>
<p><em>Minimum Ability Scores</em>: Wis 13, Cha 13, Dex 15</p>
<p><em>Races allowed</em>: Any, though usually from outcast populations.</p>
<p><em>Proficiencies</em>: As the Assassin kit from the <cite>Complete
Thief's Handbook</cite>, plus Recommended — Religion, Blind-fighting (no
extra out-of-class cost). Crossover: Priest, Thief.</p>
<p><em>Duties</em>: Furthering the cryptic purposes of the Secret Moon;
ensuring that things best kept secret remain so.</p>
<p><em>Weapons and armour</em>: As thief; weapons of quiet death like the
stiletto or the garotte are preferred.</p>
<p><em>Other Limitations</em>: Must obey their superiors without question.
All aspects of the Assassin kit.</p>
<p><em>Spheres</em>: major — All, Summoning, Divination, minor — Healing
(both normal and reversed), Necromantic (reversed), Sun (reversed).</p>
<p><em>Special spells</em>: <em>Glow</em>: A variant on <cite>Chant</cite>.
The priest glows with an eerie blue light, which gives him and all his
associates +1 on all their defensive rolls and -1 to be hit. Lasts 6 rounds,
plus 1 per level of caster. <em>Summon Secret Moon Elemental</em>: As Summon
Fire elemental. The elemental is invisible.</p>
<p><em>Followers and strongholds</em>: As a minor deity, her priests only
have those followings they can personally attract.</p>
<p><em>Powers</em>: Gain thief skills as a thief of the same level and the
benefits of the Assassin kit.</p>
<p><em>Symbols</em>: A wavy-bladed dagger.</p>
<h4>The Blood Moon</h4>
<p>After the first War in Heaven, and the return of the Sun from the Long
Night, there was at first no moon. How the Moon later arose is not known. She
may have been the Secret Moon returned, or a once-mortal sorceress who
attempted to fuse Solar might with the feminine principle, or even a
synthetic construct built through arcane engineering as an anti-Sun either by
creatures of Darkness or as a weapon against them. Whatever her origin, the
presence of a new power enthroned in the sky led to a Second War in Heaven,
culminating in a battle between the Moon and the Thunder Father from which
both took sore wounds, and in which the world was shaken and remade.</p>
<p>The worship of the Blood Moon is a weakened survior into historic time of
the days before that final war; and is without doubt a debased form of the
original worship</p>
<p><em>Alignment</em>: None. Worshippers may have any alignment (but see
below). The worship of the Blood Moon is often appealing to mages of an
appropriate mindset.</p>
<p><em>Minimum Ability Scores</em>: Wis 12 Int 13 Cha 15</p>
<p><em>Races allowed</em>: Any.</p>
<p><em>Proficiencies</em>: Required — Spellcraft, Astronomy, Recommended -
Religion, Reading/Writing, Ancient Languages, Ancient History, Astrology.
Crossover: Priest, Wizard</p>
<p><em>Duties</em>: Spreading the liberating and enlightening message of the
Blood Moon, if desired.</p>
<p><em>Weapons and armour</em>: Chain, shield, Sickle, Scimitar, Shortbow,
Scythe, Rhompia (crescent bladed axe).</p>
<p><em>Other Limitations</em>: Receive only D6s for hit points; subject to
the equivalent of <cite>Ravenloft</cite> Power Checks, and hence may often
sport some malformation (power checks may occur for any essentially selfish
act): with freedom, such as the liberation from alignment, there comes a
corresponding responsibility, and those who succumb to temptation wear their
failures externally. The Blood Moon is also regarded as a demonic figure from
myth, so her followers also labour under that burden of prejudice, especially
in areas that were once conquered by, or under threat of conquest by her
Dominion.</p>
<p>Casting of priestly spells is affected by the phase of the moon as
follows:</p>
<ul>
<li>Dark of the Moon — 1st and 2nd only</li>
<li>Crescent Moon — up to 4th</li>
<li>Gibbous Moon — up to 6th</li>
<li>Full Moon — any</li>
</ul>
<p>This does not affect casting of wizard spells for split or dual class
Wizard/Priests.</p>
<p><em>Spheres</em>: major — All, Law, Chaos; minor Sun, Charm</p>
<p><em>Special spells</em>: <em>Moonbeam</em> (Sun 5th), <em>Summon Moon
Elemental</em>: As <cite>Summon Fire Elemental</cite>. The Moon elemental
attacks for only half the damage of a Fire elemental, but those attacked must
save vs Death Magic or make a Madness check.</p>
<p><em>Followers and strongholds</em>: As a minor deity, her priests only
have those followings they can personally attract.</p>
<p><em>Powers</em>: Worshippers may follow any alignment, but its value is
hidden. Alignment detecting spells yield only "Neutral"; and take no damage
or other adverse effects from magic items based on their alignment; and gain
benefits as the better of their own alignment and Neutral. When casting any
spell, may modify it with metamagic spells (as per Tome of Magic) as
follows:</p>
<ul>
<li>Dark of the Moon — none</li>
<li>Crescent Moon — level totals equal half spell's</li>
<li>Gibbous moon — level totals equal to the spell's</li>
<li>Full Moon — level totals equal to spell's + 2</li>
</ul>
<p>without memorising the metamagic spells or using extra spell slots. If the
priest is also a wizard, these benefits transfer to casting wizard spells as
well. Spells so affected glow bright red, even if normally not visible.</p>
<p><em>Symbols</em>: A half-red, half-black disk.</p>
<h4>Mistress Moon</h4>
<p>After the War in Heaven between Thunder Father and the Blood Moon, when
calm at last returned to Earth and Sky alike, and the clouds that had long
blocked sight of Sun, Moon and Stars alike parted, a white moon was revealed,
rolling along the same path as the Sun. Perhaps this was the conquering Blood
Moon washed clean by the storms, but broken like the Sun before her to wheel
between Heaven and Underworld.</p>
<p>Worshippers of Mistress Moon align themselves according to their age into
the appropriate aspect — maiden, matron or crone.</p>
<p><em>Alignment</em>: True Neutral. Priests may have any part-neutral
alignment. There is no restriction on worshippers.</p>
<p><em>Minimum Ability Scores</em>: Wis 10, Cha 12</p>
<p><em>Races allowed</em>: Any surface dwelling; only women are permitted
into the priesthood; few men even join the worshippers.</p>
<p><em>Proficiencies</em>: Required Astronomy; Recommended Religion,
Navigation, Astrology, Spellcraft, Reading/Writing.</p>
<p><em>Duties</em>: Guidance, Marriage, support of women in the transitions
of their life.</p>
<p><em>Weapons and armour</em>: Chain, shield, Sickle, Scimitar, Shortbow,
Scythe, Rhompia (crescent bladed axe).</p>
<p><em>Other Limitations</em>: The secretive and nocturnal nature of their
worship can cause a negative reaction from non-worshippers.</p>
<p><em>Spheres</em>: major — All, Charm, Divination, Summoning, Sun; minor -
Elemental, Healing (and Necromantic if you use the unrevised spell
spheres).</p>
<p><em>Followers and strongholds</em>: As a minor deity, her priests only
have those followings they can personally attract.</p>
<p><em>Powers</em>: A priestess of the moon as maiden has
<em>Charm/Fascination</em>; a priestess of the moon as matron has
<em>Soothing Word</em>; a priestess of the moon as crone has <em>Turn
Undead</em>. Saves against any of their magical effects are at -1 during the
appropriate phase of the moon.</p>
<p>At 5th Level, all gain <cite>Inspire Fear</cite> (as per the
<cite>CPHB</cite>).</p>
<p><em>Symbols</em>: A silver disk.</p>
<h4>Mountain Daughter</h4>
<p>The martial daughter of Mother Earth, the patron of warrior women, and
especially those who fight to defend, or, damage done, to avenge.</p>
<p><em>Alignment</em>: Chaotic good.</p>
<p><em>Minimum Ability Scores</em>: Wis 10, Str 12 (gain +5% xp if both are
16+)</p>
<p><em>Races allowed</em>: Human, elven or half-elven women.</p>
<p><em>Proficiencies</em>: Required Tracking (as Ranger); Recommended
Religion, Reading/Writing, Riding, Healing. Crossover Priest, General and
Warrior</p>
<p><em>Duties</em>: Defending, especially other women; avenging harm done to
them.</p>
<p><em>Weapons and armour</em>: Any armour and shield, any axe or axe-like
pole arm. May specialise in one chosen weapon.</p>
<p><em>Other Limitations</em>: Joining this priesthood separates a woman from
her normal society. In particular, she may not marry</p>
<p><em>Spheres</em>: major — All, Healing, Protection, Elemental Earth; minor
- Necromantic, Guardian.</p>
<p><em>Followers and strongholds</em>: TBD.</p>
<p><em>Powers</em>: <cite>Bladethirst</cite>, level times daily, castable on
her own axe. <cite>Incite berserker rage</cite> in self or other members of
the cult.</p>
<p><em>Symbols</em>: A bloody axe.</p>
<h4>Sir Sword</h4>
<p>Once a brother of the Thunder Father, now the wielder of the archetypal
sword, and that sword itself, that first brought death to the world.</p>
<p><em>Alignment</em>: Lawful Neutral.</p>
<p><em>Minimum Ability Scores</em>: Wis 9, Str 13</p>
<p><em>Races allowed</em>: Any.</p>
<p><em>Proficiencies</em>: As <cite>CPHB</cite> war god, including
crossovers</p>
<p><em>Duties</em>: Excelling in martial prowess, separating the living and
the dead (including laying to rest those who should be dead, but are not -
the undead).</p>
<p><em>Weapons and armour</em>: Any armour and shield, any sword. May
specialise in all swords.</p>
<p><em>Other Limitations</em>: May not be raised or resurrected or even
turned into undead (though the physical remains of the priest may be animated
as a skeleton or zombie). Any transition to undeath e.g. by level draining by
high level undead, results in the character's death rather than
transformation into undead.</p>
<p><em>Spheres</em>: major — All, Combat, Necromantic (but may not raise the
dead); minor Healing, Protection.</p>
<p><em>Followers and strongholds</em>: TBD.</p>
<p><em>Powers</em>: <cite>Turn Undead</cite>; <em>Sense Assassin</em> ( WIS
based proficiency ); CON bonus vs poison and such as a dwarf (doubled if you
are one).</p>
<p><em>Symbols</em>: A sword.</p>
<h4>Volcano Brother</h4>
<p>The youngest brother of the Sun, who fell into the Earth, not into the
Underworld. As the <cite>CPHB</cite> Fire god with the following changes:</p>
<p><em>Proficiencies</em>: add bonus one forge-related and one
farming-related</p>
<p><em>Duties</em>: Aiding and being an example to the workers on the
land.</p>
<p><em>Spheres</em>: major — All, Healing, Elemental Fire; minor — Healing,
Necromantic, Protection.</p>
<p><em>Symbols</em>: A burning spear.</p>
<h4>Thunder Father</h4>
<p>The son of Sky and Earth, who fell in the Gods War long ago. This is how
his priests of that age might have appeared.</p>
<p><em>Alignment</em>: Neutral good.</p>
<p><em>Minimum Ability Scores</em>: Wis 10, Con 12</p>
<p><em>Races allowed</em>: Air-breathing males.</p>
<p><em>Proficiencies</em>: As <cite>CPHB</cite> Sky/Weather god</p>
<p><em>Duties</em>: What a man's gotta do; to be an exemplar of the role of
man as father, provider, protector, and, as needs be, warrior.</p>
<p><em>Weapons and armour</em>: As the <cite>CPHB</cite> ruling god.</p>
<p><em>Spheres</em>: major — All, Weather, Elemental Air; minor — Healing,
Combat.</p>
<p><em>Special spells</em>: Add the following mage spells at their original
level — <cite>Fly</cite>, <cite>Dimension Door</cite>, <cite>Teleport</cite>,
plus <cite>Conjure Air Elemental</cite> (as <cite>Conjure Fire
Elemental</cite>).</p>
<p><em>Powers</em>: <cite>Incite berserker rage</cite> and <cite>Inspire
Fear</cite> as CPHB.</p>
<p><em>Symbols</em>: A thundercloud.</p>
<h4>Desert Storm</h4>
<p>A brother of the Thunder Father, patron of berserk warriors who strive
against unnatural monsters. As the <cite>CPHB</cite> god of Strength, with
the following changes</p>
<p><em>Alignment</em>: Chaotic (urrr... Disorderly) neutral.</p>
<p><em>Duties</em>: Destroying unnatural monsters.</p>
<p><em>Special spells</em>: Replace <cite>Flamestrike</cite> with
<cite>Conjure Air Elemental</cite>.</p>
<p><em>Symbol</em>: A bull's head.</p>
<h4>Mothers of the Moon</h4>
<p>The wizard-priests who created, empowered or restored the entity whose
remnant is now the Blood Moon were at one time worshipped as demigods in
their own right, and in their collective role as those who brought the moon
into being, as a fully powered god-equivalent. This is how their worshippers
might have appeared</p>
<p><em>Alignment</em>: Neutral.</p>
<p><em>Minimum Ability Scores</em>: Wis 10</p>
<p><em>Races allowed</em>: Any.</p>
<p><em>Proficiencies</em>: As <cite>CPHB</cite> god of Everything</p>
<p><em>Duties</em>: Spread the word. Bring civilsation to the barbarian and
savage.</p>
<p><em>Weapons and armour</em>: Any armour and shield, scimitar, sickle and
scythe. May specialise in scimitar.</p>
<p><em>Spheres</em>: major — All, Charm, Necromantic, Sun; minor — Healing,
Combat.</p>
<p><em>Followers and strongholds</em>: TDB.</p>
<p><em>Other Limitations</em>: Casting of priestly spells is affected by the
phase of the moon as follows:</p>
<ul>
<li>Dark of the Moon — 1st and 2nd only</li>
<li>Crescent Moon — up to 4th</li>
<li>Gibbous Moon — up to 6th</li>
<li>Full Moon — any</li>
</ul>
<p>This does not affect casting of wizard spells for split or dual class
Wizard/Priests.</p>
<p><em>Special spells</em>: <em>Summon Moon Elemental</em>: As <cite>Summon
Fire Elemental</cite>. The Moon elemental attacks for only half the damage of
a Fire elemental, but those attacked must save vs Death Magic or make a
Madness check.</p>
<p><em>Powers</em>: <cite>Turn Undead</cite>.</p>
<p><em>Symbols</em>: A silver moon.</p>
<h4>Emperor Sun</h4>
<p>The first ruler of the cosmos.</p>
<p><em>Alignment</em>: Lawful (= bureaucratic) good.</p>
<p><em>Minimum Ability Scores</em>: Wis 12, Int 12</p>
<p><em>Races allowed</em>: Men whose fathers were priests of Emperor Sun.</p>
<p><em>Proficiencies</em>: Required Healing; Recommended Religion,
Reading/Writing, Riding (horse), Play Harp. Crossovers as <cite>CPHB</cite>
Sun god.</p>
<p><em>Duties</em>: Governing. Being an example of austere virtue</p>
<p><em>Weapons and armour</em>: As <cite>CPHB</cite> Sun god</p>
<p><em>Spheres</em>: major — All, Divination, Healing, Necromantic, Sun;
minor — Charm, Elemental Fire, Plant, Protection.</p>
<p><em>Special spells</em>: <em>Imbue with Spell ability</em> — despite only
having minor access to the Charm sphere.</p>
<p><em>Followers and strongholds</em>: TDB.</p>
<p><em>Powers</em>: <cite>Turn Undead</cite>, <cite>Soothing Word</cite>,
<cite>Inspire Fear</cite>.</p>
<p><em>Symbols</em>: A golden sunburst.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-85250182461355793382007-06-26T20:36:00.001+01:002007-06-26T20:37:07.211+01:00A&E Ig-theme capsule essays<p>The posts for today are my responses to the optional theme-for-the-issue posed in
<cite>Alarums & Excursions</cite></p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-27853777738613791602007-06-26T20:35:00.001+01:002007-06-26T20:35:50.884+01:00The difference between Old and New campaigns<p>How old is old? While 1960s rock stars may have talked the talk, my
experience is of campaigns that actually did die before they got old. Usually
I was introducing new campaigns (often also implying new systems) to old
players.</p>
<p>The only longish running campaign with some later introduction of players
was the <cite>Champions</cite> game from the mid '80s. There, the genre
conventions were strong enough, assuming the players understood them, that
they could hit the ground running. In the case of the genre-unaware player
cited above coming in later, I guess that the campaign in mid-flow had enough
momentum to ride through that sort of local difficulty, whereas a newly
starting one, with less player investment all round, might have foundered in
favour of something more attuned to the new consensus.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-634414663933130322007-06-26T20:34:00.001+01:002007-06-26T20:34:53.621+01:00Working around Combat Patterns (he hits, I parry)<p>I didn't play <cite>Ars Magica</cite> for long enough for the variant
“He hits, I soak” to become clichéd, though my converted high-CON
ex-<cite>AD&D2</cite> Uruk Hai was very good at that version of the old
standard. And it depends what you mean by a pattern — if you take the
software engineering meaning, that really means a stereotype, in the same
sense that that word used to have in printing, of a ready made format Opening
gambits are a source of behaviours that often get thus stereotyped —
“Here come the flying feet of Kung Fu!” or “We
<cite>Starsky & Hutch</cite> the door.“ — a reference from
when they were on the TV (as opposed to the 2004 movie), not that long before the very early <cite>D&D</cite>ing
days — the fighter knocks down the door while a mage stands ready to Magic
Missile what may be revealed.</p>
<p>But I guess the real intent of the topic was on the behaviour that emerges
when you actually invoke the game mechanics. At this point the fact that each
entity in its turn — and that encompasses even the different turn rates
for different entities that is part of the <cite>Hero</cite> system —
is given an action that may be used to attack, and that usually meets some
implicit resistance from the target. The underlying game mechanics will
always drive you to some variant of the the “I attack, he
defends” iteration; even in <cite>Over the Edge</cite> and <cite>Feng
Shui</cite>, no matter what their respective authors would like to have you
believe.</p>
<p>All that those games attempt to do is hide this inconvenient fact under
layers of fluff. Such spurious detail has for me the effect of reducing both
my immersion (as a distraction) and also the credibility of the action
— I would rather hide detail I'm no expert in under the abstraction of
the mechanics. Otherwise you get to the ludicrous things like in the
<cite>Theatrix</cite> thread on r.g.f.a about 8 years back where what the
acting player described in the belief that it is a strong move was resolved
by the adjudicator taking the point of view that it was a weak one, or
descriptions of a combat in terms of fencing stances (recalling a somewhat
more recent thread on u.g.r or perhaps r.g.f.m). Not only am I not au fait
with the technical terms, but I do not find it credible that such technically
precise stances would be applicable to wilder melee — especially in the
example I recall of a combat with a broo. This style of play also seems
distressingly full of examples in which a player asserts what his opponent is
doing as much as his own character.</p>
<p>No, either you go to systems that plot moves at the sub-100ms increment
with Laban Notation, using complex transition rules to simulate physical
limitations on how far you can move, and that you can't move one arm though
another, and computing whether you'll fall over given that current stance,
and how to recover, and then you have to learn how to fight properly, for
real, to use it — something I contemplated over 25 years ago, and then
drew well back from — or you're stuck with the abstracted
action/re-action iteration.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-70528388149312172982007-06-26T20:33:00.002+01:002007-06-26T20:34:03.287+01:00What do you use for genre sources<p>The one time I found I really needed to get players into the groove for
anything I ran was <cite>Shadowrun</cite> when few if any of the players had
read anything even vaguely cyberpunk-ish. To remedy that, I handed around the
first accompanying volume of fiction, the <cite>Into the Shadows</cite>
braided anthology, for them to read in advance of the character generation
session. In other cases, my players seem to have already had some idea of the
genre or at least conventions typical of these games absorbed by osmosis from
the surrounding culture. The main exception I recall was a player who just
wasn't into superheroes who joined in one session of <cite>Champions</cite>.
I don't think a reading assignment would have helped in the short time
available.</p>
<p>The time I really went looking for genre material (as opposed to things
like historical references for period context before finally not getting
around to joining the Saxum Caribetum saga) was when running
<cite>Vampire</cite> — and there it was easy enough to find source
material in the usual bookshops — which I then plundered for NPCs.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-11339832265498660532007-06-26T20:33:00.001+01:002007-06-26T20:33:37.631+01:00Kill or stun — which to do<p>One reason to kill is when you cannot deal with the opponent in any other
fashion. The last game I actually played had just about come to this point -
the mind warping powers of the elves out of paratime were such that they
couldn't be kept prisoner by mere humans for any length of time. So, for our
own security, the only good pointy was a dead one.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-71727297427939854162007-06-26T20:31:00.002+01:002007-06-26T20:38:16.320+01:00Saintly PCs — what makes them, what game mechanics might they use, and<p>I think we have to distinguish between pious characters and those who are
merely holier-than-thou; and also have some ground rules on what the piety is
being measured against to do this topic justice. How would a character
that's not following something close to one of the Faiths of the Book
be judged as saintly?</p>
<p>It is true that many characters that say “pious” or
“holy” on the character sheet actually turn out aligned simply
Lawful/Obnoxious — the one I remember from local play being an LG dwarf
cleric by the name of Aman Naug who came over as very austere and
puritanical, and noted as to be one of the first against the wall when the CG
revolution came. Most interestingly, when dusted off post
<cite>AD&D2</cite>, as a priest of Aurochs, lord of berserk strength (the
<cite>CPHB</cite> Strength specialty priest type), he became the rather
lighter-hearted Noggin the kung-fu barbarian dwarf in very short order. And
he was doing a lot of righteous smiting as befitted his faith. Was he
saintly?</p>
<p>In a more familiar style, I remember affectionately the write-ups from
long, long ago of the Tale of Two Clerics, two pious characters and their
unfortunate companion, the rather more self-interested Frank (and all his
relatives — replacements — of the same name). They sounded saintly, and
certainly seemed to work.</p>
<p>Had I actually completed character generation for Saxum, my character
there would have been inspired by Roger Bacon, as portrayed in Blish's
<cite>Doctor Mirabilis</cite>, and would have had a definite background from
the Church, even if a mildly heterodox one, from time spent in the University
at Paris, a pious inquirer into the majesty of Creation. As it turned out, I
don't think he would have fitted the rest of the group, so that's
saintly character that wouldn't have worked, but in that case only due
to the particular context in which he would have been set.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-40610206839685455452007-06-26T20:31:00.001+01:002007-06-26T20:31:36.041+01:00Why are some players reluctant to GM<p>I can't say for sure about the habitual player-only type, but I
might share some of the problems. For me, my reluctance to resume after
burn-out was, and remains, centred about the problem of excessive GM
authority in anything adjudicated. It's about not being able to sustain
the necessary illusion of player free will from my PoV, while keeping the
amount of GM prep needed to a manageable level. For a fully live
quasi-simulation, a world that “runs itself”, in which the
players can really do what they want, the workload is enormous (at least
compared with the amount of time and energy I feel I can devote to it these
days). That's before one faces the possibility that every player takes
off on a separate agenda (as helped crash my <cite>V:tM</cite> chronicle).
For anything constrained, I have to guide the players, and this feels
wrong.</p>
<p>On top of that, choosing a system, choosing how to customise it, can all
lead to analysis paralysis even before getting to the crunch point of
selecting a setting, and trying to set it in motion. And then you have to
worry about whether your players will be happy to consume what it is you have
to offer, whether they will propose characters that you can handle, and that
won't do violence to what you wanted to run.</p>
<p>It was all so much simpler when a satisfying evening's gaming could
be put together by selecting opponents for two fight scenes and a skeleton of
narration to join them up. Things started to go downhill when gaming evenings
had to stop at half ten rather than one a.m., and violence had to be
suppressed after the 9 o'clock watershed and/or speeded up by
abstraction, and other things had to be introduced to fill the space. Nearly
as good are the few very best pre-packaged adventures where the GM can just
play the hand he's been given without needing to rewrite it to
eliminate crass bits, and allow the time for the game system to produce
results, rather than have to also make them up.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-52792637966022564102007-06-26T20:30:00.001+01:002007-06-26T20:30:37.368+01:00Rules that players disagree with<p>Long, long ago, the real biggie was the wizards and swords one. We cured
that one when one time the mages and thieves, the sole survivors of a mêlée,
started to squabble over the division of the loot, drew swords and axes, and
slaughtered each other <cite>tout de suite</cite>. Then they saw the wisdom
of the arbitrary ruling. By the early 90's, it had even become one of the
bits of antique charm of the <cite>*D&D</cite> rules (another thing to
dislike about <cite>3e</cite>) that made it attractive to pick up
<cite>AD&D2</cite> and play that rather than <cite>RQ</cite>.</p>
<p>And nobody liked the fire-and-forget magic system, so we replaced it
almost from the get-go.</p>
<p>I can't remember any other focussed little rules that were
contentious, though there must have been many. More often it was whole-system
things not amenable to single-point changes (bricks <em xml:lang="de"
title="Over all">über alles</em>
in <cite>Champions</cite>, the system sagging by about 8-9th level in
<cite>*D&D</cite>, the unreasonable effectiveness of mages when played
with a little thought in <cite>Shadowrun</cite>). The nearest to a point
problem was with <cite>Pendragon</cite> (which we used in a Glorantha
setting), where no-one liked the number of shots a slinger could get off on
an opposing foot-soldier charging at him, a combination of range, rate of
fire and movement rules conspiring together, but that was washed way by the
other problems with that particular campaign.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-65141003148030794882007-06-26T20:29:00.001+01:002007-06-26T20:29:48.900+01:00Have you tried hitting PCs with a baby<p>One time, this was almost literal - a small child was used as a missile by
a supervillain (Malice, of the Bad Girls) in a <cite>Champions</cite> game.
It's not a very effective thing to do, as they are limited in the damage they
can inflict by their low BOD and zero DEF. Paving slabs are more
effective.</p>
<p>As for the idea of inflicting parenthood, even adoptive or something like,
and transient, it was never explored while I was involved. Heck, we
didn't even have any “spunky kid” PCs (thank goodness,
worse than kender…) The only episode I can recall in which children
actually appeared was an almost off-screen incident in the
Glorantha/<cite>RQ</cite> game where the PCs had returned to their home
steading, and my Babeester Gor axe-murderess was co-opted by the Voria
nursemaid as an assistant. This being a cult obligation, she grimaced, went
along, and into an off-screen interlude.</p>
<p>Subsequently in the same GM's <span xml:lang="la"
title="Set in Brittany, at La Roche Caribe" class="breakline">Saxum
Caribetum</span> saga, I gather the mages get involved in orgies, sparked off
by faerie wine, which have resulted in offspring as well as points of
<cite>vis</cite>, but I get the impression that the grogs are left to deal
with the sprogs. There may be more sordid details on the campaign web page
than I wot of.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-89123994811026767732007-06-26T20:28:00.002+01:002007-06-26T20:29:08.766+01:00Creating a home base for PCs<p>In many cases, PCs were peripatetic, where not simply garaged somewhere
abstract between weekly dungeon delves, so the issue rarely arose. In the
earliest days, some characters had (off-screen) castles - something spend six
figure fortunes on. My MU, Ororo, was planning to create a demi-plane, a
cottage in an eternally summer garden in a small valley magically hidden in
the middle of a howling snowy waste, the way in being through a gate in the
wastes, but the campaign folded before she could organise the magical
wherewithal. It would have had home comforts, defence in depth, and, most
importantly, significant swank value.</p>
<p>The one home base that had significant time invested in — both
design and play - was Doc Savage's lab in the London Watch
<cite>Champions</cite> campaign, but despite the fact that I did the job of
putting it into a CAD system, the passage of the years has eroded memory of
the design process. In that game I did have a PC with a defined <span
title="foot hold, lit. foot to the ground" xml:lang="fr">pied à terre</span>;
Pushover had a flat [never detailed] in the block containing the
Women's Centre where she worked, but having been developed as a
character, decided that the macho super-hero thing wasn't for her and
faded out of play. [I'm getting my revenge now — an alternate
version of her is co-starring in my latest fiction, and she's going to
have to deal with being faced with the problem of saving the world this
time.]</p>
<p>There was a home base in the last <cite>AD&D2</cite> game, a castle,
but as that was the holding of the NPC Baron for whom the PCs worked as elite
forces, it was a given, rather than being chosen. In the paratime/60's
spy game, we were also eventually given a base, an alternative where a
paratime capable civilisation had been wiped out. The most involved base-like
stories with off-beat design criteria would have come from the local
<cite>Ars Magica</cite> saga <span xml:lang="la">( <a
href="http://www.quantal.demon.co.uk/"
title="Set in Brittany, at La Roche Caribe">Saxum Caribetum</a> ),</span>
where founding the covenant took most of the first realtime year's
play, and it took a resolving a lot of squabbling about the library before
construction even began.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-2104262660362780682007-06-26T20:28:00.001+01:002007-06-26T20:28:21.521+01:00What tips can you give about starting a gaming group<p>Thinking about it I guess I was always lucky, I always joined existing
groups, already accumulated by someone I knew from university, so it was more
a case of finding a group than founding it.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-43524774207205876902007-06-26T20:27:00.001+01:002007-06-26T20:27:38.755+01:00What do the players want the PCs to accomplish<p>I don't really recall having much in the way of grand PC-level goals. This
was one of the difficult things about trying character play. The satisfactory
games tended to be the ones in which what was to be accomplished was limited
and tactical — goals like “Clear out the deserted Wiri colony on 3rd level”.
Such goals, of course, arose on a player level, answering the question “what
do we want to do tonight?”. The episodic nature of the games — dungeoneering,
superheroics — lent itself to such tactical play. Adding continuity did tend
to replace the answer of “whatever we feel like” with “whatever we were
lumbered with as a leftover from last week, again”. This, in retrospect, may
not be an entirely unalloyed plus.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-25703539270354279972007-06-26T20:26:00.001+01:002007-06-26T20:26:45.400+01:00Pulling heartstrings — friends and family as levers<p>I never did much with this. On the family side, starting RPGing at college
when leaving home was a big step just being taken, characters had
automatically done much the same thing. For those of us who stayed close to
University, and especially those who have also refrained from breeding, the
same lifestyle decisions seem natural. The only vestiges of such things were
the DNPCs taken for a few odd points, when other disads have been mined
out.</p>
<p>But then much F/SF writing has the same conventions.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-80647856802379420222007-06-26T20:25:00.001+01:002007-06-26T20:25:53.248+01:00Restarting old games — whether to and how<p>That's restarting as in a car, though one could have written revive, to
avoid the sense of reinitialise.</p>
<p>Ignoring essentially stillborn games, in my experience games falter most
often for one of two reasons. The most prevalent is that the game mechanics
have given way under play; restarting means porting to a different system, in
which characters don't work like they used to, and it soon needs to be
put out if its misery (after seeing it happen a few times, we stopped doing
it).</p>
<p>The other is that some of the players — often the GM —
can't get out enough to justify what is being put in. This may manifest
as the thread getting lost, perhaps due to pushing past a logical stopping
point, or an acrimonious terminal session where divergent goals can no longer
be smoothed over. In this situation, admitting that this is dead, and burying
it is the only way.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-50050109228420930152007-06-26T20:24:00.002+01:002007-06-26T20:25:00.928+01:00What rôle does Party pressure play<p>This is more a player level set of agreed — even unspoken —
conventions in my experience. The characters work together as a genre given;
so I can't really comment on in-game effects.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-6344713878168215997.post-24540823341756195622007-06-26T20:24:00.001+01:002007-06-26T20:24:31.623+01:00What helps players stay in character<p>I'm not sure my experience is typical. In recent years at least, the
problem, when gaming in the evening after work, was keeping players from
lapsing into a comatose state, rather than dropping to player level. Caffeine
has little effect on the habituated. Worse, when players were out of the
limelight, multi-tasking happens as people took to maximizing the use of
their free time (reading, checking e-mail on laptops), to the extent of
needing to prod people when their PCs' actions came round in combat.</p>
<p>At that point a simple “Your turn” and a pause for
context-switching sufficed.</p>
<p>No-one violated character, but were active only fleetingly.</p>Steve Gilhamhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03622573187942388226noreply@blogger.com0