It was our second summer escape from the college!  Now experienced at junior leadership and field craft from the Basic Officer Training Course (BOTC), the cadets of the three military colleges travelled out across the country to receive environmental training with the sea, land, or air elements in which they had chosen (or sometimes had been directed) to build a career.  For those of us in the Navy, we went out to Victoria, BC for MARS II (Maritime Surface and Sub-surface Phase 2) and assumed the naval rank of midshipman – to be schooled in the ways of Nelson in small, medium, and large sized boats!

For that summer of 1977 we stayed at Royal Roads Military College for the ashore phase of the course, learning naval customs and procedures, nomenclature of ships and boats, knot-tying, signal flags, and, of special note, small boat handling and command.

At some point a rather hurried effort was put together to assemble a team of thirteen worthy midshipmen to man a ceremonial Clinker-Built Cutter (see photo below) and train to perfection for a cross-harbour ferrying of the Commander Maritime Forces Pacific, Rear-Admiral Andy Collier, and his wife as one of the main events of the annual Victoria Days May long-weekend festivities in Victoria’s downtown Inner Harbour. 

Thus, a “select” group of our Class of 79 trainees were “volun-told” to step up to the plates and handle this high-profile task.  The crew was a combination of 8 stalwart RMC lads and 5 sturdy CMR fellows (members of the Class of ’80 as they had done “Prep” year at CMR).  Our assigned Boatswain Training PO, Petty Officer Wonga took charge of our team and every morning the 13-man crew got up early and stroked our hearts out around the Royal Roads Lagoon.  Our illustrious Coxswain was Midshipman Richard “Squint” Gimblett – probably selected for that role because he had been standing between the beefy footballers Dave Bannister and Guy Killaby and looked in comparison too scrawny to pull an oar.  At any rate, Squint had to crack open his newly-issued Admiralty Manual of Seamanship to learn all the historical commands for rowing – a favourite to this day remains “Eyes in the boat!”  We all soon came to appreciate that it took a lot of effort by the oarsmen to get these heavy cutters going.  And once having built up an equal lot of inertia, it took quite some time and effort to slow down – so a large part of our practice was learning just when Squint should give the order “Way enough” for the others to take their last stroke and toss their oars to the vertical, for the cutter to glide another 50 yards or so to a smooth alongside.  It all sounds so good in theory….

The day before the big event, we were issued the stunning traditional Royal Navy “jack-tar” uniforms complete with striped shirts, navy vests, white pants, and the tiddly-est red kerchiefs ever seen by this writer!  (“Tiddly” is a colloquial naval term which means “stylish” or “cool” today.)  We were all quite happy with this sartorial step back into history.  It was indeed a wonderful stage prop for our Hornblower Moment!

We practiced still more on the final day – deploying the oars, stroking together in perfect unison, and, of course, practicing the ultimate challenge – a perfectly smooth alongside!  We knew it would have to be really good because not only were the Commander MARPAC and his wife there, but the City of Victoria and the provincial media would also be watching every movement closely.  And perhaps most sobering of all, PO Wonga would have our heads on a platter if we mucked it up!

That evening we got all dressed up, boarded the tiddly cutter, and took our positions.  Squint gave the first order – “Toss your Oars”!  We brought the oars up straight to the vertical, giving a nautical salute while the Admiral and his wife boarded the cutter.  All was well – I’m sure PO Wonga heaved a sigh of relief as we departed the jetty.

Our coxswain roared, “Give way together!” and off we stroked towards the government buildings. Our rowing was impeccable as we crossed the Victoria inner harbour towards the gala event at which most of Victoria would be cheering.  The Admiral seemed very pleased -- he chatted with his wife and occasionally questioned the swashbuckling Squint Gimblett.

The moment of truth came quickly – the alongside manoeuvre. Squint curved the Clinker-built Cutter perfectly along an arc to match the lie of the jetty.  The gang plank was in its expected position – all was ready.  He called out “Way enough”, and we tossed our oars – it was all now in King Neptune’s hands.

We glided into our berth majestically; however, if PO Wonga were there, he would have shouted out there is a bit too much speed… CRUNCH!  The cutter touched the jetty soundly and came to an abrupt halt in the water.  The Admiral displayed a momentary frown. Always the gentleman, Squint recovered nicely by steadying the Admiral’s wife – a gesture for which she was most grateful (Admiral Collier maybe not so much).  The show went on; with smiles and waves, the naval emissaries departed the cutter and disappeared into the adoring crowd.

As the crowd dispersed, we all turned to Squint and … gave him three cheers! None of us would have wanted that position!  And he really had recovered beautifully by “saving” the Admiral’s wifey! And thus, mythology is born. … Or perhaps that’s why he became an historian instead of a flag officer!

The CMR lads looked around at our impeccably tiddly attire and motioned toward the dusky, lamp-lit city.  The Old Forge Tavern on Douglas Street was beckoning.  Our savvy, jack-tar confreres from CMR knew well that the 20-something ladies of Victoria would just love to dance with old-time sailors – especially when they sported red kerchiefs!