SUBMARINERS TALES!!!!
- Thread starter Deeps
- Start date
Ok you asked for it ! We were doing a sponsored row on one of those rowing machine things.The task was to row from Faslane to New york . The machine was in the forends , well it was worked out that at a steady 32 rpm we could all row for 30 mins each and complete it . We were at sea on patrol so it passed the time . Anyway the sound room picked up a threat tonal that seemed to be a Victor 3 . We cracked on with the row .
Skipper showed a bit of interest but it tied in with the int report so was'nt too worried . We then lost the contact in some ''Bio'' .
The rowing was going well we all got into a routine , a good chance to make a bit of money for some kid's hospice near Loch Lomond . During the morning watch mr victor 3 turned up again , skipper was called .We cleared stern arcs a few times and he was still there , Sound room were totally confused as they could not get a bearing , the victor 3 was on 2007 and not on towed array .
Skipper called the boat to action stations and the contact dissappeared. We stood down after a few hours , got back into normal routine and carried on rowing and guess what the victor 3 turned up .Sound room and the CHOPS(S) didnt have a clue . Suddenly a big fat TAS rate ing piped up and said i know what it is . Yep you have guessed .A victor 3 has the same tonal 's as a standard rowing machine .
The reason we lost at first and still carried on with rowing was the rowing was blanked out by ''bio'' and ''shore noise''or so our sound room had said . So on a multi billion pound weapon like a Polaris submarine even the simpliest thing like a sponsored row can cause havoc .
I would like to add a disclaimer to any technical buffs out there ,if any of my technical info is in correct ,this due to me leaving the submarine service 12 years ago , and i have had to re tell the same story to my army mates on numerous times (having to simplify it).But it did happen cos i was there .
Skipper showed a bit of interest but it tied in with the int report so was'nt too worried . We then lost the contact in some ''Bio'' .
The rowing was going well we all got into a routine , a good chance to make a bit of money for some kid's hospice near Loch Lomond . During the morning watch mr victor 3 turned up again , skipper was called .We cleared stern arcs a few times and he was still there , Sound room were totally confused as they could not get a bearing , the victor 3 was on 2007 and not on towed array .
Skipper called the boat to action stations and the contact dissappeared. We stood down after a few hours , got back into normal routine and carried on rowing and guess what the victor 3 turned up .Sound room and the CHOPS(S) didnt have a clue . Suddenly a big fat TAS rate ing piped up and said i know what it is . Yep you have guessed .A victor 3 has the same tonal 's as a standard rowing machine .
The reason we lost at first and still carried on with rowing was the rowing was blanked out by ''bio'' and ''shore noise''or so our sound room had said . So on a multi billion pound weapon like a Polaris submarine even the simpliest thing like a sponsored row can cause havoc .
I would like to add a disclaimer to any technical buffs out there ,if any of my technical info is in correct ,this due to me leaving the submarine service 12 years ago , and i have had to re tell the same story to my army mates on numerous times (having to simplify it).But it did happen cos i was there .
OK, here we go.
Falmouth, '84 or '85, HMS/M Otus alongside port side to. On another jetty is the Pollington ( Ton class minesweeper for the sprogs ). The jetties in those days were wooden.
We're ashore in our hotel's and decide on a DTS. So we go to our adopted pub and all the skimmers are there, no problem, good laugh etc. until one of my WEM's lobs a load of 2p coins at them and says " oy! skimmer, have a cup a tea on my substistence ". Needless to say it kicked off so I leapt in to calm things down. It was only 1400 so I suggestd we all meet up for a combined run ashore that evening as we were sailing at 0500 straight back to Dolphin.
So there we are waiting ( us lot had been in the British Legion all afternoon as the pubs were shut ) then they turned up on mass in togas. we, of course, were totally outdone but we had a wicked night of piss taking, dits, singing etc. The night ended with yours truly singing " My Way " ( sad I know ).
Now imagine; 0500Z Harbour Stations. Off we go straight back to Pompey on the roof, none of the usual hassle going past Portland, and arrive at Dolphin at approx 2200Z.
At Dolphin, STARBOARD side to, trot 1 you could see from the jetty, in big
white letters " WE DID IT OUR WAY LUV POLLY " all along the side of the casing. Obviously when you are on the casing or bridge you can't see it.
We wondered what all the cross channel ferries etc. thought.
Skimmers 1 Sundodgers 0
Falmouth, '84 or '85, HMS/M Otus alongside port side to. On another jetty is the Pollington ( Ton class minesweeper for the sprogs ). The jetties in those days were wooden.
We're ashore in our hotel's and decide on a DTS. So we go to our adopted pub and all the skimmers are there, no problem, good laugh etc. until one of my WEM's lobs a load of 2p coins at them and says " oy! skimmer, have a cup a tea on my substistence ". Needless to say it kicked off so I leapt in to calm things down. It was only 1400 so I suggestd we all meet up for a combined run ashore that evening as we were sailing at 0500 straight back to Dolphin.
So there we are waiting ( us lot had been in the British Legion all afternoon as the pubs were shut ) then they turned up on mass in togas. we, of course, were totally outdone but we had a wicked night of piss taking, dits, singing etc. The night ended with yours truly singing " My Way " ( sad I know ).
Now imagine; 0500Z Harbour Stations. Off we go straight back to Pompey on the roof, none of the usual hassle going past Portland, and arrive at Dolphin at approx 2200Z.
At Dolphin, STARBOARD side to, trot 1 you could see from the jetty, in big
white letters " WE DID IT OUR WAY LUV POLLY " all along the side of the casing. Obviously when you are on the casing or bridge you can't see it.
We wondered what all the cross channel ferries etc. thought.
Skimmers 1 Sundodgers 0
Function
If you can get look at page 184 of "HM Submarines in Camera" 1901 to 1996 you will see a picture of the outline of a S/T Class Nuke, painted on the transom boot topping of HMS Scylla a Leander Type Frigate berthed astern a nuke boat in Faslane. The artist has made is fairly small hoping the skimmers will not notice it for a few months.
The story is true the facts may have been embelished to read large.
Nutty
If you can get look at page 184 of "HM Submarines in Camera" 1901 to 1996 you will see a picture of the outline of a S/T Class Nuke, painted on the transom boot topping of HMS Scylla a Leander Type Frigate berthed astern a nuke boat in Faslane. The artist has made is fairly small hoping the skimmers will not notice it for a few months.
The story is true the facts may have been embelished to read large.
Nutty
Bernie was a stoker, he was not blessed with the greatest of brains but he was a nice bloke and everyone in the crew got on with him. The problem with Bernie was, he was always broke and looking for ways to make money. Germany is a little more relaxed than the UK when it comes to sex and the sale of sex items and Bernie decided that, bearing in mind the normal male frustrations experienced by the crew at sea, he could make an absolute killing if he bought an inflatable sex doll and rented it out to the crew. Now I know what you are thinking and, to be honest, I believe the majority of the crew would agree with you. After all, when all’s said and done, even submariners are human and will draw the line somewhere. But Bernie could not be told. He even made up a sign, in his best handwriting, using bright coloured felt tip pens. “Fifty pence a go, first one to spot its nose running empties it.’ Not, I have to say, a sign which would instill a sense of sexual desire in most men. Bernie was not a selfish man but, I suppose justifiably, he felt that it would be fair if he were to have one night with the woman of his dreams before he sold her into prostitution amongst the crew. We had been out consuming huge quantities of beer and had collapsed into bed to sleep it off. We had not been in bed long when we were awoken by a strange rhythmic squealing noise. Doors opened all along the hotel passages and a selection of guests, ranging from drunken submariners to fatigued businessman were wandering toward the stairway in search of the noise. I had almost reached the stairs when I heard a guttural stream of German coming from below. I couldn’t speak any of the language but just the tone of it was enough to make me realise that the words were uttered by somebody who was rather unhappy with something. I looked over the balcony and there, halfway up the grand staircase, stark naked, was Bernie. His backside was pumping up and down and beneath him was the wide armed, open mouthed inflatable doll, bouncing away in latex lust. The stairs were tiled and with every thrust of Bernie’s not inconsiderable backside, the latex doll emitted a screech as she was rubbed across the vinyl surface.
“Otto. Kom.†I heard and a large Alsatian dog appeared beside the hotel owner. With a flick of his wrist the owner set the dog on the pair of fornicating figures on the stairs. Unfortunately the dog decided to attack the one that was making the most noise first, the doll. Its fangs sank into the hip of the bouncing babe and, with a hideous farting sound, she withered and deflated beneath the humping Bernie. The dog, surprised by the noise and the gush of air, ran whimpering back into the owner’s accommodation leaving Bernie frustrated and unfulfilled.
“You bastard,†he screamed, clambering to his feet, genitals in full view of the, by this time, considerable audience, “You’ve burst my woman.†And with that he made a lunge for the owner’s throat. Luckily he was intercepted by two of his stoker colleagues who dragged him, kicking and screaming back, to his room. He was a sorry sight, pulled backwards down the passageway, his lilywhite naked body glowing in the stark electric light and the love of his life, now fully deflated, dragged along the floor behind him, her hand in his. Several of us managed to placate the irate owner and assured him that we would keep Bernie under control. I made my way to his room to make sure that he would not be repeating the performance and entered only to find Bernie, with a puncture repair outfit, complete with French chalk and rubber patches, desperately trying to plug the gaps in his now shredded sweethearts lower anatomy. Another of Bernie’s fortune making ventures had been brought to an untimely end.
It was not to be the end of Bernie’s adventures in Emden. The day we sailed I was checking the equipment in the after torpedo room when I heard a huge roar from the stoker’s mess just around the corner by the after escape tower. Curious, I knocked and went in. Bernie was standing on the table, once again he was naked from the waist down. He had his back to me.
“Bernie, what is it with you and getting your tackle out?†I asked.
People were pointing and grimacing toward his genitals. Bernie turned round and I unconsciously crossed my legs and winced. There, through his foreskin, was what I believe is called an Albert ring. He had had his foreskin pierced and a large gold ring put through it.
“Bernie, you are definitely off your trolley.†I said, and turned to walk out.
It wasn’t long before the whole crew became aware of Bernies appendage. It went round like a bush fire, everybody wanted to see it but nobody really wanted to ask. It wasn’t long before events took a turn for the worse.
I was on watch in the control room, we were on the surface and heading back to the UK. Bernie had been in the after corner for an hour or more. He wasn’t on watch but he was talking to the stoker who was working the hydraulic sytems and masts from the panel in that corner. The conversation was getting more and more heated. I was unable to hear what was being said but Bernie was obviously getting annoyed. It was slowly becoming more and more likely that a fight would break out, and they were only a few feet from the Captain’s cabin. I felt it prudent to intervene and calm things down and, stepping between them I pulled the two apart.
“Berine,†I asked, “What are you doing here? You’re off watch and you’re making enough noise to wake the dead. Get back to your mess and, whatever your gripe is, talk about it later.â€
“But it bloody hurts TI, he won’t tell me where it is.â€
Bernie, what hurts and he won’t tell you where what is?â€
My knob hurts and he won’t tell me where the key is.â€
I was struggling here, I hadn’t got a clue what he was on about.
“Bernie, hang on, just tell me what is wrong, preferably in a way that I’ll be able to understand what the hell you’re walloping on about.†I said, trying to calm him down.
“I’ll show you what I’m on about TI.†And, with a flourish Bernie dropped his trousers. My eyes must have popped out of my head.
“Now do you see what I mean?†He demanded.
There, where the gold ring had previously been, was a large, very strong, Chubb security padlock. It must have weighed about a pound and it was stretching his foreskin almost to his knees.
“The lads in the mess held me down, took my ring out and put this in its place TI. Now they won’t give me the key to unlock it.â€
Unfortunately it was at that moment that the Captain decided to come out of his cabin and see what all the commotion was about. He took one look at Bernies elongated penis, looked at me and said,
“TI, I don’t know what this is about, I don’t want to know what this is about, but you and the Chief Stoker will make sure that it is sorted, understood?â€
“Yes sir.†I replied to his back as returned to his cabin, shaking his head.
“Bernie, you are a ******.†I stated, now angry at being bollocked by the Captain.
“That’s just it TI. I am not a ****** and I will never be a ****** again unless this bastard gives me the key to this padlock.â€
“Robby, give him the key.â€
“No TI.â€
“Robby, I am not messing about, if you do not give him the key I will stick you on for disobeying a direct order. Now, I am ordering you to give him the key.â€
“I can’t TI.â€
“What do you mean you can’t. If it’s in your locker, go and get it. If someone else has it, get them to give Bernie the key.â€
“No TI, you don’t understand. I can’t give him the key because I threw it over the side.â€
“You did what?â€
This was unbelievable. Bernie looked as though he was going to cry. He began to protest.
“What am I going to say to my wife when I get home with this on me dick? Sorry darling I can’t make love to you until the fire brigade have cut this padlock off me knob.â€
I tried to calm him down.
“Bernie, go back to your mess, I’ll get hold of the Chief stoker and we’ll see if we can sort this out, and you,†I turned to Robby but couldn’t carry on, I couldn’t hold back the laughter any more and just walked away, tears streaming down my face.
The Chief Stoker was called and he and I retired to the bathroom with Bernie where we inspected the padlock. The bright yellow rubber gloves we wore to inspect the offending article made us look like a couple of demented doctors as we turned it round and inspected it from all angles. It was no ordinary padlock. It was tempered steel and of the type used on the gun lockers. This would not be easy. The Chief Tiff was called to assist in the inspection. Even the Engineer Officer took his turn. It was amazing how many men decided that they needed to wash their hands during the time we were in the bathroom, even though they had been at sea for weeks and knew that there was no water. Everbody wanted to have a look at Bernie’s attachment.
By this time things were getting serious. Bernie’s penis was turning a funny mottled blue colour and it was obvious that something had to be done, and quick.
“Bernie,†said the Chief Stoker, “It’s going to have to be hacksawed off, that’s the only way.â€
Bernie looked almost relieved.
“Well alright, but can you do it quickly please, it really hurts now.†Pleaded the unfortunate stoker.
“I ain’t doing it Bernie. If I slip I could take your knob off mate. No. You’ll have to do it yourself.â€
Bernie retreated to the only vice on the boat. It was in the engine room. The vice was slightly above waist height and was between the back end of the engines. Bernie was standing on tiptoe, naked from the waist down with the vice in the padlock and his foreskin stretched beyond all recognition. The sea was quite rough and, as the boat rolled Bernie rolled with it. Unfortunately his penis, held firmly in place by the padlock, clamped in the vice, did not roll with him. Every time the boat rolled to port Bernie moved farther from the vice and emitted a pained squeal. He was hacksawing for all he was worth but, as we all know, when you hacksaw metal it gets very hot. By the time he had managed to release himself almost an hour later, Bernie was burnt and blistered in places no man wants to be burnt and blistered. The next stop was the Coxswain who issued Bernie with some salve to cool the burns and reduce the blistering.
Bernie never did put his Albert ring back in place. I wonder what his wife said when he got home with a swollen penis with an extra hole in the end.
“Otto. Kom.†I heard and a large Alsatian dog appeared beside the hotel owner. With a flick of his wrist the owner set the dog on the pair of fornicating figures on the stairs. Unfortunately the dog decided to attack the one that was making the most noise first, the doll. Its fangs sank into the hip of the bouncing babe and, with a hideous farting sound, she withered and deflated beneath the humping Bernie. The dog, surprised by the noise and the gush of air, ran whimpering back into the owner’s accommodation leaving Bernie frustrated and unfulfilled.
“You bastard,†he screamed, clambering to his feet, genitals in full view of the, by this time, considerable audience, “You’ve burst my woman.†And with that he made a lunge for the owner’s throat. Luckily he was intercepted by two of his stoker colleagues who dragged him, kicking and screaming back, to his room. He was a sorry sight, pulled backwards down the passageway, his lilywhite naked body glowing in the stark electric light and the love of his life, now fully deflated, dragged along the floor behind him, her hand in his. Several of us managed to placate the irate owner and assured him that we would keep Bernie under control. I made my way to his room to make sure that he would not be repeating the performance and entered only to find Bernie, with a puncture repair outfit, complete with French chalk and rubber patches, desperately trying to plug the gaps in his now shredded sweethearts lower anatomy. Another of Bernie’s fortune making ventures had been brought to an untimely end.
It was not to be the end of Bernie’s adventures in Emden. The day we sailed I was checking the equipment in the after torpedo room when I heard a huge roar from the stoker’s mess just around the corner by the after escape tower. Curious, I knocked and went in. Bernie was standing on the table, once again he was naked from the waist down. He had his back to me.
“Bernie, what is it with you and getting your tackle out?†I asked.
People were pointing and grimacing toward his genitals. Bernie turned round and I unconsciously crossed my legs and winced. There, through his foreskin, was what I believe is called an Albert ring. He had had his foreskin pierced and a large gold ring put through it.
“Bernie, you are definitely off your trolley.†I said, and turned to walk out.
It wasn’t long before the whole crew became aware of Bernies appendage. It went round like a bush fire, everybody wanted to see it but nobody really wanted to ask. It wasn’t long before events took a turn for the worse.
I was on watch in the control room, we were on the surface and heading back to the UK. Bernie had been in the after corner for an hour or more. He wasn’t on watch but he was talking to the stoker who was working the hydraulic sytems and masts from the panel in that corner. The conversation was getting more and more heated. I was unable to hear what was being said but Bernie was obviously getting annoyed. It was slowly becoming more and more likely that a fight would break out, and they were only a few feet from the Captain’s cabin. I felt it prudent to intervene and calm things down and, stepping between them I pulled the two apart.
“Berine,†I asked, “What are you doing here? You’re off watch and you’re making enough noise to wake the dead. Get back to your mess and, whatever your gripe is, talk about it later.â€
“But it bloody hurts TI, he won’t tell me where it is.â€
Bernie, what hurts and he won’t tell you where what is?â€
My knob hurts and he won’t tell me where the key is.â€
I was struggling here, I hadn’t got a clue what he was on about.
“Bernie, hang on, just tell me what is wrong, preferably in a way that I’ll be able to understand what the hell you’re walloping on about.†I said, trying to calm him down.
“I’ll show you what I’m on about TI.†And, with a flourish Bernie dropped his trousers. My eyes must have popped out of my head.
“Now do you see what I mean?†He demanded.
There, where the gold ring had previously been, was a large, very strong, Chubb security padlock. It must have weighed about a pound and it was stretching his foreskin almost to his knees.
“The lads in the mess held me down, took my ring out and put this in its place TI. Now they won’t give me the key to unlock it.â€
Unfortunately it was at that moment that the Captain decided to come out of his cabin and see what all the commotion was about. He took one look at Bernies elongated penis, looked at me and said,
“TI, I don’t know what this is about, I don’t want to know what this is about, but you and the Chief Stoker will make sure that it is sorted, understood?â€
“Yes sir.†I replied to his back as returned to his cabin, shaking his head.
“Bernie, you are a ******.†I stated, now angry at being bollocked by the Captain.
“That’s just it TI. I am not a ****** and I will never be a ****** again unless this bastard gives me the key to this padlock.â€
“Robby, give him the key.â€
“No TI.â€
“Robby, I am not messing about, if you do not give him the key I will stick you on for disobeying a direct order. Now, I am ordering you to give him the key.â€
“I can’t TI.â€
“What do you mean you can’t. If it’s in your locker, go and get it. If someone else has it, get them to give Bernie the key.â€
“No TI, you don’t understand. I can’t give him the key because I threw it over the side.â€
“You did what?â€
This was unbelievable. Bernie looked as though he was going to cry. He began to protest.
“What am I going to say to my wife when I get home with this on me dick? Sorry darling I can’t make love to you until the fire brigade have cut this padlock off me knob.â€
I tried to calm him down.
“Bernie, go back to your mess, I’ll get hold of the Chief stoker and we’ll see if we can sort this out, and you,†I turned to Robby but couldn’t carry on, I couldn’t hold back the laughter any more and just walked away, tears streaming down my face.
The Chief Stoker was called and he and I retired to the bathroom with Bernie where we inspected the padlock. The bright yellow rubber gloves we wore to inspect the offending article made us look like a couple of demented doctors as we turned it round and inspected it from all angles. It was no ordinary padlock. It was tempered steel and of the type used on the gun lockers. This would not be easy. The Chief Tiff was called to assist in the inspection. Even the Engineer Officer took his turn. It was amazing how many men decided that they needed to wash their hands during the time we were in the bathroom, even though they had been at sea for weeks and knew that there was no water. Everbody wanted to have a look at Bernie’s attachment.
By this time things were getting serious. Bernie’s penis was turning a funny mottled blue colour and it was obvious that something had to be done, and quick.
“Bernie,†said the Chief Stoker, “It’s going to have to be hacksawed off, that’s the only way.â€
Bernie looked almost relieved.
“Well alright, but can you do it quickly please, it really hurts now.†Pleaded the unfortunate stoker.
“I ain’t doing it Bernie. If I slip I could take your knob off mate. No. You’ll have to do it yourself.â€
Bernie retreated to the only vice on the boat. It was in the engine room. The vice was slightly above waist height and was between the back end of the engines. Bernie was standing on tiptoe, naked from the waist down with the vice in the padlock and his foreskin stretched beyond all recognition. The sea was quite rough and, as the boat rolled Bernie rolled with it. Unfortunately his penis, held firmly in place by the padlock, clamped in the vice, did not roll with him. Every time the boat rolled to port Bernie moved farther from the vice and emitted a pained squeal. He was hacksawing for all he was worth but, as we all know, when you hacksaw metal it gets very hot. By the time he had managed to release himself almost an hour later, Bernie was burnt and blistered in places no man wants to be burnt and blistered. The next stop was the Coxswain who issued Bernie with some salve to cool the burns and reduce the blistering.
Bernie never did put his Albert ring back in place. I wonder what his wife said when he got home with a swollen penis with an extra hole in the end.
Too late, already published. The book is out next month entitled Why Should Britain Tremble? - A Submariner's Tale
Published by publish america and for sale already on Amazon co.uk and tesco.com
Price is higher than I wanted but I don't have a say. :cry:
Book looks like this Book Cover Imageand is the culmination of three years writing and 4 years trying to get it puiblished at somebody elses expense.
Published by publish america and for sale already on Amazon co.uk and tesco.com
Price is higher than I wanted but I don't have a say. :cry:
Book looks like this Book Cover Imageand is the culmination of three years writing and 4 years trying to get it puiblished at somebody elses expense.
Glad you all enjoyed the dit. I have been telling dits, like all ex matelots, for years, ever since i left the mob. My workmates and family all told me I should write them down and put them in a book so that's what I did.
It's not easy and if anyone else ever wants to do it, you soon learn that in the UK the book publishing market is about as bent as it can get. You can't go to a publisher without a literary agent and you can't just go to a literary agent, many of whom want to charge you for just reading a few pages before they tell you to p**s off. That's why the book has been published in the US much to my shame.
Still at least it's out there but this forum is not the place to put adverts and publicity. If you loo you'll find it I'm sure and, if you do buy it I hope you ennjoy it.
thanks again all.
Oberons Knob :lol:
It's not easy and if anyone else ever wants to do it, you soon learn that in the UK the book publishing market is about as bent as it can get. You can't go to a publisher without a literary agent and you can't just go to a literary agent, many of whom want to charge you for just reading a few pages before they tell you to p**s off. That's why the book has been published in the US much to my shame.
Still at least it's out there but this forum is not the place to put adverts and publicity. If you loo you'll find it I'm sure and, if you do buy it I hope you ennjoy it.
thanks again all.
Oberons Knob :lol:
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