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Cray Fishing

We were taught the secrets of Cray fishing by the District Commissioner’s Fijian Engineer cum Handy man, Sureli ( not sure about the spelling) who would take us out at night onto the reef north of the village, when the tide and moon were right. (Sureli was also said to have got the DC's American jeep working after it was discovered in the lagoon). The fishing equipment needed consisted of, Tilley lamps, sacks, a bucket, strong gloves and stout boots, (on our first trip we wore gym shoes until someone read about the stone fish who's poisonous spines would easily penetrate gym shoe soles).

These Boots were made for walking

Before we left Devonport to form the advance party of NP2512 we paid a visit to the Royal Marine camp at Bickleigh to be issued with Boots-Cold-Wet Weather (C.W.W), complete with special insoles. They were the biggest boots I'd seen and were quite heavy, and anchored your feet to the ground with no fear of falling over. They took quite an effort to get mobile but once in motion would swing happily along the highway giving you the feeling you could travel on for ever. We came to love those boots which we wore for most of the day.

Brian's picture

UK's nuclear tests under scrutiny

The Metropolitan Police has begun an investigation into aspects of Britain's nuclear testing programme in the 1950s.


Chatty's picture

Who, me?

It started at breakfast, not the normal time for a rumour to start the rounds, but this was not your run of the mill event. “Guess what?, the BC’s pranged his wagon”. Initially this was in hushed tones. Soon, however, the talk at every table was the fact that the Base Commander, the most powerful Bluey on the Rock had smashed his car up on the way back from Main Camp. Another Friday night, another victim. Had he over indulged perhaps? Or maybe hit the claw of a threatened crab? Maybe even a blow out.

Chatty's picture

There’s a right way to do it!

I must say that I just couldn’t believe that anyone, especially a “Commissioned” Officer could allow such goings on as related in Bob’s last story ( H&S, Don’t make me laugh). What on earth was he doing to allow untrained Sappers into such a dangerous environment as a filthy fuel tank when there were 3 Fully Trained Petroleum Fitters serving on the Island. Now, we also had some tank cleaning due and in this story, you will see how it should be done. Firstly the equipment needed: Suit.

Bob Morrison's picture

One Dive Too Many

Anyone who remembers the Rock will never forget being ‘dive-bombed’ by Frigate or 'Gooney', birds. These were not your average British seaside type of seabirds but big fat things with a huge wingspan of about 5 or 6 feet as I recall. They were expert aerobats and could rip your bait or catch from the end of a fishing line whilst the hook was still airborne. These kitehawks would also menace moving vehicles at certain times by swooping down in front of them in a kind of Kamikaze manoeuvre, for what reason I know not.

Chatty's picture

I’ve got a bad case of crabs

I was really looking forward to the weekend. Everything seemed very rosy indeed. The truck was serviced, the rations all fixed up and the hay boxes were packed solid with ice and tinnies. This was going to be a real cracker. We finished our work about 11am, showered, got our kit ready and drove round to the cookhouse to pick up the scoff. There were only about 6 of us this time so the accommodation wasn’t going to be too overcrowded, there’d be more than enough to eat and with the amount of brew on board I couldn’t imagine there’d be too many sober conversations by midnight.

tomjeanpierce's picture

Recollections of a Veteran

From: 23189256 Cpl Tom Pierce, Plant Troop 7, 28 Field Squadron Royal Engineers I was amongst the select National Servicemen who went to Christmas Island in about June 1956, an advance party were there ahead of our rented Greek Troopship named the Charlton Star. We boarded the Troopship at Southampton and sailed to the Azores, the Panama, Hawaii and then to Christmas Island, it took 14 days.

Chatty's picture

The Collector

It had been one of those crazy type of days that reared its ugly head now and again. A whole bunch of RE’s were due to depart the Island in a few days so the beers were flowing, and the goodbyes were taking place. A bit early for goodbyes really but if it could be stretched out all the better. That gave you more than enough reason to see a drop off. It was a tradition to ensure that a large departure of personnel received a good send off. I can’t recall who was going, but it was sufficient to warrant a decent farewell party. On these occasions a Send Off Party was always arranged.

Chatty's picture

Hooked on fishing

Yorkie and I, although not your actual “Rex Hunts” of this world, (a world renowned fisherperson) knew a little bit about fishing. Mainly the art of trace making and “Can Casting”. We had all the tools and equipment required to make any trace required to catch any kind of “Piscatorial Plonker” willing to latch on to our handiwork. We used to get visits from all sorts of potential fishermen for advice or assistance, but the one that sticks in my mind is the visit from “the Matelot”.