ON BOARD AN ITALIAN ADMIRAL’S FLAGSHIP

Nelson Evening Mail, Volume 78, 23 June 1943, Page 1

ON BOARD AN ITALIAN ADMIRAL’S FLAGSHIP

[To the Editor] Sir,—So many people have said in the last few days. "Do tell us some more about the Mediterranean,” that I think they might be amused to hear of an incident that happened to my father and myself, when staying at the great port of Spezia—an incident which, however, might have had anything but an amusing sequel. One morning, some of the Italian navy, headed by the flagship, steamed in to the harbour. This was an event of great interest to my father, who looked longingly at the ships as they swung to anchor. We were staying at the immense, ioresquare hotel in the town, much pa tronised by naval officers. One of tb« attractions of this well-known establishment was the providing (free of charge) of a caraffe of wine to each guest at each meal. Sometimes this proved a sad snare to an abstemious Englishman. One such followed us out of lunch that day, and, with flushed cheeks and loosened tongue, proceeded to expatiate on the Italian navy, and ended his harangue with the information that, if we took a boat out to the flagship, “they would be only too pleased to show us everything there was to be seen on board.’ This was a pure invention on his part, which later on we put down to the influence of ‘‘the caraffe.” At the moment we took it in good faith, and were soon rowing out to where the great grey monster lay peacefully on the placid blue waters. But on stepping on deck a sailor informed us that such a thing was impossible; and that in any case the Admiral was ashore, and without his permission no one could be shown over the battleship. Nothing daunted, I asked (in very halting Italian) if we could at least see the Admiral’s quarters. This request, which the sailor must have translated as meaning that we had already obtained t|ie required permission, was received with wide-eyed astonishment and also with deep respect After a moment’s hesitation, he beckoned us to follow him; and before we knew where we were, we found ourself descending a breakneck iron ladder. ‘‘Good Lord!” my father exclaimed excitedly, ‘‘l do believe the fellow is taking us right into a gun turret!’’ And, sure enough, we found ourselves standing behind one of the heaviest guns then made. Only too delighted to show everything to such ‘‘distinguished visitors,” he opened its breech, even explaining the sighting of the gun. a most delicate and secret operation. He worked the lift that brought up shells from the ordnance chamber below, and exhibited the ingenuity with which these could be slipped into the gun. All this was as the breath of life to my father, but was of no particular interest to me. I would much rather have been appraising the colour scheme of the Admiral’s state-room. Perhaps our sailor realised that I was not as impressed as he considered I should be. for he proceeded to pantomime a scene, such as might have happened had the great battleship been in action. Having shown us the device with which the shell was fired, he clapped his hands over his ’ ears, shouting, ‘‘Hey! che inferno!” Then throwing his arms across his breast, and gazing upward, cried, ‘‘Santa Maria!” Finally, falling to the floor at my feet, breathed out "Morto!” Not perhaps the technique an English gunner might have employed in describing the mechanism of his gun—but highly effective in its style! It suddenly struck us that my father, though all unwittingly, was lapping up cherished gunnery secrets of another nation’s navy—all-be-it a friendly nation at that time. For in the last w'ar Italy was our ally. Still, I confess that it was with slightly weakened knees we climbed the ladder. For what would happen if, on emerging on deck, we were confronted by a fiery Italian officer, or even by the Admiral himself? Had this been the case, I veritably believe I might still be languishing in an Italian gaol! Mercifully, however, the Fates were kind. We encountered nothing more formidable than the curious, and (I fancied) the disapproving stare? of some of the crew, sitting about on coils of rope, eating huge plates full of macaroni. The incident closed with the handing over of a few coins, and the beaming smiles of our dramatically minded guide.—l am. etc., A. L. CHERRILL. Wainui House, Nelson, 20th June.