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SCHOOL FOR PERIL

No Lack Of Pupils Youth Seeks Adventure Youth seeks adventure in places remote from the beaten track, but in none stranger than the dark depths of the ocean, writes Joseph Riedie in the “Sydney Morning Herald.” Perhaps life must be risked to be savoured to the full. Otherwise there seems to be no adequate explanation for the long waiting list of men offering themselves to the Commonwealth Marine Salvage Board as diver trainees. Divers live laborious days and nights, working at high pressure and exposed to mysterious dangers among nightmare monsters in the murky depths. On the other hand they voyage among romantic tropic isles, earn big money, and by their achievements gain much personal prestige.

These men have to do some nasty jobs. When they salvaged a vessel which the Japanese had sunk with bombs during the first raid on Darwjn. the ship had to be lifted with very little equipment at night under heavy bombing, while a thick film of oil covered the sea.

Working Under Shell-fire A Dutch ship of 4000 tons was sunk by enemy bombers in the islands. Because the ship and its cargo were urgently required, divers spent four months raising it. Towards the end of the job shrapnel sprayed the ship several times. No lives were lost, but immediately the vessel had been moved three sticks of bombs fell on the spot where it had been floating. Each of several salvage officers and divers who arrived in Sydney a few months ago had worked through more than 50 bombing raids. Even on the sea floor divers have been killed by “water hammer” when a bomb has exploded three miles away. All members of the armed forces share these dangers, but many others are peculiar to the diver's metier. One man recently spent several months in a Sydney hospital after an encounter with a huge groper. Attracted by the bright helmet, the giant fish twice took it in its mouth. Then it closed its jaws on the helmet a third time and swam away so vigorously that the diver’s life and air lines tightened and he was precipitated through 90ft of water, reaching the surface suffering from diver’s “bends.” Work ceased until the gropers had been destroyed by depth charges. During the raising of a vessel berthed at a Balmain repair wharf a couple of weeks ago giant gropers up to 5001 b in weight and measuring from Bft to 10ft were attracted by the gleaming helmets like moths to a light. The divers, working on the floor of Milne Bay, New Guinea, had to cut the 451 b weights from their chests and backs and come to the surface. The Fearful “Cobbler” Darkness sets the diver some problems. but he feels safe from gropers and sharks, which need light to see and apparently have no sense of smell. Sharks will not attack a man in diving dress, but when he works in a mask depth charges are dropped before he goes down. But other dangers lurk in the dark. Perhaps the diver’s most persistent enemy is the cobbler, a fish only about three inches long covered with small spikes about l-16th of an inch long. When it touches the diver’s bare hands he suffers excruciating agony for two or three hours. Then there’s the leather jacket or "chunkie,” six to eight inches long. When boring, a diver frequently cuts his hand. The blood floats up in a spiral, and, after having tasted it, the "chunkie” follows the spiral down and bites a piece out of the hand.

In the north a ship sunk by enemy action lay on its side in water 1 50ft deep at low tide, with a rise of tide of 30fty Six inches under the surface the water was pitch black, and the ebb stream of the tide rushed across with the force of a mill-stream. Feeling their way in the darkness, the divers found to their horror, that the hull had become the haunt of crocodiles. These reptiles frequently inhabit wrecks which have been lying for some time on the ocean bed. The usual practice is to drop depth charges before work commences.

Queer sights are often seen. A ship raised after having been submerged for five months was completely covered with succulent oysters, many of which subsequently figured on the divers’ menu. As another vessel came up, its teak decks appeared to be writhing. Closer inspection revealed that the boards were a mass of worms as big as a finger. A diver takes many other serious risks while working. His life is threatened by jagged steel and fastmoving tides and currents, which may sever his line and cause him to rise so rapidlv that he gets diver’s “bends.” Then he has to make his way into cabins to close portholes or penetrate engine-rooms swimming in oil fuel to shut off valves and cocks. Sometimes he spends a month tunnelling through clay with a water jet to reach a hole which he covers in a couple of hours. His sense of touch becomes highly developed, because usually he works in pitch darkness. Unless he possesses absolute selfcontrol, disaster overtakes him sooner or later. After burrowing through clay the sides of his tunnel may collapse behind him, entombing him on the ocean floor. His lines may become entangled in machinery, or he may not land on the wreck when lowered, but instead wander away in the wrong direction. In these and other cases he must keep his head until assistance is sent down from the surface.

Severe Tests Imposed So that divers can call for help in such circumstances the Salvage Board has equipped them with underwater telephone sets. These and other modern equipment are scarce in wartime, but each month brings further supplies to Australia. Surface men take the greatest precautions against "bends” when raising divers from deep water. The divers are brought up in stages. From 150 ft down, for example, it takes a diver four hours to reach the surface. Clutching the shot-rope, which runs from the wreck to the salvage ship, the diver stops at the necessary stages while he regulates the air in his helmet and does exercises to work out the hydrogen and to circulate the blood. When the Commonwealtth Marine Salvage Board was constituted in March, 1942, there was a shortage of divers. The Deputy Chief Salvage Officer and Marine Superintendent, Captain A. H. D. Gransbury, visited all the principal ports in Australia, and withdrew from other employment key men for the new organisation. Among them were Divers H. Persson, H. Chadwick, J. McAllister, J. Johnson, H. Perry, and J. Hill, who had received their training on German ships sunk at Scapa Flow. Advertisements then called for diver trainees, and although only a small percentage of applicants passed the severe tests imposed, all recruits required since have been obtained without further advertising. Diver J. McAllister, formerly a diver in the Royal Navy and the Royal Australian Navy, became instructor, and the human material available for making divers was carefully sifted before being passed into his hands. Applicants who passed the ordinary medical examination were put into a decompression chamber and subjected to a pressure of 201 b to the square inch, equivalent to that of water at a depth of 40 feet. Dr. J. Clough, senior medical and research officer of the Salvage Board, got in the chamber with the men and examined their ears and noses under the pressure. Half the candidates passed. These entered a low-pressure chamber. Pressure was taken off until it equalled that at 38,000 feet up in the air. After two and a half hours in this chamber many candidates suffered pains in the joints, indicating a proclivity to diver's “bends,” a symtom of the approach of a form of paralysis. Two such tests again halved the number of candidates. Those remaining were handed over to Diver McAllister, who gave them their first dip in 10 feet of water in Port Phillip. This shook out a few more, and the survivors of the tests then started the four month’s course for diver trainees. A Difficult Course The course included seamanship—rope and wire splicing, bends and hitches—pumps and their construction, chain and wire cutting, boring holes and sawing timber, the use of explosives

and other technical instruction, including electric welding with appliances brought from the United States and used for the first time in Australia. All this work was done in full diving outfit at depths gradually increased to 150 ft, and entered in strong tides and rough weather. Next the men were taught how to use the orco face mask, which resembles a gas mask. A pump can be used with one of these, or the diver can carry his own cylinder of oxygen. The mask can be worn as deep as 100 ft, and it is particularly sendeeable when a man has to work in a confined space where there is insufficient room for diving gear. It is employed a great deal in tropical waters because the heat of the heavier gear causes extreme discomfort. After training like this the aspirant for deep-sea honours gets his uniform and ranks as a third-grade diver, equivalent to petty officer in the Navy. A week’s leave allows him to recuperate after his strenuous new tasks, and any time after that he proceeds to a real salvage job. On that he works under the supervision of Diver McAllister. After the job has been completed he is regarded as an experienced diver, and in future works without supervision. What Do They Earn? Divers work at a speed which involves considerable powers of endurance. On one job divers worked 45 hours at a stretch without sleeping, and sometimes the strain may last three days and nights with only an hour off how and again to eat a sandwich. When a diver leaves Australia he knows that he will not come back for at least six months. During that time he may be engaged on several jobs, one starting as soon as the other is finished. Then he gets his wellearned fortnight’s leave. And what does the diver get for all this? In addition to gratifying the lust for adventure he earns considerably more than he would at a trade, even if it is at the risk of his life During training he gets £5 a week, increased to £8 when he becomes a third-grade diver, to £9 as secondgrade. and £lO as first-grade, and to £l2 if he becomes a foreman diver. All divers get the same diving money in addition to wages. It ranges from 2 6 an hour to 10 - while working in depths over 60 feet. Tests for admission to the service are severe, but. divers have earned up to £l6 a week six months after they started their careers.

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Permanent link to this item

https://paperspast.natlib.govt.nz/newspapers/THD19441223.2.87

Bibliographic details

Timaru Herald, Volume CLVI, Issue 23083, 23 December 1944, Page 6

Word Count
1,814

SCHOOL FOR PERIL Timaru Herald, Volume CLVI, Issue 23083, 23 December 1944, Page 6

SCHOOL FOR PERIL Timaru Herald, Volume CLVI, Issue 23083, 23 December 1944, Page 6