[CW] Fwd: [Radio Officers, &c] SK6-SAG

[David Ring]

There are a few times when a message arrives that is just so
wonderfully written, that I cannot stop from relaying it to this
group.

This is one such time.  This is a wonderfully written message - and it
involves CW at sea.

73
DR


---------- Forwarded message ----------
From:  <G4AYO at aol.com>
Date: Wed, Dec 17, 2008 at 4:29 AM
Subject: [Radio Officers, &c] SK6-SAG
To: radio-officers at googlegroups.com


I recently had a QSO with Sten, SM6DQO,  working on cw from the
"Goteborg Radio Amateur Club" - SK6SAG. Sten send me the following
article. His friend is Lars, SM6NM, who is a member of this group - so
my apologies if you have already seen it:





Dramatic hours on the Atlantic



It was the 21st of July 1974, around 1600. Old "Gripsholm/SLQT" was
heading forward in comfortable speed making about 17-18 knots in good
weather, bound for New York from Punta Delgada, the Azores. The
cocktail bars had just opened before dinner, the shuffleboard course
and the swimming pool lay abandoned. The last sun-burnt enthusiasts
were slowly dragging their feet across the wooden deck outside the
officers accommodation towards a badly needed shower.

In the radio cabin the time had come for change of duty. Reluctantly I
entered the "sanctum sanctorum" and a new 4-hour sentry with a
never-ending stream of radio calls, telegrams, telexes, weather
reports and press news. The usual five-minute relief chat carried on
like: "we have traffic at GKA but as usual they cannot be caught.
Booked on 10-15 calls on SAG in an hour. Mrs so and so got a bill for
a three-week old call and has now been complaining about the quality…"

500 khz was pleasantly quiet in the middle of the Atlantic. Suddenly
it came alive with a call to "Gripsholm":



SLQT de GPHJ QSQ ?



For a few seconds we both stood in bewilderment. Calls from other
ships accompanied by the acronym QSP (request for transit) were quite
common. Our call sign evidently was well known and we perpetually got
requests for QSP to and from coastal stations. But this was something
new. QSQ ?



For a while we had to search our memories from the days at the marine
officer´s school, but surely it meant: "Do you have a physician on
board?" A transmitter was quickly started to deliver an answer and was
soon realized that this was serious matter indeed. The call had come
from the British ore cargo ship "Tyne Bridge", on her way from Seven
Islands, Canada, to Japan. A 42-years old boatswain had got a bleeding
ulcer and was in a state of shock due to heavy haemorrhage. There was
no suitable port within reach but the distance between our two ships
was just about 200 nautical miles. Therefore we should be able to
arrange a "Rendezvous" in about 6 hour's time.



Feverish activity broke out. The captain ordered a very gradual change
of course, so that the passengers should not notice that something was
happening – at least not at this stage. The First Radio Operator (our
colleague Sten Andersson) was brutally jerked from his appetizer and
then the radio cabin was as fully manned as it could be. Since "Tyne
Bridge" had derived our position from the US Coast Guard AMVER
computer in New York the first step was to establish HF contact with
the Coast Guard, a connection that from then on was open during the
entire operation. Contact was maintained with "Tyne Bridge" and we
were asked to transmit sounding signals at 410 khz from time to time.
All private radio traffic was refused.



It was a boatswain in very bad condition that eventually was brought
over in one of Gripsholm´s lifeboats. A blood transfusion was given in
both arms since he was now in deep coma. This had a good effect but
the situation soon became critical again since the supply of blood was
limited. We contacted RCC in New York who declared that they could
drop receptacles with blood from an aircraft. Gripsholm was too far
away for a helicopter mission. A C-130 started from Elisabeth City,
North Carolina, took blood onboard at Bermuda and arrived at our
position on the evening of the 22nd of July.



Throughout the last distance we had to direct the plane with sounding
signals at 2182 and channel 16. Three receptacles, each containing
seven 500-millilitre blood bottles, were dropped one at a time with a
parachute. The pilots dropped the bottles with outstanding skill only
50 meters from the side on the ship. They were picked up in a rubber
raft by volunteers of the crew, a dangerous job in the growing sea.



Apparently the passengers, beyond the price of their tickets, took
this as free entertainment. Applause, happy shouts and Instamatic
flashes showered over the men who worked hard in the rubber raft. I
remember that I thought this a bit scaring and that I wondered whether
anybody devoted the dying mariner even one thought. At least it did
not seem so. When "the performance" was finished the happy life in the
bars continued as usual.







Yet, the patient´s health got worse and the ship´s physician, 73-years
old Nils Liedberg, saw no other way out than to operate. He had tried
to avoid this as long as possible since the boatswain was in a deep
state of shock. In addition, the X-ray equipment of the ship was
intended for fractures only and could not be used to locate wounds. As
he had no X-ray equipment to depend on, Dr Liedberg had to rely on
methods that had been used for at least 30 years and which are not
mastered by younger doctors. Despite the high waves the operation was
carried out successfully, the bleeding was stopped and the shock was
eliminated.



We were still not within reach of helicopters and the captain decided
to go to New York at top speed, in order to get the patient to a
hospital as quickly as possible. However, the recovery went better
than expected and after two days our new passenger was strolling
around the ward for a while enjoying a cigarette. On the third day
after the operation he was offered a cup of tea but he declined with
the motivation: "As a Scotsman, I prefer Coffee." With some bad luck,
maybe he was laying the foundation for a new ulcer.



That same day the radio cabin turned into an absolute inferno. Because
of the great delay to New York we operators were drenched in
commissions. The passengers wanted to inform their waiting relations.
Flight and train arrangements had to be changed and so on. One
operator was always working overtime and the two operator positions
were going full speed, one with telephone calls and the other with
telegrams. One positive aspect of this ordeal, however, were the
thanks and congratulation telegrams that were arriving from various
directions; the ship owner of "Tyne Bridge", the US Coast Guard, and
the "Swedish American Line" among others.



On the 25th of July we arrived in New York and as usual we landed at
the western end of 57th Street. Our Scotsman was driven down the
gangway in a wheelchair to be transported to a hospital where he
quickly recovered and later was flown home. We radio operators were
awarded with a bottle of good whisky by the captain as an appreciation
for a work well done and for valiant watch on 500 kHz. As the reader
surely understands this was an exceptionally interesting experience.



Our electromagnetic achievements of course were humble in comparison
with what the ship's physician, the lifeboat crew and others had done.
But, we knew, without our well trained ears and without the late
Morse's, nowadays deeply despised signs, perhaps there would have been
one good boatswain less in the world. +







73 Mike/G4AYO

--~--~---------~--~----~------------~-------~--~----~
THIS IS THE "RADIO OFFICERS, &C" MAIL LIST - UNSUBSCRIBE AND OTHER
SETTINGS ARE BELOW.

You received this message because you are subscribed to the Google
Groups "Radio Officers" group.
To post to this group, send email to radio-officers at googlegroups.com
To unsubscribe from this group, send email to
radio-officers-unsubscribe at googlegroups.com
For more options, visit this group at
http://groups.google.com/group/radio-officers?hl=en
-~----------~----~----~----~------~----~------~--~---