[CW] A Sample from "QTC - I Have a Message for you!"

[David Ring]

This is a sample of the republication of "QTC - I Have a Message for you" -
by Ray Redwood, I've been working on.  Plans are to republish this in book
form with an additional CD or DVD of recordings of ship Morse code
throughout the 20th century.

"QTC - I Have a Message for you" - by Ray Redwood, Copyright 1989 Sequoia
Press - reprinted with permission, Electronic Format Copyright (C) 2008 by
David J. Ring, Jr., All Rights Reserved. Republication, retransmission
and/or duplication in any form whatsoever is prohibited.


                M A N I F E S T O

A Manifesto is a formal declaration of principles.  Something more than a
mere preface is needed for this book.

An era is passing!

I am proud and honored to have been a ship's radio operator -- a Sparks --
for most of my working life. No, I haven't been called to the role of Great
Hero during some catastrophe. For most of my time I've simply gone about the
daily humdrum business of sending and receiving messages to and from coast
stations, getting and sending weather reports, exchanging information with
other ships. Even so, the essential reason I sailed on each of the scores of
ships I have sailed on was simply to be there if I was needed to call
for help. Everything else I was paid to do was irrelevant, a mere
convenience. If the ship was  going down, I was the lifeline for my fellow
crew and passengers. That's why I was there. I am proud to have been a
Sparks (probably one of the last), and I'll be telling you stories about
myself and some of my profession's heroes, people who were called on in
emergencies and went about the task of saving lives, sometimes even at the
expense of their own lives.

Today, radio operator~ are being phased out. I'll explain why, and also why
I think it's probably a bad decision. You can decide for yourselves. This
book is a tribute to our profession, nearly 100 years old, and to all the
radio operators who have joined me on the seas.

* * * * *

Throughout recorded history, sailors went over the horizon into complete
isolation. As the 20th century dawned, this isolation ended, through
"wireless communication" (later named radio).

This communication was based on two important factors: (1) the worldwide use
of 500 kilohertz (kHz) as the international calling and distress frequency
and (2) the presence of Sparks, the man in charge, and therefore the
lifeline for his fellow seamen. All other aspects of radio (entertainment,
news, etc. -- the only side of it most people know) were later developments,
in some ways irrelevant and unimportant.

Thus it went for 70 years. The SOS system on 500 kHz, operated by Sparks,
was completely successful. Perhaps a million lives were saved by it. In
1970, however, the International Maritime Organization (IMO) decided the
time was ripe for a change. Future Global Maritime Distress and Safety
System (FGMDSS) was born.

It was internationally agreed that the supremely successful 500 kHz and
distress frequency system would be maintained for a while, and no innovation
made until there had been a lengthy period of testing. Yet some nations
jumped the gun (the Scandinavians first, followed by others, including
Canada, then the U.S.A.).

They freed some of their ships to take to deep sea without radio officers or
the usual 500 kHz watch -- thereby endangering many lives.

FGMDSS will supersede manual radiotelegraphy formally and completely (maybe)
in 1999. After that date, Sparks and all that he stood for and did will be a
receding memory. So, on one side we have the lone radio operator, pounding
away at his Morse key.

On the other we have an automatic communications system that works via
control centers in various parts of the world in contact with three maritime
satellites varying from 22,314 miles to 22,416 miles above the equator. The
new system will eclipse the old one but will it be safer? Will it always be
reliable? Will it do what Sparks did right through the 20th century again
and again and again? No, no and no. Ship-owners will save money. "Progress"
(which doesn't necessarily mean improvement) will have been made. It's
difficult to calculate on suppositions, but I fear that half a million lives
could be lost at sea in the 21st century because ships in distress won't be
able to communicate with anyone else to get help.

Example: it's not too much to say that the Canadian Coast Guard, among
others, has turned a blind eye and ignored the obvious. The fate of the
Arctic Explorer in July, 1981, is worth noting. She had no 500 kHz, no radio
officer. While depending on VHF channel 16and 2182 kHz (both voice
transmitters/ receivers), she sank in 20 minutes. Out of the 32 people
aboard, 13 died and the remaining 19 on a raft (drifting for 30 hours) would
also have perished if a helicopter had not accidentally spotted them and
summoned a ship for their rescue. Communications via satellites work
sometimes, but the simple 500 kHz system has been effective 99 times out of
100. The fate of the Arctic Explorer points out that high technology is
going to fail, where the simple old system would have succeeded. Consider
the countless rescues through 70 years.

The spectacular example of the Titanic -- saving 712 by her radioed SOS --
is well known. The 1,517who perished would probably have been saved too if
the auto-alarm had existed then.

A much lesser known example of how effective the old system was is the
remarkable story of what happened on the SS Tashmoo on May 7, 1928. She was
drifting helpless, completely broken down in the Pacific off Mexico. She had
no wireless operator, and her radio apparatus was a burned-up, charred mess.
She had started her journey that way, but this was legal. All American
steamers (the Tashmoo was a motor ship) carrying 50 or more passengers/crew
had to carry two wireless operators and keep a continuous watch on 500 kHz.
If the ship carried 49 or fewer -- or if it was a motor vessel-- no
apparatus or operator was required. (A legal loophole for ship owners)

The wind was blowing a full gale, there was a 35-degree list to port, and
the engine room was completely broken down. They were outside the shipping
lanes, so no one could see them. With no radio or anyone to operate it, no
one could hear them. One crew member, Arthur Finch, had been a signaller in
WWl and knew the Morse code, but that's all. He'd never seen or used a radio
transmitter. He knew nothing about radio (or "wireless," as it was still
often called). The transmitter, though burned up and apparently completely
broken down, had given shocks to two passengers who had tried to repair it.
There also seemed to be a danger of its catching fire again. Still, the
captain insisted that Finch should try to make the thing work. Finch tried
and failed, tried and failed.

Suddenly the motor generator sprang to life! Finch, with no evidence that he
was transmitting, with no idea if he was on the right frequency or if he
could be heard by anyone, pounded SOS SOS SOS on the key and followed this
by the ship's position (handed to him by the captain). His signals were
heard by several ships!

Eventually, all were rescued.  Later in 1980, a satellite equipped passenger
ship on fire in the Gulf of Alaska was rescued - not by the high tech
satellite - which failed to summon help - but by SOS.  We will read about
that later in detail.  All 535 lives were saved!

These are exciting SOS stories, but not incredible. With everything else
against them, the survivors were indebted to the simple 500 kHz/Morse code
system.

So what is this new system, exactly? It's very involved. It's not abstruse;
you can understand it as long as you're paying close attention, but it's not
foolproof. Here's how a call is made. Instead of hollering SOS SOS on 500
kHz, there would be three different ways of calling for help: by high
frequency (HF), medium frequency (MF) or very high frequency (VHF). For HF
there are five different frequencies to choose from, depending on the
position of the ship, atmospheric conditions, etc. On MF there are two
different frequencies to use (both at once, if possible). For VHF there are
four frequencies. So far we have the option (confusion?) of 11 different
ways of sending out the SOS, but we've only just started~ (FGMDSS might say,
"But there'll be 21 extra, backup chances of getting through." Murphy knows
better. His law indicates that if anything can go wrong, it will.)

To respond to that SOS, the IMO has tried to get international cooperation
and to organize SAR (search and rescue) teams. This never used to be a
problem. A call for help got instant response from all nearby ships, because
flags didn't matter a damn. However, once the whole affair became formalized
and remote from the ship in distress, going via this and that channel,
international disagreements surfaced. Turkey and Greece, for example, have
always been at loggerheads. Getting them to agree formally to ways of
conducting an SAR: from whom, where and when, etc.--no sir.

Then we come to another acronym, DSC (digital selective calling). Instead of
just blaring out SOS SOS SOS and maybe not being heard (the radio officer is
off watch/auto-alarm is faulty/other mechanical failure), there would be a
narrowing down of areas to where help was needed, pinpointing the exact
place, distressed ship, and ships to help. If this could be relied on, it
would be wonderful, but DSC is as unreliable as SAR. Anyone who has heard
the dismal "computers down" refrain from his bank will not be
surprised at this.

Computers are magical, powerful things, as long as there isn't some damn
little thing to upset them. They have one crude need -- electric power.
Electric systems can fail. Power on a ship may be reduced to one wet-cell
12-volt battery. Unless/until the magic paraphernalia working into and from
the three satellites will operate from just such a humble little battery,
all that magic stuff is useless. SAR, DSC and RCC (rescue and coordination
center) are all unreliable. Can we find a little acronym that is the key to
describing this? LGS (little-girl syndrome) is a candidate:

There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
When she was good, she was very VERY good;
But when she was bad, she was HORRID.

Complications are forerunners of failure; simplicity is the harbinger of
success. Nowhere is this more obvious than in the contest of Morse code
versus voice. Voice gets distorted, misunderstood, garbled with
interference, etc. Cassandra was the dismal prophetess of doom in ancient
Greece. Looking across the seven seas during the 21st century, she should
have a field day.

Okay, enough about FGMDSS. Re this book: historical facts with personal
idiosyncrasies, heroes, villains, autobiographical segments, miniature
travelogues, love stories--all are part of the stew.

=30=

To be continued!

Electronic Format Copyright (C) 2008 by David J. Ring, Jr., All Rights
Reserved.