Beginning my seaman’s career onboard the German merchant ship, the M/S Steinberg, it was with great curiosity that I arrived on the shores of Germany, a chance to learn more about World War II, from the German side. True, I did learn about the German side, given that their version of events differed greatly from descriptions learned from Canadian classroom textbooks. From the start, a new question surfaced in my mind; which side was telling the truth? Not waiting to hear more conflicting stories, I began to abandon society’s learning methods and started to use my research ability. An ability that most of us have, but fail to use when it is convenient to follow society’s mind set.

At the young age of sixteen, I began to seriously question written history originating from the academic world, adapting an attitude to accept it as a base for further research. Obviously, this attitude emerged with reasoning; my stay in Germany provided an environment for change in attitude. Following a few months of sailing the rough waters of the North Atlantic, the ship that introduced me to a professional life at sea, changed flags, purchased by a French company. The image below displays the M/S Steinberg resting at anchor.

Realizing my interest to pursue an officer’s career, the ship’s Captain allowed me to stay at his German residence while I looked for another ship to sign on as crew. His offer carried an interest to see me succeed as a professional seaman, educated in Germany. Keeping me on course towards an officer’s career, the Captain proposed I first learn the German language well, and after attaining enough sea time, enroll in the nautical school near his residence. Plans for a sea career drawn, it was time to learn about Germans and their culture. Influenced by World War II historical tales, my surroundings provided a wealth of knowledge about German World War II activities.

The Captain’s residence, the village of  Steinkirshen, located on the Southern edge of the River Elbe, near the Port of Hamburg, was my temporary home and home to numerous German war veterans. With my limited knowledge of the German language, acquired within a few months of sailing, I managed to maintain an inquiring conversation, generating a tremendous amount of information about German war activities, seldom described in history books. As my mind realized that written history mainly satisfied those that wrote it, my desire to seek more information increased, encouraging me to visit the City of Berlin, a center of great historical importance. The city of Berlin during the seventies is shown below.

During the early seventies, the segregated City of West Berlin occupied a land area within East Germany, thus traveling to East or West Berlin required entering Communist land or air space. Learning about the numerous train delays crossing East Germany, in route to Berlin, I decided to fly. From my initial savings, I purchased an airline ticket to Berlin and with the aid of the Captain and his neighbor’s daughter, that worked in Berlin, I flew from Hamburg to Berlin where I settled in a youth hostel.

While in Berlin, it did not take long to meet people that shared an interest for historical truth. Twenty six years passed since World War II ended. The Cold War maintained tensions between East and West, yet for the average person visiting Berlin it was a time to research events that influenced the shaping of their present world.

In the early seventies, specifically 1971,  the youth hostels of Europe were full of activity, Berlin was no exception, the evenings seldom encouraged a good night sleep, too many people to meet, arriving from the seven corners of the world, seven seas, thus seven corners, it makes sense to a sailor. During one of the evenings, I met Wieland, a young German medical student from Berlin, young in relation to his academic level, yet older than I by a few years. The hostel’s bar, located near the lobby was full and our purpose was no other than to survey the female population. A survey worth pursuing, allowing for great company and satisfaction of an inner self that promotes procreation of the species. With the bar maintaining a rhythm of its own, I soon found myself riding on his 1936 convertible Daimler Benz through the streets of Berlin, a classic car that produced a sense for the past.

Beginning with a visit to the red light district, it soon became obvious that old Berlin continued from the days of the war, adapting well to change. Without a doubt, freedom of expression was their primary goal. With new buildings being built, new attitudes emerging, Berliners maintained a sense for change based on their war experience. Living on the center of a divided world, Berliners were fully aware of the difference between capitalism and communism. This difference, made me realize that forces between two societies are a direct reflection of different viewpoints, emerging from opposing leaderships.                                        

Following a few days of visits to war relevant sights, thanks to my newfound friend, he encouraged me to cross the Berlin wall and visit the communist side. To a foreigner, asking permission to visit East Germany was not a problem. In general, a foreigner willing to hand over his passport to East German authorities received permission to enter the country. This process was complicated for West German citizens, seldom receiving permission to travel to the East.

I traveled to East Berlin alone, crossing Check Point Charlie where armed guards patrolled both sides of the wall. It was surprising to see East Berlin a peaceful city with hardly any people walking the streets. A Westerner in East Berlin stood out from the rest, encouraging East Berliners to seek conversation about the West. Their isolation, a direct result of governance that wanted complete segregation for its people, produced a sense of desperation resembling prisoners inside a well-guarded fortress, an attitude that took time to fully understand, given my sudden exposure to a guarded city. During my tour, I became accustomed to answering questions about life in the West. Their sense of curiosity permitted them a better knowledge of the world than from people I encountered in the West. Their confinement created such curiosity, where every bit of information received from a foreigner, counted. The image below shows the exact point of entrance, located to the left of the photo, where I surrounded my passport in exchange for a visitor’s permit.

While interacting with East Berliners, I took notice of the monuments made famous by the Nazis, rising as palaces of power, indicating great influence over a people. Without a doubt, a society must possess the means to control its populace; great structures with never ending walls of concrete reflected an obedient people. This does not necessarily mean an enslaved people it can also mean a people following a goal common to its leadership. Amidst all of this, it was not surprising that reality affected my mind set, forcing a change. Whether for better or worse, a change generated from, once again, facing reality.

My visit to Berlin encouraged a new course, where the mind set of society mattered less when deciding future endeavors, a course decision that began to transform my attitude towards the future, in ways of further discovery and freedom of expression. East Berliners, forced to follow the interests of their society’s leadership produced a sense of frustration where the continuing source of freedom emerging from their inner thoughts, evaporated. A lesson learned from observation, where those that lost their freedom encouraged me not to take it for granted.

A few months later, while back at sea, I arrived on the Port City of Gdansk, Poland, a country under the communist rule. Being my second visit to a segregated people, Poland displayed a similar environment experienced while in East Berlin; few people walking the streets during daylight hours and nights showing dark streets from a lack of electric energy to light the streetlights. To a sailor, this was not a reason to return to the ship, only an incentive to ask any stranger walking the street for information about the nightlife. Communism imposed several restrictions on visiting Westerners; curfews, travel restrictions and no photography with exception of limited tourist areas. A sailor’s failure to follow the rules received a military escort to the ship. Well, not all sailors, my mindset resisted such rules, where the freedom to explore played an important part. Now seventeen years old and beginning to see the world has a means to expand my horizon, it did not take long for an opportunity to arrive, rules, a mere annoyance, regardless of where they originated. A chance encounter with a beautiful young lady named Krystyna, set my mind on a course where no rules restricted my intended path.

The ship, named Kajia S, departed Germany crossing the Kiel Canal bound for Gdansk, Poland, geographically located on the southern coast of the Baltic Sea. Upon arrival, the ship did not reach its destination dock, a lack of unloading dock space in the Port of Gdansk prevented such, instead, the ship received instructions to a temporary dock adjacent to Nowy Port, located at the entrance to the Gdansk harbor channel, one of the Vistula delta estuaries. The temporary dock, located on a peninsula forming the Eastern side of the harbor entrance, remains a few kilometers from Gdansk, preventing a short walk to the city center. Arriving at night, with no shore personnel available, the ship’s captain knew that he had to depend on his crew to moor the ship alongside the pier, indicating a pier isolated from the port.  

My job was to jump ashore when the ship neared the pier, with instructions to place the mooring lines on the respective pier bollards. Coincidence, my jump to shore placed me in a direction facing an unexpected army patrol instructed to meet the arriving ship. Not accustomed to seeing armed military personnel meet a merchant ship, I ran back to the ship’s side, climbing back onboard, a move that greatly upset the captain, now yelling at me from the bridge wing to get back to the pier and do my job. For a few moments, the ship laid along side with no mooring lines fastened, encouraging the captain to continue his demands and assurance that the soldier’s activities were normal in a communist country. Returning to the pier, and placing the first mooring line on its designated bollard, a glance to the ship’s bridge showed the captain wiping his fore head with relief. Once my introduction to a communist country by sea settled, a further explanation from the captain about communism and their mannerism, assured that all was normal, it was just a matter of understanding their ways.

The following day, an inviting sun encouraged a visit to Gdansk. After my onboard tasks were complete, the ship’s first officer joined me on a taxi ride to Gdansk’s city center. An interesting city showing a link to German culture from a past era, when Germany extended beyond present borders. Drifting from one bar to the next, evening darkness fell upon the city, showing an interest to return to the ship, obviously, alcohol influenced such interest. Initially, our arrival on the city center occurred while we disregarded the ship to be on the opposite side of the river from Gdansk. Thus, our slow return indicated a northern path towards Nowy Port, closer to the ship but on the other side of the river. At night, the return trip involved a long walk, where knowledge of the local bus system consisted of asking local residents.

Facing a series of empty streets and no taxis, finding a means to locate the ship became difficult. Adding to my problem, I was helping the ship’s first officer, heavily under the influence of alcohol, return to the ship. In later years, a habit I became associated with, helping crew members return to the ship while under the influence of alcohol. Feeling my frustrations taking full control, three individuals emerged from a side street, two young soldiers and a beautiful young lady.

Before allowing for the pleasure of admiring the young lady, I inquired about a place named Westerplatte, showing them a piece of paper with the word written on it, a paper given to me earlier by the ship’s captain indicating the location of the ship’s pier. Following an exchange of words involving English, German and Polish, I understood the existence of a ferry, crossing the river from Nowy Port to Westerplatte. Bye, bye, frustrations, it was time to turn my attention to the only female forming the new group of people, heading to the ferry, now numbering five.

Purposely, positioning myself away from her and near one of the soldiers, I inquired if she was involved with one of them. From a variety of hand gestures and whispering multi-language words, I received assurance that her presence was of convenience, seeking an escort under the cover of darkness. By the time we arrived at the ferry dock the ship’s first officer managed to walk without my assistance, well, he had no choice, Krystyna, the name received from formal introductions, had robbed me of an interest to care for a fellow crewmember. Her image reflected a God sent, exhibiting a beauty only available to a young lady of seventeen. To elaborate on her beauty, dismisses a willingness to evaluate a god sent, where a gift from God merits thankfulness.

The ferry ride across the River Vistula, introduced a mating opportunity where my attraction for her was mutual. Once on the east bank of the river, the peninsula of Westerplatte,  it was time to say goodbye, instead, given our mutual attraction she decided to walk to the ship’s dock entrance for a final goodbye. A state of mind dominated by a desire to mate, blocks further reasoning, it was time to develop a plan where both of us could continue exploring such attraction. From the beginning, I assumed Krystyna lived across the river, near the ship’s dock, expecting her departure once we reached the dock entrance. Soon after, I found this expectation to be incorrect. Contemporary aerial photo of Westplatte shown below.

The temporary pier, where the ship docked, displayed a well guarded yard located adjacent to a large national park facing the Baltic Sea. Numerous statues adorned the park commemorating Poland’s involvement in World War II. West of the park, the river, to the East a calm sandy beach facing a cloudless sky, allowing a rising full moon to shine, a change from earlier dark streets experienced across the river, before boarding the ferry. Communicating with each other, using a primitive method, consisting of a combination hand signs and words deriving from both our languages, clarified our interest for each other.

In a few words, my interest for Krystyna began with a simple thought: take her to the West and away from Communism, she agreed. One problem existed between us and the ship, the military style fence guarded by soldiers, where the entrance to the ship included additional three machine gun carrying army soldiers. My plan began to unfold by entering the yard and reporting to the ship, then returning to her after asking permission for extra time. The entrance guards, non-military personnel, stationed inside a shack located at the entrance to the fenced yard, disagreed with the idea, pointing to the curfew posted on their papers, located on top of a counter within the shack’s entrance. Maintaining my persistence to return to Krystyna, after the curfew, they finally agreed that I could do what I wanted, insisting that if caught outside after curfew, the army would take me to jail.

During my initial visit to the ship, while studying how to best distract the soldiers from my plan, to hang the ship’s pilot ladder from the ship’s side that faced the river. I engaged the three soldiers in conversation, asking them if they wanted something from the ship. The overall plan, consisted of a swim from the shoreline of the park to the ship, an area not patrolled by the soldiers. The soldiers were on the dock not on the water, presenting a viable way to take Krystyna onboard.  

All is well when a plan exists in thought, a different experience when put into practice. The soldiers, asked for German magazines, a request once fulfilled, placed all three soldiers near the ship’s gangway giving me time to go back onboard with an excuse to look for more magazines. Instead, while onboard, I placed the pilot ladder hanging from the main deck to the surface of the river.

Returning to Krystyna as per my plan, and after successfully placing the pilot ladder over the ship’s side, I walked to the park to begin our swim to the ship, a distance of approximately one hundred feet, between the beginning of the park’s shoreline and the stern of the ship. A simple task to accomplish, not so, the water was very cold and a river current made our efforts difficult, resulting in my return to the ship, to modify the plan. Using an excuse to obtain food and chocolates for Krystyna, the soldiers questioned my movements, but once told it was over a young lady waiting outside, they agreed to look the other way. The soldiers and I were all about the same age where a common understanding existed between us, the needs of a pretty lady are placed before the security needs of the country.

While back onboard, formulating a second plan to bring Krystyna onboard the ship, I went to my cabin looking for more magazines to satisfy the soldiers, when the ship’s bosun appeared in the hallway. Nicknamed the Sheriff, the bosun looked after the ship’s crew much like a father, being older, mid thirties, coupled with a good-natured personality. Right away, he saw that I was up to no good. Grabbing one of my ears and holding it, he demanded to know why the need for magazines in the middle of the night. After telling him about the soldier’s request, he insisted that something else was behind it all. Once the pain from my ear became intolerable, I told him about Krystyna and the plan to bring her onboard. “Stupid stupid, idiot, this is a communist country, they will shoot you and the girl if they see you together near this ship”. Curfew or no curfew and sore ear, I returned to Krystyna, ending up spending the night in the park admiring her beauty, blessed by the moonlight shining on both of us. Also discovering that she missed the last ferry back to Nowy Port, where her residence was in the Town of Brzezno, located a short distance west of Nowy Port.  

The following day, the ship docked in Gdansk where, by day’s end, I disregarded curfew and travel restrictions by taking the local electric streetcar to her Brzezno residence, where she lived with her parents, married sister, a few nieces and nephews; an experience allowing me to see what the communists did not want the West to know. Leaving Poland, was a sad experience following my encounter with Krystyna, yet life continued, introducing me to future experiences. It did not take long for another adventure to begin, after all, the life of a young sailor is an ever changing event determined to master the quest for a challenge.

Westerplatte

The Westerplatte peninsula remained present in my mind after leaving Gdansk, indicating a desire to learn about its significance to World War II.

From 1926 to 1939, the peninsula was a Polish Military Transit Depot forming part of the Free City of Danzig (now Gdansk), gaining historical importance as the location of the battle of Westerplatte, the first - and longest - battle of the Polish September Campaign in 1939. In 1925, the Council of the League of Nations allowed Poland to keep 88 soldiers on Westerplatte transit depot, and by September 1939, increasing to 182 soldiers with an armament consisting of one 75mm field gun, two 37mm Bofors antitank guns, four mortars and a number of medium machine guns. There were no real fortifications, only several concrete blockhouses hidden in the peninsula’s forest. Therefore, a Polish garrison separated from “Freie Stadt Danzig” (Free City of Danzig, now Gdansk) by the harbor channel, with only a small pier connecting them to the mainland. In case of war, the defenders were supposed to withstand a sustained attack for 12 hours.

Major Henryk Sucharski, was the Polish garrison’s commanding officer and Captain Franciszek Dąbrowski the executive officer.  According to recent belief, from September 2, 1939 Captain Dąbrowski was the actual commander, following Major Sucharski’s nervous breakdown.

At the end of August 1939, the German battleship Schleswig-Holstein arrived in Danzig (Gdansk) under the pretext of a courtesy visit, anchoring on the channel near Westerplatte. On September 1, 1939, at 04:45 local time, Germany began its invasion of Poland, Schleswig-Holstein started to shell the Polish garrison with its 280mm and 150mm guns, followed by an attack by German naval infantry (marines) who were hoping for an easy victory, instead repelled by Polish small arms and machine gun fire. Subsequently, two additional assaults on the same day were repelled, with the Germans suffering unexpected losses. However, the Germans destroyed the only Polish 75mm gun, after 28 shells landed on the German positions across the channel.

During the coming days, Germans repeatedly bombarded Westerplatte with naval and heavy field artillery, including 210 mm howitzers, assisted by dive-bombing raids from Junkers Ju 87 Stukas. Repeated attacks by German marines, SS Heimwehr Danzig (Danzig homeland protection) and combat engineers failed to repel the Poles for seven days. Finally, the Westerplatte garrison, now exhausted - with many defenders severely wounded - as well as being short on food, water, ammunition and medical supplies, surrendered on September 7, 1939. During the battle, approximately 2600 German soldiers were engaged in action against the 205 strong Polish garrison. The exact number of German losses remains unknown or undisclosed, estimating around 300 German soldiers killed and many wounded. Polish casualties, 14 killed and 53 wounded out of 205 soldiers defending the post. An additional victim, Sergeant Kazimierz Rasiński, the radio operator, murdered after surrendering and refusing to give radio codes to the Germans. Today, this area is a small outpost of the Gdansk harbor.

The Westerplatte Peninsula Park, where World War II broke out on September 1, 1939, remains a memorial to the defenders, includes a small museum, some of the ruins left from the shelling and a massive monument that towers above the area. Interestingly, known also as one of the last places where German resistance ended in 1945.

The Soviet Doctrine

Other Soviet controlled sea ports continued to form part of my sea voyages during the early seventies; involving ports from East Germany, Poland and the Soviet Union. Interactions with people from behind the Iron Curtain continued from early experiences, where their conversations began to demonstrate a total dislike for the imposed Communist doctrine. A large civil service was at the top of their complaints, seconded by the lack of freedom to travel the world.

The privileged society that formed the civil service bluntly displayed within Soviet controlled nation states, eventually ignited a revolt that destroyed the Era of Communism, If asked, what was the most important lesson learned from visiting the Communist World of the seventies? Without a doubt, I would describe the destructive force of bureaucracy at play. Specifically, before the lack of freedom enters human discontent, segregating people by privilege, within a society, sets the path for revolt.

Historically speaking, the working class began to expropriate capitalist property in the Soviet Union in 1917, and the accumulation of capital was declared illegal in the USSR up until the overthrow of communism. Because of the isolation of the communist revolution, all political power was usurped by a privileged bureaucracy. Consequently, the tendency to suppress worker's democracy, and replace it with administrative command is inherent in the nature of worker's bureaucracy. While antipathetic to political freedom, this method of rule was adequate to the tasks of developing labour productivity, unfortunately for communism, only up to a point.

Within the Soviet controlled nation states, my interactions with a variety of individuals inevitably led to conversations about their living conditions and how the state run bureaucracy was the root cause of their concern. Specifically, individuals from the working class saw its living standards decline while isolated from workers in the developed capitalist nations whom they saw enjoying better living standards. They viewed bureaucracy, as a whole, with contempt, they felt trapped, where most of my conversations ended with their common statement; a revolution was sure to follow.

As the communist run economy increasingly failed to satisfy the basic needs of its people, and fell behind the productivity of the capitalist world, an illegal economy took hold undermining and corrupting the official economy, thus, the black market, witnessed when I engaged in currency exchange and purchasing goods for personal use. Today, many books and internet available articles describe fully how communism created its own demise by giving full support to the creation of a destructive bureaucratic system that eventually stalemated its economy. What often is missed, involves a comparison between bureaucratic practices of the Soviet Era and those established within the Western World democracies of today.

Witnessing Soviet style bureaucracy and its eventual demise, did not prevent me from also seeing the positive side of communism. By far, the average person walking the streets demonstrated higher intelligence than I had experienced in the Western World. And, when it came to comparisons with Canada, I was embarrassed to call myself a Canadian. Firstly, Soviet styled communism offered free education at all levels. Their lack of freedom imposed intellectual creativity able to navigate all the negative aspect of human behavior. Their resourcefulness surpassed the Western World, not to dismiss that communism was credited with many advanced technical developments; for example, their out-of-space technical knowhow.

A Soviet Ship Named; Dashava

Sometime in the early months of 1973, and near the end of my teenage years, I found myself seeking onboard employment by visiting the Port of Montreal docks, Province of Quebec, Canada. Given that in previous years I established friendships within the Montreal marine community it was not long before I received an offer of employment. The said offer involved travelling to Australia to board a newly purchased ship that was to fly the Canadian flag. Yet, the employment was to start sometime in May, giving me a little more than a month with nothing to do. Fortunately, while walking the streets of old Montreal, an area where the majority of ship agents had their offices, I was approached by a ship agent that remembered me from when I previously entered his agency asking for ship information. Without hesitation, he asked two questions; do you have a radio license? And, do you want a job for a month? My answer was yes to both.

One or two days later, I found myself climbing the gangway of the Soviet ship named Dashava to join the ship's radio crew. The ship, owned by the Murmansk Shipping Company was registered in the port city of Murmansk, U.S.S.R., IMO number 5086712, call sign UEXM, having a 9,596 Deadweight tonnage and a length of 139.50 meters overall.

With a bulk carrier configuration, the ship was large in comparison to what I sailed before. Once onboard, I proceeded to the crew’s mess, better said, the mess room that I was accustomed to, given that my officer standing was in its infancy. Sitting myself on an empty mess room during the morning hours while the crew was at work, I soon began to notice two crew members passing the entrance to the crew’s mess as if looking for something. About the third or fourth time, they decided to enter the mess room and with a signs of relief they pointed at me. Listening to numerous Russian words, one of the men neared my shoulder and gently helped me to stand, indicating that I was to follow them. The other, kept waving his finger indicating, no. At first, I was under the impression that I boarded the wrong ship, but when we started moving towards the stairs leading to the upper decks I guessed it was to meet the officer in charge.

Instead, I was given a tour of the officers mess room, followed by a tour of the ship’s bridge and finally ending in my assigned cabin. To my surprise, my assigned cabin, located on the starboard side of the ship, directly aft of the ship’s bridge, resembled an accommodation fit for a high ranking officer. To this day, I remember that cabin as my introduction to merchant navy officer ranks.

The ship’s photo, shown below, was taken by Dave Kohl in April 1973. At the time, the M/V Dashava was sailing southbound on Lake Ontario approaching the entrance to the Welland Canal, coincidence I was standing on the starboard side bridge wing together with the first officer. A closer look at the photo shows two black dots on the bridge wing.      

My introduction to the officer ranks did not end with a great cabin; it carried on to the officer’s mess, where I was given a sit on the table reserved for the radio crew. Located in the center of a large mess room, the radio crew had a well appointed round table and to my surprise, the ship carried a full radio crew, something I had not seen before. Consisting of a chief radio operator, wearing three golden stripes, followed by three radio operators, the ship took its communications seriously, to say the least.

Yet, the big surprise was to come when I was introduced to the ship’s Captain, only to see him later, during my first meal, not sit at the head of the Captain’s table. Instead, an older man featuring a large stature sat at the head of the table where he made sure everyone heard him enjoy the borsch soup served daily. Enough of crew surprises, I could not resist the impulse to know who he was, so I turned to the radio officer near me and asked who he was. Given that I did not speak Russian, it did not matter, he understood my curiosity and quickly answered; “commodore”. The presence of an onboard fleet commodore only indicated one thing; the ship was doing something of importance.

Certainly, the M/V Dashava entering the Great Lakes was no surprise, during the late sixties and early seventies I was accustomed to seeing numerous Soviet and Cuban ships plying Canadian ports.

 

During my time onboard, two individuals stood out from the rest, specifically because they had little to do; the medical doctor and I. The presence of an onboard medical doctor was also a surprise, given that the M/V Dashava was a cargo ship and no cargo ships known to me flagged by a Western nation carried medical doctors. The ship’s doctor sat directly in front of me joining the radio crew. It did not take long for both of us to seek each other’s company. The doctor spoke English, giving conversations to follow clarity to the subject at hand. Needless to say, the doctor, much like others from communist nations, was curious about the Western World. Our curiosity was mutual; I was interest to know about the communist world.

At the onset of our conversations, taking place inside the ship’s hospital where we found recluse, the doctor explained the hierarchy of a Soviet ran ship, better said, a Soviet style pecking order. Firstly, the real power within the ship, involved two individuals called commissars; officials of the Communist Party who were assigned to teach party principles to the ship’s crew. No one could dismiss the First officer he was one of the commissars, showing a personality conducive with power. During my stay, no political officer ever approached me, seeking my attention to Soviet style propaganda.

From observation, the main complaint from those that lived under the Iron Curtain referred to the fact that all was controlled by the state. For example, onboard the M/V Dashava two political officers watched over the crew, making sure the communist party line was followed. Also, it follows that the judiciary was controlled by the state, where a just society was none existent. In comparison to today's Canadian system where a police force is dedicated at protecting a political party system determined to uphold a decaying feudal system, where the judiciary, judges to be exact, is made up of political appointed lawyers to preside over the courts of law. And, to add insult to injury, the Canadian Bureaucracy stands at an alarming high number of employees whose salaries originate from an economy engulfed in high debt. It is said, that the collapse of communism was quick, giving the Soviet controlled nations a short period of calamity before rebuilding started. In retrospect, Western nations with their conglomerate of decadence will experience a slow death where suffering is long. From witnessing communism, capitalism and Western style democracy, favouritism as per bureaucracy at play, eventually infiltrates the respective system to its demise usually preceded by a revolution of same sort.

Upon conclusion of my assignment onboard the M/V Dashava, my mind maintained a desire to know the facts behind my Great Lakes voyage, departing Montreal, Canada, bound for Duluth, USA for a load of grain purchased from American. Several years passed when time came available to do the research, revealing a voyage of significance.

Approximately one year before I joined the crew of the M/V Dashava, on May 22, 1972, Richard Nixon became the first serving American president to set foot inside the Kremlin. Despite the escalating war in Vietnam, the Soviets warmly welcomed the American leader. For Nixon and Kissinger, Détente was a way of managing their opponent, as the USSR grew into a power that could match American military might. In retrospect, Kremlin saw detente as an acknowledgement of the Soviet Union's superpower status. Specifically, the term Détente is used to refer to a period of general easing of geopolitical tensions between the Soviets and the U.S.A during the Cold War. Détente began in 1969 as a core element of the foreign policy of the U.S. president Richard Nixon. In an effort to avoid an escalation of conflict with the Easter Nations, the Nixon administration promoted greater dialogue with the Soviet government in order to facilitate negotiations over arms control and other bilateral agreements.

 

Nixon and Brezhnev, pictured above, signed the first Strategic Arms Limitation Treaty (SALT I), an event of considerable significance. After twenty-five years of hostility, the Soviet Union and the United States agreed to curb arms race costs and reduce the risks of nuclear war. Four days later Nixon and Brezhnev signed a further charter for Détente, the Basic Principles of Relations between the US and the USSR. This spoke of peace between the two superpowers, and of the need for both sides to "do their utmost to avoid military confrontations and to prevent the outbreak of nuclear war."

At the Moscow summit Nixon urged the Soviets to buy American grain, an offer he thought would look good back home. The Soviets made no public response. However, a month after the summit a Soviet deputy minister of agriculture made a not publicized visit to Washington and negotiated a massive purchase of 400 million bushels of wheat, worth $700 million. Along with the grain purchase the Soviets negotiated $750 million worth of credit loans at the market interest rate. On the terms agreed, the price was low and, initially, the Soviets benefited from the US subsidy payments to grain dealers. The Soviets quietly purchased nearly the entire U.S. surplus grain reserve. When this was realized there was an outcry at the scale of the sale and the favourable terms afforded the Soviet Union. The event came to be called "the great grain robbery" and showed how shrewd the Soviets could be when operating in the capitalist marketplace. Kissinger later admitted, the Soviets “beat us at our own game”.

Before most Americans knew what was happening, the Soviets had purchased a whopping twenty five percent of the U.S. wheat crop at bargain-basement prices. The sale created a wheat shortage in the United States, with the result that bread prices suddenly shot through the ceiling. But that was just part of the story. The U.S. financed the loan, so the Soviets could make the purchase, and the U.S. also subsidized the freight to get the grain to them. Enter the M/V Dashava, the first vessel of the northern Soviet fleet to arrive in North America to load grain. Moreover, the grain sale was also used as a bargain chip for the reduction of weapons supply to Vietnam originating from the Soviet Union.

 

A Canadian Ship named: Ontario

Returning to the Port of Montreal onboard the M/V Dashava, as per contract stipulation, I signed off and soon after reported to Bomar Shipping, the company that previously offered me a position onboard a Canadian Flagged vessel, sailing Australian waters. Specifically, the ship was purchased from an Australian company serving the local mining industry. The Canadian crew assembled in Montreal, Canada, consisted of a Captain, Radio Operator, a Second Officer, a Cook, a Seaman and a Deck Boy. Adding to the preceding crew list, Stanley and I completed the list; I was appointed Boatswain and Stanley, my equivalent in the engine room. Stanley and I met in the Montreal Seaman’s house following my employment with Bomar Shipping where I introduced Stanley to the company for employment. Unfortunately for Stanley, he waited a month in Montreal while I sailed onboard the M/V Dashava. Stanley was of Polish origin, newly arrived in Canada after jumping ship in Halifax and seeking political asylum. Being accustomed to a Communist regime Stanley was enjoying his freedom with an eager attitude to continue his sea career.

The trip to Australia began in Montreal onboard a Canadian Pacific Airplane. From Montreal we flew to Vancouver, British Columbia, Fiji and finally landing in Sydney, Australia after twenty two hours of flight. Upon arrival we learned that the ship was not ready to board and dry docked in Newcastle, New South Wales, Australia. For nearly one month we were tourists in Sydney. With nothing to brag about Sydney we eventually flew to Newcastle to meet the ship. Our first visit to the ship, encouraged a stay, it was not a ship of luxury but one with relative comfort. My cabin and Stanley’s where located on the officers deck both with full air condition. Needless to say the ship was short of crew, where the Canadian crew was less than minimum requirements, an issue that did not present a problem originating from Bomar Shipping invitation to Australian crew to continue. The complete crew list resulted in an Australian Chief Officer, Chief Engineer, Second Engineer, a Seaman, three Swedish Seamen and one Fijian Seaman.

 

The ship, pictured above, now named M/V Ontario and sailing under the Canadian flag departed dry dock in Newcastle and sailed to Sydney to load cargo bound for the Fiji Islands. From the start of our sea voyages problems began, all pointing to the fact that the Captain was crazy. Unfortunately, I was the first to notice that something was not right with the Captain. The ship, while under the Australian flag, carried rented sixteen millimeter movies onboard for the entertainment of the crew. Before departing Sydney, according to the Captain, I committed a “crime” by knocking on the officers mess room door, upon his meal completion and asking to speak to him about movie rentals. I was yelled at for trying to enter the Officer Mess, certainly a strange accusation yet I said nothing and carried on.

At the time, I was nineteen years old managing a crew with little experience operating heavy deck equipment, as per the deck configuration of the M/V Ontario that carried two jumbo derrick and eight derricks of normal tonnage capacity. The Captain and Canadian officer were no help and stayed away from deck operations leaving me alone to manage the deck. The Australian chief officer was nowhere to be seen while the ship was in port. His agreement to sail with the ship allowed him to be with his family when the ship was in Australian ports.

When life presents no challenge chances to learn are limited, so I was facing cargo consisting of half a year’s supply of goods to the Fiji Islands. The ship was entrusted to load all the cargo, no dockside cranes. Bags of flour, sugar, cases of wine, numerous boxes of canned goods, cars, product boxes that I no longer remember the content and two dogs. My problems began when I had to rig the two jumbo derricks to load two dump trucks, three heavy loaders and two locomotives. The rigging from the standard derricks was the same used for the jumbo derricks thus requiring derigging and rigging every time one or the other was used. Certainly not an easy task and regarding my inexperienced, I performed well under pressure.

Once back at sea loaded with cargo bound for the Fiji Islands, the Captain targeted my crew with an order for them to refrain from using the lifeboat deck to sunbathe during their free time. Not able to fully understand such a stupid order given onboard a cargo ship, I consulted my Australian Chief Officer, his reply was quick “the Captain is crazy and there is nothing I can do about it”, I am leaving the ship when it returns to Australia. And, so it did return to Australia and to my surprise my crew and I greatly enjoyed the Fiji Islands while ignoring our crazy Captain, after all what was he going to do without us to run the ship. Looking back, I am certain the Australian Chief Officer had a serious talk with the Captain, because our Fijian female visitors stayed onboard for the duration without any comment from the Captain.  

After returning to Sydney Australian, the M/V Ontario loaded cargo for Saigon, South Vietnam, during times when the American troops were on retreat. Our biggest fear prior to the arrival in Vietnam emerged from news reports of Merchants Ships bombed while delivering cargo. So, the lesson learned from the Cold War was full circle involving cold and hot theaters of war where the fallacy of a Cold War was obvious. Pictured below shows American troops leaving Saigon prior to our arrival, March 29, 1973.

 

The M/V Ontario was the only ship that I sailed under the Canadian flag and to this day I am happy to have taken such an attitude of refraining from sailing Canadian flagged ships. It was not only the mannerisms encountered onboard the M/V Ontario that made me take such an attitude, numerous Canadian seamen warned me of the typical dysfunctional Canadian ship. Unfortunately, later in my professional life I found that maritime dysfunction is part of the Canadian fabric. A sentiment encountered during meetings with fellow Canadians serving the international maritime community.

My early analysis of the prospects at beginning a marine career within Canada showed that it had limited opportunities, also the realization that the world possessed a greater pool of knowledge than the narrow minded Canadian institutions. Additionally and to my surprise, my disappointments within Canada provided excellent incentives to travel elsewhere seeking better opportunities; a mannerism that always resulted in major accomplishments. While Canadians are currently suffering from a failed marine industry, I reflect on my past with pride and assurance that it was not a waste of my time.

Should Canadians insinuate that I did not contribute to a mind change for the betterment of the Canadian marine industry, they are wrong.  My continuous contributions, proved to be an exercise in futility; a society does not change by words or actions of an individual, instead it changes when suffering begins. Today, the loss of the marine industry has not contributed to great suffering of the population. Canadians enjoy a modest living, albeit a deteriorating one. Yet, it has contributed to a loss of pride, with consequences of a dependency on others that do not have Canada's best interests in mind.