“OLWEN”
Pennant No. A 122 International Callsign GQKA Registered LONDON
Previous Name “Olynthus” (Re-named in September 1967). Lloyds Identity No. 6418572
Builder Hawthorn Leslie (Shipbuilders) Ltd, Hebburn on Tyne.
Launched 10th July 1964 Completed 21st June 1965
Displacement (Light-ship) 10,890 tons (Loaded) 32,240 tons
Measurement Tonnage N.R.T. 9,392 G.R.T. 18,604 DWT 22,350
Dimensions Length O.A. 648 ft. Beam 84 ft. Draft 34 ft.
Main Machinery Pamatrada double reduction geared steam turbines. Built by Hawthorn Leslie (Engineering) Ltd. 2 x Babcock & Wilcox water tube boilers. Single Shaft. Speed 20 knots.
Ships Badge Granted in 1964, when the vessel was originally named “Olynthus”. This was the name of a town in Thrace, hence the Greek pediment mounted on three columns and charged upon a green fig leaf, all on a blue and white wavy background. The ship’s name was changed in 1967 to avoid any phonetic confusion with HMS “Olympus”, an ‘Oberon’ class submarine. Despite the change of name, the ship’s badge was not altered.
Remarks Sister-ship to “OLNA” and the “OLEANDER”, the details of which have been given earlier.
“OLWEN” was still in service in 1997 and expected to continue until replaced by the new “Wave” class tankers in 2001.
“OLWEN”
25th April 1973 to 20th June 1973
British Crew
Supernumerary 2nd Officer (Flight Deck)
This ship was about to depart from the U.K. to join a major exercise with the Americans and other NATO forces in the Mediterranean, involving a lot of anti-submarine helicopter work. As I had just completed a “SMAC 18” (Flight Deck Officer) course, I was appointed to assist with and share the duties of flight deck operations with the ship’s 1st Officer. On sailing from Portland, the ship was going to embark a flight of three “Seaking” helicopters from the Royal Naval Air Station at Culdrose in Cornwall. These aircraft, along with their aircrew and maintenance staff, were going to be based with us for the duration of the two-month exercise. We could see that the flight deck was going to be a cramped and very busy part of the ship for the next few weeks.
The “SMAC 18” course that I have just mentioned was held at “HMS Osprey”, the naval air station at Portland. It was a two-week course, part classroom and part practical work. The practical side of things was carried out on a modified barge known as the ‘Dummy Deck Lighter’, moored in Portland harbour. The barge had been fitted with a flat steel deck, with all the fittings that you could expect to find on a ship’s helicopter flight deck, such as side netting, ring bolts for lashing the aircraft down, deck markings, visually secure floodlighting and a glide path indicator.
The glide path indicator or ‘GPI’, was a stabilised device mounted at the forward end of, and usually about 20 feet above the level of the flight deck. It shone a narrow beam of light out from the ship in the direction of Red 165 degrees, relative to the ship’s heading. The beam was lifted above the horizon so that when the helicopter was approaching down the correct gradient of decent, the pilot saw a green light. If he was too high the light filter changed to amber and if he was too low it turned to red. The pilot was guided onto this glide path by the ship’s Helicopter Control Officer, (HCO), watching the aircraft on radar from a cubicle in the ship’s bridge. When the aircraft was two miles away and correctly positioned on the approach, the HCO would give the pilot a running update on what his decent height should be at his current distance from the ship, and a course to steer to remain on the glide path. At a distance of a quarter of a mile, the control of the aircraft was passed to the Flight Deck Officer, (FDO) for the deck landing process.
During the classroom sessions on the course, we learned all about the various types of helicopters that we were likely to be operating, including their ‘wind envelopes’. These were the operating limits relevant to the type of ship, type of aircraft and the direction and strength of the relative wind over the deck. By altering the course and/or speed of the ship, the relative wind could be adjusted so that the readings on the ship’s anemometer were brought within the parameters, (wind envelope), of the aircraft. The aircraft was able to land facing across the deck or even facing aft if necessary, to get the wind at the right direction or strength for a safe landing. We also learned about helicopter refuelling procedures, as most ships were able to refuel a helicopter, either as it was sitting on the flight deck, or even as it hovered alongside. The latter enabled a frigate, for example, to refuel a helicopter that was too large to land, or it left a bigger ship’s deck clear for a second aircraft to land at the same time as one was being refuelled in the hover.
Out on the barge or ‘dummy deck lighter’, we learned the skills of guiding the pilot, who had limited visibility, down to a position alongside the flight deck, usually abeam on the ship’s port side, then directing him over the deck at a safe height before bringing him down onto the landing spot.
When landing it was important to give the pilot positive guidance, as on a real ship there wasn’t much margin for error. If the pilot got too far ahead the rotors were in danger of striking the hanger structure. Too far astern and the tail wheel would drop off the back of the flight deck. We practised with ‘Wasp’ and ‘Wessex’ helicopters on the dummy deck, both day and night, bringing the aircraft onto the deck and sending out the aircraft handlers who would lash it down or release it using their webbing strops. It was good practice for the pilots as well so they were all quite co-operative. The major difference between the dummy deck and the real thing was the ship motion, which we would soon have to take into account. A pitching and rolling flight deck, especially on a windy night, was going to be a whole new ball game!
Sailing from Portland, we got stuck into some intensive practice with the three “Seakings”. Moving them around the flight deck with their blades folded back was quite an art. They had to be pushed and pulled by hand and steered by a bar attached to the tail wheel. Only two of the aircraft could be fitted in the hanger space at any one time, nose to tail, where the RN maintainers could service the machines under cover and out of the elements. Part of the RFA ship’s deck crew provided the lashing and refuelling party and assisted with moving the aircraft when needed.
Quality control of the ‘avcat’ (helicopter fuel) was most important. A ready use tank near the flight deck was kept topped up from the ship’s cargo tanks. Regular tests for water contamination were carried out, whilst the internal surfaces of the specially coated storage tanks were checked from time to time, for any signs of biological growth.
Throughout the passage to the Mediterranean and on joining the exercise, I spent many hours on or around that flight deck. Apart from a mix of British helicopters from other ships in the fleet, we also landed and fuelled “Sea Sprites” and “Sea Knights” of the U.S. Navy. That exercise took us all over the eastern Mediterranean and into the Aegean Sea. On one occasion our own “Seakings” were involved in a search and rescue of the crew of a sinking fishing vessel.
Throughout that exercise, as with just about every other one that I had taken part in, we were constantly shadowed by a Soviet Bloc spy trawler, known as an ‘AGI’. The Cold War was still in full swing and the Russians and East Germans liked to watch, listen and learn at any opportunity. They would not interfere with any exercise activity but usually followed our progress from a distance of a mile or two. The seemed to concentrate their snooping on aircraft carrier and replenishment activities, both of which at that time they lacked in western expertise. When they saw either of these actions taking place the spy trawlers closed in to less than a mile to watch. We knew at that time that the Russians were building their first aircraft carrier and were probably anxious to learn as much as possible from us. Also at that time they had not perfected a form of fast underway replenishment. I had been on RFA’s that had passed Soviet warships at sea, refuelling from their tankers whilst stopped or whilst towing or being towedslowly, with the fuel hose being passed along the towline. This must have been a vulnerable, lengthy and laborious process and was a method that had been used by the British before the 2nd World War.
No doubt throughout the exercise, the spy trawlers were also monitoring all our radio traffic, via their vast array of aerials.
We only called at one port during the whole deployment and that was to an anchorage off Piraeus. Due to work commitments I was unable to go ashore but I did manage a couple of hours sailing in the ship’s ‘Bosun’ dinghy. I also managed an extended flight in one of our “Seakings”, which was sent to Iraklion Airport in Crete to collect mail for the British ships in the exercise.
On return to the U.K. I paid off at Rosyth, having learned an awful lot about flight deck operations.