WASTED MATERIAL

Here is a digression suggested by the sight of a man I had known in
other scenes, despatch-riding round a fleet in a petrol-launch. There
are many of his type, yachtsmen of sorts accustomed to take chances,
who do not hold masters' certificates and cannot be given sea-going
commands. Like my friend, they do general utility work--often in their
own boats. This is a waste of good material. Nobody wants amateur
navigators--the traffic lanes are none too wide as it is. But these
gentlemen ought to be distributed among the Trawler Fleet as strictly
combatant officers. A trawler skipper may be an excellent seaman, but
slow with a submarine shelling and diving, or in cutting out enemy
trawlers. The young ones who can master Q.F. gun work in a very short
time would--though there might be friction, a court-martial or two,
and probably losses at first--pay for their keep. Even a hundred or so
of amateurs, more or less controlled by their squadron commanders,
would make a happy beginning, and I am sure they would all be
extremely grateful.

Where the East wind is brewed fresh and fresh every morning,
And the balmy night-breezes blow straight from the Pole,
I heard a destroyer sing: "What an enjoyable life does one
lead on the North Sea Patrol!

"To blow things to bits is our business (and Fritz's),
Which means there are mine-fields wherever you stroll.
Unless you've particular wish to die quick, you'll avoid steering
close to the North Sea Patrol.