Every time I’ve deployed the opportunity to communicate with family and friends at home has been different. While it’s far easier to communicate now that brings both benefits and challenges.
My first experience was in 1991, with a three month training deployment, known then as the Dartmouth Training Squadron. We had no personal communication at sea, and when we got alongside there were three phone lines into the ship, of which only one might be available. The main method was hand-written letter. As soon as we got alongside anywhere the Commanding Officer went ashore with his diplomatic duties, and the mail sacks were carried onboard, closely followed by a replenishment of food. I can remember the tension in the air as the mail was brought to the messdeck and handed out. The relief, excitement or disappointment depending on what one received.
Ten years later we had one or two telephones in a ship, that could be used to phone home even when we were at sea, but competition for time was high, and when we operated outside the UK we were contending with time differences. In the ship we managed the issues and let people get their calls home, we allocated a 20 minute phone call every week and accounted for it. We probably shouldn’t have done, but in the command team we felt it was valuable. It was certainly a learning experience, we had problems we hadn’t anticipated as the tensions of separation suddenly became more pronounced and apparent.
Comments during a phone call that in the past would have been problems dealt with and reported in a letter suddenly took on a whole different complexion when they were ”here and now” rather than ”been and gone”. One very significant point was call quality, for families used to toll quality the experience of a time delayed, noisy conversation was a challenge. The service became formalised and our experiences were useful, passing the lessons to others. We also experimented with email from sea, although the process was very clunky and needed a manual intervention. These services weren’t there for the purpose, they were put on board to support the command and control of the ship, but we made a bit of an effort to use them for the benefit of the ships company.
All of this served to reduce the distance between the sailor and his, or her, family. There were tensions and difficulties, but the benefits were recognised and the ability to deliver improved communications across all three services became an important issue with a lot of very high level interest. Including the odd parliamentary question, one of which was an outcry over the fact that 20 minutes was less than a prisoner in the UK justice system was allowed.
We now have a service in all of our ships and main bases overseas that offers access to toll quality telephones, and internet access on shared PCs. Further out into the Patrol Bases there are satellite phones, but access to PCs for internet use is more restricted. Some also have pretty ready access to the internet for official purposes, making use of email quite straightforward.
One thing that has been formalised is Operation Minimize, the services are cut off when there is an operational reason to restrict contact. It comes without warning, and can cut off mid sentence. The main reason that it’s implemented is a British casualty, either a death or a Category A wounding. Walking in to the welfare cabin and seeing the sign on the door causes a lump in the throat and a sudden weight in the pit of the stomach. The knowledge that someone, somewhere is about to get a fateful knock on the door brings home the import of what we do.
Despite all of these advances it can be difficult to actually make contact, I’ve seen comments on Twitter about the length of time between conversations, and how difficult that can be. It’s particularly hard for those whose loved ones are out at the sharp end day in, day out. It’s a very different dynamic to the one where a conversation ends with “I can’t call for a couple of days” and I’m not sure which is worse for those back home. I’ve thought about whether I should say it or not, telegraphing that I’m going out rather than just keeping quiet. On balance, for us, it makes sense to set the expectation, but that’s not right for everyone. In many cases the simple phrase would also give far more away about operational security than it does for me.
The immediacy of voice and internet communication doesn’t detract from the importance of actually getting handed an envelope or a package. There was a familiar burst of anticipation when an envelope arrived a few days ago, Christmas cards and some photographs from my family. There is also something very special about the sense of community across the services, with friends offering to send things out, as well as asking if there is anyone here who would appreciate getting a package. I’ve also seen the comments about it elsewhere So I can sit here in the knowledge that there are a few on the way for me, and I look forward to receiving them. At the same time I know that there are parcels being sent to others who otherwise might not get much.
Contact with home isn’t easy for anyone, but in my opinion it certainly beats what we had before.
