![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.switchonpaper.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/05\/Texte-2-Ter-e1557414369200-1024x768.jpg\")
<\/a>Chesterfield reef seen from the Gardian<\/em>.<\/p><\/div>\nAt sea<\/h2>\n
The \u201claps in the pool\u201d and the exercises are over. The D\u2019Entrecasteaux<\/em> is heading for Australia. We sail through the Uitoe Pass, noting the difference in colour between the waters of the lagoon and the open sea. Beyond the Uitoe Peninsula is an inaccessible, unsurveyed <\/em>bay. On the bridge, Map 146 shows the natural reserves; coral\u00a0reefs dotted with numerous shallow waterholes and more unsurveyed zones, scattered with dangerous deeps. We re-enter the lagoon by the Mara trench.<\/p>\nLa Foa, the Bay without Water and the Island of the Dead are situated in the southern part of Grande Terre, the Bay of St Vincent, Le Havre trompeur and Vexation Island were named by Admiral Bruni d’Entrecasteaux, our ship\u2019s namesake.<\/p>\n
The last words of Louis XVI before being beheaded on Monday January 21st 1793 were: \u201cHave we received news of Monsieur de La Perouse?\u201d<\/p>\n
Jean-Francois de Galaup, Comte de La Perouse, was lost in the seas in which we’re sailing, in 1788. An expedition set out to\u00a0search for him in 1791, directed by Antoine Reymond Joseph Bruni d’Entrecasteaux, known as the Chevalier d’Entrecasteaux, with two frigates, La Recherche<\/em> and L’Esperance.<\/em> In 1793, the expedition discovered an island, Vanikoro, named the Island of La Recherche<\/em> by Admiral d’Entrecasteaux, where the survivors of\u00a0La Perouse’s expedition\u00a0had perhaps taken refuge. D’Entrecasteaux\u00a0continued in the direction of New Caledonia by a route that had never been taken, except, perhaps, by La Perouse.<\/p>\nBut what news of him?
\nNone.
\n\u201cAny time is the right time for brave soldiers,\u201d sighs the midshipman. He has the most difficult watch for lack of sleep: from 4AM\u2013 8AM.<\/p>\n
Representation<\/h2>\n
We approach Brisbane too quickly, that won’t do for a military ship. The D’Entrecasteaux<\/em> treads water like a guest who knows he’ll arrive too early. Off the beach, the sea growls, regurgitates, breathes.<\/p>\nThe Pacific is peaceful, blue, immense, rather calm, except that the Coral Sea is not really the Pacific. Prussian blue. Hot. Humid. Less waves. Flying fish with blue wings.<\/p>\n
On the loudspeaker, a message from the bridge announces: \u201cWhale port side!\u201d It gambols, we can see it on the horizon. \u201cAstonishing for this time of the year,\u201d says the Captain. I hope it will leave this area as fast as possible, because its appearance coincides with our shooting practice hour.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd you, Madame Landon, would you like to shoot?\u201d
\n\u201cNo, thank you.\u201d<\/p>\n
As we approach Brisbane, it’s time to think about Representation. The First Mate asks me, \u201cMadame Landon, what should we do about the seating arrangement for lunch. We’ll have a Lady on board.\u201d \u201cPut her to the right of the Captain.\u201d<\/p>\n
The pilot comes on board at 3:30AM. Wind 10. Sea 3. Speed 12 knots. Moreton Island, the same shape as Fraser Island, Stradbroke Island. These sandy islands protect the bay. Unexploded ordnance is marked on the maps. Australian voices with a nasal twang can be heard on\u00a0the radio.<\/p>\n
The ascent of the Brisbane River is bordered by port and industrial zones, the historic port, and the airport. Planes take off and land over us.<\/p>\n
The far-off skyscrapers create a little skyline. Brisbane can now be considered as a real city. The day of Representation arrives, and Justine prints out the seating plan for the Captain, Lady B, the CR, the CMDR Head of the Brisbane Naval Base, the Inspector of Police, the Midshipman and the French Naval Writer. The discussion heads off in all directions, led above all by Lady B, a businesswoman, and the CR, a blonde in a white dress who works for the City of Brisbane.<\/p>\n
Police Inspector: This port area is new to me. Previously, I worked at Fortitude Valley, a rapidly developing area, like an expanding doughnut, with plenty of nightlife that I wouldn’t like my 16 year old daughters to attend.
\nCR: It’s crazy how young people are afraid to communicate by phone these days. They do everything via Messenger. My children can\u2019t even pick up a phone to contact me.
\nLady B: A young woman I’ve just hired, when she has to rapidly contact a client, repeatedly tells me that he doesn’t reply to messages, because she doesn’t want to actually speak to him. However, it would be far more simple!
\nCMDR: Trams in olden times had a certain charm…
\nCR: By the way, congratulations, Lady B, on the 30th<\/sup> anniversary of your career!
\nLady B: It’s all passed so quickly! June Dally-Watkins, the Australian etiquette queen, remains my absolute role model, she\u2019s still around at 92. Such beauty and elegance!
\nCR: And Peter Hackworth in real estate, that great lady from Brisbane who is now 83. Her father was an English pilot who died in the war, and he wanted to call his son Peter, that’s the explanation for her masculine name… But let’s rather talk about this beautiful Naval vessel. What kind of operations do you carry out?
\nCaptain: For example, we intercepted a shipment of cocaine heading for Australia, 578k.<\/p>\n(Everybody goggle-eyed.)<\/p>\n
Police Inspector: Great haul!
\nNaval Writer: When I last made a stopover at Brisbane in 2001, there weren’t all those skyscrapers.
\nLady B: Since then Highrise Harry has passed by…
\nCR: How do you call – the coloured vests – in France?
\nCaptain: Les gilets jaunes (the yellow vests).
\nCR: My husband’s been on holiday in Europe for two years now. I joined him, to go skiing. Sometimes we were blocked on the roads by the demonstrations.
\nLady B: Thank you for that wonderful lunch, so French! What a pleasure it’s been to see you again.
\n(On the side, to the CR): I’m going to Morocco, with some friends, I’ve heard the beaches are magnificent.
\nCR: Don’t forget to take some antibiotics, just in case…<\/p>\n
The next day, a strategic visit is planned to the Australian Army base, Gallipoli Barracks, for the early stages of setting up a collaboration between the French Navy and the Australian Army.<\/p>\n
\u201cWelcome back,\u201d the soldier at the entrance of the base says to me, as I hand him my Australian passport. We’re ushered towards the parade ground, three large vehicles are parked there. \u201cOne wouldn’t park there like that in France,\u201d Justine, the officer cadet, tells me. On the left of the parade ground, three musicians, a bagpipe player and two drummers, rehearse \u201cWalzing Matilda.\u201d<\/p>\n
Their trio is like an Australian Bagad de Lann Bihoue.<\/p>\n
The Australian soldiers are\u00a0two metre tall giants. They show us their equipment, speak to us about their missions. In 2012, OP Slippet Anode and Pakistan. In 2015-2016, Afghanistan and Iraq. On land in Australia, they come to the aid of the population in\u00a0case of flooding and forest fires.<\/p>\n
The idea is to create an interoperability, a mutual understanding between French and Australian forces, an Amphibious work group.<\/p>\n
From ship to shore. Wet to dry. The Bushmasters. Their weapons. Their 50 kilo backpacks with a spade and food rations for 24 hours: Koma lamb, beef and noodles, bread, mi-goreng, muesli, Werthers, mashed potato, Vegemite, crystallized fruit, chocolate, condensed milk, jam sandwiches, dried beef, cheese\u2026 We listen politely under the fierce sun. Later, they’ll visit the D’Entrecasteaux<\/em>, which seems too small to welcome them all, plus their equipment.<\/p>\nLife on board<\/h2>\n
At sea once more.
\nShake hands with all the crewmembers the first thing in the morning. Stow away all your belongings so they don\u2019t crash to the floor, including those in drawers, especially pens that make an annoying noise when they roll from one side to another.
\nPlace whatever you put on a table in a careful manner.
\nIf possible, lie down and take a nap in case of fatigue or headache.
\nMake your bed neatly.
\nStore the chair to your desk with an elastic belt.
\nDress every day in the Naval uniform, a T-shirt underneath, and wear sensible shoes.
\nBrush your hair.
\nAddress everybody by the formal French ‘you’.
\nSay \u201cCapitaine,\u201d \u201cSecond,\u201d and \u201cOps\u201d (for the Captain, First Mate and Chief of Security), and call the others by their first name, or no name at all.
\nDebriefing sessions at 6PM. Everybody rises when the Captain enters the room. He says: \u201cAt ease, be seated,\u201d even before I’ve had the time to rise.
\nWe go over the weather forecast, conditions at sea, the \u201cp\u00e9pins\u201d: things going wrong, the fuel situation, training and activities planned, in what is sometimes used as a detention room, now called the passengers’ room.<\/p>\n
Cyclone Oma pursues its route towards Australia.<\/p>\n
We’re just to the north of it. Outside, the moon is full. Sea 6, very rough, big swells. The D’Entrecasteaux<\/em>,\u00a0solid as she is, is tossed in the rough sea like a cork. We all keep to ourselves, slightly seasick. Perhaps rather more so, because of the full moon. The ship sways from one side to the other; rather too much, and everything it contains is swept upwards, thrown against the walls, and clatters to the floor. In bed, the pitching tightens the stomach. The wooden furniture creaks and the noise evokes the rigging of another ship, a former version of the D’Entrecasteaux, <\/em>from another century.<\/p>\nThe D’Entrecasteaux<\/em>‘s mission was to cross the Coral Sea to give the crew a chance to train, and then to meet the Australian Army to study the possibilities of an amphibious collaboration. As for the return to Noumea, the aim is to flee Cyclone Oma.<\/p>\nThe chief of the deck department, who has been studying the maps and the weather and sea conditions to determine our route, decides we should head north to avoid the cyclone, which\u00a0is now heading south, and to change our course to 90\u00b0, directly towards New Caledonia. We’ll save 220 nautical miles, which will allow us to reach the east coast twenty hours early, and have time for exercises. One says \u201cthe idea of the manoeuvre\u201d because it is not an exact science, he explains to me. There are many known elements, but one can never forecast the environment at 100%.<\/p>\n
The chief of the deck department proposes his idea to the Captain, who decides to validate it or not.<\/p>\n
All of a sudden, rather than surf the waves that were propulsing us from behind, we head straight into the swell. I write on my bed, my computer wedged between my feet. The sea is wild. I sleep with my more fragile belongings, so they don’t take off.<\/p>\n
The mess rooms<\/h2>\n
A reduced crew obliges crewmembers to be polyvalent and extra work abounds aboard the D’Entrecasteaux<\/em>, from the bridge to the engine room where the average temperature is above 40\u00b0. That means lots of dirty T-shirts to wash. Working outside, for everything to do with the piloting the ship, in all weather conditions, is a tough job. Nevertheless, the\u00a0helmsman would never exchange his job for that of an officer, behind a computer, even considering that officers earn much more. I chat to the quartermaster who works with the bosun. He has eight years of experience in the Navy and would like to\u00a0move up the ranks to chief of the deck department, for example, but still\u00a0keep his hands dirty.<\/p>\nIn the crew mess room everyone talks at once, relaxes, watches TV, sport, generally. They all seem close and considerate one of another. On land, they often meet to have picnics with their families. Their wives have found work as nurses, journalists or cleaners. The crew not having the same salaries as the officers, a division exists, between the two worlds. The majority of the officers\u2019 wives do not work.<\/p>\n
As for the officers, they don’t consider that they are practising their profession behind a computer. In the Officer mess room, for what would normally be an evening drink, the choice is between fruit juice (I must say I’ve never\u00a0tasted such delicious fruit juice), lime Perrier and Pepsi, the First Mate is watching a program on Arte about North Korea: workers on holiday. Perhaps their first paid holidays.<\/p>\n
– I\u2019d like to go on holiday in North Korea…
\n– Well, why not? I ask him.
\n– Top secret defence reasons.<\/p>\n
He goes on to tell me that for security reasons, it\u2019s difficult for soldiers to have families with certain nationalities, be they from the Far East, Russia, Korea, China\u2026 In case of conflict, the enemy could take family members as hostages. I never know if he\u2019s making fun of my naivety, so I change the subject.<\/p>\n
– The Captain has the power to order his crew to \u201cshoot to kill.\u201d He remains the \u201cMaster on board after God.\u201d Where could the Captain of the D\u2019Entrecasteaux<\/em> wish to work after serving this ship?
\nIn the 21st century Navy, the Captain is the\u00a0one who decides, above all in combat, but he\u00a0is also hugely responsible to the Chief of Defence Staff. On a daily basis, combat is reduced to exercises like those we carried out at the beginning of our mission. At the most, one shoots to intimidate, closer and closer to the target until they surrender. The D’Entrecasteaux <\/em>is not a warship but, as its name indicates, a support ship. Normally, we don\u2019t have to shoot before approaching blue boats or boats we suspect of transporting drugs.
\n– So what could be the next step after commanding the D’Entrecasteaux<\/em>?
\n– The Captain could progress to an aircraft carrier with 2000 sailors aboard. 262 metres long, 64 wide, with two nuclear reactors generating 82000 propulsive horsepower and 16 megawatts of electric power. These vessels are incredible, they can remain self-sufficient for eight years, sailing 500 nautical miles per day at 25 knots almost permanently. Self-sufficiency and resistance are imperative for this genuine city at sea, used to control large local conflicts, and also participate in international missions. In 2011, France was present during the Harmattan mission in the Gulf of Syrte, off Libya, and maintained a strict control over the maritime embargo imposed on this country and its government. In 2018, during the Hamilton mission, chemical sites were fired upon. Arms are used when under threat. Like when Yemeni and Libyan civilians were evacuated in 2015 and 2016.
\n– How do you accede to this promotion?
\n– You have to prove you\u2019re a warrior. Not just somebody concerned about his air-conditioning at 15\u00b0 and his cosy bed.
\n– But how do you prove you\u2019re a warrior?<\/p>\nThe First Mate immediately replies:<\/p>\n
– By your career. Your fighting spirit: by being always ready to act, even in times of peace. We are trained to be ready for combat, as a natural reflex, but above all not in a routine manner. You can\u2019t just consider what you\u2019re doing as the third exercise of the week, so you don\u2019t give a damn. You\u2019re not just hanging around waiting for dinner. It’s a real mentality.<\/p>\n
![\"\"](\"https:\/\/www.switchonpaper.com\/wp-content\/uploads\/2019\/05\/Texte-2-Ter.jpg\")
<\/a>