The Man who Filed his Thumb.

My Father went to sea in 1912 as a Boy on board a Sprits’l Barge owned and operated by the British Admiralty. He was 14 years of age. Three of his brothers were already sailing out of the Medway and William, the eldest Hogan, was already captain of the Sailing Barge “Egypt”. The vessels were all engaged in the carriage of high explosives and munitions to Royal Naval ships and Ports in Europe; Britain had a huge fleet in those days. My Grandfather, also William Hogan, served in H.M. Admiralty Dockyard in the Gun Wharf, Chatham as blacksmith.

In 1914 at the dawn of the Great War, my Father was 16 years of age in September and by then he was sailing as seaman/cook. These hard working sailing vessels were manned by 4 men, a Master, a Mate, a Seaman/Cook, and a Boy. The Seaman/Cook worked the sails and cargo with the others and then cooked food for all hands. Hard work but hard work was the way of the world at the start of the twentieth century.

This year, 1914, was a terrible year in many ways and most certainly left its mark upon my Father. In a November gale the vessel was rolling and pitching violently and a heavy steel weather door slammed shut and crushed my Father’s left thumb. He had to be taken to the Naval Hospital so they could try and save as much of his thumb as possible.

It was there my Father saw the results of a most awful event.

A powerful internal explosion ripped the battleship HMS “Bulwark” apart at 07:50 on 26 November 1914 while she was moored 4 nautical miles west of Sheerness in the estuary of the Medway. Out of her complement of 750 men only 14 sailors survived, two of whom subsequently died of their injuries in hospital. Most of the survivors were seriously injured. This was where my Father was hospitalised.

One cannot begin to imagine the thoughts and emotions for my Father. These young RN sailors were killed or terribly injured by the same gun-cotton that was my Father’s standard cargo. This event really brought home all those implications. I do know that my Father never liked Sheerness and always referred to it as “Sheer Nasty”. He was completely intolerant of any person who did not treat explosives with every care and respect for dangers and its unpredictability.

All those sailors all died in defence of their country, they were mostly young, just like the young British, American, and Canadian forces do in this day and age.

The Surgeon managed to save most of my Father’s left thumb leaving sufficient to function. The only drawback was that in finishing this off he had to leave some bone tip exposed. This bone seemed to grow because from that point on he had to trim it.

Move on to the year 1955 and my Father is still with the Admiralty but now has an office in Lansdown, Bath, and now, as Shipping Master, manages a fleet of Naval Artmament Vessels. I am 17 years of age and home from over a year at sea having circled the world three times on a tramp ship, the “Eastern City”. I have met the girl of my dreams, Tina, and as my Father is home from NATO exercises off Norway, I can introduce him to my sweetheart and I did.

But it was not until the following year, 1956, that Tina encountered my Father’s unbelieveable habit - a real show stopper. My Father carried a small file in a neat chamois sheath. Sometimes his thumb would become sharp and catch on his clothing much to his discomfort, he really did not like this to happen. “Oh, bugger” he would say and out would come the sheath, then the file, and then he vigorously rasped off the offending bone projection. Believe me it was quite audible. Sometimes the company of my Father was not for the faint hearted and, since my Mother had died was I was 14 there was no calming force. I look back and think how well Tina coped with the man who filed his thumb.