Chapter Twenty One

OPERATION 3xXX

So secret, it cannot be given a proper code-name.

This strictly confidential contemporaneous account is for 'Your Eyes Only'.

Please do not discuss the contents of this memorandum with any person whomsoever.

Compiled by an anonymous source who was an accredited monitor and observer on the historic occasion.

THIS highly secretive and totally clandestine mission, Operation 3xXX, was carried out in New Zealand on December 28, as the last days of 2008 ebbed away. It was executed by three anonymous heroes who are a credit to their countries, highly meritorious members of their families, and worthy members of the human race. Their likes and their achievements are unlikely ever to be replicated.

For sheer bravado, all-round-devilment and unconfined audacity, these men have no peers. This remarkable trio of two New Zealanders and one Irishman are some of, if not the, most remarkable men the world has been privileged to count among its citizens. Their valour and fortitude against all odds makes these three unlikely heroes, worthy of entry to the pantheon of the Gods. Their maritime achievements are never likely to be matched, much less surpassed.

It all began when one of the New Zealanders who, for reasons of anonymity, must be called Tom Birdsall noticed one day that he was without a swimming platform in the creek near his home with which to entertain inhabitants of and guests in his holiday home in Waiheke Island off the coast of Auckland. Straight away, he resolved to rectify this serious omission. He summoned his thoughts - they had no option but to obey - and speedily launched a quick but effective plan at the end of which he mysteriously but legally became the owner of an un-wanted but highly valuable piece of floating wharfage.

Next, he subpoenaed his good friend and fellow Kiwi - let's give him the non-de-plume, Doug White - to join him in what was to follow. He had considerable sea-going experience and was to be the expedition's jovial skipper.

But in a land where quite a few birds never flew on two wings, it was decided to recruit a third person. After little searching, Able Seaman Tony Cadogan was inducted. Copious amounts of best NZ Chardonnay persuaded him into becoming a compliant conscript. His identity still remains a secret.

"Don't call him that," his wife, Patricia, said. "It'll go to his head. Soon, he'll be insisting you call him Very Able Seaman Cadogan".

The Third Man had little or no sea-going experience - apart from a couple of ferry-crossings to France every year, to buy wine and go on holidays.

Together, all three, Birdsall, White and Cadogan - who are still incognito - have now become known in the pages of New Zealand sea-faring history as ' Ready, Willing and Able' - their real titles or names, of course, remaining carefully concealed.

Having assembled his team of would-be crack maritime adventurers, Mr Birdsall made clear the purpose of the hazardous mission.

"Our task," he informed them, "is a precarious one, If any man wishes not to participate in this perilous engagement, let him opt out now and return to the bosom of his family. There is no shame in choosing family first".

No one flinched. They were not craven quitters. These men were the bravest, ready to serve humanity and their countries so that, in a manner of speaking, a structure could be put in place to benefit this and future generations. They were aware of the highly hazardous nature of their assignment, yet did not baulk or flunk the challenge.

"Our project is no under-cover one," Mr Birdsall continued, "we will surprise them with our audacity and do it in broad daylight. I have checked with the Kiwi Meteorological and Weather Service and they assure me there will be sufficient cloud-cover to prevent any satellite surveillance of our operations. This will stop any pictures of our assignment finding their way into the wrong hands or, worse, into the following morning's New Zealand Herald. We all know how bad that could look!"

"Our mission is a simple but complicated one," he added. "Present and future generations of revellers must be able to sunbath on and dive-off of this floating platform to their hearts' content. Our task is to tow it from the shores of Auckland Harbour out into the Bay and around the coast to a spot beside my holiday home. We owe this aquatic pontoon to this generation and, maybe, future generations of fun-lovers. It is our duty."

His remarks were met with loud applause. A chorus of approval, you might say.

Come the day and the team of heroes assembled near The Ferry Terminal Building in the midst of downtown Auckland. Skipper White arrived at the appointed hour in his 5.5 meter aluminium-hulled launch. For the technically-minded, it was powered by a 75 hp outboard motor. Messrs Birdsall and Cadogan clambered aboard, donned life jackets and the project was immediately underway.

Within seconds they had passed under the lee of the 89,000 ton luxury liner, Rhapsody of the Seas, its many elderly passengers not yet recovered from the previous night's exertions at the counters of the liner's eight luxury bars. They were, therefore, unable to bear witness to history being enacted under their noses on the port waters beneath them. On they went past the 29,000 ton merchant vessel, Cap Van Diemen, just about to leave port with a full complement of containers stacked high on its decks.

Quickly, the target piece of wharfage was recognised by Mr. Bridsall who clambered aboard and secured ropes from two of its cylindrical floating chambers to both sides of the stern of Mr. White's launch. With a gentle strain on the towing rope, the pontoon was slowly prised from its moorings and past the 'Van Diemen' whose crew were now also preparing their ship to leave port for the high seas.

The semi-mobile marina consisted of three steel air-tight tubes joined together by metal beams. A decking or platform was laid on this frame. In all, the platform measured approximately 15 feet by 25 feet.

The project, no, the expedition, was underway.

Initially, it had been estimated that the precarious and highly hazardous 14-mile or so mission might be completed in three hours or thereabouts. But it quickly became apparent this was an overly-optimistic timescale. For although our seafarers left at high tide and ought to have been helped by an extra knot or two as a result, a quick examination of the boat's speed over the sea bed showed progress was minimal, ranging from 1.7 to 2.7 knots an hour.

Several factors contributed. The need to preserve the integrity of the towing rope, the desire not to over-extend the capacity of the towing vessel's engine, and the slab-sided front nose of the wharf all slowed progress through the water, not withstanding the best navigational skills and seamanship of Messrs White and Birdsall. The Third Man did little, his job primarily being to observe and record history for posterity and the edification of future generations.

The wash from passing high-speed car and passenger ferries, waves from weekend family craft, and the need to stay out of marked navigational lanes also had to be seriously regarded. But soon a more serious problem presented. The towing vessel ran out of fuel and an emergency tank had to be resorted to. This caused a major re-think of plans; what to do, and what if the whole mission had to be tragically aborted or temporarily abandoned.

With no prospect of being re-fueled at sea, Messrs White and Birdsall, resolved to anchor the wharf to the sea bed, leaving Mr. Birdsall in sole charge of his floating island, whilst the towing vessel made a high-speed dash to the large marina in Half Moon Bay, further down the coast from Auckland. It's under-floor tanks filled with petrol, the pair returned in the towing launch to the previously abandoned Mr. Birdsall, the towing ropes were re-attached, and the slow, dangerous voyage re-commenced.

Because it had been anticipated the expedition would be completed within three to four hours, little thought was given to food and drink supplies -a critical mistake that could have cost the expedition its ultimate success. But just when all seemed lost, Mr Cadogan fished a full bag of liquorice allsorts from his mini-rucksack. Shortly afterwards, Mr White produced a box of chewing gum tablets from his jacket pockets. The day had been saved! Our heroes would survive. They would not succumb to starvation and history would not have to be written off.

On and on, they chugged. In sloppy waters now, their already-slow progress threatening to become static. But these were 'glass half-full men'. Not for them the prospect of defeat, perish the thought!

Then suddenly, near disaster almost struck. As towlines were being re-adjusted to the rear of the boat, the vessel lurched to one side, its starboard bow rose up, the port stern dipped to within inches of sea level. Mr Cadogan was shocked by how dangerous their position had become.

Skipper White realising that his vessel was within a second or two of turning over, pulled the accelerator handle back to 'Neutral', pressure on the stern eased, and his vessel resumed its normal upright position. Disaster had been adverted. It had been a near one. The prospect of their towing vessel filling up with sea water, or worse - capsizing - had been averted, thanks to the cool re-action by Captain White.

Hour after hour went by. With no liquid refreshment aboard, the team become resigned to their abstemious fate. Their tongues turned to the consistency of sand paper through lack of lubrication.

Just as they neared Kennedy Point, from where the mainland car ferry operates from Waiheke Island, a family friend of Mr Birdsall loomed alongside in his high-speed cruiser to escort the intrepid expeditioners in the final mile of their journey.

What with the current epidemic of piracy elsewhere in the world, the thought occurred that this might be a similar attempt off the Kiwi coast. But, no, it was Mr Birdsall's friend all right, and he had come not to pilfer our precious cargo but to throw a half-eaten packet of pretzels to our three heroes. Once again, fate or destiny had intervened to ensure the success of the expedition. Flagging energy levels were temporarily boosted though, of course, the men's undoubted machismo would not permit such an outward show of discomfort or hunger, now that they were almost in sight of their objective. They had reached Putiki Bay, safe from the vagaries of the high seas of Auckland Harbour with all its attendant risks and hazards.

All that was now required was that they ease into Okahuiti Creek, adjoining the side of Mr Birdsall's holiday home, and secure the pontoon to an underwater anchor. This was safely accomplished. It had taken NINE hours of dedication, bravery and determination, not to mention some little skill.

Pretty soon, a welcoming crowd of family, friends and children assembled on the foreshore to extend their congratulations and voice expressions of admiration. Beers and chicken-salad burgers were produced and consumed within a minute, or two, or three.

It was time to appraise the expedition and to evaluate its place in maritime history. All agreed this had been a mission accomplished in the face of real adversity. But, thankfully, casualties had been avoided. The expedition team quickly recovered from their hunger and thirsts. A potential diving and sunbathing platform had been safely delivered to its destination after a harrowing sea journey of epic proportions. All was well with life !

Quickly, our heroes were subsumed back into the real world, Mr. Birdsall into the warm embraces of his family in his Waiheke home, and Messrs White and Cadogan travelling to the mainland later that evening to be re-united with theirs.

The three men who successfully completed this expedition received no financial reward for their endeavours. Nor did they pursue any.

Neither did they seek fame or adulation.

It was only correct and just, therefore, that society quickly recognised their selfless dedication and altruistic motives in successfully accomplishing this arduous task of monumental proportions. An immediate ad hoc meeting of the NZ Committee for the Recognition of Offshore Heroism was convened. It decided to instantly award pre-posthumous demi-gold medals to Messrs White and Birdsall for their perseverance and fortitude in executing their mission.

In the case of Mr Cadogan, the Committee decided not to award any medal, simply offering a citation indicating his role was merely that of a spectator and chronicler, but acknowledging that he had completed the journey. In the words of one Committee member: "he only came along for the ride".

The names and deeds of Messrs White and Birdsall are now forever writ large in the Down Under Hall of Maritime Fame.

Post Script: You, reader, are enjoined not to discuss the details of this odyssey with any unauthorised personnel or reveal the identity of these anonymous, gallant adventurers.

Their names belong to history only !


ends......