Monday, May. 20, 1957

Incident in Sydney

When the U.S. aircraft carrier Bennington sailed majestically into Sydney Harbor to help Australia celebrate the anniversary of the Battle of the Coral Sea (May 7, 1942), its 2,970 officers and men were blithely unaware of one important matter: the University of Sydney would hold its annual Commemoration Day festivities, when students stage zany parades, pull off outlandish pranks, and badger citizens for donations to charity. Last week the proud Bennington became the victim of the most ignominious fate of all--capture by "pirates."

The ignominy began when ten students, dressed as pirates and armed with toy flintlocks, rowed over to the Bennington one cold dawn and simply marched up the gangway Without anyone's seeing them. Though they eventually ran into a few crewmen in the course of their wanderings, no one bothered to challenge them. One group of pirates ended up in a crew's quarters to collect money for a children's charity. Another group headed for the bridge, where a "good-natured bloke" turned on the public-address system so they could appeal for donations. Instead, "Pirate" Paul Lennon shouted: "Now hear this! The U.S.S. Bennington has been captured by Sydney University pirates!" Then, for good measure, says Lennon, "we turned two handles labeled 'Battle Alarm' and 'Chemical Warfare.' "

As the clangs and hoots echoed through the ship, officers and men tumbled out of bunks, rushed headlong for battle stations. No one seemed to hear the PA system's agitated plea: "Belay that last order!" Meanwhile, the bridge pirates headed for the officers' quarters. Finally a steward asked them the question no one had thought of before: "What are you doing here?" "Of course," says Lennon, "we didn't have any answer."

Within a few minutes, a grim detachment of Marines rounded up the pirates and put them ashore. Next day the episode hit the headlines, and there was at least one facetious reference to Pearl Harbor. It was all so embarrassing that the Royal Australian Navy felt obliged to announce that, of course, the United States Navy had known about the gag and simply played along. The men of the Bennington knew better, but decided to take their humiliation in stride. They collected $1,800 for the boys' charity and handed it over to Sydney's Lord Mayor Harry Jensen. His lordship was most grateful--and most sympathetic. After all, on the same day another group of students had seized him and whisked him off, a prisoner, in a car.

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