VJ Day, the apprentice and the engine

I lived on a 60 foot narrowboat while at University in Leeds (1988-1991) and then moved it to London when I started work there. In early 1993 I decided to upgrade to a Dutch Barge which was 74 feet long and more than twice the width of the narrowboat. The barge I bought was Chalo (Hindi for "Let's go!") built in 1926 and was moored in Bristol Harbour so I had to contemplate getting her ready for the coastal trip to London.

On inspection it was clear that the original engine was not up to the job so I purchased a Gardner 8LXB engine built in the 1970's and with lots of help from my Dad we swapped the engines over - no easy task with the replacement engine weighing over a ton. The delight of hearing it fire up for the first time was short lived when I checked the oil and saw it was starting to turn white. Clearly water was getting into the oil and it was emulsifying. We checked obvious places this could be happening including replacing the head gasket and cooling system grommets - all to no avail, With a growing realisation I might have bought a "duffer" I decided I needed help.

That evening I put word out on the "dock telegraph" (i.e. the local pub where all the boat owners drank) that I was looking for someone to help me. I was surprised the next morning to get a knock on the cabin door at 0800hrs and found a lovely elderly (I'd guess in his late 70's) gentleman standing there smiling at me and saying "Hi, I'm Phil Cozens and I hear you have a diesel engine you want looking at?" I was a bit taken aback but showed him inside and he carefully looked the engine over and we turned it over. I then asked him if he had worked on a Gardner engine before? He answered, "Oh yes, I did my apprenticeship with Gardner after the war and worked for them for over 35 years." It was a jaw dropping moment!

I asked him if he would dismantle the engine for me, find the problem and rebuild it (if economic to do so). He said "no young man, that is not what I am going to do". I was a bit surprised and wondering why he'd wasted my time when he then said "Here is what is going to happen. I will show you what task to do next on the engine, I will then come back next weekend and check your work. I'll then give you the next task and come the following weekend. It will take about a year, but at the end of this you will know everything about this engine".

I had hoped to move the barge to London that Summer and this would mean waiting over a year so I was initially disappointed, but then when I thought about the opportunity to effectively do my apprenticeship on this engine from such an expert, I shook his hand and agreed.

Every Friday I would leave work in London, drive to Bristol and on Saturday morning Phil would show me the next job and leave me to it. Sometimes I'd take the week off and get bigger tasks done. As the months went by my confidence grew but also my patience. For example on one occasion when I'd sheared off a stud, which I then had to drill out, tap and fit a new stud, Phil told me off and taught me the benefit of taking time to soak items with oil, leave them, carefully move them in one direction by a millimetre, move it back a millimetre, soak it in more oil and very gradually repeat the process to ease an item apart. He'd say "Justin, this might take you a while but it's much quicker than the time it will take you to sort it if you snap it". The work ethic and attention to detail Phil taught me was invaluable and has served me well through my own career. I often hear his words in my head when I'm doing tasks.

Each week Phil would bring a beautiful set of tools with him, which if ever I touched them he would shout at me. I had to use my own tools at all times. I often puzzled over why he would really snap at me if I picked one up in error. However as our relationship grew he gradually opened up to me. One one day, about 9 months into the restoration he said "I have to tell you something. I have to explain why those tools are so important to me." With that he unfolded a story which left me, and him, in tears.

During the second world war he had been captured in Burma and held as a Japanese Prisoner of war. He told me about the conditions in the camp and his experience. The Bridge on the River Kwai is a film I'd watched many times, and to be honest what Phil told me made that movie seem mild. Whilst at the camp one of the guards had smashed him in the face with the stock of a rifle simply because Phil was snoring. This fractured his face in several places and this injury went untreated for several months before the camp was liberated. He then spent weeks in hospital in the UK having re-constructive surgery. Eventually he was given some very modest compensation by the government and he had used this money to buy these precious tools and start his apprenticeship with Gardner's.

At the end of the story, as I said we were literally both in tears. He ended "I've never been able to speak to anyone about this before". I was moved and humbled by the story and that he had chosen to share it with me. I was even more moved when Phil then said "Due to the respect you now show this engine and your own tools, and the fact you understand why my tools are precious to me, I will now let you use these tools too". It may seem like such a small thing, to use somebody else's Whitworth spanner, but knowing the story I understood why this was anything but a small thing.

After just over a year I had literally stripped the engine down to its smallest component, cleaned every part so it was gleaming, replaced worn/damaged parts, and found the fault (a crack in the bronze oil cooler). The engine was carefully re-assembled and the big day came to run it. Phil said "I have calibrated the injector pump by ear but it really needs proper calibration in the factory. We can't run the engine for long and then we'll take the injector pump back off and you can send it away for calibration".

Well, the engine ran beautifully and we both beamed at one another, but as Phil advised we turned it off and set about unbolting the injector pump unit.

At the time Gardner's was still operating a factory in Manchester so I decided to head up there myself rather than ship my pump unit. On arriving I found an amazing traditional British manufacturing company. The shop floor was immaculate, the employees wore white lab coats, the pride in their engines was evident all around and in the way they spoke.

I explained that the unit had been calibrated by hand and we'd run the engine, but my local engineer had advised not to run it for long and bring it for calibration. They pretty much shouted at me and said it was crazy to have done that, and it could have damaged the engine. They grabbed the injection pump off me and told me to follow them. We entered a room dedicated to pump calibration - it looked like a laboratory. They set the pump up on the bench, connected tubes where the injector pipes would go and ran it on a rig that span the pump at specific RPM's accurately measuring the fuel flow as it went.

The technician ran the test a few times and then looked at me incredulous. He said "Who set this up?". I told him all about Phil and said I understood he did his apprenticeship with them. It turns out Phil was a complete legend within the company and during his 35 years spent most of his time working on the injection pumps. He was notorious for being able to set them up by eye/ear. They were amazed to hear he was "still going and still working on their engines" and told me how lucky I was to have been taught by him. Something I already knew and felt very proud.

They didn't have to change anything on the pump, didn't charge me and just as I was leaving they said "Have you re-painted the engine block as part of your re-refurbishment?" I said I hadn't but was planning to paint it using a generic engine paint.... they told me to wait and then came back with a large tin of the official paint, of the right colour for an engine of that year of manufacture. It was a free gift (along with a box of filters and other spare parts) given with their best wishes to Phil.

I learned so much from Phil, both technically and in terms of a mindset/work ethic. I always reflect on what he endured during the war and especially today on the 75th anniversary of Victory in Japan (VJ) Day. We kept in touch for a few years but eventually lost contact which I deeply regret. I suspect he may now have departed to the great workshop above, but wherever he is I shall be raising a glass to him this evening.

In the intervening period of the engine refurbishment, I'd taken a job in Glasgow so the sea trip ended up being Bristol to Glasgow, not Bristol to London. I did some free electronic/instrumentation work (my degree was Physics, Electronic and Instrumentation) for a tug boat captain moored behind me in Bristol harbour and in return he offered to tow the barge to Scotland. Unfortunately he was heading up to the East coast so I decided to move the barge to Edinburgh (South Queensferry), live on her for a year and commute to Glasgow. Then in the good weather the following year I would move her under her own steam to Glasgow via the Caledonian Canal and Crinan Canal to her new home in Bowling Harbour (West of Glasgow) at the start of the Forth and Clyde Canal.

To finish this story here are some photos from that trip:

The refurbished engine

Inspecting Chalo's hull and re-painting in Bristol - Clifton Suspension Bridge in the background

Chalo under tow from Bristol to Edinburgh

Chalo arrives at her temporary home in South Queensferry - next to the Forth bridges

Chalo now under her own power - approaching Loch Ness en route to Glasgow

Chalo at Fort Augustus Locks (Western end of Loch Ness)

Chalo in the canal at Glen Loy heading towards Fort William

Chalo turning in the entry basin at the Crinan Canal