Circe of the Battleship GEORGIOS AVEROF: The Soul of the Ship
- Panagiotis Tripontikas
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There is something intangible and incorruptible shared by all vessels: an aura, an ethos, a personality. Something not documented in technical instructions or in ship's logs but in the corridors of memory of all who have sailed on it. For the battleship GEORGIOS AVEROF, "that something" is called Circe.
Circe was not an officer or a sailor. She was small, wild and fierce at the onset, presented by the Thasians to AVEROF's crew as a gesture of gratitude upon liberating the island. Admiral Pavlos Kountouriotis left her in the care of the Executive Officer, Mr. Voulgaris. The latter dubbed her Circe in jest and affection, after Homer's legendary witch who had put Odysseus' sailors under a spell. And another kind of sea legend was born.
This is not oral history but is well documented by war correspondent Konstantinos Faltaits who was aboard AVEROF during the Balkan Wars. In his book “The Anecdotes of Admiral Kountouriotis”, he gives an entire chapter to Circe—not as something notable but as something of everyday life on shipboard and something having an impact on the morale of the men.
Circe became domesticated in short order. She was the joy of the deck, the beloved of all—from the highest-ranking officer to the lowliest sailor. To cite the words of Faltaits, she was among the very first things to be shown to people arriving on the ship, along with ship's weapons and equipment. In an era where war had left little room for softness, Circe was the reminder for sailors of what it means to be human. She was the day-to-day reminder that strength does not exclude sensibility, and that discipline does not exclude love.
But that was not all. Like all flesh-and-blood characters of history, Circe left her mark. A humble sailor of Kea who was affectionately called Koumparos (the Godfather) was tasked with her care. Amidst the drudgery of it all, Koumparos was transformed—from sack-carrying drudge to ship's kindly caretaker of Circe. Shed of his burdens, he was at ease in the open air. Koumparos' shipmates, of course, did not leave the change go unnoticed: he was known as the Kourabies (sugared almond biscuit), perhaps because the erstwhile gruff sailor had been sugared by tending the goat.
While the older Circe of Homer had transformed men into pigs, AVEROF's Circe transformed the sailors' day-to-day life— From duty's sternness to the glow of compassion. And what an accomplishment. In shipboard microcosm ruled by order, drill, and routine, she created her space in every heart—without ever having given an order.
Today Circe is not legend. She is record, memory, icon. She does not find her way into the ship's register perhaps, but survives in the records of Faltaits, in sailors' reminiscences, and above all in the ship itself. In the tours and photos of the museum-ship today her lack serves to enhance her presence. For Circe was never just a mascot. She was a link, an assurance, and finally a kind of sea wisdom.
The AVEROF warship is many things: a victory symbol, a national pride icon, an engineering marvel of its time. One more. A reflection of the men who manned it—with uniform, with pride, with heart. And Circe is in the mirror.
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