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One morning after first muster, I could tell that there was something afoot. For one thing, there was a considerable amount of smoke coming from the stack and all the other ships were showing that they too had steam up.

At about the same time we were called to Action Stations, colour yellow. This meant that no action was expected, but lo be on the ready. Anti flash equipment was donned and we were ready and waiting. Notice that I missed out the willing. The gear consisted of a balaclava helmet with a neck and shoulder piece and large gloves all made from asbestos. At least in the event of a fire or an explosion, we would be partially protected from burning of the skin in these vital areas.

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We weren't immune however, because the Japanese had been sending out their fighters and bombers. Most of the bombs missed their targets and certainly none of the ships was seriously damaged.

The gunners on the oerlikons and pom-poms were heroes, blasting away at the planes, as the huge guns gave out wave after wave of blasts. If there had been hits, there had been no time to cheer because the next plane would have been homing in.

This went on for the best part of the day. There were obviously no breaks for meals or rests. Everybody was on duty, until one way or another the task had been completed.

The cooks were heroes too. They kept us all fed with corned beef sandwiches and mugs of tea. They had to take them to the men, since nobody could leave their posts. I can't remember what we did about the toilet. Considering that there were about 1,400 men aboard, it must have been some task for the cooks to take on.

RICHARD LINKLATER'S Before Sunrise (15) opens with a shot of sunlit rails flickering behind a speeding train - a bright geometric grid that looks as if it has been painted by Bridget Riley. Your first thought is of Hitchcock, and Strangers on a Train, which also starts on the rails. But Hitchcock's tracks criss-crossed, tortuously meeting and separating in the manner of his wretched heroes. After Hitch, we have tended to suppose that anyone we meet on a train must have murder in mind. That is until Richard Linklater, who gives us a movie as bright and airy as Strangers on a Train is sombre and stuffy. Where Hitchcock's heroes exchanged murders, Linklater's swap memories and that strange kind of grand small-talk - about love, death, sex and the meaning of life - which is perhaps too deep to go into with anyone you've known for more than 24 hours. Within minutes we have left Hitchcock huffing in the steam era, and are clutching our ticket to a destination of sheer bliss.

Outbreak (PG) is a vastly entertaining killer-virus thriller in the manner of The Andromeda Strain. Only this time the lethal bug has arrived not from outer space, but Africa, "hosted" by an illegally imported monkey. If not checked, it could wipe out the whole of America within days. There's only one man for the job. Enter Dustin Hoffman in low-crotch orange plastic trousers and space helmet (resembling Woody Allen in Sleeper). But Hoffman's superiors (including Donald Sutherland) are more interested in biological warfare than in developing a vaccine against the virus. They plan to "vaporise" the quarantined Californian town. Time for Hoffman's righteous indignation number: "Don't threaten me. And don't threaten my men!" And so it goes on, spiralling into ever more absurdity, but, thanks to the direction of Wolfgang Petersen, who provides one peerless helicopter chase, keeping us gripped. 006ab0faaa