Moving On - The Next Step

The day after our passing out parade was the day we said farewell to H.M.S. Ganges, our home for the last six weeks.  For most of us there were mixed emotions, sadness to be leaving what had become a friend to us, happy that we had managed to complete our basic training intact and excitement at what lay ahead.  We were all heading for our "part two" training, or to put it another way; the first part of our training in the trade we had chosen.  We boarded the pussers blue bus with all of our kit, we had become quite adept at carrying what equated to our complete wardrobe around with us; loaded, and set off for various parts of the country.  I'm unsure as to whether I was alone in not realising that I would never see most of my new oppo's ever again, it was just something that never crossed my mind; in retrospect I wish I had got hold of contact details for some of the guys, it would have been good to keep in touch.

The first stop on our journey was Chatham dockyard, for six weeks I had seen various ships sail in and out of the commercial docks at Felixstowe on the other side of the River Orwell; but now I had my first close up view of a real pussers grey liner.  A ship of Her Majesty's Royal Navy, built to carry people like myself across oceans to serve our country.  It was quite exciting for a young matelot to see one close up, even though it was a mere minesweeper, it was still a genuine grey liner.  We had time for our lunch and for some to alight the bus, then we were off again; into the unknown.  That's not strictly true, we knew where we were going; or at least the name of it, but not where it was.  My destination was HMS Daedalus, I hadn't a clue where it was; and with no such thing as Google Maps or the internet, to find out would have meant reading books, not a chance of that.

Others were dropped off at other establishments on the way, until finally we arrived at the gates of Daedalus.  HMS Daedalus, affectionately known as HMS Deadloss, was a shore establishment on the edge of a residential estate in Lee-On-Solent.  It was home to (amongst others) the Royal Navy aircraft engineering school, the hovercraft unit and the Fleet Air Arm Field Gun Crew.  For the first time in six weeks, we saw matelot's in civvie clothes, doing what they wanted instead of being marched en masse to another class.  We disembarked the bus and collected our kit, we were then herded into our new accommodation.  The accommodation was (I seem to recall) a three storey building of pre-war construction; either way it was quite dated.  Each floor housed several dormitory style rooms with about six or seven bunks either side and at the end of the room were two single beds; these belonged to the mess leader and his deputy.  For some unknown reason, it was decided that I was to be deputy mess leader; not something I particularly wanted to do, or would have volunteered for, but this was the Royal Navy and you did what you were told to do.  Each floor also had a single room which housed the floor Leading Hand or Petty Officer, ours was occupied by a P.O. Pass; this caused a smile on many face as his initials were also P.O, so he was P.O.P.O.Pass?  We were told to unpack and muster the next morning, until then our time was our own!!!

Passing Out

Following our long hard six week stint at Ganges, the day of our passing out parade came.  I had asked my parents to come, but due to financial constraints and the fact the family car was on its last legs, I was unsure if they would make it or not.  Nevertheless, as fully fledged members of Her Majesty's Royal Navy we had standards to maintain, uniform is to be immaculate, drill spot on and heads held high.

The day started as any normal Sunday would, breakfast, cleaning then prepare for the usual passing out parade; the difference being that today is OUR passing out parade.  A day where to a man, we stood taller than the other recruits; proud that we were finally part of a force with hundreds of years of proud history.  Today our uniforms would be smarter than ever, our boots would shine as though powered by bright sunlight and our marching drill would be impeccable.

The time came to fall in outside our mess for the final time, three deep, dress left; ATTENTION!  These orders that were given daily somehow because of the occasion finally made sense, anticipation of the ceremony sent pride running through every artery, vein and capillary in my body.  Finally, we were ready to show our families that in the last six weeks we had learned how to drill better than anyone before us.  "By the left QUICK MARCH!"

The thunderous sound of thirty or so recruits marching towards the parade ground up the "Long Covered Way" in complete unity sent shivers up my spine, I'm not sure if my senses were heightened by the occasion; but the sound was awe inspiring. Crunch, Crunch Crunch, we marched in perfect harmony, everyone in step and not one man out of line; beautiful.  Finally at the top of the Long Covered Way, the order came to HALT!  We all came to a crunching halt, again in perfect harmony.  There was not one quiver from the bayonets attached to the barrels of our SLR rifles, no movement from anyone; we were acutely aware that we were on show today, not only to our families but to all the others still to complete their training.

There was more than just our mess passing out today, in total there were three or four mess deck groups passing out; we awaited their arrival alongside us.  When we were all assembled (with the others who were not passing out) the order to "QUICK MARCH was given, at 120 paces per minute we set off for the parade ground, a journey we had taken for the previous five Sundays.  Today was our day, we were going to enjoy this one.  As we approached the parade ground the invited families came into view, to a man we strained our eyes to try and see our own families but conscious that we had to keep our heads high and straight.  I caught sight of my parents and my younger brother in the assembled crowd, the hairs on the back of my neck stood up; to date this was the proudest day of my life.  We were ordered to HALT in front of the crowd, in the centre of which stood the dias where the Captain of Ganges would address us.

We all stood still, immaculately dressed, the white gaiters reserved for the classes passing out shone brightly in the winter sunshine; a moment to cherish, to remember for the rest of your life.  The Captain began his address, I then became acutely aware of my failings at previous passing out parades where I had taken them too literally.  This was however MY passing out parade, and despite having the early signs of feinting; I had promised myself not today.  Two things were on my side today, number one, my family were here.  I could just see them out the corner of my eye, this was a welcome distraction.  Also for the first time, the guy stood next to me collapsed; the bayonet attached to his rifle cutting through the sleeve of the guy in front of him.  These two things carried me through the parade, despite the sunshine the day was bitterly cold; it would have been oh so different without the distraction.

Following the Captains address and presentation of various trophies (of which we won best mess) it was time for the final march past.  We were called to attention before being marched off on a route which would bring us marching past the Captain and families abreast instead of in three's.  Here we would salute the Captain as we passed the dias, marching in a straight line whilst not looking where you are going, keeping 120 paces per minute and saluting was a well practiced drill; we pulled it off beautifully.  I'm sure everyone at some point whilst saluting the skipper secretly scanned for their families, I saw mine, my parents looked so proud that their little boy was now a fully fledged member of Her Majesty's mighty military machine.

Official photo's were taken before we were dismissed and allowed to join our families and allowed our first free time in six weeks, all whose families had arrived went ashore into either Shotley Gate or Ipswich to have a celebratory lunch with them.  This time was short lived however as we all had to be back on board at some point to pack ready for the following day when we would all leave Ganges for part two of our training.

The Assault Course - Size Isn't Everything

The assault course at Ganges was not what I expected, in fact I was quite disappointed at what I perceived to be its small size.  We arrived at the start line of the assault course on a very cold February morning, the wind was whistling off the sea and being an easterly wind it was not kind.  We were at first walked around the course by our instructor, he showed and explained each obstacle to us.  Once we had completed our guided tour, we were invited to break the ice on the water that we would soon be wading through.  This done, we lined up at the start line where each man was handed an old 303 rifle, the rifle had to be carried around the course; just to make things a little more fun!  So dressed in just blue overalls (standard issue) and plimsolls (no socks), we set about our task.  It was a typical assault course, a high wall, the aforementioned water, a scramble net, a tall construction in the tree canopy and amongst other things lots and lots of mud.

We set off on the short run to the scramble net, jumped into the icy water and ascended the scramble net; the short time in the water wasn't that bad as it was only about thigh deep.  At the top of the net we climbed onto some planks which we had to run across, this held some fear for me as I don't do heights, however, I was so pumped up with excitement that I didn't notice the height.  At the end of the planks we slung the rifle over our shoulder before descending a rope, at the bottom we had to run up a short but very steep hill before climbing through some suspended tyres.  Back down the hill then and crawl through some concrete tunnels where our very kind instructor was setting off flash bangs, out of these and under a scramble net beneath the construction we had earlier been across.  Then the water, this time the scramble net we had earlier climbed up became part of the obstacle which meant we had to completely submerge ourselves beneath the icy water.  My god it was cold, it was only a few feet in length but it may as well have been an Olympic 50 metre pool it seemed to take that long to get through.  Eventually we clambered out the other end, almost over now, just the matter of the 10 foot wall to negotiate.  Working with each other we all managed to cross it, some found it a little more difficult than others but we did manage it.  After that it was a short "sprint" to the finish line.

Yes it was smaller than I expected, but at this point in time I was quite glad of that.  Freezing cold, soaking wet and exhausted we were debriefed, at this point our instructor noticed blood oozing through the mud on my thumb.  I had managed to cut it somehow, however, due to the cold I never felt a thing.  We were then sent back to our mess where outside we all took it in turn hosing each other down before anyone was allowed in the mess to take a shower and get changed. Later that day our instructor informed us that we were going to be subjected to a kit muster the following day, and that our overalls and plimsolls that were sodden would also be a part of this.  Just got to love the Royal Navy and their team building.

Kit Inspection

As my colleagues or "oppo's" and I continued our training, the half way point was marked with a kit muster.  If the muster was passed the new rating was allowed to wear his lanyard around his waist, this gave a certain long service kudos to the individual.  The kit muster comprises of laying all one's kit out in a condition which should be immaculate, ready for an inspection by an officer of some sort.

Typical Kit Muster Lay Out

Each item of uniform should be presented in a specific way, folded precisely as instructed, and placed in its own space as per the photograph on the mess notice board. Failure to pass would result in the absolute shame of being back classed, and no one wanted that. I know what most people will be thinking at this point, your kit is only three weeks old, it should be immaculate anyway. To a point you are correct, and some of the kit would not have been used. But let me tell you, the kit you have used will have been put through the wringer in more than one way. For example, the clothing worn to tackle the assault course will at some point have been covered in a very thick layer of mud. I remember the first time we covered it, we took it in turn hosing each other down on return to the mess and stripped completely naked got another hosing. Great lumps of mud dropped to the floor under the hoses pressure, both before and after stripping off.

As with everyone else, I too was feeling a little nervous at the mid point kit muster.  Was my kit pressed correctly? Was my kit clean enough?  This was the sort of question that was going through everyone's head as we waited for the officer to reach our individual bed space, one by one he poured over the kit of each individual, lifting some to check underneath and writing on his clip board.  Finally he arrived at my bed, as all my oppo's before me had done I threw my best salute and invited the officer to inspect my kit.  He started to go through it item by item, just like he had to everyone else, then came the words that made me go pale; where are you plimsolls   Life at this point seemed to have ground to a halt, surely I was going to get back classed, my immaculate white plimsolls were missing, not there, gone?  "I believe they are in the drying room sir" came my hasty reply, "best go and get them then" said he.  Off I duly sprinted to the end of the mess room, down the few steps and right into the drying room, there on one of the wooden slatted drying racks where a solitary pair of immaculate pusser's white plimsolls.  I grabbed them as quick as I could and sprinted the return journey back to my bed, out of the drying room, turn left up the few steps and into the mess room just in time to witness the remainder of my kit falling to the floor.  The officer carrying out the kit inspection had upended the mattress where I had earlier placed my kit with precision, the same kit that was now strewn over the floor around my bed.  I arrived at my bed and presented my plimsolls to the officer who glanced at them for a split second before raising his eyes to meet mine, "you won't forget those again will you?"  "No Sir" came my sorrowful reply, he moved on.

Fortunately he must have overlooked my minor error after being swayed by the immaculate state of the rest of my kit, for the very next day I was informed that I was now able to wear my lanyard round my waist.

Language Barrier

One of the first things you become aware of when joining Her Majesty's Royal Navy, is the emergence of a new language.  Some of the words are known and used in Civvy street, some will be completely alien to the civilian population or the new recruit.  

As a new recruit it is beneficial to make a mental note of these new words and try to work out their meaning, if you couldn't find out their meaning this meant that you had to ask.  This route is fraught with danger, asking another matelot what a word means could have you being told a complete and utter load of gash (rubbish), thus finding yourself well and truly dumped in the Brown Admiral (sh1t).  

Most of theses words become apparent given time, like any language if you pay attention and listen you will pick it up.  On your fist day as a new recruit you will be told to muster, dhoby and shown where the heads are.  This is "Jack Speak", the language of the Royal Navy for collect or gather, wash (self or clothing) and the toilet.  These are just the basic ones or first day words, but as your length of service grows so will your vocabulary.  Then one day you find yourself unable to converse with friends or family back home because they have to interrupt you to ask you what you mean.  Even today's sailors have words that I'm not familiar with, electric dit or a fax machine is new to me, they weren't around when I was "in".  So like any language it develops over time, and each generation of sailors will have their own additions to pass to the next generations.  Just like every generation will have their own favourites, but there are some words that transcends the generations, words that over the years have become the favourite of all generations.  These are generally associated with things that pleasure Jack, a collection of which is below>

Banyan:
Nothing to do with the tree bearing the same name (as far as I know), but a party ashore usually outdoors on some tropical beach.  A favourite of Jack due to the large quantity of alcohol involved and the appearance of scantily clad ladies.  Unfortunately the ladies don't always make it.

Cheesy Hammy Eggy:

One of the delights to emerge from the Royal Naval Catering College at some point in history, loved by many many sailors/Wrens/Royals over the years.  It is essentially ham and cheese on toast with an egg on top, the nearest thing to haute cuisine you are likely to get in the galley.

Other culinary delights included:

Shit on a raft - Kidneys on toast

Babies heads - Steamed steak and kidney puddings

Nutty - Confectionary in all its various forms

Cackle Berries - Eggs

Sea Dust - Salt
Beetle Trap - Jam or Treacle

The list of culinary words is almost endless, but so are other lists.  Below are some of my personal favourites:

Agony Bags -Bagpipes
Bombhead - FAA Armourer (my former trade)
Clamp or Clampers - Thick fog with accompanying high winds often found at RNAS Culdrose
Drip - Complain or moan
Essence (sometimes ace) - very agreeable/nice sometimes used as a compliment "that dinner was essence"
Fast Black - Taxi
Grog - Rum issued to sailors until 1970, diluted 2 - 1 with water
Heart of Oak - Traditional Naval marching tune
Italian Tea Bags - Ravioli
Jimmy the One - First Lieutenant
KUA - Acronym for Kit Upkeep Allowance, payment made to allow repair or replacement of uniform
Lumpy Jumper - Any sweater worn by a female
Molar Mangler - Dentist
Nine O'clockers - SNack between Dinner and lights out, usually a cup of tea/coffee with a sticky bun
Oppo - Best friend
Phoo Phoo Dust - Talcum Powder
Rum (or beer) Bosun - Rating who draws the daily ration for the mess
Sippers - To share a drink with an oppo
Tilly - Minibus type vehicle
Uckers - Board game
Wedge Technician - Naval Airman of the aircraft handler branch
Yonks - Ages


There are many more around, some used frequently others not, but if you join up you'll soon find out.

The Firing Range

At some point during our six weeks of training, we were introduced to the then Royal Navy weapon of choice for small arms, this came in the guise of the L1A1 SLR rifle.  The 7.62mm SLR, SLR standing for self loading rifle, was a British variation of the Belgian FN FAL.  Manufactured in Birmingham and Liverpool it was a very robust and accurate rifle, simple to disassemble and reassemble in the field.

We were instructed in the correct firing procedure, where to point your weapon, what to do if you have a misfire, when to fire, how to aim etc etc.  You have to have enormous respect for the gunnery chief, there he is with about 25 - 30 raw recruits most of whom are below the age of 20 and all carrying a loaded weapon capable of killing someone over a long distance; anyone of which could have pointed it at him and pulled the trigger.

Then came time to load and fire the weapon, we were all given a number of 7.62mm bullets and shown how to load the magazine; this is just a matter of pushing them down into the mag.  The mags were then loaded into the bottom of the weapon ready for our first attempt at firing, standing position.  I was nervous at this point as I'd never fired a weapon other than a pellet gun at a travelling fairground, live rounds in a 25 metre range would be different, nonetheless I buried the stock into my shoulder took aim an fired.  A hole appeared in the plywood target, get in!  We then had to fire in the kneeling position before finally firing in the prone position, all rounds successfully despatched we took our positions at the back of the range after first having our weapons checked to ensure they were empty.

The next group stepped forward to start their turn, one recruit who we had christened "Spock" didn't seem to be able to get the hang of aiming quite right.  Most of his rounds missed the target which at 25 metres away seemed huge, when he came to the prone position it got worse.  All of his rounds fired ended up buried in the soil mid way between the firing point and the target, even with one on one instruction this guy was incapable of raising the barrel high enough to hit the target.

Our next task was to strip and reassemble the weapon, not to its component parts but just enough to enable cleaning of the barrel with a bit of 4 by 2 ((a piece of material soaked in OM13 oil, clean and oil the other moving parts; a simple task for most.  Once again "Spock" who's real name escapes me found the simple task of replacing the breech block cover impossible, after numerous attempts at replacing the cover - which is simply slid along two slots one either side - he was removed from the range.  I'm not sure if he ever went back on it or mastered the art of firing a weapon, I was just grateful he was a stoker and not an armourer.  Throughout my time in the Andrew I would end up servicing innumerable SLR's, I just wasn't aware of it at that time.

Life at Ganges

Ganges was an old establishment, ratings had been taught all things Naval since it opened its gates to the first raw recruits way back in 1905.  I was going to be one of the last, albeit a six week wonder, as it would close its gates on June the 6th 1976.  There were many hurdles for recruits to cross before going forth to wage war across the oceans, some were fun, some were hard and others downright frightening.  Fortunately for me the one that worried me most was no longer carried out by the time I joined, mast climbing.  I hate heights, so the thought of having to climb to the top of a 143 feet 10 inch pole terrified me.  So it was with great pleasure that I discovered the ceremonial manning of the mast (click link to see John Noakes attempt) was no longer carried out.  I'm sure it was seen as character building, but if I'd have been asked to climb it, that would have seen me on my way back home.

Most of the time life at Ganges was monotony, dhoby/dry/press uniform, mess cleaning and bulling boots.  Some recruits tried short cuts in these area's, rarely did they come off.  Like the guy's who put a layer of "Clear" on their boots, this was a product put onto floors to make them shine, and in all fairness their boots looked great; until they got wet.  

Sunday mornings were always taken up with a passing out parade, each week recruits who had completed and passed their training would be officially passed out in front of their invited friends and family members.  On a typically wet Sunday morning whilst on parade, those who had used Clear found out that it turned a whitish colour when exposed to water; not a good look when being inspected by the Captain.

On the subject of passing out parades, I was unfortunate enough to take them in a literal sense.  Each and every week after standing to attention for what seemed like an eternity, I would collapse in a heap only to be carried off to recuperate.  The only Sunday that I did not pass out was on my own passing out parade which is the reason that I'm not on any of my class photographs from my time there apart from the one taken on that day.

There were other character building activities which still continued, for recruits who not had achieved a certain academic standard in mathematics further education was prescribed, whilst those who had achieved the standard went out in "Whaling Boats" on the river.  These boats where old wooden boats which could be rowed or sailed, we had great fun in these especially knowing that others were in a classroom doing maths.  

The "Gas Chamber" had many in fear, I suppose in a way we were all a little nervous as none of us had been gassed before.  When our gassing day arrived we were marched down to the chambers, taken inside and told to sit down.  Once everyone was inside the doors were closed and we were given instruction on what was going to happen.  You could still smell the gas from previous sessions as the place was only used for this purpose, however the irritants from the CS gas used had been dispersed so there was no effect from it.  

Our instructions were clear, we would line up single file, then one by one remove our respirators state our name, rank and serial number then walk outside; easy peasy.  The CS pellet was lit and we were told to walk round in circles to circulate the gas, then after a minute or two we lined up to go through the drill.  All was going well, one by one we approached the instructor and did exactly as he said, but there had to be one didn't there?  I cannot recall who it was, but this one lad approached the instructor on his turn but instead of  taking a breath before removing his mask, decided to breathe after.  The result was breath, D156, cough cough, 1, cough cough, reach, cough......exit.  Everyone else continued as instructed, when I got outside the lad who breathed after removing his mask was still "shouting for Bill" while everyone else just rolled about in fits of laughter.

The swimming test was also quite entertaining, I could swim but was not what I would call a strong swimmer. I'm one of those people who could spend long periods of time in a pool larking about, but not a lot of swimming as such.  

The swimming test was quite simple, carried out in some ill fitting overalls collected from the pool side.  We were to climb to the highest board wearing a life jacket, partially inflate the jacket before jumping into the water, fully inflate the life jacket, swim two lengths before removing the life jacket and treading water for two or three minutes.  

One by one we struggled into the already wet overalls and donned our life jackets and climbed to the top board, I looked down and my stomach turned.  The board wasn't that high, but as mentioned previously, I'm not one for heights.  I half inflated my life jacket as instructed, waited my turn and stepped off; I've never been so glad to have my head under water as I was at that moment.  I inflated my life jacket and continued to swim the two lengths of the pool, reaching the deep end of the pool I removed the life jacket and started to tread water,  It was not possible for each individual to be timed, so the timing was started when everyone had reached the deep end.  One or two obviously couldn't hack it and immediately climbed out the pool, most of us had no problem.  One lad was struggling though, but as it was getting towards the end of the session, the instructors wouldn't let him climb out.  His head kept sinking just below the surface, each time accompanied by a cough.  He kept asking the instructors to let him out but they wouldn't, one instructor grabbed a pole from the side of the pool and held it above his head.  He was told to grab hold of the pole but the pole was held just out of his reach, all the time he was stretching for the pole and with each lunge the pole was raised higher.  The time was up, he's passed his test with a little help; other would have swimming lessons while everyone else was still in bed.