Revielle

Revielle, or a get your backside out of bed early morning call played on a "Bosun's Call" over the tannoy system, is the Royal Navy's way of getting Jack up in the morning.  My first reaction to this was in modern SMS parlance was WTF?  It's still dark for Gods sake, why do I have to get up?  Just as the last word of this thought had entered my head the mess doors burst open, in marched a smart man in his late 20's I would imagine dressed in a naval uniform, even with my experience I could see he was important as far as I was concerned as his cap had a peak on it and there were anchors in gold on his arm.  "Collier is the name, Petty Officer Collier" he barked as he marched between the two rows of beds, "and for the next six weeks I'm your mom and dad"! 

He instructed us to get dhobied and line up 3 deep outside the mess in what was known as the short covered way .

We assembled as ordered, lining up in three equal(ish) rows, he then rearranged us according to height - tallest on the outside shortest in the middle - before marching us to the galley for breakfast.  On entering the dining room, we were serenaded by the mass whistling of a rendition of the Laurel and Hardy theme tune.

We dutifully grabbed our plates and trays and tucked into the finest cuisine Her Majesty's Naval Chefs could prepare.  Following this we once more lined up three deep (this was to become our normal way of walking as a class) and marched back to the mess.  Here we were instructed in all matters uniform, how to press this, where to sew that, by lunchtime we were expert in the theory; some were quite adept in the practical too.  By mid afternoon, I had stamped my name on my name tags, sewn them on my Nos 8's shirts as instructed and was almost finished sewing on my trade badges.  These were sewn on the upper right arm of the uniform, white one's with blue insignia on your 8's, black one's with red insignia on your No 2's.  At this point we had not been issued our Nos 1's or best uniform, you were issued with these later on in the course.  Once all my labels and badges had been sewn on I had to iron my uniform, trying to remember everything I was told I set about this with gusto; the only sewing now was my silk.  You were issued with a rectangular piece of material, shown how to fold it before finally sewing the two ends together forming a loop prior to pressing.  Things were going well, my 8's were pressed like a pro, the 5 horizontal creases in my Nos 2's looked sharp and were exactly pay book width apart, however, I must have been trying just a little too hard as when I came to do one of my silks; it melted.  In my haste to have a smart uniform with sharp creases I'd left the iron on it too long, and even under a handkerchief it melted.  Fortunately we had been issued two of these silks, I only made the mistake once.

After a short time in the mess under the short covered way which was reserved for the new recruits, we were moved to a mess inside the long covered way; this was general population where "experienced" ratings mingled with the new boys.  Now failing any back classing the most you would spend at Ganges was 6 weeks (Note 1), so as you can imagine, their experience was limited.  They may not have been massively experienced, but we found out on our first Friday in residence that they were a bit more confident.  Each Friday evening we would have officers rounds, this is where the duty officer would come round at 19:00 hrs and "inspect" the mess.  One of the ratings would meet the duty officer outside the mess and invite him in stating that "mess is ready for rounds sir", one NEVER said "mess is ready for inspection" as this would invite a deep and probing inspection of each nook and cranny.  

Anyway, back to the experienced ones.  On our first Friday we were all scrubbing the mess, the heads (toilets) shower and dhoby rooms, and when I say scrubbing I mean to within an inch of their lives.  At some point during this scrubbing regime, our mess was attacked by a neighbouring mess, water and gash (rubbish) was thrown all over the floors, beds were upturned and they left.  We stood open mouthed, what just happened?  Why did it happen?  Then the question, how long have we got left?  By the skin of our teeth we managed to get finished before the officer of the day came round, the 3 floors were still a little damp and it wasn't perfect, but we passed.

Passing rounds on a Friday evening had benefits, later weeks would allow us liberty to nearby Ipswich or across the water to Harwich.  This being our first week we were allowed to go to Ganges vary own "Bowling Alley", a four lane alley with a bar.  Inside here we could play ten pin bowling and consume copious amounts of soft drinks, the few who were of age could partake in alcoholic beverages should they so chose.  Inside was a mix of ratings, from the newest recruits (us) to the five weekers.  It was quickly noticed that some ratings had lanyards (white narrow rope part of a ratings uniform worn around the neck) draped around their waists?  A quick investigation revealed that should we pass our three week kit muster we too would be allowed to do this.  Something else caught my eye, there were some matelot's there with a different uniform to ours, foreign looking.  We asked someone with a lanyard round his waist, "they're Iranian Navy mate", apparently also stationed here at Ganges.  As our first night wore on we became acutely aware that these Iranians were more than friendly to each other, holding hands, arms round each other and some engaging in what can only be described as "face sucking"!   Thankfully they kept themselves to themselves.

Notes:

1. Prior to the training being reduced to 6 weeks, ratings would spend 12 months at Ganges doing their basic training, older ratings refer to those doing 6 weeks as 6 week wonders.

January 6th 1976

The title of this post is the day my life changed, became totally alien to what it was before.  In fact, life and my outlook on it and even I would be something totally different to what it was before.  My father took me to the local train station to see me off, Mom couldn't stomach her little boy going away to become part of Her Majesty's military machine.  I duly boarded the train saying farewell to my Dad, strange feelings went through me, I was a shy 16 year old, leaving the sanctuary and safety of home.  I had a loving family and great parents and I was sad to be leaving all this behind, but the adventure standing before me was too good to miss, I was leaving a boy but would return a man.

The train started to leave the station, too late for second thoughts now, I knew I wouldn't see my family for several weeks, I was sad about this but not to the extent I would shed any tears, perhaps my biggest regret was leaving my baby brother behind.  I'd waited 13 years for a brother and here I was leaving him after 3, that was tough.  The train gathered pace and the station disappeared into the distance, I settled into my seat. The train stopped at Birmingham New Street where more people got on, I spotted a couple of lads straight away.  Full of confidence (unlike me) they joked with each other, laughing loudly at each others quips.  The train then headed for London Euston, I'd never been this far from home on my own, I was nervous and shy but managed to find my way on the underground to Liverpool Street station where I boarded a train bound for Ipswich.  The two lads who had boarded the train in Birmingham were also on this train, they had obviously seen me on the earlier train but said nothing; likewise I didn't speak.  The journey to Ipswich seemed to take hours, I've no idea how long it actually took but it went on forever.

The train finally pulled into Ipswich station where I gathered my belongings and headed for the exit, my letter of instruction said there would be transport to HMS Ganges.  A sailor of some description (I now know it was a "killick") was waiting outside the station, he gathered anyone who looked lost into a group and told us transport would be along soon.  The two lads from the train broke the ice, "where you from" they asked in their Brummie accent, thinking no one would have heard of Tipton I replied "West Bromwich" they laughed! A dark blue coach appeared with the words Royal Navy emblazoned along the side, the registration plate also had RN set in the middle of four numbers; I guess this is the transport then.

We all boarded the coach sat down and waited, I remember having a window seat happy in the fact that I wouldn't have to make eye contact let alone have a conversation with anyone.  The journey took us along a road which followed the path of a river, barren landscape either side of this river coupled with the grey skies made it look foreboding.  We eventually arrived at HMS Ganges and were greeted with the sight of the main gates, bordered by cannons and figureheads with a liberal spattering of what I now know to be Petty Officers.

HMS Ganges Main Gate

We were disembarked from the bus and told to line up three deep, after several attempts we managed this.  We all had our little suitcases or sports bags with us, we were then "marched" down to our home for the first week of training.  Inside we were greeted with the sight of two rows of beds one each side of the long mess, I'm guessing there must have been about 30 in total.  The place was spotless, obviously very old but immaculate.  Everyone had a bed, not sure now if these were pre selected or whether it was a free for all but mine was about half way up on the right hand side.  We were told to drop our bags by the side of our beds and "muster" (the first word of a new language to me, "Jack Speak") outside, there was plenty of excited chatter but I cannot remember speaking to anyone at this point.  Lining us up outside we were marched off to the barbers, a short back and sides cost me 50p.  I was mortified, 4 months earlier I had had my long hair "trimmed" by a World champion barber and it had cost me £7.50 and this git had the gaul to charge me for butchering it! Following this scalp rape we were taken to the uniform store, or as it is known the "Slops".  One by one we entered and were furnished with a complete set of kit, kit bag and suit case.  We were then given a demonstration in how to mount the kit bag onto our shoulder with one hand, this we were told would impress the ladies?  We then had to carry this bag, stuffed to the top with everything I needed except my best uniform, and our suitcase back to the mess.  The further I walked the heavier the bag became, no way was I going to let it drop.  The lactic acid poured into my muscles but I was not going to give in, I felt my lip distort Cliff Richard style as though it wanted to join my left eye.  Through the door, along the mess deck to my bed; MADE IT!

We were then told to get showered to get rid of any civvy dirt and the hair that the barber had stuffed down the back of our tops.  Then get our No8 uniform on (it was explained what this was) and say goodbye to our civvy clothes for six weeks.  Being keen on football showering with other men was not part of my shyness, I stripped off wrapped my towel round me and headed for a nice hot shower.  Not a chance, hot water was not in the vocabulary of the Ganges administration; it was bloody freezing.  A much older guy in the next cubicle struck up a conversation with me, trouble was I couldn't understand a word he said.  It turned out he was from Northern Ireland and spoke that fast all his words just moulded into one.  He eventually slowed his speech down so that I could understand him, turned out he was 31 years old and had just left the Army; Paddy Clarke was his name.

After showering and getting into our 8's, we were taken to the "galley" for something to eat, the place was full of trainee matelot's, all staring at the new boys.  All I could think of was don't drop the tray don't drop the tray, I didn't.  Stomachs full of the RN's best food we returned to the mess and were instructed in various rules and regs, what was expected of us and what we were going to do the following day.  LIGHTS OUT.