1971

Chapter 5 (Part 1) Royal Navy: HMS Raleigh Basic Training

RN 1971-1978 RNR 1978-1981

5(1).1 September to October1971 – H.M.S. Raleigh (1)

HMS RALEIGH 1971

Somewhere around teatime on the 27th September 1971, I arrived at H.M.S. Raleigh, tired, hungry and disorientated, but before being allowed to attend to these basic needs, I (and all of the other new arrivals) had to first of all attend to the needs of the Navy; something which before long, we would all accept as par for the course… as a matter of course.
A collection of tables had been set up in the gym and each boy was ushered from one to the other in turn, answering questions, being photographed, and of course signing to say that he had arrived of his own free will. At the final table, a five pound note was issued to each boy as an advance of pay, which was of course signed for.

1971 Passport Photo

From the preliminaries in the gym, we were all then ushered on again, this time to the Bedding Store where we each signed for a set of bedding comprising: blankets (itchy) 2 in number, Sheets (white cotton) x 3, Pillows (feathered) x 1, Pillow slips (white cotton) x 3, and finally a blue and white counterpane embroidered with Royal Naval insignia. With our full sets of bedding piled high above our heads we then set off, walking side wards (to see where we were going); finally being directed into the barrack hut where we would spend the next six weeks.

In total I think there were about 30 or 40 barrack huts (mess decks), all in rows, all made of wood, with each one containing about 30 metal sprung beds (15 down each side). At one end of the mess deck were communal toilet and bathroom facilities, and a utility area for washing and ironing, and at the other was a notice board. In the centre was a social area with a couple of writing tables. Each billet came with a bed, a locker and a bedside cabinet all made out of grey metal.
As we arrived in the mess we each just dumped our heavy load of bedding onto the first vacant bed we passed which then became our billet, by default. Mine was somewhere up the middle on the left, or as I would soon be re-educated into thinking ‘port side, mid-ships’.

5(1).2 September to October1971 H.M.S. Raleigh (2)

In leaving the mess deck to walk to the dining room, I got my first opportunity to see the barracks as a whole, which seemed to have been built on a slope. At the top of the slope was the main entrance which had guarded gates and which was the domain of the Master at Arms (Naval Police) and his staff.
To one side of the gate a very imposing building (which may have been Georgian on account of its many windows), faced down the slope towards the parade ground. This turned out to be the Officer’s quarters (wardroom), and the house next door turned out to be the Captain’s.
Outside the wardroom a very well clipped lawn was the home of the ‘ship’s’ Flag Pole, which twice a day became the focal point of all personnel in the barracks; in the morning when the flag was raised, and in the evening when the flag was lowered. On both occasions a whistle was blown over the tannoy commanding everyone to stop and stand still, until a second whistle allowed us all to carry on.

One of the first lessons given to young matelots is that whistling is banned in the Navy as it is used a way of conveying orders. A second lesson could be learned if one was caught not standing still during flag ceremonies, although at this point in my career I had no understanding of why.

On the other side of the gate were training facilities including a gym, swimming pool, various classrooms, store rooms, the dining room and kitchen (galley). There was also a shop and a Post Office complete with a public telephone box.
Looking down the slope, the trainee’s barracks were to the left of the parade ground and there was a drill hall to the right. The parade ground overlooked the sea.
After finally having had a good neb at my new surroundings, I arrived at the dining room with some forty odd others where we were all served with something which escapes my memory, but which I do recall was disgusting. After dinner we returned to the mess deck where we were greeted by our very own N.C.O. who advised us that lights out would be at 9pm and that he would be the first face we would see every morning.
In the dark after lights out some of the boys chatted about both their excitements and their concerns, although I didn’t really feel confident enough to join in and so I just lay back and listened. Much of what was said was what we were all thinking; a sort of cross between ‘I’m glad I’m here because everyone will be proud of me’ and ‘Oh my God what have I done? Where are my family? I want to go home. I feel sick’. Eventually we all began falling off to sleep. Some of the boys cried.

5(1).3 1971 September to OctoberH.M.S. Raleigh (3)

……It was evening time as I arrived home, and so it was quite dark as I stood on our threshold and knocked on the door.

Dressed in the romantic square rig of a sailor, with blue collar, white front, lanyard and silk, I stood waiting for me Mam to turn on the light and open the door. In my hand was the special present I had brought her back from the Far East. I took a long breath in to inflate my chest, and then waited. Just then, the light came on……

“Wakey, wakey!! Rise and shine!! Hands off cocks and on with socks; you’re in the Naaaavy now!”.

The light had indeed come on, but not the one I had expected. It was the light of the mess deck being turned on with delight by our new N.C.O., at the same time he delivered his rendition of ‘Good morning’ to us all. What I had thought of as a reality turned out to be nothing more than a dream. I wouldn’t have minded so much if I had at least gotten to see me Mam, but his billowing voice woke me up before I got to that bit.
In a split second the entire mess deck looked as though it was full of dogs trying to bite fleas off their tails. Thirty odd boys had jumped out of their ‘pits’ and were frantically turning round in circles trying to find something to put on, at the same time that they were wondering where on earth they were.

Our first day in the Royal Navy had begun.

5(1).4September to October 1971 H.M.S. Raleigh (4)

I’m not sure how we managed it but somehow everyone in our mess deck had sh*t, shaved, showered and dressed, and were mustered outside the barrack hut within about 15 minutes of coming round from deep sleeps, semi-comas and trips round Noddyland, ready to start their very first day in the service of Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth 2; looking like ‘F’ Troop.
The face of our N.C.O. was a picture although there was no doubt he’d been here many times before. Using all of the persuasive charm at his disposal, he did (at length) manage to get us looking something like a squad; dressed by the right in ranks of three; shortest in the centre, tallest at the flanks. For those of us who struggled to understand his commands he was kind enough to put his requests into plain English; i.e. “I want you to f***ing well ‘Fall In’, and for those f****ing thick b***ards among you, that means one-behind-the-other-twice!!…And IF we ever get round to marching I don’t want to see you looking like a herd of f***ing windmills”. Pure poetry.

We then marched off for breakfast looking like a herd of windmills.
To summarise my recollections of our first day would be to say that any of us who previously felt like a ‘nobody’ was now a ‘somebody’. He had become the property of Her Majesty (having been issued with an Identity Card and Pay book), and would remain so at Her pleasure until his time had expired; or until he was given (spare me that) a dishonourable discharge.
Those boys who had enlisted with long hair, no longer had long hair; and those who thought they had enlisted with short hair, now really did have short hair.
For those who had concerns about picking up diseases in the tropics such as Smallpox, Yellow Fever, Cholera, Typhoid, Diphtheria or whatever, their fears had now been relieved having been adequately inoculated at the rate of two jabs at a time (one in each arm). Those boys who had not expressed any such fears about picking up diseases were also inoculated.
Although the day had begun with all of us dressed in a variety of civilian clothes and marching like a herd of windmills, it had ended with us all wearing Number 8 working clothes (having been issued with a complete kit), all looking exactly the same, and all…still marching like a herd of windmills.
Our final task of the day was to somehow stow away our entire kit into a locker which seemed only to allow storage for about a third of what we had been issued with, and then leave the door open so that the N.C.O. could inspect it in the morning. Leaving the door open was the easy bit since no one could get their door closed anyway. The tough bit was that it was well into the early hours of the morning before most of us gave up trying.
I didn’t hear any crying that night. In fact I didn’t hear any snoring either. The first thing I heard after closing my eyes was “Wakey, wakey….Hands off cocks, on with socks!”

5(1).5 September to October1971H.M.S. Raleigh (5)

And so it was that my life in the Royal Navy had finally begun with that gentle process of being nurtured into the new routines of a completely different lifestyle, along with everyone else, and with the added dimension of us all being complete strangers to one another.
On the one hand it was quite unreal, and yet on the other hand it was very exciting. Boys from all walks of life were represented in our shoddy little group; rich kids, poor kids, Jocks, Taff’s, Paddy’s, Geordies; all of whom, over the coming weeks, would have their Achilles heels exposed, their feathers ruffled, their egos deflated and their pride trampled on. Which was no difficult task for our N.C.O., given that these were the days before political correctness had gone completely mad. It was of little consequence as to whether one was overweight, underweight, forgetful, a smart arse, sloppy, precious, smelly, gobby, quiet, a mammy’s boy, or even the perfect training cadet. In the eyes of the Navy, at that point in our lives, we were as much use as an ashtray on a motorbike.
I think our N.C.O’s welcome speech probably hit the nail on the head. “You’re a f***ing shambles. Nothing but a load of selfish little b***ards who couldn’t give two-pence for anyone else. But by the time I’ve finished with you, you’ll fight for each other; you’ll die for each other. You’ll even kill for each other. Because if you wouldn’t, I’d top you myself in case I ever ended up on the same warship as you further on up the road”.
Romance aside, the reality of what we were doing finally began hitting home. We had joined the armed forces and ultimately the day may come when we had to go to war. In preparation for that, the Navy were systematically stripping us down and putting us back together in such a way that we bonded with our ‘ship mates’. United we stand, divided we fall; it wasn’t rocket science.

5(1).6 September to October1971 H.M.S. Raleigh (6)

Loosely speaking, after having had our horoscopes read, our first week of Naval training centred around getting us all to look ‘something like’, and to ‘behave something like’, neither of which came naturally to any of us.
The art of ‘looking something like’ required us to turn out immaculately at all times in whichever of our numerous uniforms happened to be rig-of-the-day. Within the training environment this could be either Number 1′s (Ceremonials), Number 2′s (Duty) or Number 8′s (Working); it could also be one of a myriad of hybrid rigs depending on the weather, or the task in hand (i.e. overalls, sea jerseys, white fronts etc). It’s probably nearer the truth to say that there was a requirement on us to ensure that every stitch we owned was kept immaculately stowed away in our lockers and that our bed linen was in the same condition. If my memory serves me right we were allowed to have 3 items in our dhobi (laundry) bag at any one time.

On a day-to-day basis normal working rig was our Number 8′s which consisted of a light blue denim shirt with a white name tag above the left hand breast pocket, a branch badge on the right arm and dark blue combat trousers. A number 2 hat, belt, boots and gators completed the attire. Everything on one’s body was either pressed like a razor blade or polished to the point of the obscene; obscene being the reflection of our N.C.O.’s face in our buckles and boots. At the end of the working day, we’d all change into (relaxed) Number 2 uniform (no jacket or blue sailor’s collar (with shoes) for dinner and recreation; unless of course we were on duty when we would be required to wear full Number 2′s.

Very rarely did a day go by when we weren’t reminded that as members of Her Majesty’s armed forces we were being paid 24 hours a day/7 days a week; and with that in mind exemplary behaviour was a mandatory expectation. The Queen’s uniform could be brought into disrespect in a million and one ways by young sailors committing serious offences, such as having hands in pockets, or whistling. Those caught would find themselves swiftly on Captain’s Defaulters, removing their cap before ‘He-who-must-be-obeyed’ and being granted an appropriate punishment. A typical example of such proceedings might see a sailor being given 7 days Number 9 punishment for slovenly behaviour which basically meant that he was given extra unpleasant duties during not only his own free time but also during the unsociable hours of dawn and dusk. I’m not alone in saying that I had the pleasure of many such punishments during my career. In fact if I remember rightly there was a word for those who had never had the pleasure of the experience; fortunately I forget what it was.

5(1).7 September to October1971 H.M.S. Raleigh (7)

Steeped in tradition, nothing about the Royal Navy is accidental, including a sailors rig. Prior to joining, I had always thought the uniform was far more fascinating than that of the Army or the Air Force. Seeing a sailor home on leave filled me with absolute wonder; leaving me conjuring up images of far away places he’d seen, other peoples, their languages, their cultures. I so wanted that. There was also something quite mystical about the way people always touched his collar for good luck. Even more appealing to me was the way he bore the name of his ship on his cap tally (H.M.S. Ark Royal, H.M.S. Fearless). He belonged. And was proud to tell the world exactly where he belonged. Through the course of my own career I would eventually earn 9 cap tallies.
For now, however, I bore the cap tally of H.M.S. Raleigh, and would do so for the next six weeks as I underwent  what was affectionately termed as basic training in the Senior Service; so called, if I remember rightly, because the Navy not only had it’s own soldiers – Marines – it also had it’s own flight. There was also something of a connection to the fact that many members of the Royal Family were Naval, which may or may not have galvanised the claim.

From the head to the toe, every item of uniform was pristine. At the top of course was the white cap which was scrubbed regularly often gently with a toothbrush, and having the cap tally tied by a bow above the left ear. The ship’s name was central above the forehead. The white front (sailor’s shirt) was starched with a crease running vertically down the centre from the neck. When dressing, the next item put on would be the blue denim collar which went on top of the white front and underneath the jacket. The blue collar was also starched and pressed a bit like a concertina with two creases up and one crease down; or as our N.C.O. would bawl at us “Two tits and a fanny, NOT two fannies and a tit!”.
Sailor’s bell-bottomed trousers were pressed flat inside out and so had inward creases up both the outside and the inside of the leg. In addition, they were also ironed with 7 (or for shorter men 5) horizontal creases, pay book width all the way up the leg; the seven seas. Completing the outfit was the black jacket over which the blue denim collar was worn. On the right arm of the jacket a man wore a gold embroidered badge denoting his branch; in my case a star with the initials S.A. within it. On the left arm he would wear badges of rank and/or long service. Around the neck a white lanyard and black silk were worn tied with a bow at the base of the ribs, the tails of which would not exceed 4 inches. Black shoes, burn polished using a second toothbrush to get polish into the stitching protected one’s pinkies. No doubt tooth brush retailers in the Plymouth area made a comfortable living.

As previously mentioned, there were hybrids to this rig for example in winter the white front would be substituted with an itchy sea jersey which was to be worn without a vest next to the skin. Our biggest enemy when wearing these was rain. Another example would be the addition of white canvas belt and gators with hobnail boots on ceremonial occasions.

5(1).8 September to October1971 H.M.S. Raleigh (8)

Looking after our uniform was almost a career in itself; Number 1 rig, Number 2 rig, two sets of Number 8′s, gym kit, overalls, shoes, boots, plimsolls, hats and more - all demanding to be washed, ironed, polished or whitened.

There was also a discipline in the making of our beds, in particular the rotation of the sheets; as the bottom one is laundered, the top one is put down onto the mattress then a clean one goes on top thus using both sides of the sheet.
Given the limited number of resources in terms of sinks and irons etc, planning became paramount – getting your name down on the list to use the utilities - if washing clothes at two o’clock in the morning was to be avoided.

5(1).9 September to October1971 H.M.S. Raleigh (9)

As one day went into two, and two days went into three, it wasn’t long before the house rules became absorbed into our psyche and we embraced the required routines; many of which would remain a part of my life for the next ten years.

The call of ‘Wakey, wakey’ would see 30 naked young men kick back their bedding and sit upright on their beds with their feet on the deck. From there, the first port of call would be to the toilet (the ‘heads’), followed closely by the shower, both of which enjoyed generous queues. It was at this point that I realised that I had never been totally naked in front of so many people before in my life; apart from at school in the sports changing rooms where, partly because of my shyness (and partly because of feeling inadequate when viewing the ‘members’ of other young men). I had developed ways of making myself almost invisible when changing. To combat the phobia now, I reasoned that if I appeared nonchalantly confident, then no one would take the slightest interest in me. The tactic worked for my entire Naval career, even though the shyness never left me and still remains to this day. I suppose one lesson I learned from this scenario however, very early in life, was that ‘you are what people see’; a knowledge which has given me immense strength during some of the toughest times in my life.

With beds made and everyone dressed immaculately, the class would ‘fall in’ outside the mess, dress by the right, and march off to breakfast. Thinking back to the day I arrived when the food was dreadful, I had come to the conclusion that serving such a meal was deliberate, (although I couldn’t say why), because the food in general turned out to be fantastic. I remembered my cousin Paul saying that building up the physique was a major part of basic training and four hot meals a day was part of the programme. It wasn’t long before I looked forward to mealtimes. Paul had also said that me Mam wouldn’t recognise me when I went home; I began seeing the logic of that given that we were not allowed home leave during the first six weeks.

In the meantime, my training having finally begun, I found my days to be absolutely packed full. Marching drill on the parade ground (or in the drill hall during foul weather) was staple diet, reinforcing teamwork whilst at the same time building the pride. Rifle drill had a similar effect but with the added dimension of sharpening hand/eye coordination during target practice on the rifle range.

Physical exercise was also high on the list of priorities and occurred in a variety of ways. Probably the most excruciating of these was the workouts in the gym which included push-ups, pull-ups, weights and all other manner of similar things which these days I go out of my way to avoid. The most pleasant indoor activity from my point of view was swimming and life saving; but then I already had a proven track record in this area having achieved a bronze medallion with the Duke of Edinburgh’s Award. Outdoor keep-fit pursuits included the dreaded assault courses, yomping (running with back packs and rifles) and of course cross country running which I took to like a duck to water; so much so that I am able to brag that I ran for the Royal Navy on a of couple occasions. I must add the footnote, however, that I didn’t win anything; but there was something about it that I found liberating.

And so it came to pass that while being systematically force fed like Christmas turkeys, we were also slowly but surely being encouraged to ensure that all of the extra weight we had been gratuitously given, was turned into muscle at the first opportunity. But that was only half of the story; there was still the brain to attend to.

In addressing mental stimulation, education played a major role. First and foremost was the basic requirement of having an above average command of both maths and English. Not achieving the required standard in these subjects would result in a trainee being back classed, even discharged if he was felt to be a hopeless case; failure to achieve the required standard at swimming or up keeping one’s kit also carried the same fate. Other classroom work included Ship’s Husbandry, Naval History, Traditions, Language, Knots, N.B.C.D. (Nuclear, Biological and Chemical defence), and even sexual education, with particular emphasis paid to venereal diseases. To this day I can still recall some scenes of the harrowing films we were shown to reinforce this teaching.

At the end of a typical working day, everyone would shower and change into relaxed number 2 rig before going off for the evening meal which was served around five o’clock, after which the rest of the evening was our own; providing we were not on duty, under punishment, required for extra curriculum education or behind with our laundry. If we were lucky we might get time to add to the letters we had been trying to write for several days; in my case there were only two. One to me Mam, the other to Annie; and as important though they were, even they came second to that far more treasured commodity, sleep.

5(1).10 September to October1971 H.M.S. Raleigh (10)

‘March past’ was a weekly event which involved all trainees attending ceremonial parade to be personally inspected by the man himself (the Captain) before marching past him as he received our salute; and woe betide big time anyone who was picked up on the slightest thing. To have a piece of fluff dusted from the shoulder, or to have one’s chin raised further into the air, was to expect a kit muster in the least (a full inspection of everything one owned).
The minimum expectation at these events, apart from being absolutely pristine, was that the chest remained fully inflated and that the eyes looked straight ahead; horizontally down the nose. (Try it; for a couple of hours). Keeping this stance often proved a trial for new recruits and it wasn’t unusual to see someone ‘flake-out’ spread eagle on the deck where they would remain until an order was given to assist them. I was certainly one who hit the deck on at least one occasion and brought round by the N.C.O. bawling at me for not having eaten enough breakfast. Perhaps there was something in what he said because I made a point of stuffing myself before future parades, and don’t ever recall it happening again.

At a rough guess, judging by the number of squads on parade, I would say there were about 20 classes of 30 trainees at H.M.S. Raleigh at any one time, all at different stages in training, and each week one or two classes would ‘pass out’ with their families present. New recruits would arrive to take their places. Those passing out would march past first; new recruits would ‘windmill’ past last, and everyone else would march past in their pecking order of seniority. As each week went by classes would move nearer to the front.

Moving nearer to the front on parade was a double edged sword in a way. On the one hand, the squad enjoyed a certain cred in the eyes of newer recruits and were able to lord it over them a little bit. On the other hand it was expected that longer servers to show a good, positive and responsible example to the new boys; the failure of which fell into the ‘you should know better’ category, and carried the appropriate punishment.

As time went on I began to realise that a change was happening inside me over which I had no control, and which often caused me to panic. With each new day, I learned more and more about myself, which for some reason distanced me further from my family and my home; even though I missed them so. Learning so many new things, and having the feeling of finally belonging somewhere didn’t take away the panic of ‘letting go’ the only thing I had ever trusted; and deep inside I still had the burden of managing privately my inherent shyness.

Although I made many friends throughout my career, I don’t recall a single person during my training at H.M.S. Raleigh I could put that label on to. In retrospect, I was lonely and frightened; because I was finally becoming myself.

So many things define life in the ‘Pusser’ (the R.N.) in particular the very unique language used by sailors; some of which I have already illustrated in my story, and because I feel it is both interesting and important to the script, will continue to do so where appropriate. It’s a strange thing really but I thought I had largely forgotten much of a matelot’s terminology, but the more I reflect on my service life, the more I recall the language. I’m inclined to think that most ex-sailors experience the same thing.

With me Mam on me first home leave Oct 1971

(I’ve still got that seat on the left with me cap on:)