1971-72
Chapter 5 (Part 2) Royal Navy: HMS Pembroke Chatham Kent
HMS Pembroke 1972
5(2).1 October 1971 –February 1972 H.M.S. Pembroke – Professional Training
H.M.S. Pembroke was the Royal Naval Supply School in Chatham where all new ‘Jack Dustys’ (Stores Accountants) were given their initial training (lasting 13 weeks) and to where they would return periodically throughout their career for refresher training, advancement courses etc.
Like all Naval shore bases, H.M.S. Pembroke was regarded by the Navy as a ship and therefore all the usual rules applied; going out in the evening was to ‘go ashore’, being late for curfew was to ‘be adrift’. In later years I realised that life on an actual ship was far less strict and more laid back, particularly when out at sea away from the public eye. Dress codes tended to be more relaxed and relationships with officers and non commissioned officers (N.C.O.s) were far less formal – but that was neither knowledge nor privilege I currently had. My designation at the time I first walked through the gates of Pembroke was one-up from the bottom rung of a very long ladder. I had at least done my basic training.
As an establishment, Pembroke belonged to the older models of the day. Walking through the gates felt like walking into a prison although something about it also reeked of a history I yearned to know. I wondered about how many other young sailors had walked through those gates with hopes and dreams of a new life, how many had passed out successfully, how many had gone home failures.
I also wondered how many young men had been conscripted to enter the barracks during the dreadful years of the Second World War because clearly Pembroke had played her part in keeping Britain free. The tall imposing buildings were testament to her age and there was no doubt they had witnessed the sirens of war. Seeing the gates in the dark always conjured up the lyrics to the song ’Lily Marlene’ in my mind which I used to think was just so romantic until one day the thought crossed my mind that if history repeated itself I could end up the singer of that song. A sobering thought.
But I had made my decisions. I had joined the Royal Navy to see the world, as my cousin Paul had, but if a war broke out during my service well then I would have to go. I just hoped it wouldn’t and that I would get to see the world.
5(2).2 October 1971 – February 1972 H.M.S. Pembroke – Professional Training
Seeing the world, I had to accept, was going to be some considerable time away. For now, I had to focus on the present; and my present was all about getting through a 13 week qualifying course in a subject I had no idea about, with a group of people I’d never met, and in a place that seemed to me to be on the borderline of being Dickensian. Which didn’t stop my dreams of wondering what life would be like in far away places. Every so often I’d smile to myself at a quip that Katie made to me before I joined up; “Most laddies join the Navy t’ see the world hinny, but thoo’s joinin’ up so the world can see thee!”. I think she had confidence in me that I would at some point have confidence in myself; and it’s probably her faith in me that eventually gave me faith in myself. (x)
The mess decks at Pembroke were not dissimilar to those at Raleigh in that they were furnished very basically with steel framed beds and lockers. Perhaps they felt marginally more homely because they were situated in brick buildings instead of Nissan huts, although the internal layout was the same. Something like 15 beds ran down either side of the room with a communal utility room at the end.
As always in these situations, it isn’t long before a pecking order is established with the bigger boys choosing their billets first, usually near the heads, or in some other prime spot, and so (as the shy boy I was at that time) I merely waited to see which bed was free when everyone else was accommodated. Strangely though I was acutely aware that whilst at Raleigh I had been one of the bigger fish in a small pond and was now back to being a small fish in a big pond. That lesson has stayed with me all my life really as the scenario has repeatedly returned, wherever I have been, as it does in life. It sort of reminds me of that proverb “Be careful who you upset on the way up because you may meet them again on the way down”, though I’m not sure why.
In terms of the group dynamics, everyone in our mess deck was in the same class, although some had served longer basic training by virtue of the fact that they joined up at 16 and went to H.M.S. Ganges instead of H.M.S. Raleigh; any hierarchal banter usually came from these ‘old sailors’. In fairness to them I think their training was something like 9 months compared with our six weeks. One or two other boys had been back-classed from courses which they had failed and were therefore on a very thin thread, but by-and-large I found them helpful to us rookies when we needed advice etc.
And so began stage two of my career as a Junior Assistant Stores Accountant Class 2; whatever that was.
5(2).3 October 1971- February 1972 H.M.S. Pembroke – Professional Training
The Stores Accountancy branch (S.A.) belonged to what the Navy called the Supply and Secretariat department (S &S) which also included Cooks, Stewards and Writers, and since Pembroke was the S & S School, all four of these trades were taught there.
On rare occasions some boys were allowed to change branch within the department at the Captains discretion; for example it may have been they realised at a later date that they were more suited to the different role. I did mull over the prospect of changing branches but decided against the idea. To me, being a cook meant working in hot sweaty galleys, being a Steward was to be at the beck-and-call of wardroom officers, and to be a Writer was to be stuck at a desk working out everyone else’s salary. Although I was still unsure about the role of a Stores Accountant I knew I didn’t want to be any of the other three, and so stayed put. It’s probably worth mentioning now that I’m glad I made that decision because the role of an S.A. suited me perfectly throughout my career; which I suppose is credit to the interviewing personnel officers who made that decision on my behalf.
Natural friendly rivalry between each of the branches was par for the course at Pembroke, and actively encouraged in things such as sport. On the bigger scale however, (after training, and as ‘proper’ servicemen) the S&S dept would often turn out collectively in competitions – as would for example Seamen who also had had several branches within their department.
One of the main advantages to being at the same training base as the Cooks was that the food at Pembroke was always pretty good.
5(2).4 October 1971-February 1972 H.M.S. Pembroke – Professional Training
Good morning Pembroke.
I’m fairly sure that our days began with parade, on the parade ground, although the old memory isn’t quite what it was. But the reason I think that parade was the first event of the day is because I have a vague recollection of once again being part of the squad (or class) which marched past the dais last. I suppose the reason this is interesting in the scale of things, is because it highlights the importance of hierarchy within the Royal Navy; and there was little doubt that I was once again one of the group back on the bottom rung of the ladder. So be it.
At least breakfast came next and as mentioned earlier the food at Pembroke was very good. Just as well really because I was getting to that point when I was beginning to need the four meals a day on offer; partly because I was a growing teenager but also because of the energy I was expending.
At length we finally arrived in the classroom which would be our base for the next three months. Probably two dozen of us sat like kids in school at our desks facing the blackboard when the door opened and a Chief Petty Officer Stores Accountant (CPOSA) walked in. We all stood up. Satisfied that we had accorded him the respect he deserved the Chief allowed us to sit. He then began to pace the room from left to right and back again as he spoke.
“If a warship runs out of nuts and bolts it will be your fault. If it runs out of food and clothing it will be your fault. If it runs out of operational equipment, communication equipment, or aircraft spares, it will be YOUR fault! If I go to the ‘heads’ for my constitutional dump one morning and I reach out to find there is no toilet roll WHO’S FAULT WILL IT BE?”
“MY FAULT CHIEF” came back the collective reply, from the two dozen individuals.
A short silence followed. “Now that we all know what a Stores Accountant is we’ll begin” smiled the Chief.
5(2).5 October 1971 – February 1972 H.M.S. Pembroke – Professional Training
And so it came to pass that our professional course had begun, and by the sound of it we could all look forward to a career full of bollockings if any of us ever ran out of anything. Perhaps now is a good time to précis down the role of the Stores Accountant in all its glorious and mundane detail so that you too (the reader) can share in the excitement I felt at the start of my 3 month course.
I suppose in the simplest form we could be described as shop keepers-cum-repair agents, responsible for the supply of literally everything onboard ship; the only difference being that instead of cash transactions we used forms. Forms, forms and more forms. During this part of our training we would be expected to learn the use of around 80 forms, including how many copies should be raised, who was authorized to sign them, filing and distribution.
To issue stock from any storeroom required Form S156 (2 copies) signed by the authorized person. To receive broken items for repair required form S549 (3 copies) signed by the departmental head. To send the broken item away for repair we were to raise Form S331S (2 copies), and if stores were to travel by rail we would, of course, need to raise Form D80 (4 copies).
In replenishing stock we would be required to raise Form S145 and send it to the appropriate supply depot. Depending on what category the item was (food, clothing, nuts and bolts etc) would depend on whether it was supplied by Portsmouth, Devonport, Yeovil, Rosyth, Chatham, or one of a dozen other bases. Naturally we would be expected to know where to order what from. Actually to be correct the Navy didn’t ‘order’ things, they ‘demanded’ them and so all requisition forms were known as ‘demands’.
After finally deciding what was required, and where it would be coming from, the ‘priority’ would then be considered; bearing in mind where in the world the ship was at the time. An extreme example would be that the ship was in Australia and the Flying Officer needed a helicopter spare from Yeovil within 24 hours. In cases such as these we would be required to signal U.K. and the part would arrive within the time scale. Generally speaking though, systems were in place to replenish stocks before they ran out.
Of course these were the days before computerization and so everything had to be accounted for in what is now known as the old fashioned ledger system. Writer’s cramp (repetitive strain injury) was par for the course and the process was painstakingly slow; particularly at times when the ship was preparing for deployment and masses of stuff was being demanded. Thinking back though, in reality the paperwork was the easy bit; seeing 15 four ton trucks arrive on the quayside with the goods was mind blowing. Off loading, checking, humping and storing (as per regulations of course) was just something else.
So there we are. Now that you are all deeply regretting that you hadn’t joined the Royal Navy as a Stores Accountant, you can at least console yourselves by relishing in my ramblings about this hallowed occupation – knowing that you at least know what I’m talking about; even if I don’t. What worries me is the amount of detail I still remember after so many years.
5(2).6 October 1971 – February 1972 – H.M.S. Pembroke – Professional Training
The structure of the course was based on the aggregate system which basically meant that fortnightly exam marks were added together then divided by the number of exams taken. The resulting score had to be above the pass mark.
It was possible to fail some of the exams, provided we excelled in others and made up the shortfall since it was the overall mark which was important. This method worked well for me because there were some things I just couldn’t get my head round, and consequently performed poorly; but then there were other things I found easy and so I was able to make up my marks with things I was good at.
Along the way though, one or two boys began to struggle. Some were back classed while some were invited to change branch. It was known for people to be dismissed in extreme cases, although thankfully that didn’t happen to anyone I knew. Within the classroom the boys began to bond quite closely and we all wanted everyone to do well. It was always a sad day to see someone back classed; it was also a wake up call when at times we had become complacent. The idea of our parents being contacted with negative news of that nature filled us all with horror.
As can be imagined much of the course was like pulling teeth and staying awake in class became a real challenge. One of the ways we were able to ease the boredom was to take the Chief off on a tangent by asking him to give us real life examples of a situation he was trying to explain. Success meant the Chief would then nostalgically relay sea stories to us which we found fascinating.
“During a R.A.S. the ship will clear lower decks and a chain will form from the upper deck to the store room” the Chief would say. “Sorry, Chief, but can you explain that for me please?” someone would reply. The squeaky wheel had had the grease and we could now sit back for a good 20 minutes and listen as the Chief reminisced in real Naval tongue.
“When I was out in the Fez (Far East) on the Mohawk (H.M.S.) back in ’63, er no ’64, yes that’s right ‘cos I was out in the Med (Mediterranean Sea) on the Ark (H.M.S. Ark Royal) in ’63, we were doin’ a R.A.S. just south of Singers (Singapore).That’s a ‘Replenishment at Sea’ for you bone heads that weren’t listening first time! Anyway there was a typhoon blowin’ up from Honky Phid (Hong Kong) and Bungy Williams was on the Jackstay transfer………”
Apart from the obvious entertainment we got from these sessions, something else was becoming apparent which was far more important. Probably even more important than the anticipation of going out to the Fez or the Med on the Royal Navy’s Flagship H.M.S. Ark Royal. It was somehow connected to the use of Naval tongue. We had become part of something very elite.
5(2).7 October 1971 – February 1972 H.M.S. Pembroke – Professional Training
Aside from the course, life at Pembroke, I was beginning to realize, was typically naval with plenty of parade ground and plenty of sport, but now that we were in stage two of our training we were also granted shore leave at night and at weekends if we weren’t on duty.
Since being a child I had always had difficulty with sports in terms of the team thing, and lack of confidence, and those issues were still there for me. The problem was that the Navy also knew those difficulties were there for me and so I had to be seen to be addressing them as these skills were being monitored too as part of my overall development. I saw it as a sort of facing my nemesis.
After pondering my options, and deciding that football, rugby and all those other sweaty he-man sort of sports were not for me, I finally came up with two things that I felt I could do without feeling totally useless and they were hockey and cross country running. Unbelievably both of these activities I excelled at and for many years became engaged in at ship level throughout my career. Whilst at Pembroke however pursuing hockey was purely a means to an end in that I was being seen as part of a team; and provided I was on the left wing I was happy. Cross country running though was something else. That actually met a need within me which I don’t think I was aware of at the time. Looking back now I think there’s no doubt it gave me the opportunity to be completely on my own, with my own thoughts. It gave me time to catch up with myself. It gave me freedom.
As I mentioned earlier, I can’t remember how often parade happened but I seem to think it was daily, with a more ceremonial one on Fridays. As with Raleigh, those boys passing out would march at the front and the new arrivals would march at the back. Between these two squads would be something like a dozen others who were at various stages in their training.
I know there would be many ex sailors who could spend hours relaying anecdotes about the happenings on the parade ground, most of them hilarious and so perhaps, on their behalf, I should at least make a note of one example. I probably didn’t tell you this before but when a sailor is issued with his white cap there is a chin stay fitted on one side which needs to be sewn in on the other side to fit the individual. Normally a chin stay is stored inside the cap and worn only on windy days; they are however always worn on parade when carrying a rifle. One day, a particular individual had forgotten to sew in his chin stay (and was due on the parade ground) so ripped it completely off the cap. Ingeniously he then pulled it under his chin to the top of his head where he tied it with a bow. He then stuck his cap on the top! I know that you know I am going to tell you that when the wind got up on the parade ground his hat blew off and that he was left standing to attention with a bow on the top of his head. But I thought I’d let you imagine what the Chief said (and did) when he saw him.
5(2).8 October 1971 – February 1972 H.M.S. Pembroke – Professional Training
Shore leave, for us as stage two trainees, meant that we could leave the barracks after the working day provided we weren’t on duty, and venture out into the big wide world until midnight. If we were on duty and wanted to go ashore we could always swop duties with another trainee; or bung him an incentive.
To return late from shore leave (hours) was to be charged with “being adrift” for which No.9 punishment was the typical outcome.
To return very late (days) would incur a charge of being “AWOL (Absent without leave)” which, when a culprit finally turned up, would see him being slapped a mixture between heavy fines and stoppage of leave.
Not returning at all was considered “desertion” which (if and when caught) meant the person in question faced Courts Martial and was likely to receive serious punishments such as demotion, detention, or/and dishonorable discharge.
Going ashore, in real terms, meant a night out in the nearest local town which in this case was Gillingham, Kent. Since most of us were under age, and the place was crawling with Naval Patrol, the chances of getting a pint in a pub were pretty slim, although it certainly didn’t stop us trying. The alternative was to slob out in the local flea pit to watch a movie though we had probably already seen it before. For the few lucky lads who had met a local girl this was no doubt the best option.
Another option for shore leave, which I preferred, was at the weekend when (if I was off duty) I was able to nip up to ‘Smoke’ (London) for the day. I don’t ever recall having a lot of money and so couldn’t do anything that cost a lot, but I loved the anonymity of being able to walk around the big city, sit on the banks of the Thames, and just people watch. I’d spend the whole day just meandering around and looking at the sights that I’d heard about as a child; parliament and Big Ben, Buckingham Palace, Trafalgar Square. I loved seeing ordinary folk doing ordinary things. Newspaper sellers, market stall traders. People-watching is still a hobby of mine today; as my Wife Carol would probably testify. On shopping trips wherever we are (Newcastle, Nottingham, Panjim) I can be dumped on a bench in the middle of the City for an hour or two and still be there when she comes back. Some things have never changed and I’m quite glad about that.
5(2).9 October 1971 –February 1972 H.M.S. Pembroke – Professional Training
Given that Manboy Geordie is probably only a quarter of the way through, it’s probably time to bring this particular chapter to a close. Not because my experiences at Pembroke were negative or boring but because there isn’t a lot more I could add; other than the obvious that I passed out successfully as a Junior Assistant Stores Accountant (now Class 1). I’m pleased to say we all passed out successfully.
The Chief turned out to be quite a brilliant trainer with a method of teaching which brought the best of everyone out, and his pride in us was clearly obvious during our final march past on the parade ground.
Part way through the course we did have the respite of Christmas leave which was a welcome break from the hum drum of training and allowed us to recharge our batteries and come back refreshed. It was a lovely Christmas for me because I got the chance to see a lot of my family and friends; so much so that I was actually looking forward to going back! Mams condition had stabilized for a while and for much of the time she was in a happy frame of mind.
Before leaving Pembroke all (us) graduates were called together to be told their first ‘draft’ (our first position as a member of the ships company) which marked the end of our stage 2 training and the start of our stage 3 training. We were all now to be sent to one of dozens of shore bases in the U.K. to put into practice what we had been taught (under the wing of experienced colleagues), before being sent off to sea on one of Her Majesty’s warships. It was an exciting time with a touch of melancholy. We were now all bona fide qualified sailors but we were now all to be separated and sent off into the Fleet on our own.
Back in the seventies the Navy was an enormous institution with bases in Scotland, Chatham, Portsmouth, Plymouth and Yeovil, and our class was to be spread far and wide. Eventually I learned that my first draft was to H.M.S. Dryad which was the training base for the communications department in Cosham, Hampshire. I was thrilled. I was going to Portsmouth where I know my cousin Paul had spent time, and where I knew there was a massive dockyard stuffed full of warships; I could barely contain myself.
On Saturday 22nd February I left Chatham and headed off to Portsmouth on the Waterloo express. As always at times like these, my emotions were all over the place. I was so proud to be finally entering the Fleet but at the same time was haunted by my demons; my shyness was so acute I was convinced everyone could sense it. Professionally I could cope and was really keen to develop and enjoy my career but social situations terrified the life out of me. Hopefully that was something no one would find out.
Anonymous
October 26, 2011 at 5:56 am
S1091 to return U/S Items Shipmate!
Alan Dixon
January 2, 2012 at 4:49 pm
Quite right, an S1091 it was.You must be a former Jack Dusty?