1972
Chapter 5 (Part 3) Royal Navy: HMS Dryad and HMS Excellent
HMS Dryad 1972
5(3).1 February 1972 – December 1972 H.M.S. Dryad Stage 3 Training
H.M.S. Dryad, I was delighted to discover, turned out to be one of the newer models of shore based barracks with modern four-to-a-mess accommodation, light furniture, and an airy feel to the dining room and other main buildings. There was nothing Dickensian in site. Surprisingly Dryad was situated in a fairly rural area with fields all around and no view of the sea. The grounds were made up of well tended gardens and the overall feel of the place was welcoming.
Being issued my bedding on arrival I was greeted Smudge Smith (the duty S.A.) who was to be one of my new colleagues. Taking my details down in the Bedding Book he looked up with a smile when I said my rank (JASA1). ‘Eyup our new Jack Dusty has finally arrived. Good to meet you mate or should I say Alan. You’ll be billeted with our other two young Dustys Steve and Bob. I’ll show you where’.
Walking through the base to the mess deck Smudge pointed out what the various buildings and facilities were so that I could get my bearings. “That’s the parade ground obviously, and you’ll see the ‘Comms’ trainees out there every morning. Ships Company only do parade once a month. That’s the sports hall and pool if you’re into that, there’s the wardroom and the NCOs mess, and over there is the stores department where you’ll have to muster on Monday morning and meet the S.O. The club and NAAFI are just here right next to the Mess”.
Before I knew it I had followed Smudge up a flight of stairs and along a corridor full of open plan rooms, each with four billets in, a bit like a very modern hospital. Eventually we walked into one of the rooms and Smudge introduced me to two young guys lying on their bunks. “Steve, Bob, this is Alan the new Jack Dusty. He’s in your grot (mess) with you”. Both lads got up smiling and shook my hand. It was a real genuine welcome that made me feel as though they had been waiting for me to arrive. It turned out they had because my arrival completed the compliment of 3 new staff that were to begin induction on Monday.
So, inside half an hour of arriving, I had had a glimpse of the base, and been greeted by 3 of my new colleagues, all of whom I really liked. I had been in the Navy 5 months, my formal training was over and I had finally become part of the Ships Company. I was about to begin learning how to carry out my profession alongside Steve Sikora and Bob Knott with a little help from Smudge Smith. Life was good and I felt great.
5(3).2 February 1972 – December 1972 H.M.S. Dryad Stage 3 Training
There was only the three of us in our mess, the fourth bunk was empty so I had a choice which was a first; I took a bed right in the corner. With the bed came a matching wooden wardrobe, bedside locker and bookshelf which together gave it all a really cosy feel. The other nice thing was that the design of the room gave everyone so much personal space, unlike the two previous establishments I had been to where we were all like sardines in a tin.
Seeing my wonder Steve commented ‘You’re Ships Company now Alan, staff. You got perks now’. Bob joined in with his Luton accent ‘ Not ‘arf Al, there’s no bladdy mowning pawade, no bladdy midnight curfew, no bladdy lights out, and no more bladdy classwooms eeva. Bladdy bvrilliant mate. Come on get unpacked and we’ll go see what’s for dinner. The nosh here’s the dog’s bananas’.
The nosh was indeed the dog’s bananas. It was really hard to make a choice faced with so many fantastic dishes. Spag Bol, Toad in the Hole, Fish Pie. But in the end I had the sailors favourite called a ‘Cheezy Hammy Eggy’ (toasted bread topped with cheese and ham, with a fried egg slapped on the top) and chips. These days food like that would probably be banned, but back then it was staple diet. It didn’t touch the sides.
After dinner, back at the mess, I lay out on my bunk and wrote letters home and to Annie. I had neglected writing letters during training because I didn’t get much free time and when I did I was knackered. But I did actually enjoy writing letters, and loved receiving the replies. I sometimes think technology (email, texting) has robbed us of pleasures we’ve forgotten we had.
Finally to bed where I made what I thought was the best discovery of the day. I had a bunk light! Wow! I could read, write, draw, without disturbing anyone. I had that private little corner of the world back again just for me. The only thing I couldn’t do was practice my mouth organ, but I’d think of something. Feeling happy, secure and warm I switched off my bunk light; then I switched it on again, before finally switching it off for the night.
5(3).3 February 1972 – December 1972 H.M.S. Dryad Stage 3 Training
The day after my arrival at Dryad was a Sunday which was great because it gave me time to explore the base, post my letters, and just generally chill out.
The country air was crisp and cool which went really well with the bright daytime sun; a bit like hot apple crumble and ice cream.
What was really liberating was being able to walk out of the main gate and stroll along the country lanes listening to the sound of nature between periods of silence. Cows in meadows, old men on bicycles, styles between fields, river banks with dragonflies, there was something familiar about all that that I loved. Walking the lanes was something I would do often during my stay at Dryad; it was time out that I cherished. I would also do far more cross country running because that gave me similar opportunities.
Somehow, that Sunday just flew past even though parts of it seemed to last for ages. In the evening Steve, Bob and I got down to chatting about our induction which was to begin the following day. We were all nervously excited. It seems we were to first meet our big cheese the S.O. (Supply Officer), then meet the Chief (CPOSA) who would deploy us to work alongside experienced S.A’s in different sub departments (food, clothing, bedding, nuts and bolts, office etc). Every month we would be moved in order to learn all of the various processes involved in the job. We would also be expected to join our mentor on his duty S.A. shift (every 4th night and every 4th weekend) to learn out of hours procedures.
I didn’t have a preference about where I worked or who with, I was more concerned that I had now forgotten just about everything I’d been taught and that my sea draft would be delayed until the S.O. was convinced of my competence. We had all been told to expect at least one year, possibly 18 months, at Dryad before being drafted to a ship. I could only hope it was sooner rather than later; but at least my goal was finally in sight.
5(3).4 February 1972 – December 1972 H.M.S. Dryad Stage 3 Training
Monday morning, clean, pressed, blue denim Number 8 uniform. S.A. badge sewn onto the upper left arm. Name strip above left pocket: Morpeth A D., black polished shoes. Number 2 white cap with gold tally “H.M.S. Dryad”. Identity card in breast pocket. Working rig; no less immaculate than ceremonial rig.
Meeting the S.O. wasn’t as frightening as we thought it might be. He was very welcoming and complimentary of our achievements to date. He was also genuinely interested in our out of work pastimes, in my case cross country running; “I know you’ll do the S &S proud, Morpeth” (no pressure then).
After the short briefing covering the department dynamics, Dryad as a whole, and his expectations of us as Rookies, he wished us well with our draft and passed us on to the Chief.
“Mornin’ lads! So you’ve met the Boss; he runs a tight ship. So do I, and so will you”, he began (no pressure then). “But don’t worry we’re a close knit lot and we all look after each other” (phew). “Steve you’ll be in the Naval Stores doing the nuts and bolts, Bob I want you in the Clothing Store, Alan you’ll be in the Catering Store. You’ll all be working alongside experienced staff so learn from them; I’ll be checking to see how you’re getting on. When you’re something like I’ll move you round so you get the feel of everything; and don’t forget there’ll be no sea drafts without my say so”. He shook our hands and continued “Hey, its great having you all, I’ve seen your docs (personal files) and I know you’re going to be real assets to the department. Come on I’ll introduce you to the team and drop you with your mentors”.
So the guided tour began at the Naval Stores Office, where we were all gathered, and the Chief introduced us to the various staff working there; one was a Leading Stores Accountant (L.S.A. – or in Naval tongue, a Killick), and two were S.A.’s. From there we moved on to the Naval Stores, which looked as though it carried everything from a cement mixer to a drawing pin, where we dropped off a traumatized Steve to join the two S.A.’s in working there. Fortunately the other two S.A.’s didn’t look traumatized and so we felt Steve was in good hands.
Bob was dropped off at the Clothing Store which left just me and the Chief walking through the barracks towards the Catering Store. “Last but not least Alan but at least you know who your mentor is” he said. At that we walked into the store to find Smudge having a coffee at the desk and helping himself from an open carton of penguin biscuits. The Chief helped himself to a biscuit then turned to leave. Biting on the biscuit he munched “There are perks Alan”; then he was gone.
“Two sugars mate?” said Smudge, pouring me a coffee. I think I’m going to like Catering.
5(3).5 February 1972 – December 1972 H.M.S. Dryad Stage 3 Training
Smudge was a very experienced SA1 due for promotion to Killick at any time, and was a highly respected member of staff despite his eccentricities. It’s hard to say whether I admired him more for his skills or for his idiosyncrasies but whatever the case to me he was the business.
Smudge was the sort of bloke who because he was so good at what he did, and because his professionalism was so dependable, could literally get away with blue murder – and to a round of applause. It was almost as if he had developed into a chameleon who could be whatever anyone wanted him to be, without compromising himself (or his sanity). The Captain and the Boss were two of his biggest fans.
It would be years later before I came to realise the full impact Smudge had on my own personality because all I knew, at that time, was that he was so cool I just wanted to be him. And the more time I spent with him the more I observed the almost hypnotic affect his enigmatic charisma had on everyone who crossed his path. His greatest skill was subtlety, a sort of ‘less is more’ philosophy, which had people reeling with laughter within a few words. What I couldn’t work out was whether his gift was natural or was it something he had had to nurture but that unanswered question only added to the fascination.
During my time under his wing, Smudge went to great lengths to train me in the art of Catering Accountancy and the related issues I needed to know. His method of teaching was simple and methodical which left me confident with the process of liaising with the chefs on a daily basis regarding their requirements. Provisions, fresh fruit and vegetables, frozen meat and fish, dried foodstuffs were all governed by strict regulations to do with their storage, and use-by dates, but by the time I was moved on I left with sound knowledge; thanks to Smudge.
That month I spent with Smudge is still one I treasure in my thoughts now. I’ve often thought about him over the years; not just for his input into my career, or even for his sense of humour. But as with Jimmy O’Brien in my childhood, a part of Smudge remained within me and contributes to who I am now. A friend once told me later in life “Alan, you are the sum result of your experiences to date”. Aren’t we all?
5(3).6 February 1972 – December 1972 H.M.S. Dryad Stage 3 Training
After leaving Catering, I duly began moving around the department to gain experience in the other areas of Stores, putting into practice the training I had received at Pembroke alongside experienced staff; needless to say none of them were quite like Smudge, but I was really beginning to enjoy my work and liked all my colleagues.
Aside from work, life at Dryad was good; they were halcyon days. Cross country running and walking the lanes gave me the freedom I needed from the disciplined life I had chosen to lead; it was the perfect solution to a paradox because I really needed both things in my life.
Now and again on duty nights I would spend an hour or so in the Naval Stores office or in the Bedding Store and bone up on my mouth organ when nobody was about. I’d promised Mam I would keep my hand in and it was still a passion of mine even though I was terrified someone might hear me.
Steve and Bob had their own passions too. Bob was into the music of the day, particularly the odd balls like Marc Bolan and David Bowie (I wasn’t at the time but like their music these days). Steve loved to just chill out watching the box, reading or writing letters. Quite often we’d all spend the evenings together chatting about the day and about what sea draft we would like and why. We wondered which of us would be the first to go to sea; and who would be last.
It wasn’t unheard of for boys of our age to be given a ‘loan draft’ to other ships or establishments (covering leave/sickness etc) and although I was enjoying my time at Dryad, I quite liked the idea of seeing other places too. It was weird but before that thought had even formulated in my head the Chief called me in and said there was a ‘loan draft’ for two weeks and would I like it. Queen Beatrice of the Netherlands was visiting Windsor and there was need for a Royal Guard. “I know it’s not a sea draft Alan but if you do this one I’m sure your ship will be calling for you soon after” he said. Good enough for me I thought. If two weeks of square bashing gets my sea draft earlier I’ll do it.
So, the papers arrived, my bags were packed, and off I went for two weeks of mind numbing parade work as a means to an end. I’d never seen the Queen in real life before so there was that; and Queen Beatrice of course. But as I got onto the transport something made my stomach sink. The driver grinned. “Banish all hope ye who now travel with me” he sang, in a pseudo pirate fashion. “Next stop Whale Island; H.M.S. Excellent.
5(3).7 Easter 1972 H.M.S. Excellent Queens Guard 1
HMS Excellent 1972
By the time I arrived at Excellent I had given myself a good talking to, and had accepted it was going to be pants. From what I had heard the training here made Raleigh and Ganges look like Butlins Holiday camps so there was no doubt I was in for a rough ride.
Arriving at the gate I showed my papers to the guard who looked bemused. “Crikey you’re keen aren’t you?” he said.
“What?” I said.
“First time I’ve known someone to turn up 5 days early for training here; here of all places” he said.
“What?” I said.
“Is that the only word you know?” he continued. “You’re obviously blissfully unaware that it’s Easter, in fact today is Good Friday, so apart from me you’ll be lucky to see a soul here before Wednesday. If I were you I’d scarper off home till then”.
I was speechless. Scarpering off home wasn’t an option. Before I left Dryad I’d asked the Chief about my pay and he’d said it had been arranged for me to pick up an advance on arrival at Excellent, so I had invested in a pair of Levis with the few bob I’d had left from my last pay. I was almost broke and since everyone had beat it for the holiday the pay office was now closed.
Going back to Dryad till the Tuesday wasn’t going to happen either; the transport had gone and I didn’t have a clue how to get to Cosham, even if I could muster the fare.
Seeing me dumb struck the guard asked “Are you alright?”.
“Yes” I said, “I think I’ll just stay and chill out for the weekend. Presumably there are still chefs here to feed us?”. He smiled at my sarcasm “Don’t worry mate, you’ll be fed. I’ll come up to the grot when I’m off for a game of cards if you like; and here, these will help you through the weekend”. He put 40 R.N. Blue Liners (cigarettes) in my hand. “Cheers mate, appreciated” I said. As I walked through the gate he called “Hey, Alan. I’m Bungy. Bungy Williams. See you later”.
5(3).8 Easter 1972 H.M.S. Excellent Queens Guard 2
Bungy did come to the grot after he got off and we did play cards for a while which passed the time away on that first night. I was glad he had because he was really good company. He’d served on several ships and had that way of relaying sea stories that made you want to hear every word. He also had that dry sense of humour which always catches me off guard, and never fails to make me laugh; something I have always admired in those who have it.
Eventually though he took his leave and went off to his (ships company) mess leaving me alone in the trainee’s grot. I was the only occupant in a mess deck with 6 beds which gave me the creeps; there was something a bit morgue like about it. Needless to say I didn’t sleep very well, and was dreading the idea of another four nights like that. I left the light on because the shadows sent my imagination into overdrive. It was a long night. And what was I going to do for four days on my own with no money?
When I woke up in the morning I had no idea what time it was. Usually I was in a room full of lads all getting washed and dressed, and making a noise but the silence was deafening. I looked out of the window but there wasn’t a soul in sight. It was almost as though a nuclear bomb had gone off. Suddenly, my stomach wondered whether breakfast was still being served or whether it was nearly lunchtime so I decided to get washed and dressed and investigate. As I left the mess I got a glimpse of a clock on one of the walls in the foyer. It was 3pm. I’d missed breakfast and I’d missed lunch; and my stomach wasn’t best pleased.
After hovering in the foyer for what seemed like ages (wondering what to do next) I decided to stroll out and find a newsagent, pick up some snacks and a paper, then maybe find a park bench.
Finding the shop was quite easy but the weather was drizzly and so I went back to the mess with my tucker bag and lay on my bed. After the broken night sleep I had just had I felt my eyelids becoming heavy and so decided to have a nap before hogging out on my junk food. The next thing I remember was waking up to see that it was dark outside. Shit! I shot off the bed, down the stairs and into the foyer to see the clock smiling 9.14pm at me. I’d bloody well missed dinner as well.
But there was hope. Nine-o-clockers was still on and I managed to get my hands on a plate full of sausage rolls, which complemented my crisps and mars bar well as I finally got around to reading my newspaper. My body clock was now well out of synch with normal life but at least I had a newspaper to keep me company until I flaked out, which thankfully wasn’t too late into the early hours. I didn’t miss another breakfast.
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5(3).9 Easter1972 H.M.S. Excellent Queens Guard 3
Back in the seventies, when you bought a pair of Levi jeans they were what was known as ‘shrink-to-fit’. In other words, you bought the size bigger than what you needed, and then shrunk them to fit you by soaking them in warm water - usually in the bath while you were wearing them!
Since I had nothing pressing to do - and since I was flat broke because I had bought a pair of ‘shrink-to-fit’s, I put the jeans on and then jumped into the bath; settling down with yesterdays paper.
Wearing clothes in the bath reminded me of the life-saving training we had done at Raleigh, when we had to swim in our clothes. It always felt really weird. Even today I can’t stand wet clothes. But at least on this occasion I didn’t have to swim anywhere. The worst thing about sitting in a warm bath is that eventually it gets cold and you have to get out and freeze to death; most definitely a memory of childhood days.
The other thing about shrinking jeans in this way is that when you do eventually get out of the bath and take the jeans off, you discover that your lower regions have all turned indigo blue (from the dye) and remain that way for at least a week! And if you remember that you’re the same age as me, or older.
On the plus side, the jeans fit like a glove, and I think it was then that I first realised that I was no longer the skinny little runt I thought I was. As my mam would say when I would come home on leave “Eee lad, yer fin’lly got yersell an arse!”
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5(3).10 Easter 1972 H.M.S. Excellent Queens Guard 4
That first weekend at Excellent dragged by so slowly that even now it’s easy for me to re-live it in my imagination. Being broke and alone are the first two things that spring to mind when I recollect that period of time.
To be broke in 1972 meant exactly that. There was literally nowhere to get money from. There were no credit cards, or loans and such, and so as things ran out one had to do just do without them. For me, at the time, running out of cigarettes was about the worst thing that could happen to me; I would be left feeling extremely lonely and depressed. Needless to say that I did eventually run out of cigarettes.
Being left on my own in isolation is a complex paradox for me. On the one hand, because I am inherently shy, I do prefer to be alone if given the choice. On the other hand when solitude is forced upon me I suffer over-whelming feelings of rejection. Needless to say that I did feel rejected.
In retrospect, that first weekend at Excellent left me feeling lonely, depressed and rejected, so much so that by the time Tuesday came, and people started arriving, I had become so neurotic that my greeting to them had almost become “Gizz-a-fag and I’ll let you in”.
By late Tuesday evening, the mess decks were full of young sailors unpacking their kit, in preparation for a 10-day training program of square-bashing. Inside 10 days we would all gel as a Royal Guard on the streets of Windsor to mark the arrival of Queen Beatrix of the Netherlands. Everyone was full of chatter, making new acquaintances, talking about their journeys, their ships, their girlfriends.
I was quite happy having bummed a few fags to be lying on my bunk observing it all, with my thoughts to myself.
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