Page 11.

After we had stowed away all our gear, made our beds, written our letters and addressed our envelopes, we were gathered together and herded out of the mess, I wouldn't say marched out because I couldn't march, and we turned left along the length of the parade ground and proceeded towards a building that held a dining room. I was soon informed that it was the galley, where we had an evening meal, eighty of us all noisily chomping away, constantly being ordered to keep quiet. I sat next to Fergy because I knew him, he was my new friend, my only friend so far. He told everyone at the table that I had joined the Navy because I could swim and they all laughed. It seemed that I was the only one who hadn't been in some kind of quasi-military organisation as a boy. They had been Sea Scouts, or Boy Scouts, or Boy Soldiers, all kinds of things, but I was the one who would go down in history as the one who joined because he could swim. I tried to tell them that it wasn't just that, that I joined because Selwyn and me thought it was a great idea, but they wouldn't listen. We finished our meal and were herded back to the mess. We were ordered to shower and get into our pyjamas, and be in bed by nine. Nine! I had never been up that late in my life. At home I had to be in bed by eight or eight-thirty, even when I was fifteen. I had only recently got my first suit with long pants, bought for a wedding. Nine o'clock, hey. I knew I was going to enjoy this Navy. I pulled off my clothes and wandered down the middle of the mess totally naked with a towel over my shoulder. I'd grown up in the swimming baths, I'd been wandering around naked or semi-naked most of my life, with boys of my own age, in the cellar at the baths where there were cubicles in a long room which also included long benches. Nakedness had never bothered me. Off I went to the showers as the other boys looked on and slowly followed. I showered, dried off, returned to my bed, climbed into my pyjamas and sat on the bed, determined to stay awake until nine o'clock. I only just made it. It was the end of my first day as a sailor, the beginning of my career as a defender of the realm and considering I was a small town boy from Wales, a member of a close and extended family, I didn't have a single moment of home-sickness. Not one second. I didn't then, and I never have since. I slept like a brick.

The following morning we were awakened by the Petty Officer screaming and shouting and banging beds. There was a lot of moaning and groaning about the fact that it was six a.m., but I had been up at that time for years to get to my paper round, so wasn't bothered. We all had to wash and clean our teeth, then get dressed and back to the galley for breakfast. Once finished we were lined up and herded across to the other side of the parade ground where we queued to enter a low building. It was a store. Inside there was a long counter with loads of old Sailors behind it. As we walked in these sailors began to shout: "28 inch waste" - "30 inch chest" - "29 inch leg". Heavy blue denim trousers and shirts were piled up my arms, blue serge uniform, white square-necked, blue trimmed shirts, cap - "6 and seven-eights" - I never knew that, just as I never knew that my hat size would be the same today, fifty years later. Shoes, socks, underpants. The pile in my arms grew. Kit-bag. Training manual (I still have it, it still has my name stamped on the pages!). Shaving kit, toothbrush, needles, a ball of red silk. A gold-threaded black silk hat band with H.M.S. GANGES written in it. Eventually I staggered out carrying clothes and equipment from my knees to my eye-brows. Off I went across the parade ground, back to the mess, to my bed, onto which I dumped everything. I stood back and gazed at it all. There was so much uniform. I tried the round, flat, white hat on and it fitted like a glove, so to speak. I was getting quite excited about all this Navy stuff.

All the class came back from the stores and we all stood by our beds. How quickly we learned not to sit on them, without actually being told. The Petty Officer charged in. He always seemed to be charging around and shouting. "Right!" he shouted. "Stow all your civilian gear. On your first leave, which will be Christmas, take it all home with you and leave it there, along with any civilian suitcases. Try your uniforms on in a moment and if anything doesn't fit, and I shall be surprised if anything doesn't, take it back to stores and exchange it. Get to it!"

The whole mess burst out in noisy laughter and chatter as the long room was turned into a changing room for a short of small boy edition of a fashion show. I tried on the blue denim trousers and shirt. They fitted perfectly. As did the shoes. I tried on the rough serge, then the smooth serge and the white fronts. They all fitted too. There were bits of uniform I didn't know what to do with, a bit of string, a lanyard Fergy called it, and a large piece of black silk that apparently was to be worn around the neck when wearing the blue serge. There was nothing that didn't fit me perfectly and I don't remember anyone taking anything back to stores. What magicians worked in there? I wondered. They could the size of almost every part of the body simply by glancing at it. Surely only magicians could do that. Or undertakers.

"Put the cap band on your caps, boys, and be quick about it."

I picked up the band with H.M.S. GANGES on it, wrapped it around the hat and tied it on with a neat bow. Except it stuck out at ninety degrees and I was sure this wasn't right. I looked at Fergy's hat. The bow, on the right hand side, stood flush with the side of the cap. I undid mine and tried again. It still stuck out at ninety degrees. I glanced at Fergy with pleading on my face. He did my hat band in about thirty-seconds and the bow stood flush. I had found something I couldn't do. And I never improved. Everywhere I every went during my Naval career, every shorebase, every ship, I had to find someone to tie my hat band because it always stood at ninety degrees when I did it.

Bloody hat bands!