Marching and Knockouts. ( Part 6)

I was sent a travel warrant and told to report to HMS Royal Arthur in Skegness. It sounded rather grand but in fact HMS Royal Arthur had been a Butlins holiday camp before the war.

I said goodbye to mum, dad and Evelyn and set off on my journey. A number of us went by train to Peterborough where we were met by a Petty officer. From there we were loaded like cattle onto trucks and continued our final few miles to HMS Royal Arthur.

Skegness in early March is a pretty bleak place. Cold and raw. Three of us were given a holiday chalet to sleep in. It was slightly bigger than a garden shed. It had no heating and was absolutely freezing. There were bunk beds, a single bed and a sink. That was it. I turned on the tap and of course it was just cold water. The lad that had the single bed made the most awful noises in the night. He obviously had some kind of breathing problem. How he passed the medical I’ll never know. The next day he was taken away by the Petty officer and we never saw him again.

HMS Royal Arthur was in fact just a reception base. It was where new recruits got their kit from and were made ready for life in the Navy. Most men only stayed there for two or three weeks. From there, they would be sent to another base where they would start their "real" Naval training.

Trust me to muck up the system. Within a couple of days I caught a heavy cold, then a sore throat. I reported to the sick bay and was immediately put in an isolation ward. They thought I had diphtheria!

But, as always, luck was on my side. The sick bay was the best place to be, it was warm, had a comfy bed with nice crisp white sheets and the food was pretty good as well. It took me a while to recover but when I did I found that all my stuff and new kit had been transferred to HMS Duke which was where I was supposed to be. So after coming out of sick bay I had nothing. I was told I would have to wait for the next group of recruits to arrive and then be transferred along with them. So instead of being at Royal Arthur for a couple of weeks I was there for over a month. They didn’t know what to do with me. I picked up litter, dog ends and cleaned toilets. But the grub was good.

After thirty five days at Royal Arthur I joined another intake and was eventually transferred to HMS Duke.

Duke was where every naval rating, whatever the branch, was taught square bashing, rifle drill, bayonet fighting, seamanship, shooting and discipline. We also did an awful lot of P.E. I had never been so fit in all my days.

For some reason I enjoyed square bashing and was part of a colour guard, which means that I was good at marching and keeping formation. Because of this I was part of the team that protected the colours (flags and banners of the regiment).

Our instructor was an old world war one veteran called Chief Petty Officer Fenton. He was a fearsome man with a scar from the corner of his mouth right the way across his cheek. He also took us for bayonet training. One morning we were on parade with “.303 Lee Enfield rifles” and fixed bayonets. The sun was low and as we stood to attention the sun was directly on our faces. I shut my eyes for a few seconds. I was aware of breath on my face. A voice said “Are you fucking dead?”

“No sir.” I replied.

“Well keep your fucking eyes open then. The only time I expect to see them shut is when you’re fucking dead!”

My eyes were always open after that incident.

I stayed at HMS Duke for a month until all of us "supply assistants" were transferred to HMS Demetrius in Wetherby. This was like being at school. We had lessons everyday on how to order, value and account for the multiplicity of Naval stores. There was homework to complete in the evenings and exams to sit.

This was a time when every Naval rating over the age of twenty one was given a daily rum ration. Those that abstained for medical or religious reasons were given an extra threepence a day. It had to be strictly controlled or the whole thing would get out of hand. So as a supply assistant I had to learn the strict rules and accounting procedures for dishing out the rum.

I had a chap in my class called Wilkinson. He came from a very wealthy family and had a strict upbringing. He found life in the Navy, very “liberating”. Basically he got drunk at every opportunity!

From time to time we were given “shore leave” and would head off into Wetherby which was the nearest main town. On one occasion a class mate told me that Wilkinson was in a pub drinking Guinness and rum combined and was becoming a nuisance with the local girls. I found him and eventually persuaded him it was time to go back to camp. He was in a rate old state, shouting and swearing and being generally abusive to anyone who passed us by. Up ahead and coming straight towards us were the “shore patrol”. If they saw him in this state he would be in big trouble. There was only one thing for it. I turned round as quick as I could and caught him square on the jaw with a right hook. He dropped down like a felled tree. He was out cold. I picked him up and placed him on a park bench. I sat down beside him. The “shore patrol” came along.

“Is he alright soldier?”

“Yes fine, he’s just a bit tired, I’ll get him back to camp.”

“Make sure you do!”

I waited until they were out of sight and then virtually carried Wilkinson all the way back to camp. I threw him on his bunk and hoped that would be the end of it. Unfortunately it wasn’t.
Three hours later he woke up. He was still drunk and began shouting and screaming and wandering around the barracks. Everyone was waking up wondering what the hell was going on. I jumped off my bunk and hit him again. Same reaction, he fell and landed on another guys bunk. The two of us carried him back to his bunk and left him there.

The next morning I saw him in the washroom. He face was a mess. Both cheeks were swollen and he looked like he’d gone ten rounds with Jack Johnson. He gave me a confused look.

“What the hell happened last night?”

“No idea mate, you were in bed when I got in.”

He hadn’t remembered a thing.

It suddenly dawned on me. I’d been in the Navy for a number of weeks, been to HMS Royal Arthur, Duke and Demetrius, yet hadn’t seen a single ship or even any water yet…