BACKGROUND TO SERIES 25

These are my memories. Click here to see those of Bernie Meadows, also Series 25

I am not going to record the origins of naval artificers or the actions of Admiral Fisher,

that is already covered in the Fisgard Asssociaton site.

What I can recall is that we were picked up from Plymouth station by a lorry and transported

to HMS Fisgard on the 12^th September 1955.

We were divided amongst the eight divisions of Anson, Blake, Collingwood, Duncan, Exmouth,

Frobisher, Grenville and Hawke each with its own Divisional Officer and a Chief or Petty Officer

to assist.

Our first taste of the navy was when we assembled in front of the admin block late in the

afternoon and addressed by a chief who fascinated me as whilst he shaved, he had managed

to have a healthy growth of hair on his cheeks. The only thing I can remember he rather

(sarcastically) said was that “we were to be the cream of the navy”, obviously he was not

of that opinion.

The first evening after supper we were gathered in the mess hall and given a talk by Gunner

Heath about the general set up of Fisgard and he did mention sprogging and how it no longer

exists. In his dreams.

The following two days consisted of being kitted out in uniform, signing away over 12 years

of our lives and sending our civvies home.

Then the parade ground and marching. I always thought it was only the army that needed to

march. After four weeks of that, the rest of the class managed to keep in step with me to

eventually finish our New Entry induction and allowed to go “ashore” – in best pusser’s boots,

the ones without the hobnails in.

Now of course we take over from 2 class as sprogs for the almighty, what did Gunner Heath say?.

Then followed the workshop path we all know, making small doors, (wondered what they did

with them all) making round bits of metal square or “L” shaped or some other shape etc.etc..

Turning big bits in to small bits, welding and moulding plus the school work, drill, PT and sport.

Saturday and Sunday afternoons if we did not go ashore had time to lay on our beds or read.

Below are memories as recorded by Bernard Meadows, also Series 25 with comments in yellow by myself where our memories diverge.

As I have said before, on 12^th September 1955 I caught the train to Plymouth dressed in my immaculate three piece blue suit. Yes I did have private fears of all sorts, but when I met a few other recruits on the train I realised that mostly their fears were greater than mine. The answer seemed to be to show a calm and worldly exterior despite what you felt. At least I had spent the last eight years away from home and did not know what homesickness was.

When we arrived at Plymouth station we had to wait around for three hours for other recruits on other trains, there we started to learn patience! We were then trucked to HMS Fisgard at Torpoint, not via the ferry but the long way round, via Saltash. We then had a little welcoming speech and were sorted into huts. We duly unpacked and sat around the potbelly stove which was lit, and awaited instructions, all a little in awe of our surroundings and wondering - what next! The next day we collected our kit and packed our civilian clothes for dispatch home. Everything was stamped with our wooden name plaques, duly dipped in black or white paint. New boots underwent severe cleaning and polishing under instruction. On the 13th September at 10am I “took the Queen’s shilling” and signed on for twelve years from the age of 18, which was still three years away! The frightening message was that we would not be able to wear any other clothing but that which had been issued nor would we be allowed off the camp during the first four weeks. Somehow the message struck home that this was no joke! I was allotted Blake Division, (all divisions were named after famous Admirals) and the hut name was Benbow.

PM943899 – there you are – like every serviceman, the number issued when you join you never forget!

The Royal Navy had the reputation of being the best training ground in the world and providing the best apprenticeship, in my opinion this was certainly true. Every minute of out days and nights was accounted for, either in the classrooms, in the workshops, on the parade ground, or on the sports field. They enforced wisdom, respect (self and of others), history, tradition, comradeship, teamwork, leadership, and technology, in addition to the normal classroom subjects.

Much of the early days were spent in learning to live with others and establishing standards of behaviour among ourselves. We seemed to be eternally on a round of washing, ironing, polishing boots or brass, cleaning heads or huts, weeding, etc. During that first week our hut had decided that one of our fellows was seriously lacking in hygiene. To encourage a change of attitude it was decided that he should be the first apprentice to try out the newly built swimming pool at the end of our block.

He was therefore escorted, to be fair it was under protest, and thrown in the deep end. Unfortunately, that afternoon somebody had drained the pool! Having put him in an ambulance, at one o’clock in the morning we were arraigned before the Commanding Officer. Goodness knows why, but the CO decided that I and one other apprentice were responsible. Result - attempted manslaughter charge! Fortunately, the next morning after a severe ticking off everything was dropped.

Our pay then was nine shillings (45p) a week which was paid fortnightly. Pay parade meant you were dressed in number 8 rig (clean working clothes) wearing your working cap, having had its grommet replaced temporarily, and carrying your best cap with your Pay held in place with your left hand and thumb. The right hand being needed to salute with. Caps were made of cloth and were black then, summer rig meant fitting a white cloth cover, there was also a certain pride if you could get hold of a “King’s” Badge which was theoretically replaced in 1953 by the “Queen’s” Badge. Having answered to your name, a ten shilling note and four florins were dropped in your cap. I should think that every apprentice since the year dot has frantically searched his cap lining for an extra florin having been dropped in by mistake. I never knew of one!

Our Divisional Officer was a famous man, he was sub-Lieutenant (Gunner) Heath, and had been commissioned in the field as a result of his bravery and work during “the Yangste Incident”, he was the Chief GI on HMS Amethyst which was crippled up the Yangtse River on a peaceful trip, by the Chinese Army. They ran the gauntlet of the Chinese guns until met by HMS Concord at the river mouth. More of Concord later. He was now facing his greatest challenge by being responsible for us “sprogs”!

The first term was spent on woodwork for four weeks and then basic metalwork. All apprentices will tell of their first Test Job, which probably never changed. (First test job in 1 class was to make a panelled door. The making a round bar in to a square one was in 2 class as I remember but can’t remember what sort of metalwork we did in the second part of the first term so you may be right)You were given a two and a half inch long bar, two inches in diameter which you had to make one inch square by two inches long. You were only allowed to use a hammer a chisel a set of callipers and a six inch ruler. Required accuracy was 10 thousandths of an inch. Once inspected with a micrometer you were allowed to finish it with a file.

The second part of the Test Job was to produce a one inch hole in a two and a half inch square of steel plate, a quarter inch thick. The two pieces then had to fit together, ideally with no light showing, all eight ways! Our degrees of success were somewhat varied but there was great pride in its completion. Your arms ached at the end of the day, it was sheer torture. The Navy certainly transformed many a seven stone weakling! (Never mind your arms, knuckles were covered in scabs from missing the chisel, none of that ever came in useful)

There were the usual pranks and rivalries which always exist among disciplined men as a means of letting off steam. Once, for some unknown reason, a “cotton reel” of underground cable had been left on the hill outside the huts. It was released and promptly rolled down the hill straight through the Chief’s Mess wall into their Billiard Room! It must have weighed half a ton. Fortunately nobody was hurt and nobody saw anything!

It was a regular trick, as all leave expired at ten in the evening, to get someone to collect your card at the main gate as they returned on board. This card told the Security who was on site and who was still ashore. It did mean that if your card was removed then they would believe you were on board and therefore you could stay ashore as long as you liked. Provided you weren’t caught. Remember you had to be in uniform and everyone knew when your leave expired. Once I had decided to stay out as the film in Torpoint “Bug Hutch” didn’t finish till 10.30pm and one was expected to escort one’s girlfriend home. On the way back, over the fields to a back fence, I was chased by dogs and just as they caught up I leapt a low fence. This slowed them up and I just made it to the camp fence with inches to spare. This fence was about ten feet high but fear lends wings. As I landed on the “safe” side two patrolmen helped me to my feet. Trouble again!

Naturally, like all lads of that age, we never had any money, when down to your last pennies a good night out could be had across the road in HMS Raleigh. For a shilling you could be marched over the road in No.8 Rig to the cinema, and a further shilling would get you a pint of beer in the canteen. Since the ratings in Raleigh also wore No.8 Rig the bar staff didn’t know we were not allowed.

We had the usual entertainment such as the lad who could not march no matter how hard he tried, always out of step and arms synchronised with his legs. Endless polishing of “decks”, fry-ups on the hut stove, which needed constant fuelling just to keep the temperature at freezing point. Once one of the apprentices smuggled through the wire a crate of home brew scrumpy, his name was Janner Smales and his brother had a farm that adjoined the camp. Unfortunately during Captain’s Rounds the bottles decided to explode, one by one, under his bed. Highly entertaining, except for Jan!

I remember that thick large slices of bread which we filled up on were called “tokes”, (can not remember that expression we always called them doubles)goodness knows why. A favourite in the NAAFI Canteen was Nelson’s Tart which was a pastry slice filled with sweet mince meat, it cost about 3d. (I always had the impression that the middle was filled with a mixture of unsold stale cakes and mincemeat)

Unfortunately there are always a few that cannot take the pressures, the discipline and ragging, or bullying if you prefer to call it, and we had one case of a new lad who hanged himself from the open beams of the hut. I did not know him as he was in another hut. I suppose that after seven years in a public school it all seemed normal to me and I never suffered from any bullying.

The first time we went on leave we were each given a “French Letter” as part of the departure routine, naturally I placed it in my top pocket and forgot about it. Of course, when I got home mother decided that everything had to be laundered and cleaned and, sure enough, she found it! I can still hear her say, as only mothers can say it,”Bernard! What on earth do you want these for?!” (You must be dreaming there as neither I nor Mike Roberts know anything about compulsory French letters.)

All the smokers in those days could be identified by the pin sticking in their lapel. We could only afford ten “tailor-made” cigarettes each fortnight, usually Players Weights or Will’s Woodbines as tipped or filtered were unpopular as they could not be recycled. The Navy marked a lot of items such as canvas and cigarettes with a thin blue line. This was to prevent theft. Cigarettes supplied to the Navy, usually by BAT or Sobranie were similarly marked and known as “Blue-liners”. We received an issue of 200 duty free Blue-liners each month, I think for 2/- per hundred, that never lasted a month. Therefore each cigarette was smoked to within a quarter of an inch by sticking a pin in it. The butt was then condemned to a Tickler tin where it could be stripped with others collected and re-rolled! ( We did n’t actually get a cigarette ration until we were at Collingwood (where I started smoking) or Caledonia so no blue liners at Fisgard. I did buy a pack of cigarettes at Fisgard and sold them one at a time for some exorbitant profit to the smokers. Only did it the once.)

There was not much we could do in those days with our money so we mostly walked into Torpoint, caught the ferry to Devonport and walked the streets of Plymouth, mostly a huge bomb site from the war. You could have the odd half pint but that was all, I was just sixteen when I left HMS Fisgard. Many a Saturday night was spent in Aggie Weston’s or the British Sailors Society Club, just jawing.

Somebody, I don’t know who, once threw all the lifebelts off the Torpoint ferry and they sank! We also got the blame when the ferry came off its chains and floated into Plymouth Sound! (All sounds a tall tale to me)

At Whitsun, 1956, I had decided to hitch-hike round Dartmoor, just for day’s outing. I had put on my best doe-skin uniform to ensure I got lifts. I sweated buckets as it turned out to be one of the hottest Whitsuns for years. I succeeded but still had to walk for miles. (I remember that Whitsun, we were allowed out in sports rig and we went over to Cawsand, got a picture somewhere)

My work efforts must have been reasonable as, towards the end of our sojourn in the West Country, I was promoted to a Leading Apprentice.

At the end of the sixteen month course at HMS Fisgard all apprentices had selected a trade, usually with advice from the instructors, after all, there were quotas to fill! Electrical Artificers (Greenies) were sent to HMS Collingwood at Lee-on-Solent, Engine Room Artificers (Oilies), Ordnance Artificers, and Shipwright Artificers were sent to HMS Caledonia at Rosyth. One day somebody is going to ask why EAs were called Greenies, it is because technical drawings of ships show electrical circuits in green! (In those days the various officers had a coloured ribbon between their stripes, red for medical, purple for engineering, white for instructor, green for electrical – hence Greenies as opposed to Purplies. The only ones without the ribbon were the Seaman types. I am told by Mike Roberts ex EA general service that the wiring was not green)