Читать книгу Rum Bum and Baccy - Bernie Howard - Страница 8

My first draft on leaving HMS Ganges was to HMS Raleigh, in Torpoint, Devon, just over from Plymouth, which was an engineering training base for those that were older than us, most being eighteen to about twenty-four. Also at HMS Raleigh was a Wrens’ training section. The idea for us being there was a bit more training whilst waiting for a ship. We had all been looking forward to meeting the Wrens for a bit of female company after being with two thousand two hundred boys for the past year. As it turned out, the Wrens were unavailable. There was a bridge over to their quarters which was guarded twenty-four hours a day. It was strongly rumoured that two ratings had broken in a few years previously and had been wanked to death. This did not stop the plans at tea breaks on how to break in. The most popular methods were tunnelling or making friends with a para. One thing about the Wrens which I couldn’t get my head around was when it was the Wrens’ time of the month they had to walk instead of march. The unfortunates would either walk ahead or behind the marching squad which told all and sundry of their predicament. This led to a lot of catcalls and remarks from simple sailors.

HMS Raleigh had a mascot which was a very badly behaved goat called Walter. Whilst I was on one duty watch, I had the pleasure of cleaning out Walter’s stable and feeding him, but the best part was still to come. Walter also drew his fag rations – twenty a day to be fed after his meal. He wasn’t lucky with me but I gave him ten and enjoyed the other half of the dessert myself. It was great to see Walter on parade on special occasions. He would be dressed in his mascot colours and some unfortunate would have him on a lead but he’d go berserk and was uncontrollable.

Another memory of HMS Raleigh was a boxing tournament which I entered. In this tournament, if successful, you would have three fights in a day. In my first bout I stopped my opponent in the second round: in the second fight I got a bye for some reason, and in the final I was beaten up by a coloured lad. I collected my Runner’s Up prize from a Wren Officer. This was a bit of cloth with writing on it. When entering the Changing Room, I pushed this into my pocket to look at later on my own as my eyes were sore and swollen. After changing and showering I went for a few drinks and forgot all about my prize until the next day when I discovered that, for being runner up in the finals, I’d won a bit of navy cloth which somebody had roughly sewn “Boxing” across. Years later I trained amateur boxers who, on their very first fight after losing, would get a statue or a cup.

It was also whilst at HMS Raleigh that I got my first tattoo and earring. Earrings were allowed but frowned upon and on morning parade a chief petty officer noticed how a few of us were sporting our new purchases. “Gypsies, homosexuals and thieves wear earrings and as the Royal Navy enlist none of these, get them out you travelling thieving queers.” In my first ship I put my earring back and have worn one since.

The tattoos we scarred our bodies with were absolutely terrible. I can’t believe that after getting one we were daft enough to go back every pay day for more. Professor Zeta was the name of the tattooist. He was fat and unkempt and always proud to show you his nipples, with rings in. This was unheard of at the time. The first tattoo I got was of a Japanese sailor girl with Japan spelt out underneath. The sailor girl was nothing but a smudge and luckily I’ve been to Japan a few times since. I then got the signs for playing cards but he managed to put the spade upside down. These were followed by a snake’s head that looked like a doberman and a butterfly which could have been anything. Never mind. I was now ready and waiting for my first ship.