WAITING FOR THE CALL
Written by Ronald MizonPublished on January 2018
After signing up for the Royal Navy I went home and told my mother, who wasn’t very pleased. “Been away over four years” she said, “ and now you will be off again.” Dad came home from work and I told him also. He was more understanding and he explained to Mam that I had to go to do National Service in the Army, Air Force or Navy. I could have avoided each one by volunteering to go down the coal mine but, oh no, not for me. I waited about a month, which would make me seventeen and a half years old. Practically on the dot, I received my call-up papers. I had orders to make my way to a Butlins Holiday Camp which was now taken over by the Admiralty and was now called HMS Royal Arthur. A train ticket was supplied and I had only to take my toothbrush, so on the appointed day made my way to Skegness in Lincolnshire. I thought I would be alone but I was mistaken. The train was a special to the camp and loaded with young would-be sailors like me.
What a shock! It was no holiday camp - inoculations at first, uniform, boots, cap and overcoat. I was shown how to salute an officer. Lifebelts issued and tested by a dunk into a big tank of water by a senior rating. We learned to march together and run, learned to tie various knots. We were there three weeks and I chanced to make a friend of a Canadian sailor who was one of the instructors who took a class. After three weeks, the complement of our batch was given orders to pack our navy outfits and parade next day and then we moved from HMS Royal Arthur to the local railroad station where we were to board a train. As we boarded the train, four to a compartment, we were handed a lunchbox each and off we went. Not one of us knew where we were going. We travelled all day and eventually stopped at a small Welsh village. From there we had to march with our kitbags for what seemed eternity. Eventually we arrived at another naval establishment called HMS Glen Dower and were housed in a four bed chalet. A meal was provided and then we turned in, tired out. HMS Glen Dower was located in Wales and like HMS Royal Arthur, was built as a holiday camp (by Mr Billy Butlin) but likeness to places of pleasure were far away. Classes of twenty-four were formed and life commenced to be tough and rough. We marched carrying rifles and then ran with the same.
Physical Training was carried out daily. As well as keeping our kit clean and smart, we swam in the pool and learned how to board a whale boat up a rope ladder. Rowing together as a twelve man boat was carried out in the sea. We were kept within the confines of the camp for one month until our instructor came into our chalet and selected another and me for police duty. We wore white hats and white gaiters. On our right arms we wore a black armband with ‘Police’ emblazoned on it. To complete this we were issued with a small truncheon. My job was to keep order at night in the camp by strolling around and about. I never felt I should use my truncheon. After six weeks we had to march in front of the commander and if he gave us a ‘thumbs up’ each class was given permission to leave the camp after six o’clock in the evening. We thought our hard days were over, but oh no! We had to don our plimsolls, shorts and vests and we boarded a train again and travelled to a small village in Wales which seemed to be far away from the camp. On alighting the train we were surprised to find out that we had to run back to the camp and this turned out to be an extremely long way. When we arrived back at the camp we were absolutely worn out. Soon after this we were ordered once again to pack up our belongings and we boarded yet another train - destination unknown. Hey Ho a sailor’s life for me - but where were we going!