Into The Unknown

I've never been one to let the fact that I don't know anyone or what to expect hold me back. One of the perks of being an only child I suppose, you have no choice but to go out there alone and my parents certainly weren't the mollycoddling type. So being on a bus full of total strangers from all corners of the UK didn't bother me much. I was the kid who went off and found an adoptive family to hang around with when on holiday rather than play on my own. These girls became my adoptive family on June 1st 1981 as we drove through HMS Dauntless main gate.

Dreary. That's what it looked like to me. In desperate need of modernisation. At the time I was unaware that come the end of 1981 the camp would be decommissioned and basic training would be moved to Plymouth alongside the lads. I have searched for a photo of the camp online but can't find one anywhere that shows just how much it resembled a wartime camp.

Around twelve single story wooden huts in 'H' shapes surrounding a main area containing the important blocks like Slops (stores), NAAFI - (shop), Automat -(self serve drinks, snacks and recreation area), Galley (canteen) and the obligatory administration offices. The bar was inconveniently situated on the peripheral of the camp but not far from our block which was of no consequence as we hardly ever got to use it!

We disembarked from the bus, a totally disorientated, silent and overawed gaggle of girls ranging from 17 to 20, waiting to be told what to do next. I should think most, like me were expecting to be shown our accommodation, allowed time to unpack and get to know each other then go for tea. Hahhahahah not likely, we were in the Navy now.

Our first order was to take our suitcases into block 13, and get out the black
15 denier tights we had been told to have at the ready. Order two was to line up in order of size out on the road. We jostled and measured up until our PO Wren was happy that the tallest were on the flanks and shortest in the middle. I was left side second in middle row. With tights in hand we 'marched' or rather walked awkwardly, in civvies, for the very last time around the road to Slops.

Being a Wilkes I was often the last to do anything. I always wished someone would appreciate all the waiting 'W's have to do in their lifetimes and start with 'Z's for a change. So when my turn came to go to the counter to get measured I had already seen all the others come out in wrinkled uniforms laden to the sky with other supplies.

I don't remember what I was wearing that day but within minutes it was removed and a very stiff and scratchy shirt, skirt and jacket put on instead. I discovered that my glove size was seven and a quarter and my hat was a six and five eights. My flat lace up shoes felt hard but not uncomfortable and everything smelt of mothballs. A smell that if ever I encounter now takes me right back to slops.

On top of the extra shirts we were given a very plain black handbag, a woolly pulley, a collarless shirt and collar - which had to be starched solid before use, a raincoat called a 'burberry' because it was, and a greatcoat which has to be the heaviest item of clothing I have ever worn. And then we had a pair of starched white'ish sheets, a pillow and pillowcase, a wool blanket and a bedcover in red.

Thirty girls kind of 'marching' back to their block piled high with supplies while trying to keep a hat that was never designed to fit something head shaped on their head was some sight. Add to this smirks from other, more senior trainees and ships company (normal staff), orders of "stop talking" and "eyes forward" barked by PO Wren and we really felt like we had entered the gates of hell.

Surely when we reached the block we would have time to unpack and get to know each other? Wrong again. Next we had to be allocated cabins and be shown round the five star accommodation. I shared a cabin with Sara Glanville, a tall, pretty, dark haired girl from the midlands. She seemed friendly so I was happy enough. There were a couple of girls I'd hoped not to have to share with. A bit loud and rough for my liking. Funnily though they both became very good friends of mine! Well there you go!

The block was arranged so that each leg of the H contained cabins and a recreation room, the laundry, drying room and other storage areas. The bit across the middle contained toilets and bathroms, all tiled in white and spotless, incredible considering how long they had been there. All thanks to possibly thousands of new Wrens scrubbing and cleaning them day after day to the Naval standard of 'shipshape' - ie spotless.

Our cabin consisted of an old metal framed bunk bed, two wardrobes, two chests of drawers, two linen bins and two small, draughty windows overlooking a grassy area behind the block. Just beneath the ceiling wound an array of ancient pipework. The floor was heavy duty linoleum tiling and a set of thin luti striped curtains provided the only colour in the room.

Over the next 5 weeks we would get to know every millimetre of that room.

We were given time to unpack and tidy ourselves up before being mustered outside the block - as a platoon in order of height and once again 'marched' around the road to the galley for tea. This time to the sound of piped marching bands blasting from loudspeakers perched high atop telegraph poles at regular intervals around the camp. A little unusual but so far everything had been unusual today!

The first trip to the galley was like an initiaton ceremony. We were the new batch so were last. In silence we were told to line up behind the trainees already in line (who had been the new batch the previous week!). We were all anxious to avoid being the one to do something forbidden, as there seemed to be a lot of things you couldn't do.

The smell of a ships galley has its own unique aroma, especially at tea time and mostly of cheese flan or 'Cheesy Hammy Eggy' as it is known in Naval terminology.

We had packed our own plastic mug so stood in front of a line of grumpy looking wren cooks waiting for whatever they had left to be thrown onto our plate. I have no idea what it was, but would hazard a guess at something with one of the 'bean' family as there were always beans left over. A mug of tea and a couple of slices of bread and butter finished off the meal spent at one of the long tables at the far end of the galley which meant a long walk past every other trainee and many ships company who were eating there at the same time. Talk about the longest walk!!!

We were met by glares, apologetic smiles, laughter and pointing fingers. Occasionally when new batches came in someone would recognise a friend from home or someone they did their medical with and would wave frantically to get their attention. Ons trainee in particular made my blood run cold. She was called Frankie Putter. A real rugby bruiser type. She was scary and was senior to us so when she told us to do smething we did it and quickly.

After tea we had a short time to ourselves in the block before a meeting with our PO Wren in our rec room to tell us what to do, when and how and what to wear while doing it. We were put into watches (Port and Starboard - who would have guessed!) and given our watch rota for cleaning and rounds duties. Everyone had something to do every day, even on weekends. This was of course on top of having to wash, iron and de-fluff uniform, polish (bull) shoes and scrub caps, and this was of course after having classes, marching practice, fitness and lots of other 'activities' until about 7pm at night.

That night I doubt any of us slept much despite being exhausted. We had so much to remember, mainly to make sure we were up by 5.30am to be in breakfast by 6.00! Some girls were homesick, I know Sara cried herself to sleep that night. I felt a little irritated by it mainly because I was so looking forward to my new life, and couldn't understand why anyone would want to go back home.

The pipes creaked all night, the wind whistled through the gaps in the window and bunks creaked as restless teenage girls tried to adjust to their surroundings. At some point I slept. I only know this because at 5.30 am I almost had a heart attack at the sound of a loudspeaker blaring out a bugle call. Luckily I was on the bottom bunk so didn't fall far as I leapt out of bed and hurriedly tried to recollect where I was.

Oh yes, I'm now Trainee Wren Wilkes, W135815C about to begin day 2 of the rest of my life.