The Freedom Years

Five baby Wren Air Engineering Mechanics arrived in a sunny little place called Lee on the Solent on a Sunday afternoon in early July after five weeks basic training at HMS Dauntless .  That would be Pam Walker from Norton in Teesside, Mo McCleave from Scunthorpe, Arlene Cook from Devon,  Karen Oversby from London and of course little old me from the sticks in Lancashire. Me, Cookie, Karen, Mo (hat), Pam. Pam, Mo and I were already good friends, finding we had a lot in common, humour, northern, confident and looking for fun and adventure amongst others. Arlene was very quiet and kept herself to herself a little and Karen, who supposedly had a rich boyfriend with a flash car and couldn't wait to go home to see him, was not at all interested in tagging along with us.  As it happened she only lasted a couple of weeks at Daedalus before mysteriously 'leaving'.  It was pretty obvious even to us that she wasn't cut out for Navy life. So after getting ins...

July 1st 1981 I sat on a Royal Navy bus that drove me through the gates of my very first Naval Establishment - or ship as they are known to naval folk. Living in the middle of rural Lancashire I had never had the opportunity to see any military bases/camps/ships first hand so really didn't know what to expect.  I didn't expect what I saw though.  My initial thought was 'The Great Escape'.  Lots of dark brown wooden 'H' shaped buildings arranged in a secure compound. It was sunny, so probably looked a lot better than when first seen on a damp foggy day. That photo was taken sometime between 1945 and 1981. I doubt it ever looked any different during that time. I was in Hermes 13 Division. Hermes 14 was the very last division to pass out from HMS Dauntless so you could say I just scraped through. I feel like I can say I was one of the 'old school' Wrens because I did my training there. I spent some time six years later at HMS Raleigh which was to b...

"Its not like there's a war going on" Thats what my Mum said when I announced I wanted to join the Navy. The fact that I wasn't likely to get killed, sealed their approval and signature on the form from the RN Careers Office. However, less than a year later, ten months to be precise, we went to war with the 'Argies' in the South Atlantic all because of a small cluster of Islands called The Falklands. The months that followed the announcement on 2nd April 1982 are some of the most vivid memories of my life. Events and emotions, deeply engraved in my heart, never to be forgotten. I apologise now if my account isn't 100% accurate, but it was 30 years ago and my memory isn't what it was, but please feel free to correct me. I also want to point out that this is simply an account of my life at that time and not a political agenda, so please no comments on sovereignty or other political opinions. Thanks. I was based at RNAS Culdrose at the time,  working on...

Recent experience of hospitals with my Dad and son, reminded me of Naval medical services. Not people to encourage you to be off work, you often tended to 'get on with it' rather than put yourself through the shame of visiting sick bay. Put it this way, sympathy wasn't a quality listed on the MA's job description. The process started with the MA. and usually went like this... MA - "what's up with you then?" Me - "Ive got flu/stomach pain/arm hanging off" MA - "OK, take these paracetamol" Paracetamol was the cure all, and was what kept the Navy running smoothly. Of course MA's didn't do home visits, so regardless of your condition you had to get there. Hubby once cycled, sweating profusely the few miles from Weymouth to Portland with what was later diagnosed as Gastroenteritis. I rarely used the medical services, but on one occasion had no choice and even had a very short ride in a Pussers Nee-Nar. I was in training at HMS Daeda...

Today one of my Twitter followers, who just happens to live next to what was HMS Daedalus sent me a link to this blog post. I seems that all the years I spent there I was risking my life for my Queen and country - really! So there were twenty tubes of explosives buried under the runway?  Had I known that, I wouldn't have driven along there looking for foxes while on night shift, or practiced driving on ice covered tarmac. There would have been a bit of a mess had they gone up! A little disturbing that 'someone' forgot to mention it or write it down during WW2 so that they could be safely removed when no longer required...... ...watch your step!

If nothing else, being in the RN made me an excellent laundress. Mum had prepared me as well as she could by getting me to polish my school shoes and do a bit of ironing when forced to, but that was nothing compared to what was required for naval kit. The photo above is of one of my kit musters.  These were done frequently during training and occasionally (purely as an inconvenience) when not.  A kit muster involved washing, ironing and folding all items you were supposed to have into a 'book sized' rectangle.  This was supposedly the exact size of a ships locker, and meant kit was kept clean and neat in a confined space.  All well and good in a ship's mess, but not really necessary as a Wren with no chance whatsoever of going to sea.  However... Before my bunk had been warmed, I was up to my elbows in soap suds and shoe polish.  The very first night was spent washing and ironing shirts and collars - they were not attached! followed by sitting with a fluffy...

One of the most intense times of my Naval Career was the day I was 'volunteered' by my Divisional Officer to take part in the annual 'Exercise' involving the elite SBS and Royal Marines, plus local emergency services and police. It was one of those times where you did all you could to get out of camp before it started or else you were stuck there, having to carry a gas mask around with you while doing things like fighting pretend fires, evacuating from pretend bombs and running messages around for Officers in charge. If, like me and my colleague Alison, you had to take part, you were allocated a task. Ours was to go to a small store room half way up the cliffs of Portland, within the Naval Base, with our Burberry Mac and Respirator (Gas Mask) and wait for instructions. We went and waited. After a few minutes we heard shouting and people running up the road. Two men in black, wearing balaclava's and carrying guns came around the corner, shouted "Get Your Hand...