A Dare That Changed My Life
People often ask why I joined the Royal Navy. The truth usually disappoints them because there was no grand ambition, no family tradition and certainly no carefully planned career path. If anything, I joined almost by accident.
It all began with a dare.
In 1971 I was still at school in Manchester, doing little to suggest that I was destined for a life at sea. Ships interested me, but so did football, cricket and almost anything else that kept me out of the classroom. Like many boys of my generation, I had little idea what I wanted to do with my life, only that school held very little attraction.
Someone suggested visiting the Royal Navy Recruiting Office at Blackfriars. Whether it was curiosity, bravado or simply youthful stupidity, I decided to go along. Had my mother, Essie, known where I was going, she would almost certainly have had other ideas.
Looking back more than fifty years later, it is remarkable how easily an ordinary afternoon can become the turning point of a lifetime. At the time, however, it felt like nothing more than another adventure.
Blackfriars
The recruiting office immediately made an impression. Behind the desk stood a Chief Petty Officer in immaculate uniform whose appearance alone seemed to represent everything I imagined the Royal Navy to be. Every button gleamed, every crease was razor sharp and every instruction was delivered with quiet authority.
About a dozen hopeful recruits had gathered, each of us directed to separate desks before being issued with pencils and a surprisingly thick examination booklet. The Chief's instructions were simple and unmistakable.
"Do not touch the paper until you are told."
"Answer every question."
"If you become stuck, move on."
"If you still don't know the answer, make your best guess."
It all sounded terribly official, and I remember feeling genuinely intimidated.
School Had Never Been My Friend
That nervousness was hardly surprising.
I had never regarded myself as particularly academic. I'd failed my Eleven Plus examination and begun secondary school in the lowest stream, where pupils were generally expected to remain out of sight and out of mind. Although I later worked my way into the higher stream, school never became somewhere I particularly wanted to be.
Sport was different. Football, cricket and almost any competitive game suited me perfectly. Mathematics and English did not.
So, sitting in Blackfriars with an intelligence test in front of me felt rather like awaiting execution.
I fully expected the Royal Navy to discover within half an hour what I already believed—that I simply wasn't clever enough.
An Unexpected Result
The examination eventually finished and we waited in silence while each candidate was called forward individually.
When my turn came, I entered the office expecting polite rejection.
Instead, the Chief smiled.
He congratulated me on my results, told me I had performed extremely well and suggested that I would make a credit to the Service.
I can honestly say I was more surprised than anyone else in the building.
That conversation altered the course of my life far more than either of us could possibly have realised.
Looking Back
It would be easy to present this as the beginning of some lifelong ambition to become a sailor, but that simply wouldn't be true. At fifteen years of age I still had little understanding of what the Royal Navy actually did, let alone what life inside it would demand.
I was simply a Manchester lad who had wandered into Blackfriars on something approaching a whim and unexpectedly found a door opening in front of him.
Walking through that door would eventually take me to HMS Ganges, HMS Raleigh, HMS Vernon, ships at sea, foreign ports, lifelong friendships and more adventures than I could ever have imagined that afternoon.
At the time, however, all I really knew was that a Chief Petty Officer believed I had passed an examination that I had been absolutely convinced I would fail.
Sometimes the smallest decisions prove to be the most important ones.
An Unexpected Day at Salford Docks
Source References:
RN-018, (Editorial Theme: Beginnings)
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