Pusser Even Taught Us How to Brush Our Peggies
Among the many things a new recruit expected to learn at HMS Ganges, the correct method of brushing his teeth was probably not high on the list.
Yet it happened.
It was not a joke, nor was it an isolated piece of naval eccentricity. It formed part of a much wider approach to recruit welfare and readiness. The Royal Navy expected sailors to look after themselves, and that responsibility began before they ever reached a ship.
The process started during the initial medical assessment.
For new entrants in the early 1970s, the PULHEEM assessment formed part of the procedure for establishing whether a recruit was medically fit for Service. Physical condition, hearing, eyesight and dental health all mattered because the Navy needed personnel capable of carrying out their duties in demanding environments.
The reasoning was straightforward. A ship could not operate efficiently if members of the ship's company were unable to perform their duties because preventable health problems had been ignored.
Medical readiness was therefore not something that belonged only to doctors and dentists.
It belonged to the sailor.
To a fifteen-year-old arriving fresh from civilian life, however, the various parts of this process could appear disconnected. The haircut, the kit issue, the medical checks, the inoculations and the instructions about cleanliness all seemed like separate requirements imposed by Pusser.
Only later did the common purpose become clearer.
The Navy was establishing a standard.
That standard was that every sailor was responsible for maintaining himself as well as his equipment.
The medical side of training could certainly be memorable. There were examinations to complete and injections to receive.
Roll up your sleeve, lad!
For many recruits, that was probably enough medical attention for one day.
Then came the dental department.
The purpose was entirely practical. Dental problems were not merely uncomfortable. At sea, where access to treatment could be limited, a sailor with serious dental trouble could become unavailable for duty. Prevention was therefore far preferable to dealing with problems later.
That did not stop the experience from being amusing to a group of teenage recruits.
At some point during the process, a WRNS dental technician found herself standing in front of a group of young sailors demonstrating the correct procedure for brushing their teeth.
The situation was almost guaranteed to produce laughter.
It was not that the recruits objected to the lesson. It was the contrast between the seriousness of the instruction and the embarrassment of being taught something they had assumed they already understood.
The comments from the assembled teenagers were, by any account, not suitable for publication.
The dental technician, however, handled the situation exactly as the moment required. Rather than being offended or discouraged, she joined in the humour and allowed the lesson to proceed.
The result was that the recruits remembered it.
And that was probably the point.
Training is often most effective when it is memorable, and the dental demonstration was certainly that. Years later, the detail remained clear not because it was particularly dramatic, but because it was unusual. A group of teenage boys who might otherwise have ignored a routine instruction suddenly found themselves paying attention.
The lesson was delivered with humour, but the purpose behind it was serious.
The Navy was not simply telling recruits to avoid toothache. It was establishing a habit of personal care.
This approach was typical of HMS Ganges. Much of recruit training consisted of turning ordinary civilian activities into matters of professional responsibility. Washing clothing, maintaining equipment, arranging lockers and looking after personal health all became part of the same wider expectation.
A sailor was responsible for his own readiness.
That idea was particularly important in the confined environment of a ship. A warship depended upon every member of the ship's company being capable of carrying out his duties. One person becoming unavailable because of a preventable problem could affect others around him.
The lower deck understood this in practical terms. It was not expressed through complicated explanations about personnel management or operational efficiency. It was much simpler.
If you failed to look after yourself, someone else might have to cover for you.
The Navy therefore removed as many excuses as possible. Recruits were taught how to maintain their kit because their equipment mattered. They were taught cleanliness because they lived close together. They were medically assessed because their fitness affected their ability to serve.
Even the apparently amusing instruction on toothbrushing fitted into that same pattern.
It was another reminder that Pusser expected recruits to take responsibility for things that, in civilian life, might have been considered personal matters.
Looking back, the humour of the dental demonstration is probably what makes it such a valuable memory. It reveals something about the relationship between recruits and the system they were entering. The Navy could be strict, demanding and sometimes intimidating, but it also understood that young men learned through experience, repetition and, occasionally, laughter.
The WRNS dental technician who stood in front of a room full of teenage recruits probably did not imagine that the occasion would still be remembered decades later.
Yet it survived because it captured something about the training system itself.
The Navy had a method for everything.
Even brushing your teeth.
To the recruit standing there at the time, it was funny. It was embarrassing. It was another example of Pusser involving itself in every detail of his life.
But behind the humour was a practical message.
A sailor was expected to maintain himself to the same standard that he maintained his equipment.
The Navy could provide the facilities, the instruction and the opportunity.
The responsibility remained with the individual.
That was one of the first lessons learned at HMS Ganges.
It was also one that lasted long after the recruit left the parade ground.
Responsibility part 4 - The Washhouse
Primary source: RN-012
RN-E-153
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