No Longer Civilians
The first full day at the HMS Ganges Annexe began at half past five in the morning with an introduction no recruit was likely to forget.
Without warning, every light in the mess sprang into life. Before sleepy eyes had properly adjusted, one of the highly polished spittoons standing beside the equally polished metal rubbish bin by the entrance came crashing the length of the mess deck. No one ever admitted responsibility. Most of the occupants were probably still too dazed to have seen who launched it in the first place, but the effect was immediate. By the time the spittoon completed its final noisy bounce against the far end of the mess, the shouting had already begun.
The spittoons themselves belonged to another age. Every mess possessed a pair together with its polished central bin. Although retained as official mess furniture, they were never used for their original purpose. Their value lay in their immaculate appearance rather than their practicality. They formed part of the standards expected throughout the establishment, and those standards extended well beyond the furniture itself.
The polished deck received constant attention. Every dent, scrape or gouge seemed to attract the immediate notice of officers and visiting dignitaries. Looking back years afterwards, the former recruit often reflected that, had he been the senior sailor responsible for the mess, he might well have throttled whoever had thought launching a heavy metal spittoon was such an entertaining way to begin the day.
There was little time for reflection that morning.
Within thirty minutes the new entry had to be washed, shaved, dressed, boots polished and assembled outside for the walk to the main camp for breakfast and carrying the plastic mug that had been issued. They walked to the CMG dining hall in formation because none of them yet knew how to march.
After breakfast they returned to the Annexe parade ground.
For the next six weeks, much of life would revolve around it.
Drill occupied hour after hour regardless of the weather. Feet stamped, bodies wheeled and commands echoed across the square until movements gradually became habit. Some recruits seemed to take naturally to it. Others required more practice. There was little sympathy from the parade ground itself. The standard remained the same for everyone.
At the time there was no particular reason to think any of this unusual. Few of the recruits had previous experience of naval life. This simply appeared to be what joining the Royal Navy involved.
Only later did the purpose of those weeks become clearer.
The Annexe was separate from HMS Ganges itself. It formed the first stage of training, where new entries learned the routines, standards and discipline that would soon be taken for granted. By the time recruits left for the main establishment, much of what had seemed unfamiliar during those first bewildering mornings had already become part of everyday life.
The move into the main camp also brought another surprise. The close-knit messes that had formed during those demanding weeks did not move together. Recruits were dispersed to different messes throughout the establishment according to the needs of the Service. Many of the young men who had shared every day of life in the Annexe simply disappeared into other divisions and other routines, some never to be encountered again.
The Annexe had never promised permanence. It had served its purpose.
No Longer Civilians part 2 - Learning to March
Annexe 117 - Primary source: RN-011
RN-E-146
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