They Didn't Ask Trick Questions
When new entries first arrived at HMS Ganges, many of us assumed that the purpose of training was simple: learn the rules quickly, avoid mistakes and stay out of trouble.
That was an understandable conclusion.
The environment was unfamiliar, the standards were exacting and the consequences of getting things wrong were very visible. To young recruits who had only just arrived, it often seemed that instructors existed mainly to identify mistakes.
Gradually, however, a different understanding developed.
The Navy did not appear to be interested only in whether a recruit had made an error. It was also interested in how that recruit responded when he had done so.
A genuine attempt that failed was treated differently from a lack of effort. A recruit who tried, listened and improved was not viewed in the same way as one who simply ignored instructions.
This distinction was not immediately obvious.
During the first days of training, most recruits were too concerned with surviving the experience to recognise what was actually being observed. We knew that instructors watched us, but we did not fully understand what they were looking for.
The discovery in Leander Mess that the answers were available changed that perception.
Once recruits realised that information was not being deliberately withheld, the process began to make sense. The Navy was not simply asking questions to catch people out. The expectation was that recruits would learn where to find answers and would make the effort to use that knowledge.
The phrase often heard during instruction was that there was no such thing as a stupid question.
For new entries, that was an important message.
It meant that asking for clarification was not necessarily a sign of weakness. In many cases, it was the sensible action of someone trying to understand properly before continuing.
The effect on the messdeck was noticeable.
Recruits who had previously been reluctant to admit uncertainty began discussing problems openly. Someone who had discovered an answer could help someone else. A mistake became something to investigate rather than something to hide.
This did not make training easy.
HMS Ganges remained HMS Ganges. Standards remained high, discipline remained firm and recruits continued to make plenty of mistakes.
The difference was that the mistakes became part of a process rather than simply a source of anxiety.
The recruits began to understand that progress did not depend on being perfect from the beginning. It depended on showing that they were prepared to learn.
Looking back, the most important discovery was not about kit layouts or manuals.
It was the realisation that the Navy was looking for more than correct answers. It was looking for the attitude behind them.
The recruit who made an honest mistake while trying to improve was not in the same position as the recruit who made no effort at all.
That understanding changed the way many of us approached training.
We still got things wrong.
We still received correction.
But the process was no longer mysterious.
The instructors were not asking questions simply to see who failed.
They were expecting us to find answers, ask when we did not understand and gradually develop the confidence to think for ourselves.
The training remained demanding, but once that was understood, it became possible to see the purpose behind it.
They did not ask trick questions.
They expected us to learn.
Cleanliness Was More Than Cleanliness
Annexe 125 - Primary source: RN-013
RN-E-159
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