On 24 February 1941, I said goodbye to my tearful mother who gave me a ten shilling note. Dad and I set out for the station, calling on Nana and Grandad Turner on the way. Nana also gave me ten shillings.
At the station, also waiting for the 8.13 am train, was George Hewson who had been recalled to the navy at the beginning of the war as he had gone on the "reserve" after completing 12 years’ service as a stoker.
Mr Hewson came to Brigg on a painting contract, married a Brigg girl and then had a fish and chip shop in Glebe Road. His house at the end of Colton Street bordered on land which, in the mid-1930s, was used to build a large number of houses for people displaced by the slum clearance programme.
Seizing the opportunity, he turned the front room of his house into a little grocer's shop and he was prospering when war came. I bet he regretted going on to the naval reserve.
He sold the fish and chip business but his wife kept the grocery business going. After the war they continued to prosper, and became quite a big fish in local politics.
Mr Hewson was bound for Chatham in Kent but told Dad that he would see that I got the right underground train to Paddington Station when we reached King's Cross Station in London. On arrival at King’s Cross, Mr Hewson gave me the right instructions and I found myself in the Underground which I thought was an astounding feat of civil engineering. And so I reached Paddington and caught the train for Plymouth. First stop was Newbury - the place I would go to in December 1961 to work for the Southern Electricity Board for six years.
It was still daylight when the train reached the South Devon coast and I saw for the first time the red sandstone rocks so typical of the area. It was dark by the time the train reached Plymouth; somehow I found my way from North Road station to the Torpoint Ferry which crossed the Hamoaze, the estuary of the River Tamar which separates Devon from Cornwall. The ferry carried vehicles; the fare for pedestrians was one penny. Then it was a bus ride of about a mile to the Royal Navy Artificers Training Establishment (RNATE). It was about 13 hours since I had left home. I presented myself at the Regulating Office just inside the gate where I met Engineer Lieutenant Commander Pillage. He was an elderly reservist who had been recalled for the war and I soon found that he was known as Boiler Bill. Soon afterwards he was released back to civilian life. He took me to Hut Watt 4 which was to be home for the next two years.
Prior to the war the RNATE was at Chatham in Kent, so it was decided to move it further from the possibility of being bombed. At first, temporary arrangements were made in Devonport while new facilities were built at Torpoint. The new place was obviously built as a rush job and the living arrangements for us were basic. In Watt 4 there were about 16 double decker bedsteads, two rickety steel tables and four wooden forms for us to sit on. Heating was provided by an iron stove in the middle of the hut. We did not have sheets on the beds. About 90 boys joined with me; we occupied three huts identical to Watt 4. There were four blocks of accommodation, each having six huts, and the blocks were named for pioneers of the steam engine - Watt (1736-1839); Trevithick (1771-1833); Newcomen (1663-1729) and Parsons (1854-1931).
I barely had time to take in my surroundings when it was ''Lights out" and I got into bed feeling a long way from home. But not to sleep for long; we had an air raid warning. Before we could get to the shelters I was terrified by the sound of explosions but soon learned that these came from a battery of 4.7 inch anti-aircraft guns in an adjoining field. I cannot recall how long the warning lasted or even if bombs were dropped anywhere near us.
Reveille was sounded by bugle at 6.15 am and breakfast was soon after. The mess hall was a large building as was required to seat more than 800 apprentices and the food was quite good. After breakfast came assembly of all the apprentices on the parade ground for prayers. Compulsory religious observance persisted until about 1947.
Only hazy impressions remain of my first day in the Navy. I am almost certain that on that day we were kitted out with our uniforms, steel helmets and service gas-masks which were much bigger and heavier than those issued to civilians and had to be carried at all times. We had photographs taken for our Sailors' Pay and Identity Books. After these were issued we had to carry them whenever we left the RNATE and to lose the book was a serious matter. During the next day or two we had lots of instruction about the hierarchy at the RNATE, how to recognise the ranks of officers by the amount of gold braid on their sleeves, how to tackle an incendiary bomb with a stirrup pump…and hours of drill on the parade ground under the instruction of Chief Petty Officer Smith and Petty Officer Tom Coffey. Both were gunnery specialists; for some reason matters of drill and ceremonial were regarded as the province of the gunnery branch.
Two other Chief Petty Officers, Moore and Anderson, shepherded us from one thing to another. Both were quite elderly to our young eyes and had been recalled from the reserve after completing 22 years’ service. People who left after 12 years’ service had the option of going on to the reserve, but those who stayed on for a further ten years and qualified for a pension for life had to stay on the reserve until the age of 55.
I am almost certain that on the first Saturday we were allowed "ashore" and that I went by myself on the Torpoint ferry to Devonport. From there I found my way to Plymouth Hoe and had the pleasure of seeing Drake's Island that features in the poem Drake's Drum. The next day the Commander in Chief, Plymouth, Admiral Sir Martin Dunbar-Naismith V.C. visited the ATE for the Sunday church parade.
He sold the fish and chip business but his wife kept the grocery business going. After the war they continued to prosper, and became quite a big fish in local politics.
Mr Hewson was bound for Chatham in Kent but told Dad that he would see that I got the right underground train to Paddington Station when we reached King's Cross Station in London. On arrival at King’s Cross, Mr Hewson gave me the right instructions and I found myself in the Underground which I thought was an astounding feat of civil engineering. And so I reached Paddington and caught the train for Plymouth. First stop was Newbury - the place I would go to in December 1961 to work for the Southern Electricity Board for six years.
It was still daylight when the train reached the South Devon coast and I saw for the first time the red sandstone rocks so typical of the area. It was dark by the time the train reached Plymouth; somehow I found my way from North Road station to the Torpoint Ferry which crossed the Hamoaze, the estuary of the River Tamar which separates Devon from Cornwall. The ferry carried vehicles; the fare for pedestrians was one penny. Then it was a bus ride of about a mile to the Royal Navy Artificers Training Establishment (RNATE). It was about 13 hours since I had left home. I presented myself at the Regulating Office just inside the gate where I met Engineer Lieutenant Commander Pillage. He was an elderly reservist who had been recalled for the war and I soon found that he was known as Boiler Bill. Soon afterwards he was released back to civilian life. He took me to Hut Watt 4 which was to be home for the next two years.
Prior to the war the RNATE was at Chatham in Kent, so it was decided to move it further from the possibility of being bombed. At first, temporary arrangements were made in Devonport while new facilities were built at Torpoint. The new place was obviously built as a rush job and the living arrangements for us were basic. In Watt 4 there were about 16 double decker bedsteads, two rickety steel tables and four wooden forms for us to sit on. Heating was provided by an iron stove in the middle of the hut. We did not have sheets on the beds. About 90 boys joined with me; we occupied three huts identical to Watt 4. There were four blocks of accommodation, each having six huts, and the blocks were named for pioneers of the steam engine - Watt (1736-1839); Trevithick (1771-1833); Newcomen (1663-1729) and Parsons (1854-1931).
I barely had time to take in my surroundings when it was ''Lights out" and I got into bed feeling a long way from home. But not to sleep for long; we had an air raid warning. Before we could get to the shelters I was terrified by the sound of explosions but soon learned that these came from a battery of 4.7 inch anti-aircraft guns in an adjoining field. I cannot recall how long the warning lasted or even if bombs were dropped anywhere near us.
Reveille was sounded by bugle at 6.15 am and breakfast was soon after. The mess hall was a large building as was required to seat more than 800 apprentices and the food was quite good. After breakfast came assembly of all the apprentices on the parade ground for prayers. Compulsory religious observance persisted until about 1947.
Only hazy impressions remain of my first day in the Navy. I am almost certain that on that day we were kitted out with our uniforms, steel helmets and service gas-masks which were much bigger and heavier than those issued to civilians and had to be carried at all times. We had photographs taken for our Sailors' Pay and Identity Books. After these were issued we had to carry them whenever we left the RNATE and to lose the book was a serious matter. During the next day or two we had lots of instruction about the hierarchy at the RNATE, how to recognise the ranks of officers by the amount of gold braid on their sleeves, how to tackle an incendiary bomb with a stirrup pump…and hours of drill on the parade ground under the instruction of Chief Petty Officer Smith and Petty Officer Tom Coffey. Both were gunnery specialists; for some reason matters of drill and ceremonial were regarded as the province of the gunnery branch.
Two other Chief Petty Officers, Moore and Anderson, shepherded us from one thing to another. Both were quite elderly to our young eyes and had been recalled from the reserve after completing 22 years’ service. People who left after 12 years’ service had the option of going on to the reserve, but those who stayed on for a further ten years and qualified for a pension for life had to stay on the reserve until the age of 55.
I am almost certain that on the first Saturday we were allowed "ashore" and that I went by myself on the Torpoint ferry to Devonport. From there I found my way to Plymouth Hoe and had the pleasure of seeing Drake's Island that features in the poem Drake's Drum. The next day the Commander in Chief, Plymouth, Admiral Sir Martin Dunbar-Naismith V.C. visited the ATE for the Sunday church parade.
When I wrote home about it Dad was able to tell me that the admiral had won the VC in a submarine during the Dardanelles campaign in the first war.
N.F. ADDS: George Hewson became one of Brigg's best-known councillors after the war, going on to become Mayor. He served on Brigg Urban District Council, Lindsey County Council, Brigg Town Council and Glanford Borough Council. He was also known for undertaking a great deal of charitable work. North Lincolnshire Council's main office block, on Station Road, was named Hewson House in his honour.
- More memories to come from Cliff on Brigg Blog.
3 comments:
The RN base Torpoint is now known as HMS Raleigh...an adult basic training base.
Recently there was a series of documentaries on tv about HMS Raleigh and the varied experiences of the raw recruits.
The RN base Torpoint is now known as HMS Raleigh...an adult basic training base.
Recently there was a series of documentaries on tv about HMS Raleigh and the varied experiences of the raw recruits.
As an ex RAF brat, my experience of the RN is limited...However, in the late 60's, I was, with a small contingent of RAF personnel, on detachment to the Royal Naval Air Station Lossiemouth on Scotland (it's now an RAF base)..
During my time there it quickly became clear that the RN had some strange traditions.
For example, sitting in the mess during late evenings, a petty officer would march into the room of this land-locked RN station and then with his pace-stick hammer the inside of an external wall 3 times...then call out, 'Bulkhead secure and water-time'.
After a smart about-turn, he would march out in a drill-square manner.
On another occasion, a group of us wanted to explore the local village and enroute we casually ambled past the gate's guardroom.
Instantly, there were shouts of, 'Man overboard' and ordered to 'swim' back!
We were informed that we had to wait for the liberty launch before going ashore.
During another evening, some of us cheekily formed a line, walked backwards past the guardroom and pretended to row....we were on a bit of fizzer with the RAF detachment commander who reminded us to respect the RN's traditions..
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