Here I am with the rest of my class. There were only two Wrens in the class, the other three friends from basic training were training to be aircraft mechanics (weapons/electrical). Thinking back I can't remember when it was I made the decision to be trained in airframes and engines. I know I did make the choice but have no idea when or why.
The girl next to me (I am the one front left)is my friend Pam, who I became very close to along with Mo who was in the other class. later we would rent a house together in Cornwall. Most of the class were just youngsters, about 17 like me. Pam and one of the guys were in their early twenties. Don't you like the uniform? This was my number two's, what we called our working rig. I wore a beret a lot of the time as being a mechanic meant dirty finger prints around the rim of your cap which of course wasn't acceptable!
HMS Daedalus was an airstation next to the sea between Portsmouth and Southampton. It was a pretty little seaside town which thrived on the navy and the money that went into the community from it's personnel. To get into the camp you had to walk through a housing estate, which caused problems from time to time with residents who always assumed the rowdy folk walking past late at night were sailors. They probably were a lot of the time, but I know from experience that it wasn't always the case.
One night a group of about six of us had been out at a local pub and were walking back to camp. Infront of us were a group of lads who we didn't know, presumably civilians who were throwing cans into gardens and at one point one jumped into one to relieve himself (although we didn't know that at the time). To avoid getting hassled as often happened with local civilians we took a different route back to the gatehouse. When we got there - about 5 mins later, we were told to go in to see the duty officer who grilled us about being in a residents garden, pulling up plants and urinating. It didn't seem to matter what we said, he didn't believe us, I remember feeling extremely frustrated but knowing I couldn't argue over it. It seemed someone had phoned the camp to complain, had said there were a group of six sailors in her garden. We were the only group of six sailors that came in from that direction. It must have been u
Anyway, the following few days saw us all questioned by the military police and our warrant officer. We all told them that we had followed another group who had been in a garden. Our punishment was to forfeit two days leave that weekend. Looking back, I think they did believe us, none of us were trouble makers, but they had to be seen to act. By punishing us they could placate the resident. As it turned out, after turning up for duty on Saturday morning we were allowed to 'go ashore' (leave the camp) at lunchtime.
The six months in training saw me sitting in classrooms learning all about engines, how an aircraft flies and a lot of very tedious technical stuff that had to be learned. I distinctly remember was having to write a list of safety checks to carry out before using a hammer. There were something like ten points! After a few weeks we spent more time in the hangar actually taking bits off and putting them back on Wessex mark 3 helicopters. Thank God.
I became a dab hand at squeezing into the tight space between the engine and the gearbox to remove magplugs and filters and I was covered in scratches and bruises. I had one bruise that never left me while I worked on Wessex aircraft. It was on my right knee where I banged it every single time I climbed up the side to the cockpit. There was a little bracket just below the door at exactly the same point my knee touched. My hands and nails were constantly grubby and I came to love the smell of hydraulic fluid on my overalls! I wore safety boots all day and baggy clothes that were far too comfortable.
I managed to scrape through my exams because I was out partying and socialising when I should have been revising. I lived in Wrens Quarters, six to a room. We had a great time, despite the fact that we had a midnight curfew every night. I was 18 by then, and free as a bird. I had money to spend and places to spend it. We would go to pubs, meet up with others and then off to parties. We drank more than we should but I was never late for work. I would go and have an hours sleep at lunchtime and then be ready to start over again after work.
One of the perks of being in training was getting to volunteer for things. I intended to do as much as I could, and never turn down opportunities. I always hoped I would be put forward to do the Rememberance Day Parade in London, but I never was. Mum would have been so proud of me. I did get to do the Presentation of the Queens Colours later but that wasn't the same.
The picture below is of me and another WAEM Tina. She and I were sent to HMS Dophin to do some work on a submarine generator. The sub was due out of refit and they needed extra help. Being 'Grubbers' - the affectionate term for AEM's (airframe and engine) it was assumed that we wouldn't mind getting our hands dirty. For some reason, on the first day they also had Wrens who worked in clerical there too - wrongly assuming that they also liked to get their hands dirty. By lunchtime it was just me and Tina! That week we spent hours wrapping bits of metal in tape. I forget the technical term. It wasn't the most exciting work I've done but we liked the attention we got and the beers bought for us in the bar on an evening by 'the lads'.
It's a funny thing, and something I have only found in the forces. If you are female and get on well with 'the lads'. They treat you really well. They look after you, not because they want to 'trap you' - another naval term, but in a brotherly kind of way. I was told several times that I was considered 'one of the boys'. One time a night out was being planned and the question came up "are wives and girlfriends invited?" "No women " was decided but apparently I didn't count as a 'woman' because I was 'one of the boys'. I liked that.
You can't see it very clearly in the photo but we are both holding a small figurine of a dolphin, the ships mascot. Behind is HMS Oberon, the submarine we worked on. We had a great week there - and I had another new experience to add to my list.
One of my memories of that time was the morning march from mess to classroom. The camp had hundreds of trainees at various stages of courses. There was a new intake every week so it was bustling. Wrens Quarters was halfway between the mens mess blocks and the engineering school. Each class of about 15 trainees had to march from one to the other in proper fashion whilst being scrutinised by every member of staff they passed on the way. From 7.30 until 8.00 there was a constant stream of classes passing the building. If a class had Wrens in it, the class had to halt infront of the block, rearrange itself to fit them in (all done in time and dressed off properly) then smartly march off again.
Should you happen to be passed by the Captain's Car or a Commander, you had to 'eyes right or left' as they passed and woe betide any class leader who didn't see them in time. We had ways of coping with this daily grind though. The rules stated that the whole class had to carry the same book bag. It didn't have to be the standard issue satchel so each class would try and out-do the others by getting carrier bags of a design better or funnier or more colourful than the rest. Other times a class would try to overtake another in the road, but they had to double time to do it without causing collisons. Often someone in the class would get his feet mixed up and they would end up in a right state, much to the stifled amusement of the other classes.
While we were in training, we had to spend a week on Exped. This was a team building exercise and involved a trip to North Wales to a cottage near Bethesda. Of course we heard all the stories about it being haunted and other hardships that we would have to endure. Our class was to be there with another class of Artificers (Tiffs)- apprentices who did 3 years training and then came out as senior rates. (Mick was one of those.) We packed up a rather wiffy rucksack with a wiffy sleeping bag and appropriate climbing and walking equipment plus supplies of sweets and chocolate and set off excitedly for Wales in a rattly old pussers (naval term for 'Navy') bus.
The cottage was small and cold and had nothing inside apart from beds a fireplace and a large table. The toilets were outside. It was November and it was cold and damp. Our faces fell like lead. This wasn't a holiday camp. We set up our bunks. Pam and I were the only two Wrens once again and so we had a big room to ourselves. We would have prefered to be in with the lads as it was our dorm that was supposedly haunted. Had there been a couple of spare bunks we would have crept in there anyway. We did try to persuade some of the lads to come into ours but they said it wasn't right. (Scaredy cats). We never did hear or see anything but I was so tired after what we had to endure every day that a whole host of ghosties could have paraded through beating drums and wouldn't have woken me.
The Exped began with a short trip on the bus to the bottom of a mountain. It may well have been a big hill but It looked like a mountain to me. We were told we had to be at the top by 1pm and back at the bus by 4pm. I amost choked! Off we went, upwards and upwards. At times I thought my heart would fling itself out of my body, and my lungs were in dire need of oxygen but step by step, joke by joke (not to mention the one from Pam who unwittingly mentioned she had forgotten to bring her hairdryer to one of the lads- and where would you be plugging it in he asked? - Electricity wasn't included in the cottage!) Apart from which the need for the coiffured look wasn't necessary on this trip.
Finally we got there, stopped for a few minutes and then got told to start off back down. Until then I never realised that walking uphill was much easier than walking/running downhill. Back in the cottage, once changed into casual winter clothing we sat around the log fire and waited for the broth to heat up. Ration Packs are OK really, I got to like them a lot that week! One thing I always remember was the fact that one of the 'tiffs' said he couldn't drink milk because he turned green and would be sick. For some reason we took this to mean he literally turned green so spent the rest of the night trying to get him to drink milk. I think maybe the couple of cans of beer might have had something to do with our mental state.
The rest of the week involved abseiling - something I took an hour to get around to doing, I dithered at the edge of the rock face so long that I only got one go at it. Once I'd done it I wanted to do more, but I couldn't. I learnt a valuable lesson that day. We also did some caving. Well I managed to crawl through a small crevice, before I got wedged and panicked. I really didn't like doing that at all, nor did a few others. Yes I wimped out, not something I tend to do generally but this time I just couldn't do it. The climax of the week was a trip to Mount Snowdon, the highest mountain in the UK, which compared to others in the world isn't really that big.
However, full of new found confidence, I looked up at the high peak and set off with a spring in my step. It was hard work but fun and with all the jokers around me found it a great experience, that was until we got near the summit and the mist came down. Apparently it is a fantastic view from the top. All I could see was my hand infront of my face! Here is a picture taken at the very topmost point with one of my classmates, Vern. What do you think of the outfit? I would also like to point out that I also had a rucksack but took mine off for the photo. We all took turns to carry things like ropes etc. I would hate for you to think I was a slacker. (Dan!)
Exped was something we did towards the end of training. Not only was I now able to march exceptionally well and also with a handbag over one shoulder should the need arise, but I could shout at my class when class leader a lot louder than before and I knew how to check that a hammer was safe to use. I could take filters and mag plugs out of engines and gearboxes, lubricate a whole number of different moving parts, tighten nuts and bolts to a specific torque and then use the correct locking device to secure it. I could remove and inflate an aircraft tyre, remove and replace any part of a helicopter that wasn't electrical or weaponry. On top of that I knew all about cleaning an aircraft and using ground equipment (jacks and hoists etc). I was an Able Wren Air Engineering Mechanic or AWAEM when I passed out of HMSDaedalus in December 2001.
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3 comments:
the picture of you all blond and everything, i am trying to think of the memories, and where i have seen you, and where i was, of course i didn't see you, i saw a primary program of singing lds tunes , sunday and i swear my little girl was there, but of course she isn't four anymore and i amm 66 so how could she be four, i thought of how you must have been frightened all those military years, but i do see you smiling
i know now what that picture of blond you reminds me of , rosie the riviter in usa posters durning ww2 , way way way befroe you were born...and girls peeing , i got an article 15 once for getting sunburned
Putz - I had a great time in the Wrens. Of course I moaned about duties and other things but most of it was fantastic. It made me into the wonderful person I am now - LOL!
What was an article 15?
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