My life story - Henry J Macey (best books for 20 year olds .TXT) 📗

my engineering training, I was over a month ahead of my intake,  I had done well on the practical side of my engineering course, but my academic skills had meant I got a lower grade than I would have, they (the powers to be) decided to send me to the officer training college at Dartmouth, one of the stokers that maintained the boilers there was going on leave; I would take his place for his two-week leave. When I returned to Raleigh I was made Ships Company, and standing guard at the gate at night was terrifying, the harassment I got as the youngest there was unbelievable, and that was just from the WREN's.

 

M. S. Raleigh was split into two establishments, one side for the training of mechanical engineers, ME for short, although we were still called stokers, the other half was a barracks for wrens, mostly nurses from the naval hospital almost opposite Raleigh. There was a high fence separating the two half’s of the camp, with a gate in it guarded on one side by a sailor the other by a wren, with a ditch on our side of the fence, there was a bridge over it to allow access to the gate, no male sailor was allowed on the bridge if one had escorted his date home, he had to say goodbye at the foot of the bridge, that’s why it was called the bridge of shies.

 

The wrens had to enter the camp through the main gate and were only allowed to walk down the path leading to their gate in the fence if a gang of them arrived together, they were allowed to carry on by themselves, if a solitary wren turned up she had to be escorted to her gate, by one of the guards manning the main gate. I escorted a lovely nurse one sunny afternoon; she had folded her navy blue cape over her shoulders, the scarlet lining had rows of ships cap tallies sown onto it; the meaning of the answer she gave me eluded me for some time. When I commentated on the number of tallies, then asked why there were many with the same ships name, she had looked at me with soft blue eyes, and a dazzling smile then said.

 

“They don’t signify the number of ships; I have been in,” I stood there in mystified silences until she crossed the bridge, my duty was finished and she would go on alone, as she stepped off the bridge she turned and blow me a kiss, then she disappeared into the forbidden world of the wren’s quarters, and the wren gate guard was smiling at me for she had heard the question and the answer and was smiling at me trying to work at the answer.

 

I joined H. M. S. Eagle in 1957 and was aboard her when she went into dry dock at Plymouth in 1959; we spent a lot of time at sea mostly in the Mediterranean.  There where many stoker mess decks, mine was 4 E 2 which was on the weather deck level. Why I mentioned that I don’t really know, but if you were aboard Eagle you should know where that was. One day, not long after boarding, a petty officer called to me, but not by my name.  We were always addressed by our surname if they could not remember it or read it. They would call us by our second name, ‘hay you get your arse over here.’

 

He asked me why I was not at my duty station, to which I replied that I was not the man he thought I was.  Pointing to the white strip of tape sown above my pocket, with my name printed on it.  I told him my name, rank and serial number, but he did not believe me and marched me to my Divisional Officer. He at least recognised me, but to pacify the petty officer pulled my documents to show him.

 

When he had looked up my record and conceded I was indeed whom I said I was, the petty officer could still not believe it.  He took me down to where he thought I should be, and as we got to the compartment, I was confronted with the face I had seen every morning in the mirror when I shaved.  This guy could have been my twin, although you could tell the difference if we were side by side.  We were often mistaken for each other, and more than once I had to defend myself physically for something he had done.  We became good pals though; he told me he was an orphan, so I took him home on leave to meet my parents.  Much later, I wished I had never met him, as he caused me a lot of grief.

 

On hot days, the captain would stop the ship and pipe hands to bathing stations.  Those men not on duty; could go for a swim around the ship.  Boats were lowered to act as lifeguards for anyone who got into trouble.  We were in the water, happily throwing a ball around when someone shouted “Shark,” then pointed behind me.  I turned to see a fin slicing through the water towards me.  If anybody has actually walked on water, I wished he had told me how.

 

I have never been a good swimmer, but I tried, oh how I tried.  Suddenly I felt something hit my legs and I was lifted out of the water.  When I fell back, I just lay there thinking my legs had gone but felt no pain?  Then, just in front of me, this thing appeared and started to nod its head at me, making a laughing sound.  To my relief, it was a bottlenose dolphin, just playing about.  However, I did not see the funny side of this for a long time.  I sat on the guard boat for the rest of the afternoon, suffering the jibes of my shipmates.  As they played with a ball and the laughing dolphin.  “What was that smelly brown stain floating around you, Shark repellent?”

 

My favourite off-duty pastime was looking down at the bow wave.  On the cable deck, there was an opening in the bow some fifteen feet below the flight deck.  A platform protruded from the opening for about eight feet.  This platform was supported above and below by stays. Stanchion posts and chains ran around it.  Walking out to the end of the platform meant you were standing thirty feet above the waves.  I would lie for hours on that platform, with my head towards the ship, looking down at the bow wave.  Dolphins played in the pressure wave for hours, leaping and crossing from side to side it was a game I could watch for ages.

 

At night, the wave was full of a phosphorus glow, as the passing of the ship agitated plankton; it was a beautiful sight.  One afternoon, a voice disturbed my watching.  “What are you doing there?”  Looking up, I saw the duty officer on his rounds.  I stood up, answering as I saluted, “watching dolphin’s sir.”  He came gingerly out onto the platform to look for himself then, with a smile on his face, he told me to carry on with my watch.  A few days later I caught him there myself, watching the dolphins.

 

My second brush with the law occurred when I was about eighteen.  I was on leave and had just ridden up to my home on my motorbike.  It was a Saturday afternoon, and as I got closer to the house, I could see my mother talking to two men.  She pointed to me and said, “Here he is now.”  The two men came over to me, saying they were police officers and I could probably help them with there enquires.  They asked me to go to the police station with them.  I said I would, but needed a minute with my mother.

 

I opened my bag, and took out a box, and wished her a happy birthday.  She opened the box and pulled out a clock.  It was one of those that had a glass dome over it and the mechanism was visible.  I had bought it in Malta for her birthday which was two weeks earlier; I had been away for three months.  She was delighted with her present and gave me a kiss.  I got onto my bike and started the engine, telling the two officers that I would see them at the station.  I had taken them by surprises, and the officers got hurriedly into their car and followed me.  When we got to the police station, I asked them how I could help.

 

They informed me that there had been a robbery the night before.  A man had jumped onto a bus and had stolen the conductor's moneybag.  Could I tell them where I was last night at ten pm?  I told them I could not as I had no idea where I was at that time.  One of the officers said, “Oh come on, it’s you, we have an eyewitness who gave a perfect description of you and even gave us your name.  And what about that clock you have just given to your mum; that looked expensive. Why don't you own up and save us all a lot of trouble?”

 

I looked him in the eye and repeated, “I have no idea where I was last night, but I do know I was nowhere near Wellington.”  One of the officers leaned forward with a hard look on his face and said, “you don’t know where you were, but you know you were not here.  That's hard to believe.  You’re as guilty as sin, we can see you sweat.”

 

I stood up saying, “have you seen what I’m wearing?”  I had on a world war-two bomber--crew-flying suit, made of soft leather with a fur lining.  It was ideal for riding a motorbike in the winter.  I pulled off my fur-lined boots, unzipped the sides of the trouser legs, pulled down the full-length zipper in front and stepped out of it.  My navy blue trousers were tucked into my socks, so I pulled them out, letting them fall over my feet, which completely covered them.

 

Until now, the young W P C, who was taking notes, had not said a word.  She now spoke the only sensible words I had heard so far, “You're in the Navy.”  I stood in front of her in my best going ashore rig.  It had cost me three months of pay.  Tailored to perfection, it was designed to turn the heads of any young woman.  The tight jacket went from my twenty-eight-inch waist, hugging me up to my thirty-four-inch chest.

 

It was tailored in such a way, that it showed more of my white front than it should have, giving the impression of having a bigger chest than I really had.  The pale blue dickey collar gave the impression of age but was nearly new.  Taut trousers hugged me down to the knees, and then flared out to form the unmistakable shape of a bell.  They completely hid my feet and gave the illusion of my body is supported by two oak trees.  In my bag, I had a biscuit tin, which contained my cap.  This also was not Navy issue, instead of being round, it was oval.  I wore it with the front pushed up and the sides pulled down, to form a bow wave.  The bow was sewn onto the cap tally instead of being tied, and the bow itself was fashioned like a butterfly.  Instead of being over the right ear, it was over the right eye.  (The whole rig was defiantly not regulation!)

 

Placing the cap on my head, I pushed it forward over my eyes with just the right amount of list.  Looking down at her, I said the words that would forever ban me from her pen pal list.  “No, I'm the night porter at the