The Navy Lark

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Sometime in 1984

I am still serving on HMS Yarmouth. We are now acting as guard ship in the West Indies.

So what is a guard ship? Basically the ship's duties are to patrol the islands and to respond to any requests for help, particularly in disaster areas. For example if an island was struck by a hurricane or tsunami we would provide search and rescue assistance, medical support and disaster relief.

Of course, during such a deployment there is usually plenty of opportunity for shore time to explore the islands. This is one of the better locations!

Now, let me explain a little about 'Jolly Jack' to you. He is away from home and tends to adopt the attitude that 'what they don't know, won't hurt them!" So, presented with the opportunity for, let's say, some female company, he usually doesn't try too hard to resist.

We are alongside in Antigua. This is one of the larger islands that is at once beautiful but of stark contrasts. On the one hand, there are beautiful beaches and expensive homes, on the other, there are many people living near the poverty line.

I am enticed ashore by a couple of my mess mates and we head out to find a suitable watering hole. This doesn't prove too hard and we settle down for a few beers! I haven't led a sheltered life but it takes me awhile to notice my surroundings fully.

While I sit at the bar I notice that there are quite a few of my ship mates here also. They regularly disappear upstairs and appear a little later. I casually mention this to my mates. They aren't concerned, after all we are sitting at the bar of a fairly large brothel! My ship mates are getting acquainted with the locals!

A few days later, we are back on patrol and my sick bay is pretty busy. I have about 25 cases of STD's (sexually transmitted diseases). This to Jack, is an accepted hazard of his life style! Around 15 of these new cases appear to have got their little problem from the same girl - yep, you guessed it - this group paid a visit to the brothel in Antigua.

So, many smears and painful injections later, all of the new cases are treated. The worrying thing, for me, is that it is during this period that the world is beginning to wake up to the threat of Aids. One of my roles is to lecture the crew on health & hygiene. But Jack, I think, always adopts the attitude to jump first and ask questions later!

Of course, as part of my stores I carry a good supply of contraceptives. I don't think there was a single occasion during my time on the ship that I was ever asked for any of these!

RNAS Yeovilton 1975

After the army cadets I was 'properly' drafted to my first shore establishment. Again, oddly, it was an airbase. Yes the Royal Navy does have them. This one was at Yeovilton in Somerset.

This was my first experience of working in a sick bay serving the medical needs of the base. Duties could range from mundane administration, treating the sick and dashes to the airfield for emergency or precautionary landings of aircraft. All in all an interesting place to work.

Again, I volunteered to work over the Xmas period. As I have said, this is usually a pretty good time on a naval base. Paddy was my colleague who would be working over the festive period with me.

The days were passing fairly slowly and quietly with not much happening. This was to change on Xmas eve.

Paddy and I, together with a nurse were watching a bit of telly to while away the hours, when we received a call. One of the duty drivers had taken a turn and didn't look to good. Paddy and I dashed around in the ambulance.

When we got there, the driver had, indeed, taken a turn for the worst - a major heart attack. He was collapsed in his chair - no pulse or respiration. Paddy and I went into auto. We rapidly got him into the ambulance and sped of towards Yeovil hospital which was 7 miles away.

We now had to keep this guy alive until we got there! Let me explain; hurtling along at 70 miles an hour in the back of a range rover ambulance is no fun. The thing rocks and rolls alarmingly. Now, normally, one of us would have been giving mouth to mouth, the other cardiac massage. In this case, this was proving to be impossible.

Paddy and I quickly worked this out. I basically, held on tight to Paddy to stabilize him while he worked on the patient. We got to the hospital in double quick time. Happily, the patient survived this episode and made a good recovery.

Back to the telly then!

Sometime in 1975

So here I am, fully trained. I am now an MA (Medical Assistant) ready to take up medical duties wherever I may be drafted. So, will it be a ship, abroad or a shore establishment? Any of these would be exciting for me.

My first draft? The army cadets, of course! I will be going to spent 2 weeks based at Tidworth army barracks looking after around 300 army cadets on their summer camp. Oh well, how hard can it be?

I pack my medical kit, a grand term this. It is, actually, a fairly large canvas bag packed with some medical kit including a few choice drugs. Should suffice; I wouldn't expect more than a few cuts and bruises - nothing too challenging. Only a bunch of kids after all!

First thing to note is army food. Although we camped out in the surrounding area, remote from the base the food deserved a mention. Navy food is pretty good but, the army have got it taped when catering in the field. The food was superb. However, I digress. Back to the cadets.

Expecting no more than a few minor injuries I was presented with a little more than that. These kids had fits, hysteria, broken limbs, lacerations, beri beri, trenchfoot, swamp fever, the list goes on! OK the last three were a slight exaggeration!

Blimey! Fresh out of training and these youngsters were certainly presenting me with enough problems to keep me busy. The 2 weeks passed rapidly. Great fun and a great experience, in fact.

Over the years I was to work with the RAF and the Army again. More of that later..

RNH Stonehouse 1974

Every month or so, can't remember exactly, there would be a new class of nurses arrive for training. This was quite an event for most of the male staff at the hospital - probably a slightly scary one for the new nurses!

The hospital, of course, had it's own bar called the Geneva club. It was here that ratings would gather in the evenings for a few beers, a disco or as a prelude to a run ashore. This was also a place of ordeal for a new class of 'baby' nurses.

I remember these nights very clearly. Once the new nurses had settled into their new surroundings they would pay their first visit to the Geneva club. It must have seemed like a cattle market to them. Male staff members would be in attendance to 'welcome them' and eye up the new talent! I'm sure that this first visit to the club must have been an uncomfortable experience.

Of course, these freshly pressed nurses would soon become extremely comfortable in their new surroundings. Stonehouse was a great place to live and work.

However, I always felt some sympathy on these nights and, would often introduce myself to help them feel welcome. I knew many, many nurses during my time at Stonehouse, purely as friends. There was many a good night at the Geneva club!

If you are single, Xmas in the Navy can be good fun, even when you are working.

Here's an example....

It's Xmas 1974, I am working on the officers ward at RNH Stonehouse in Plymouth. I have reached the heady heights of PMA (Probationary Medical Assistant). I am working the day shift over the Xmas period.

Xmas eve sees a pretty good 'thrash' going on in the Geneva club - the hospital bar. There is much alcohol and frivolity - a good evening is being had by all!

Note to self - in future try to keep alcohol consumption down to sensible levels when I have to work the following morning. On this occasion I fail to do this and get well into the fun! Frivolity and alcohol consumption goes on late into Xmas eve - no surprises there then!

The next morning sees me waking up not feeling quite as cheerful as the evening before. I have the mother of hangovers - take it like a man! I report for duty on the officers ward - smartly dressed in pristine ward whites, oh.. and 6 foot of tinsel wrapped around my neck. seemed like a good idea at the time - Xmas morning after all!

The sister in charge, takes one look at my sorry face (I must have looked terrible) and sends me to lie down in an empty room. This I do with gratitude and promptly fall asleep. Remember, I am supposed to be on duty.

Sometime later I am woken with a gentle shake. Let me explain something - it is a tradition for the senior officers of the hospital to do rounds on Xmas morning to spread some good cheer. I try to focus, still feeling bloody awful from the night before, this proves to be difficult. I am dazzled by the amount of gold braid that appears before my eyes!

It is, of course, rounds! There in front of me is a Rear Admiral, the Executive Officer, Matron and assorted others. Bloody hell! I must be deep in the mire. The Admiral wishes me a very merry Xmas, which I return. He about turns with the rest of the party and exits the room.

I promptly roll over and go back to sleep. To this day - I have no idea how I got away with it! I do remember that the Admiral in question was Rear Admiral Binns, he had come through the ranks - a fairly rare thing to achieve his rank (hell he was even rumoured to have tattoos!). Maybe, he remembered what it was like to be working on the wards at Xmas!

Promotion in the Royal Navy is, like civvie street, dependent on other people's views.

The Navy operates within a divisional system with a divisional officer looking after a group of lower ranks ( a division ). Within this division will be a number of officers, non-commissioned officers(nco) and junior ratings. A chain of command exists within this setup and is, actually, a reasonable way of doing things.

You do remain, however, dependent on the view of your divisional officer when it comes to promotion. It was this fact that, ultimately, decided my future for me.

Promotion through the ranks comes from passing the right exams and courses, combined with a six monthly assessment of character and efficiency. The latter is crucial, from this assessment a number of points are awarded - these points determine when you get promoted. So, pretty important then.

When assessing character and efficiency an individual is usually compared to other people of the same rank and job - so an MA will be compared to other MAs within a division. So far, so good. But - what happens when you are the only one with your rank and job?

On joining the Leeds Castle in 82 I was the only medic on board so could not be compared to other medics of my rank. The approach from my divisional officer on board, the first lieutenant (jimmy), was to evaluate my performance as a medic - the only way to do it, really. A medics role is totally different to say a seaman or a mechanic on board a ship.

By the time I joined the Leeds Castle I was an officer candidate; in fact, this is what got me the gig in the first place. On leaving the ship, after the conflict, my conduct was VG (Very good) and my performance Superior, with a glowing report from the first lieutenant - this is good, meaning that high points would be awarded towards promotion to Petty Officer.

This level of assessment continued until I joined HMS Yarmouth. Still an officer candidate my DO dropped my assessment to Satisfactory - this was, of course, enough to put back my promotion a good six months. He, apparently, thought it appropriate to compare my to seamen on board who spent the day painting and doing seamen type things. Of course, my responsibility was too ensure the health and welfare of the ship's company was maintained.

So, one individual affected my promotion prospects because he failed to understand the role of a medic on board a frigate. This, ultimately, made up my mind to withdraw as an officer candidate and to leave the RN prematurely after 14 years of service.

Mind you, there are plenty of ineffectual and frankly poor managers littering civilian companies - so no surprises there then!

16th June 1982. We are acting as the guard ship at Ascension Island.

This is particularly boring although the sun shines constantly.

A party of us go ashore for a tour of the defence stations on the island and a shoot in the afternoon. Yes - the fools allow me to fire a weapon - bloody crazy if you ask me!

Let me explain - a naval medic gets to carry a weapon, in this case a 9mm browning pistol, in a combat situation. The objective, of course, is to protect any casualty you have in your care. Yeah - right! I agree with this in theory but reality bites. If I see any enemy approaching me, regardless of casualties or not, I will definitely have a pop!

The shoot in the afternoon goes well. I am, in fact, a pretty good shot. That is providing, the target is no more threatening than a stationary oil drum. God knows what would happen if presented with a moving target.

So, there you have it, fear not, Leeds Castle's very own 'Dirty Harry' is on hand. Blimey!

11th July 1982

We are again in the TEZ and spend the day transferring stores to RFA Fort Grange. This was to prove quite an eventful day.

The weather was very cold and the seas a little choppy, but not too bad. The flight deck is covered with a thick sheet of ice, making moving stores extremely difficult - however, we press on.

The stores are being transferred via the ship's sea riders and with the aid of a Sea King helicopter from the Fort Grange. Quite an impressive site seeing this large aircraft landing and taking of from our flight deck!

The crew works hard getting the stores shifted and all proceeds well until mid afternoon when the Sea King has a mishap. It had just taken off from our flight deck and had moved away some 30 yards, or so. It obviously had developed some sort of engine problem because it just dropped from the sky! Fortunately, not from a great height - if it had done, the outcome may have been different.

The aircraft's flotation bags deployed as it hit the water and then it just sat there for a while bobbing in the water. Our sea rider responded rapidly and recovered the crew with minimum fuss. A good job - well done. The aircraft's crew were all fine with no injuries. They had not been immersed, so no problems with hypothermia or water ingestion. In fact, they were drier than the sea rider crew that picked them up!

There was a further bit of drama when the Fort Grange's sea rider capsized while trying to attach a line to tow the ditched aircraft back to their ship. This crew were then rescued by our sea rider crew. Again, no injuries.

I can't quite remember the fate of the Sea King - I suspect it sunk.

So, another eventful day demonstrating the skills of the well trained men of the Royal Navy!

1982 in the TEZ, South Atlantic.

Well, I'm back were I started these ramblings - I'm in the crows nest again - taking the middle watch duty (midnight to 0400).

Again I'm up here keeping lookout for signs of enemy aircraft. A pretty boring, but necessary job. I continually scan the horizon looking for tell tale signs of aircraft above. We are particularly concerned about Hercules bombers who have already bombed a tanker; these planes have a range of 1800 miles so are an obvious threat.

I've been up here for a couple of hours and am feeling pretty tired. It's difficult to keep awake and concentrate but I manage it.

The ship is rolling gently as we make our passage. Wait a minute! Is that a light? As the ship rolls a light high in the black sky comes into view and then fades again. As the ship rolls I see this light a couple of more times. Bloody hell! Could that be the light from a high flying plane - does anyone else see it?

I phone the bridge and talk to the officer of the watch to report what I see. A couple of minutes pass before he gets back to me. Well, I feel a bit of a pillock.

The light in the sky that comes into view when the ship rolls is, in fact, the moon! Amazing what tricks fatigue can play on the senses.

Mind you, the officer of the watch thought that it was better to be safe than sorry!

Well, here we are, steaming from ascension to the TEZ with more supplies to deliver throughout the fleet.

The Leeds Castle from the superstructure to aft is all flight deck - this probably accounts for half of the length of the ship. Pretty big for a ship of this size.

On this particular foray South, we are stuffed to the gunnels with stores - it seems that every nook and cranny has found a home for something. This means that stores have been stacked and secured on the flight deck.

These supplies take up a significant area of the flight deck and are stacked 12-15 feet high or more. No problem while the seas remain relatively benign.

As we get further South the conditions deteriorate with increasingly stronger winds and heavy swells. During this weather things take a dramatic turn.

It is early in the morning, maybe 5 or 6 am - it's still pretty dark outside. The seas are heavy and the winds strong. I am awoken with a start. 'All hands to the flight deck' is piped over the tannoy. As I struggle to get aft, I can't help but notice that the ship is listing severely to starboard - we are, in fact, at a crazy angle!

As I reach the flight deck it is now obvious what the problem is - the stores have slid across the flight deck and now lie starboard. The only thing keeping them from Davey Jone's locker appear to be the guardrails. The crew is turned to and gets rapidly to work.

We spend the next few hours shifting the stores back to a centre position on the flight deck. We then make sure they are firmly strapped down - panic over.

Mind you - it was a little hairy for a while. Being no seaman, I have no idea how severe a ship can list before it capsizes - I sure as hell didn't want to find out. I'm no Gene Hackman!

Photo courtesy of Navy Photos

HMS Antelope took part in the Falklands War. On May 23, 1982, while Antelope was on air defence duty at the entrance to San Carlos Water, protecting a beachhead established two days earlier, she came under attack by Argentine A-4 Skyhawk jets. Not long after the ship exploded while bomb disposal worked onboard.

This was a particularly sobering experience for me. Let me explain...

Back in 1980, I think, my mate Andy Till and I were serving at the naval airbase - HMS Osprey in Portland. Now, both of us had not yet had a draft to a ship - this is 7 years after joining the Navy. This was not particularly unusual, there were a lot of medics and not too many ships. Nevertheless, both Andy and I were keen to serve on board a seagoing warship - after all, that's what we had joined and trained for.

The Navy attempts to send you on draft (new posting) to the ships or establishments you asked for. Often this is not possible. Andy and I both put down Antelope as a choice for our next draft.

At the time, I had been dating my girlfriend, Sue, for a month or so - nothing too serious at this stage (she is now my wife of 26 years and counting). Whilst having a beer or two at HMS Osprey's club, the Flying Fish, I happened to mention to Sue that I had put in for the Antelope. Well! She rushes out of the club in tears. Now, what the hell had I done? Women, eh!

It was obvious that our relationship was a little more serious than I had thought. So, I withdrew my request for the Antelope. Subsequently, Andy got the Antelope as his next draft. So there you have it, my best mate sailed to the Falklands in 1982 on the Antelope and the rest is history. Fortunately, Andy survived the fate of the Antelope, at least physically. I saw him a few years later - he wasn't the same happy go lucky guy I used to know.

There are no guarantees that I would have got the Antelope if I had left my request in place - there is a good probability that I might have. I do know, that Sue, inadvertently, stopped me making what could have been a fatal mistake....

Footnote. The Antelope had been in the TEZ for one day before it was crippled.

Steaming towards Ascension Island from the UK.

We have now settled into the routine. There are constant exercises - obviously, very necessary. An effective crew is one that has been well drilled. The aim is to practice for all eventualities - attack, fires, damage control, men overboard, aircraft ditches etc. As you can see, an awful lot can occur on board a Royal Navy ship.

So, although repetitive exercises can seem a drag it is clear that they are vitally important. You never know when you might be called upon to put into action all that practice.

One of my duties is to train the first aid teams. These sessions would usually be undertaken on the flight deck (when not in use for other things). Remember, the average age of the crew is around 19-20 years old. Sometimes it is difficult to get the first aid teams to take the training to seriously - their minds are often on their normal duties and I don't think that they really believe that they'll need first aid skills.

The light hearted approach to first aid training was to change quite dramatically. I always believed that it was highly likely we would suffer losses; the Argentinian forces weren't up to much, really. But, the law of averages were against us.

May 4th saw an event that changed the attitudes of my first aid teams to training and one that concentrated the minds of the whole crew. This was the day that HMS Sheffield was hit by Exocet and sunk with the loss of 20 crew. It was now, obvious to all, that this was a bloody serious situation that we approached.

To their credit, my first aid team members, paid serious attention to my lectures and training. Although not called upon to perform under fire, I have no doubt they would have performed admirably.

23rd July 1982

We came alongside the jetty at Grytviken yesterday and spent the day shifting stores - that's what we do! Of course, Grytviken and Leith is where this conflict kicked off. It was on the 26th April that South Georgia was retaken with the help of the Plymouth and Antrim - the Argentinians didn't like their fire power at all.

The day before the Argentinian submarine - Sante Fe was bombed by the Brilliant's 2 Lynx helicopter - it then limped into Grytviken bay and there it still lies. As you enter the bay you can see the turrets breaking above the water line.

South Georgia is an amazing place. Beautiful and unspoilt. It is a place of striking contrast. One moment you can be in bright sunshine gazing at the snow covered mountains and then the next you can find yourself in a blizzard. A truly spectacular place.

Grytviken, itself, is an old whaling station abandoned many years ago. This is truly an eerie place. As you walk up the old slipway, used for dragging whales out of the sea before processing, you are struck by the quiet of the place - a bit like a ghost town, I'd guess.

As you walk through the station you realise things are 'preserved' by the climate conditions here. It's almost as though the whalers were here just yesterday - old equipment looks like it would still work. There a large containers full of bits and pieces of equipment still in relatively good shape. You come across gloves just left behind, still in good condition. This is a really spooky place, almost like stepping back in time.

I will revisit this place in 1984 with the Yarmouth. Until then, I will leave you with this image. A little ways behind the whaling station is an old football pitch. As I looked across this expanse a small herd of reindeer, yes - reindeer, hove into view. They ran across the pitch in front of me and disappeared into the hills. A quite amazing site - I cursed myself that I was not armed with a camera!

South Georgia is blessed with some amazing wildlife - more of that when we come back to South Georgia with the Yarmouth.

26th April 1982

We left Rosyth today en route to Portland via Portsmouth then on to the Falklands. Time to properly take in my home for the foreseeable future.

This ship is not what I was expecting. Leeds Castle was commissioned in 1980 so is pretty new. It is extremely well appointed - the crew's cabins are actually carpeted! They have comfortable bunks and are not over crowded - no more than, from memory, around 6 in the cabin (compare this to around 30 on the Yarmouth).

The sick bay appears brand new - has certainly seen very little use - reasonably well equipped with a couple bunks.

The crew consists of 50 souls - average age around 18-19 years. The Leeds Castle is a fishery protection ship - it has a large flight deck and very little armament. This consisted of one 30 mm BMARC cannon and 4 L7 General Purpose Machine Guns - not really going to frighten the opposition. Although our skipper was a little gung ho - I think he would have loved to have screamed down bomb alley in the Falklands - giving them hell. Yeah, right - one good hit and that would have been it for us.

Our main task was to ferry supplies around the fleet - mundane but necessary. I have spent most of my time over the past few days helping to store the ship and to ties things down securely. We have bits of kit everywhere.

The crew is, I'm sure, not used to having a medic on board so, it will take a little time for them to get used to me. Most of my shipmates of similar rate to me are extremely busy with their work so I concentrate on making sure the ship is in good shape medically. I get involved in other areas where I can be of help. You just muck in when needed - you are a member of a team and you get stuck in (something civilian businesses could learn from).

Over the next few weeks we will exercise, exercise and exercise again. More later......

Now here's a strange thing - "Hands to bathe".

I witnessed this phenomenon whilst on the Yarmouth in 1984. We were somewhere in the Mediterranean at the time with no land in site.

Now I love the sea, don't get me wrong, but I also respect it. It's a mysterious place. At once benign and calm then a raging cauldron. Over time we learn more about the sea and it's denizens.

I do enjoy a dip in the sea from time to time. However, I choose these times carefully; particularly the location. The depths of the oceans are still a relatively undiscovered place- we don't really know all of the secrets it holds.

So, let me tell you about 'Hands to bathe'. The ship comes to a stop in the middle of some ocean or other - on this occasion the Med. It's a warm sunny day, so why not give the crew a little relaxation in the form of a refreshing dip? Drape a couple of climbing nets over the side and away you go!

'Hands to bathe!" is piped over the ship's tannoy. Then, to my amazement, large numbers of the crew throw themselves over the side into the water - for a swim! I think this is some form of madness - surely. Here we are in the ocean in the middle of nowhere and the troops think it a great idea to have a dip.

To my mind, this seems a particularly bad idea. We have no idea what is swimming below us in the murky depths - a great white, perhaps, or a killer whale - I could go on. Am I the only one to have seen Jaws!

Of course, we know now, from the countless wildlife documentaries, that the seas hunters often mistake bathers for their lunch! I can think of nothing that would convince me to leap over the side for a refreshing dip!

Never fear, though. The crew are well protected. There are a couple of crew members at either end of the ship with SLRs (the Navy's standard rifle) keeping watch for unwanted visitors! Well, that's alright then. I'd hate to see what happens if a school of sharks pays a visit for a mid morning snack. I think there would be pandemonium - 2 riflemen not sure whether to fire or not and 40 odd seamen trying to scramble up a climbing net!

'Hands to bathe' - I don't bloody think so!

24th May 1982

We've just taken up position with the task force in the Total Exclusion Zone (TEZ) in the South Atlantic.

There she is - HMS Hermes, the task force's flagship. Sort of gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling knowing she's close and that you are now part of the ring of ship's around her.

Perhaps, we shouldn't feel so comfortable - why is the Hermes in the middle? Well, it becomes quite obvious on May 25th. This is the day that the Atlantic Conveyor and the Coventry are attacked.

The Atlantic Conveyor is closed up with the task force and is in it's position in the ring of ships surrounding the Hermes.

Here's something to consider - the Exocet - this missile caused untold damage to our ships. It was an Exocet that sunk the Sheffield - our first casualty of the conflict. Now, this missile is very difficult to counter - it can be launched by a Super Etendard at a distance of 47 miles away. It then skims 6 foot above the surface of the sea as it homes, rapidly, in on it's target.

Of course, one possible defence, if you are the flagship, is to surround yourself with other ships. I'm not sure whether this was the intention but it was certainly the effect. The Exocet, as it skims above the water, tends to hit the nearest lump of metal in it's way.

So, the Atlantic Conveyor took the full destructive power of an Exocet - it had no chance. I learned, later, from the Skippers diary that Leeds Castle had been directly between the Atlantic Conveyer and the aircraft while it was on the radar screen - hairy!

That warm, fuzzy feeling has long departed - never to return.

29th June 1982

We escorted HMS Plymouth and HMS Glasgow to Ascension island today. The Plymouth looks a right state - not surprising given the hammering they have been through.

My counterpart on the Plymouth is George Peddie - a real salty old sea dog if ever there was one! George invites me on board to take a look around. What a mess!

Plymouth had been attacked on June 8th whilst in San Carlos harbour and had been hit by four bombs. It is hard to imagine what that must have been like. As an aside, I was disgusted to find out that our 'allies' the Americans had refused to help us with AWACS - these could have saved many lives by helping us spot the Argentinian planes before they got to close. That was Reagan at the time but I don't think thing have changed to much since then. So much for our 'friends!'

Sorry, I digress. Back to the Plymouth. Remember Bob on the Ardent? Well, George had a pretty hairy story to tell. We were sitting in George's sick bay having a brew and a chat. I noticed a couple of holes - one on the inner wall of the sick bay and one on the ships' side; they were, pretty much, opposite each other. I, idly, commented on them.

George told me the story of the holes. He had been sitting at his desk when a missile punched through the wall just behind him. It couldn't have been more than a foot, or so, behind his head. The missile then punched it's way through the ships' side before exiting the ship.

Bloody hell! I figure George is a very lucky man. I wonder what odds you could have got against that bomb not exploding!

One of my duties on the Leeds Castle was to look after the forward hold.

This was used for storing all manner of supplies to be distributed around the task force. You may wonder why this mundane fact is worth a mention - let me enlighten you!

Here we are in the inhospitable waters of the South Atlantic, part of a military task force sent to do a job. This task force consists of many ships, crewed by men aged 17 and upwards. Imagine, you're 17 and at war, but, technically, you are to young to drink!

This task force is 7000 miles away from home, family and loved ones. The conditions can be severe, coupled with the threat of attack. These men are constantly keeping defence watches, this means wearing anti flash and carrying respirators, just in case. You are either on watch or of - usually sleeping. So it can be a pretty miserable existence, if you let it.

Now, the average military guy tends not to let things get him down. There's often a movie to watch, a game of crib to play, a game of Uckers ( a navy version of Ludo) or any number of things to pass the time whilst not on duty. Nevertheless, it's still great to know that people at home are thinking about you. That's where the forward hold comes in.

Alongside bits of equipment and essential supplies - the hold was often packed full of goodies. These goodies ranged from crates of beer to warm clothing. Pretty boring? Well, no, far from it.

In actual fact quite of lot of these items came from the public back home. People had taken the time to send 'stuff' to the troops. I myself, a small perk of the job, benefited from a particularly warm balaclava and a pair of woolly fingerless gloves (these gloves got many years service).

None of this is special - right? Well, when you know that these items were being knitted by, I think, mostly little old ladies and then sent South, your viewpoint changes. Quite often, these little parcels contained letters of support from these little old ladies. I for one, as did many others, find this uplifting - proof really, that beside our loved ones - there were people we didn't know thinking of us. A great feeling that - believe me.

So, to all you little old, and not so old, ladies who thought of us and did their bit to raise our spirits - THANK YOU!

By dogs, of course, I mean salty sea dogs. Surely, they can't get seasick - well, they can!

Certainly, when I joined the Leeds Castle for my 'jolly' to the Falklands it took me a little time to get my sea legs.  It's a physiological thing - your body has to adapt to the new motion it finds itself subjected to.  After a couple of days, generally feeling queasy, I soon settled down and was fine with my 'new sea legs'.

You soon get used to living with perpetual motion. In fact, for most of the time, when you are not working it can be quite relaxing. It becomes an automatic reflex to lift a mug of coffee or tip the side of your dinner plate to compensate for the pitch of the ship. You only need to lose you food once to get the idea! So there we are! I've now got my sea legs so no further problems. Wrong.

The oceans can be crystal clear with a smooth surface or they can be a raging cauldron.  Certain circumstances will effect all but the most 'salty' of sea dogs. when the ship is rolling from side and rising and falling with the waves, even if they are particularly rough, most sailors cope admirably.  Me included.

There is a third motion that when added to the pitching and rolling has very unpleasant effects.  Occasionally, a ship will be buffeted quite violently. Now I'm not really a sailor, I'm a medic - a different thing entirely.  But as far as I understand, this buffeting is caused when the ship is heading sort of sideways into the waves.

So now the ship is pitching, rolling and shuddering violently. Guaranteed  to bring sickness a calling. Sea sick tablets don't seem to have to much effect in these conditions - those that are effected, either go to their pits and sweat it out or, if on duty - tough it out!

On a number of occasions I found my self wedged into my bunk - with a couple pillows jammed against my back to prevent me from moving to much.  Really, just lying there hoping to die!  What a wimp! Mind you, at least, I was not alone in my misery.

So do dogs get seasick -- damn right they do!