大象传媒

I never intended to be a sailor at any time, it was purely luck or otherwise that got me into the 鈥淎ndrew鈥� (A slang term for the Royal Navy). I was visiting a friend of mine Harry Edwards in Weoley Castle in 1937. When I arrived his mother told me he was upstairs, but I could go up and see him. He was transmitting and receiving Morse with one of the Royal Navy ships. It intrigued me so much that I decided to join the R.N.W.A.R. (Royal Naval Wireless Auxiliary Reserve). From then onwards I trained every Thursday night at the HQ in Edgbaston Street, Birmingham learning Morse and use of codes etc. Roughly 18 months after the Admiralty decided to change the R.N.W.A.R to the R.N.V.W.R. which meant that instead of being Officers we should be Lower Deck Ratings. This meant nothing to me at the time because no one thought there would be a war, but my friend decided otherwise and refused to sign on again. However, I and most of the unit signed on, and, when war broke out we were called up at once. My friend Harry Edwards went to work at 鈥楢ustin鈥�, Longbridge and throughout the war earned very big money which made Nancie (my wife) and I a little bitter. My pay as a trained Operator was 3/8 a week 鈥� 18p now.

We hear Mr. Chamberlain announce that the war had started on the Sunday. For the next few days Nancie and I were in a state of tension, she full of foreboding and myself a mixture of excitement and trepidation. The following Thursday the telegram came from the Royal Navy instructing me to go to the Central Police Station and get a warrant and ticket to take me to 鈥淒evonport鈥�, Plymouth. The goodbye at New Street Station was so traumatic, I then realised that it all meant to leave your loved ones and go away to the unknown. These feelings were terrible and were reinforced when we arrived at the barracks HMS Drake and were treated like third class nothing (we thought we were heroes), what a shock we had. Herded into a gymnasium we were given boots, uniforms, and the usual kit including a hammock which I had never seen before. The Physical Training Instructors were very tough and stood no argument. There are so many things about a sailor鈥檚 uniform that you need to be shown how. The P.T.I鈥檚 just did not want to know and they shouted at us and made us feel like idiots. All part of an awful realisation that you were in a system where the individual does not count and that if you do not learn quick you are in trouble. One thing which took some getting used to was having to do everything at the double which meant running not walking or strolling. If you were caught and put on charge it meant JANKERS. This could mean running round the Barrack square for as long as the P.T.I鈥檚 thought fit. After that you did sweeping or cleaning.

It was heartbreaking; after all, we were volunteers. This, however, cut no ice with the powers of the system. We were put through an intensive course of Morse reading and transmitting, learning the R.N way which was a little different to our way! After two weeks we were starting to talk like sailors, going ashore, catching the liberty boat, ten bell leave and not forgetting the rum ration, which I hated at the start, but eventually got a taste for.

Barrack life was grim. One ate in great communal halls, the food arrived in large metal dishes which were called fannies and these were passed up the line, each man taking what he wanted. If you were at the end you would only get the scraps, sometimes nothing. You learned that you did not sit at the end, even if it meant fighting for the right spot. Within 3 weeks one had changed from a courteous, reasonable citizen to someone who would fight and curse to get something to eat. I knew men committed suicide who just could not change, the strain and stress was too great.

About 3 weeks after leaving home the pipe came over the loud hailer that George Green was to report to the Draft Office (a call I had been dreading). I was drafted to H.M.S Ceres, a 1917 built light cruiser which was lying off Plymouth Sound. I can hardly describe my feelings. I had to carry my kit bag, hammock and suitcase to the jetty, get them aboard a small motor boat (no help was given). The sea was not rough but the small boat was moving up and down with the swell. The sailors on the pinnace were all old hands and thought it great fun to see me struggling. It was all so painful and I wished I had never joined. Eventually, I got aboard and if I had known what was ahead of me I would have dived over the side. Thank god I didn鈥檛. The learning process started all over again. The CERES was a Pusser ship which means the discipline was severe for A.O and A.I鈥檚 admiralty order and instructions.

The CERES sailed late afternoon for Scapa Flow, the weather was fine, the sea like a mill pond and I was sea sick, so sick that the Petty Officer Telegraphist relieved me from dut. Everyone said to me 鈥淚f you are sick now, God help you when it is rough鈥�. However, that was the turning point. I was never sick again, and the rougher it got, the better I felt and the hungrier. I put on nearly 2 stone in weight, non of my clothes would fit me. I think that was to be the saving grace for me. When it was very rough and the ship was standing on her beam ends, some of the old sailors were so sick but I was on the upper deck loving every minute of it. It was so exhilarating, eating their rations as well as my own. Just imagine a large pan with sausages for 24 men arriving in the mess on a very rough day. Most of the chaps would make a dive for the upper deck and be sick but four of us would set to, and eat our fill.

The facilities on board were very crude, no hot water for washing. You washed with sea water and special soap. If it was rough you could not wash because the 鈥楢bulutions鈥� (wash places) were on the upper deck shielded only by canvas. But worst of all were the 鈥楬eads鈥� (toilets). These were on the forecastle (Focsle) wide open to the weather. A heavy sea could drench you whilst you were doing your stuff. We were on the 鈥淣orthern Patrol鈥�. The weather round this area of Scattagut and Kattagut is always rough. It was a very hard life. One of my action stations was on the Foretop. This a little cabin high in the cross trees of the main mast. You had a marvellouys view but 鈥榞od鈥� it was so cold. In any action this station was regarded as a suicide one, and it was mainly given to R.N.V.R鈥檚. Just think climbing up a rope and wire ladder in those conditions, with the ship trying everything to throw you off into a very could and rough sea, not forgetting the enemy of course.

We were the first ship to be attacked by enemy planes, this was in Scapa. We had only got machine guns to fire at them, the other guns would not work. However, I soon realised the Navy did not bother about guns working or not. We were ordered to leave Scapa and intercept the pocket 鈥淏attleship Deutchland鈥�, one of the most efficient ship of its kind. We had been chasing her for 24 hours, when the marines in charge of the 8鈥� guns told us they were useless. The breech blocks did not fit, all we had was machne and oerlickon guns to fight a 16鈥� (Battleship) guns. We were a little pleased when the orders came to abort the mission.

A few weeks later we were looking forward to having Christmas Day in harbour at Scapa. You cannot believe, we actually got lost, and did not get back until late on Boxing Day. However, it was heaven to be able to eat and sleep without being thrown about and to get dry. At sea, especially rough sea, it was always wet with water swilling about the deck. Most of the time conditions were awful. After returning from one of our many trips in the North Sea we went ashore in the Shetlands. There were bars and a picture house which both were in a corrugated iron hut and very cold.

This story was submitted to the People鈥檚 War site by Anastasia Travers a volunteer with WM CSV Actiondesk on behalf of George Green and has been added to the site with his permission. George Green fully understands the sites terms and conditions.

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