Part 1 Recruitment and Training

Britain was on its knees, battling against the armed might of Germany and Italy, when it was decided at a high level to call up the ultimate deterrent.

My call up came on the 23^rd February 1942, and I had to report to H. M. S. Royal Arthur at Skegness, Lincolnshire. This place had previously been a Billy Butlin’s holiday camp, but was now converted to a dry land training ship.

We were billeted three persons to a room, which were made up in long rows, with W. C.’s and showers at each end. This lay out proved rather awkward during the cold winter nights, to one of my room mates who drank a lot of beer, and he found the wash hand basin in the room very useful for relieving himself. As he always run the taps afterwards, the other lad and I pretended to be asleep, and didn’t complain.

The training was very basic, and concentrated on squad drill, some knots, and how to row a boat on what had once been the camp swimming pool. Most of the instructors would have had trouble touching their toes, and the majority of them appeared to be men who should have retired, but would no doubt have been kept on duty for the war.

At the end of a month we were given a series of tests, to find out what branch of the service we would be best suited for. My beer drinking room mate was sent to the stokers’ branch, the other lad to be an officer’s steward, and me to be a telegraphist (wireless operator).

All the men who were going into the communications branch were sent by train, with a petty officer in charge, to H. M. S. Scotia, near Ayr in Scotland. This was another Billy Butlin’s Holiday camp which had been commandeered for the war effort.

On the way up, we passed through Kirkconnel station, and I threw a message on to the station platform to let my family knew that I was in the area, and would write to them from my new destination, once settled in.

H.M.S. Scotia was abut 30 miles from where my parents lived at Killoholm, Kirkconnel, and I was able to get home some weekends when not needed for the duty party. Our instructor was a chief petty officer, called Slater, who had been a survivor from the Ark Royal, an aircraft carrier which had been sank in the Mediterranean sea by torpedo.

We started on mastering the Morse code very slowly, but gradually the speed increased, and over a 6 months training period, we worked up to 22 words a minute. A few of the lads could not stand the pace, and had nervous breakdowns. They were sent away for treatment, never to be seen by us again. Fortunately my two best friends, Donald MacDonald from Lairg, Sutherland and Alan J. Godfrey from Wisbech, Cambs, managed to keep up with their instructors, and sometimes came home with me at week-end. Donald was also on the telegraphists’ course, but Alan was training to be a signalman, using flags, which group were known as the bunting tossers.

Towards the end of the wireless course, we were given a weeks leave, and Donald suggested that I could get my railway warrant made out to his house away up in the Highlands, instead of me just going home, to where we both had been quite often during the course.

We set off in the morning from Ayr, got a train to Glasgow, then one to Inverness. We eventually completed the journey on a single line track, amongst the mountains, at Lairg, Sutherland.

We had a good long walk from the station to where Donald’s mother lived, in a cottage at the side of a small lock. She made us welcome, and after a meal, a chat, Donald and I walked back down to the village. He took me into his local and introduced me to a lot of his friends. We were both wearing our uniform, and the natives were very friendly. We didn’t tell them that we were still on a training course, as it may have spoiled their illusions. They kept insisting on buying us drinks, and while in the room everything was fine. I have no recollections whatever of what happened outside, as the next thing I knew, was that I woke up in the morning completely naked except for my socks, and the ceiling was going up and down. Donald told me that he had got the loan of two bikes to get back home, but that I kept falling off, and we finished up walking. We had also gone into somebody’s house, and I had been sick in the fireplace.

I gave Mrs MacDonald my sincere apologies, which she took in good spirit, and I resolved in future to be on guard against strong drink. I found this quite difficult at various times later, as a lot of people think that being a Scot, that you are automatically a whisky drinker. I always stuck to beer on future occasions, and only took a few pints, as I had found that the future pain can destroy the pleasant present.