The transition from induction to basic training meant we new recruits were segregated into more structured groups. Whereas the dynamics of the Nissen hut had been open and varied, we dispersed to new accommodation by trade. All the Weapons Electrical types moved to one building, the Marine Engineering Mechanics to another, the Seamen to a third, etc. We were also assigned duty rosters (watches) and when not part of the duty watch could go ‘ashore’. We were restricted to ‘Cinderella’ leave though and had to be back ‘onboard’ before midnight.

We were Class 35X and our first task of the day was an introduction to Petty Officer Hollins, who was to be our class instructor for the next six weeks. PO Hollins would be available to us 24 hours a day and was tasked with our pastoral care in addition to our general education.

The rules for our immediate existence were explained. These included the watch system and what to expect from being part of the duty watch. Also how leave was allocated and more importantly, how we might get leave that very evening!

With the prospect of a night out in front of us, we turned to with a determined air. Once the move was completed and our kit stowed we were drilled for remainder of the forenoon. The afternoon was spent cleaning and polishing: our new hut to the standard needed for it to pass muster, which it must, before leave would be granted.

I know lots of people who say they cannot understand why the military inflicts such harsh regimes on new recruits. The question “What’s the purpose of all that square bashing and cleaning?” is often asked and can be simply answered.

Drilling instils both discipline and precision in both the individual and the group, but it also helps both mental and physical fitness. You’d be surprised how many calories you burn marching up and down, especially when doing so with a rifle.

Cleaning routines are essential where any large number of bodies is brought together for protracted periods: this is especially true onboard ship where conditions are frequently cramped and air exchange may be limited. One person with poor personal hygiene can ruin the atmosphere in a messdeck.

We split our mess into two groups watches (port and starboard): port watch set to clean the accommodation and starboard the head. I was in port watch.

Always start at the top. We dusted the rafters, washed down the walls, cleaned the windows, dusted and polished the lockers, tables and chairs. We swabbed and dried the deck then polished the lino with bumpers and Purser’s Polish. The messdeck shone like a new pin, we were well pleased with our efforts.

The team cleaning the head worked equally hard and we were certain of our promised run ashore.

With everything clean and dry we re-entered the mess in socks feet so as not to damage the shine on the deck. Next came the laying out of the kit.

Our bedding, three sheets (two on the bed, one in the wash), pillow, pillow slips (two, one in the wash) two blankets and counterpane needed to be bundled to proper naval fashion and set at the head of the bunk. Next came all the various items of kit, No1 uniform, No2 uniform, No 8 working dress, boiler suit, white fronts, No 1 cap, sea jerseys, underwear, socks, housewife, mug, cutlery, washing kit, shaving kit, boots, shoes, etc. The whole effect is quite pleasing when properly achieved, but looks terrible if not correctly done. The distance between each item and the next being precisely measured to achieve perfection: there is an illustration and measurement guide in the naval ratings handbook, so everyone knows how it should be done. I laid my kit out according to the book and looked around to see how others were doing. One or two were still hard at it trying to get things right, most like me were nervously observing everyone else. One person had finished completely and was now outside smoking.

I looked in horror at the ‘finished’ kit: it was a complete mess: the boots weren’t polished, the various parts of the uniforms not ironed. The hut was bound to fail the muster unless something was done. We dragged the offender back in and asked what the hell he was playing at? He really wasn’t interested. One other thing, standing close to him I now realised he was a messy as his kit. Janner, six feet two and built like a wall, grabbed him by the upper arm, “Listen Bowden, if we don’t get ashore I’ll fucking mash you!”

We did what we could with the errant kit in the time allowed, but it wasn’t enough. The mess failed its first muster and our shore leave withheld. This reflected badly on us as a class and on PO Hollins as our class instructor.

We were given two hours to put things right before a second muster. Amid scowls and mutterings the work was shared and the kit cleaned, pressed and re-arranged. Hollins supervised, Bowden sulked. We scraped though, but the penalty stood; still no leave.

A few of us found our way to the NAFFI and talked about what we were going to do over a pint. The general consensus was to keep a weather eye open and make sure our tormentor didn’t put us in the same position again, so we started to take a little more notice of Mr B.

Janner made good his threat, Bowden was suitably mashed.

In the coming days Bowden’s personal habits came under close scrutiny. He was dirty and refused to shower, his kit was unkempt and a disgrace to us all and we all suffered because of it. We talked, shouted, begged, cajoled, but all to no effect. We sought advice from our PO and were told there was little he could do except to threaten Bowden, so we’d be better off trying to persuade Bowden to conform.

In the end we took the law into our own hands. At 02:00 one morning, we dragged Bowden from his bunk and through to the head. He was stripped naked and forced under a cold shower, where he was pinned to the deck and scrubbed using long handled scrubbing brushes and abrasive bathroom cleaning paste. His skin was raw by the time we’d finished.

In the morning he complained, but back in those days the services tended to turn a blind eye to activities of this nature if they believed they were justified and nothing was done. A week later, Bowen not having learned to keep himself or his kit clean, saw a repeat performance. Two days later Bowden was gone.

I’m in no way proud of my actions during this distasteful affair, but justify what took place as being for the greater good. Churchill said, “Action this day” so when Bowden refused to listen to reason, action was taken.