Bulwark slipped her way into Plymouth Roads, turned right and headed toward the Atlantic Ocean. I was at sea, but had no idea about the ship's destination and as I had yet to complete my joining routine, officially didn't exist.
I'd made my way down from my observation perch to the EMR and had been introduced to more of my new colleagues. I'd also been told complete my joining routine and to get my kit stowed. In effect I'd been given the day off to get myself sorted out.
First port of call was the Regulator's Office to sign off my draft notice. From there I sought out the W/E Office, the Paymaster's Office, Sickbay, Post Office, Ship's Stores and all the other people and places whose stamps or signatures I needed to get on my piece of paper.
My route took me all over the ship and I found I had time to spend just 'goofing off' and watching the Cornish coast slide past our starboard beam. I found the experience fascinating, having never been to sea before. In fact I'd never been outside the UK in my life and had rarely spent time outside my native Wales. Seeing the coast of England a mile or two away and separated from me by the sea made me realise I still hadn't found out what the itinerary for this trip was; I determined to find out next.
Back at the mess I found one of the guys I'd met earlier retrieving something from his locker. I asked the question and the reply came straight back; we were going to show the flag through the Mediterranean and would be back in UK waters in time for Christmas. My mind was buzzing and I wanted more detail, but this wasn't the time or place.
During the afternoon the Chief REA had organised a tour of the various radio offices aboard Bulwark so I could acquaint myself both with their location and the equipment installed. I'd be standing my first watch within 36 hours and would have to check the rooms and equipment hourly to ensure all was well.
There was no set rounds route, but convention had it that the duty REM started with the radio rooms in the island as he was based in the EMR anyway and there were a number close at hand. It was normal to exit the island onto the flight deck, walk across it and drop over the port side of the ship and onto the flat beside the VHF room. I thought my guide was taking the piss, but no, over the side he went without a second glance. My heart was in my mouth as I rushed forward and peered over. There was the 'flat' and there was my guide looking up at me. The drop was around 8 feet onto a steel platform that lead to an outboard store-room. The flat had a solid screen similar to that I'd lurked behind as Bulwark left Devonport, to prevent men from falling overboard. I jumped, landed safely and we progressed. Mental note to self: middle watch, let's not go jumping over the ship's side at 2:00 in the morning!
Tour over I made my way back to a weather deck vantage point and looked at the sea. No sign of Cornwall now, just water, lots and lots of water. I hadn't realised it yet, but we'd steamed down the channel and headed into the Atlantic; not far into the Atlantic because we only needed to clear France, but hey, I was a matelot and this was an ocean!
