Tales from the Royal Naval Reserve
by Pete Wooton ex-PO HQ OPS(Comms) RNR

I joined the RNR at Northwood in August 1981 and for most of my 12½ years in the RNR, the ship’s company of HMS Northwood, which included me, would report each Wednesday evening to building 93, HMS Warrior. I was in the Communications branch and, therefore, training consisted of various lessons in all things related to naval communications. Except during late September and October. At that time each year and after due selection, 18 of us would undergo instruction in ceremonial drill. Only basic stuff but as HMS Northwood had the honour of mounting an Honour Guard for the November ceremonies at the war memorial in Northwood town centre and as HMS Warrior was home to Comsubeastlant, Cincfleet, Cinchan, et al, the little we did do had to be done absolutely right. This meant practice. Yards of it……

Usually we would practice outdoors under the watchful eye of a Chief who had been detailed off and all went Click for larger image pretty much okay - until one dark and rainy night, an apparition, somewhat similar in stature to a brick shithouse, wearing a thick black bushy set and carrying a pack stick under one arm appeared before us. A GI ….. a bloody real GI ! at Northwood!

Oh my gawd ! hearts sank, nerves jangled hands began to shake. A three badge AB of indeterminate age who most of us reckoned had served with Nelson was behind me. “F**ks sake !” I heard him whisper. “We’re bloody in for it now, you wait and see !”.

“SHUT UP, THAT MAN!” a voice boomed from under the beard.

The scene was set for a nightmare. Again the voice boomed. “MY NAME IS G.I. LEWIS, I AM HERE TO TEACH YOU LOT HOW TO MARCH. GAWD HELP ME -BECAUSE I DON’T THINK I’LL LIVE THAT LONG ! RIGHT, I WANT TO BE ABLE TO SEE YOUR UGLY FACES. EACH AND EVERY ONE OF THEM. WHEN YOU ARE DISMISSED YOU WILL DOUBLE MARCH TO THE EDUCATION BLOCK AND FALL IN, IN THE FOYER - IN … ONE… SINGLE LINE… IS THAT UNDERSTOOD ?”

“Yes, GI !” we answered in chorus.

“GUARD !…. GUARDUP….HA ..!

TURNING RIGHT …..DISSSS MISSSS !”

We legged it over to the Education block, carrying our rifles - SLR’s in those days. We fell in in a single line as instructed and awaited our fates. We didn’t have long to wait.

“GUARD !….. GUARDUP….HA!…..” the voice was behind us, “ABOUT…TURN! . CRAP !!!! AS YOU WERE !!!! …..GUARD! . A-BOUT TURN ! ….. CLOCKWISE, PILLOCK !!”

We were facing him now and he was not impressed. There followed the usual pleasantries such as….. “AM I HURTING YOU !” … “No GI” … “WELL I BLOODY OUGHT TO BE - I’M STANDING ON YOUR HAIR !” plus instructions such as “STOP SWEATING !” All good piss off material. Then he decided to go for it. He was going to see what we could do.

“GUARDUP….HA! We snapped to attention “GUARD…..NUMBER !” “1….2…..3…..etc” “AGAIN ….. GUARD ….. NUMBER !” “1…..2…..3…..etc” but louder this time. It seemed better. At least we could count. “GUARD……BY THE RIGHT…DRESS !”

Our left arms shot up as our heads came round to the right. Shultsy was right marker. He had never been right marker before. He faced to the right as well.

“ONE UP, ONE UP, ……” Shultsy started to shuffle about. I could just see GI Lewis out of the corner of my eye. He was purple. He marched over and stood in front of Shultsy, his voice rising to a shrill scream. “WHAT ARE YOU DOING YOU PRAT ? . ARE YOU TAKING THE PISS ? …..FACE YOUR FRONT AND BLOODY WELL STAND STILL !! Shultsy was white and shaking. He swallowed hard a couple of times. We went through it several times more until GI Lewis was satisfied that we were getting the hang of it. He decided to move things on.

“GUARD ! …. SHOULDER ….ARMS !!” There was a scream from someone at the end of the line. “Aaaargh !”. “AS YOU WERE !” We went back down to the order. “SOMETHING WRONG P.O. ?” It was the PO right at the far end of the line, to my left. “I’ve sliced my thumb open, GI” Blood was pouring from the wound. “DON’T BLEED ALL OVER MY FLOOR, DISMISS AND GET DOWN TO THE SICKBAY BLOODY SHARPISH”.

The PO had let his left hand slip over the flashguard and along the edge of the bayonet. We used fixed bayonets to maintain the balance of the rifle. As HMS Northwood had been awarded the Freedom of the town of Northwood, we were entitled to fix bayonets when on parade with rifles at ceremonial occasions. It was better to practice with bayonets fixed than without. About 20 minutes later the PO returned with his left thumb wrapped up in a bandage. It looked like he was holding a white sausage.

“You ok now, P.O. ? Do you want sit this one out ?” “No, I’m fine. No worries. I’ll carry on.” “You sure ?” “Yup, I’m fine now” - “Well okay then, get fell in”.

We had been practising whilst the PO was in the sickbay getting patched up. GI Lewis decided to go through it again. We were at order arms.

“GUARD! GUARDUP! SHOULDER ARMS!!”

“Aaaargh!” There was a scream from the end of the line. The PO Again.

“Christ ! What have you done now ?”

“I think I’ve stabbed myself in the shoulder, GI” Blood oozed from the stitching of the PO’s woolly pully, forming a dark stain which was slowly growing bigger.

“For Christ’s sake ! I don’t believe you. Sickbay, now !!” He pointed to the man next to the PO. “You …. Go with him. Quick … and make sure he doesn’t faint ! BLOODY NORA !” About 30 minutes later the PO and escort were back. The PO was carrying his woolly pully and his shirt had a nasty blood stain, with tie removed.

“Blimey, still alive then ? I didn’t expect to see you back. Are you okay ?” The GI seemed genuinely concerned.

“Yup. Fine, not as bad as it looks. Only a little cut. Nothing to worry about at all” “Well … Right sit over there then and keep out of the way. You might learn by watching” “I’m fine, I’d rather join in” “Your joking !!!!!”

“No, the doc says there is no harm done. I’m fine”.

“If your sure ….. right, get fell in again. Okay lads, its getting better but we’ve got a lot to do. A couple of more times and we’ll call it a night “GUARD.. GUARDUP! ….. SHOULDER ARMS !” All quiet at the end of the line. Just the sound of palms slapping rifle stocks and so on.

GUARD! GENERAL SALUTE … PRESENT ARMS!” …..slap …..Over …. Two … three ….. suddenly a loud ripping sound rent the air and the PO with the bandages almost fell forward clutching at the waistband of his trousers. 3 or 4 buttons rolled slowly over the concrete floor..

“I F**KING WELL DO NOT BELIEVE THIS! DISMISS PETTY OFFICER AND REPAIR YOUR TROUSERS … THE REST OF YOU F**K OF HOME. DISSSS-MISSS.”

And so ended our first encounter with GI Lewis.