Bamby on Ice

The first week soon became the second, we were not allowed off the camp for the first eight weeks and evening entertainment was non- existent. We had to study in the evenings and keep our kit in a perfect condition. Hours could be spent polishing parade boots and getting the creases just right on clothing. We tried using starch to keep the folds in but it stained the white front that sailors wear under the jacket. We did learn tricks and shortcuts to make the appearance perfect however, if they were found out, the consequences were quite harsh.

Duties:
These really were only very basic at first, and mainly were for the upkeep and general cleanliness of our own surroundings. The thought of cleaning communal heads and bathrooms was not pleasant but we all had to take our turn.

Saturday we played football and inter class rivalry was encouraged in sport as in every other area, The aches and pains of so much sport was soon to become something of the past and muscle started to replace skinny 
schoolboy puppy fat. The slow onset of puberty started to speed up, and with a camp of hundreds of hormonal pinball wizards, the sighting of a skirt would cause great commotion and send the weak of mind and body to the nearest toilet. Groatsie was one who could not contain himself.

The services are renown for the nicknames that people get called, most are harmless and boring, but some can be hurtful and derogatory. As a class we found that most people were just called by their second names at first, for obvious reasons, a shout of “Jock” would have made everyone turn around. We did however have some Macs, Tams, and Jimmy’s and they seemed to
be reasonable and quite affectionate in a mature way. We did unfortunately have a few wallies and dicks, which had nothing to do with what they had been called at birth.

We were soon to make friends, but class, social circles, dialect and intelligence were a factor, probably subconsciously!

I have always had some attraction to befriending people who have trouble being accepted and even in this environment it was no different. The trouble with having such a trait is you are then
associated by default. It can quite be painful at times but it soon sorts out real friends.

Never to be a sheep, I made friends with a Glaswegian called Groatsie.
Groatsie was unfortunate in many ways physically he was in poor shape
and when they gave out the looks he must have turned up late. He did have a brilliant sense of humour, and his one-line answers to
criticism were just to die for.

Groatsie had two left feet when it came to football and in all other sports he was like Bamby on Ice, he was quite intelligent and had no difficulties with the studies or keeping his kit perfect. The main problems came when we marched, his legs and arms never quite knew how to work together, and because his feet were huge he would be tripping himself and others up. This more than anything brought attention to him all the time and it was the trigger for bullying.

Poor Groatsie became the butt of many of the jokes and bye the third week he was starting to have trouble. Groatsie used take a shower when most others were in bed, I never gave it another thought,but one night he had to have a communal shower with
the rest of us after  a mud run, Groatsie was never shy, but when it came to showering he was.
Some thought he was just dirty but the truth was 
now obvious, it wasn't the acne on his back, or his physically
bent over and weak appearance, no, he had more Willy than the rest of us put together. Rather than being a blessing,Groatsie seen himself as a freak, any confidence that he had, diminished
over the following hours.
Groatsie left the navy the following day