Pay and Parade

Losing track of time what week was it, I wasn't sure anymore, I had forgoten about home, I was starting to enjoy the life, all this adventure and they were paying us to do it. The first payday had come and gone, we all received the same, a casual payment it came to our hut with an officer and a very large dour faced Regulator (Navy Copper), we all had to sign for it.
The second time we got paid was different, Sea daddy had warned us to make sure our kit was spotless; we marched as usual, this time to the galley. We stood in line for what seemed an eternity while the line of sailors meandered around the place like a hoki-koki at a very large wedding. Eventually I arrived at the front, a Regulator barked “Off caps, one pace forward, name, ID No,” the money was counted out in front of me by an Officer and then unceremoniously dropped in my hat, “ right turn, one pace forward march,” I was then stood in front of the Master at Arms he made me recount my money, I could feel his eyes checking over my uniform for even the slightest imperfection.

Slops, was the camp clothing store nothing to do with pink, they always had a queue on pay day, people getting new boots or hats, I recon the Master at Arms got a take.

This happened every fortnight, I was paid £29, more money than I knew what to do with, I set up an allotment, sending my Mum £5, she received a book and she could cash it in at the post office, I never changed it until I got married many years later.

Marching drill was now everyday under the watchful eye of the Gunnery Chief and his Petty Officer Gunners,the collective name was GI's. We had to turn out in our best uniform and march around the parade ground once every two weeks for the leaving class. The GI's would be affronted if anything was not just Ship shape and Bristol fashion.
The Gunnery Chief was short with ginger hair and a ginger beard, it was obvious he enjoyed the power that went with his position, he used to promise that if anyone turned up on parade with better boots than his, they would be allowed a stay of execution and get the afternoon off, I never heard of anyone managing it.

We were lined up like the cutlery on the Queens dining table, we were inspected at least twice before we got near the parade ground and the at least another twice while we were there. Standing for always over an hour, and in any weather usually listening to the Royal Marines band playing historical moral building music, not very well!
Then the relief seeing the VIP return to the dais.

It’s amazing how, even after you have been immobile for so long, your legs can still move when the parade staff scream “by the left quick march”, it takes at least four steps before the blood gets down to the feet and by then, normally, no one is instep with anyone else. We always seemed to get a Gunnery Petty Officer to ourselves running up and down the line barking orders, we never managed to go around the parade ground in one, we had become so accustomed to the low waling voice from the dais area shouting out, “around again Sir”, our class Officer never seemed to mind, his marching was as bad as ours.