Spin me your dits.....

Discussion in 'RR Greatest Threads' started by Merlin28, Sep 22, 2010.

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  1. It's a big ask and I know it will take up some of your time but would you mind sharing some of your draft stories. Where have you been, what did you do, what was your job, what type of ship, anything funny happen etc

    Cheers in advance




    MOD note - Thread title changed to reflect content.
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Apr 27, 2013
  2. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz

    Could turn into an interesting thread....maybe :)
     
  3. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz

    Alrighty then, I'll have a go if I may?

    Raleigh was your usual phase 1 stuff with lots of drill, bullshit and PT. To be honest it's all a bit of a blur now but the things that stick out most for me were crap scran at traf galley and the mong inbreds who served it, listening to Bon Jovi in the ironing room and being forced to fight other trainees by a particularly sadistic booty who was duty in our block one night. I enjoyed the fire fighting and flood damage training but the rest was pretty shite. I struggled with the maths exams but the lads in my division helped me out, in return I helped them with boot polishing and ironing. My advice to anyone going to Raleigh is to work as a team, if you are struggling somewhere tell your oppos, likewise if you see your oppo struggling, help him out. This is something I learned very early on and it stuck throughout my RN career and well into my civvy life. I found the lads that didn't make it through training were the ones who struggled to work with others and bond as a team.

    After Raleigh I went to Collingrad for a few months studying usual part 2 trainee shite. The days were fairly dull and every penny that I could save was spent on going out on the piss to Fareham, Gosport and Pompey. As a freshly passed out matelot, I thought I was awesome but really I was a spotty little youth. Amazingly I managed to pull occasionally, usually in Emma's or Prague Junction. As I was only 16 I had a doctored ID card which made me look older. I used to arrange my pit with a wig on the pillow so that when the duty PO came round to do bed checks he'd think I was in it, as opposed to hanging out the back of some Pompey scutter. During this time I went on a sailing exped to France and got horrendously drunk and nearly fell overboard while crossing the channel at night, luckily a switched on subby who was with us saved me. I suppose Cherbourg was my first ever foreign run ashore. When I returned to Collingwood my class received our sea drafts, unfortunately I was informed that I wouldn't be going to sea just yet as the rules had just changed and I would have to wait until my 17th birthday, gutted.

    I watched as my oppos fcuked off and joined their ships with many heading out to exotic far off lands, but most just going off to do BOST or extended refits in Guz or Pompey. I spent the next 3 months dossing around Collingwood, doing odd jobs where needed and going extenders every weekend. I spent a few weeks making tea at the weapons sections in the rubber road and managed to get some of my task book weighed off early on. As a reward for being a good lad and I suppose because he felt sorry for me about the fact I'd been left behind, drafty let me choose which ship I wanted. I checked all the longcasts and saw that HMS Newcastle was on a South Atlantic trip which I could catch her halfway through, this meant meeting the ship in the Falklands, hitting the East coast of South America and the Caribbean. Fcuking perfect.

    So on my 17th birthday, my mum drove me to RAF Brize Norton or possibly Lyneham, I forget which and I jumped on a crab air Tristar to Mount Pleasant Airfield, Falkland Islands, via a short stop in Ascension Island. The flight was much the same as any civvy flight I'd been on except the stewards were even gayer and wore flight suits. I managed to sleep most of the way to Ascension and was wide awake by the time we got there. I read a book for a bit and waited in the sun while the plane refuelled. I saw a fit female RAF officer and had rude thoughts about her. After four hours we boarded the plane again and headed to MPA. On the final approach a pair of RAF Tornadoes flew on our wing tips escorting us in. I remember thinking it was cool as fcuk to see a fighter plane so close. As we taxied in the RAF SAR helo crew had a huge banner saying 'welcome to hell' with one of them dressed as the grim reaper. The pongo in the seat next to me started telling me how pissed off he was about being here and how 6 months was going to kill him. I just shrugged explaining that I couldn't give a fcuk because I'd be in Rio in a few weeks.

    After a quick brief from the Royal Engineers about mines, I collected all my crap in the baggage hall. Unfortunately my pusser's kit bag had exploded on the flight and all my kit came round the conveyor belt a single piece at a time, I looked like a tramp as I walked out of the airport carrying armfuls of gear in bin bags. The duty driver picked me up and it was a relief to see another matelot after spending around 30 hours with pongos and crabs. We chatted a bit as we drove through the snow to East Cove where the ship was berthed and he showed me to the gangway. The QM signed me in and I was given a short tour of the ship. I recall being completely overwhelmed by the smell and I remember it to this day, a strong mixture of diesel, chip fat and shit from the sewage treatment plant. After the tour I realised that I was completely fcuking lost and that every corner of the shipped looked identical. Eventually someone showed me to my mess and I went down the hatch, absolutely shitting myself.

    TBC
     
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  4. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz

    It was around 6 in the evening and a few of the lads had clearly started getting in the fridge, the curtain to the mess square was shut and I could hear much banter and joking going on within. I felt utterly alone and terrified, suddenly I was in a strange place surrounded by people I didn't know. That first hour or so onboard was ten times worse than my first day at Raleigh. I unpacked my bag and waited to be invited in the mess square, after what seamed like hours a lad came out to go for a piss and enquired if I was the new lad. Clearly I was so I replied in the affirmative, suddenly a huge roar of 'EASY!' roared from the mess and I realised I had been the victim of my first ever gash bite. The lads brought me in and I was introduced to everyone. The names instantly passed over my head but I remember feeling a bit more at home. A beer was thrust into my hand and the LHOM explained that as a junior (the only one onboard infact) he would allow me to drink but if I stepped over the line or got in trouble he'd throw me overboard at night. We all traipsed ashore to a small bar in East Cove where they served Pringles and out of date tins of beer.

    The next few weeks in the Falklands were fairly dull and cold. Mostly we pissed up at MPA or in Port Stanley, we went go karting on the airfield and we did a few battlefield tours. Occasionally we would have to break the ice off the doors on the ship it was so cold. I made some friends from the mess and we generally had a good laugh. I recall one particular incident where a local gave us a lift to Stanley, on route he stopped at his and showed us his collection of guns and weaponry that he had collected after the war, I could see holes in the ground where he had been letting off grenades and he invited us back to shoot some of his guns, we never did take him up on the offer.

    Finally we sailed for Rio and I would spend my first day at sea. I'd been on cross channel ferries before and did my sailing exped but I'd never really spent more than a few hours on a ship at sea. Immediately I was sick, I hated it and I thought that perhaps I'd made a terrible mistake in joining up. I can only describe it as being like the worst hangover ever but without the headache. I felt disorientated and tired all the time and couldn't bring myself to eat anything. After two or three days I was in a pretty bad way until one morning I woke up and the sickness had just gone. It disappeared completely and I have not suffered from it since, even in seriously rough weather. During the first few days, we had a safeguard incident in the middle of the night and we had to muster in the JRs dining room. It turned out a Chilean fishing boat was sinking and we had to go and rescue them. In the cold they would be dead in literally minutes. I was impressed that everyone got together and knew what to do, except me of course, I was a sprog and had no fcuking idea what was going on. I was handed some paper and a pen and told to take the names and ages of the survivors as they were brought onboard. The excitement I felt at being given a fairly important job and being involved was soon shattered as we were all stood down. The RAF SAR team (the fcukers with the welcome to hell banner) had got to them first and we would not be required. 3 hours of fcuking around in the middle of the night and missed rack time for nothing.

    A few days later some great news arrived, we were to have an unexpected stop in Montevideo. Having watched the battle of the river plate I knew all about Montyvid and felt really chuffed to be going. We only had Cinderella leave but it was better than nothing. I made the most of my few hours ashore by eating a giant steak, buying a cowboy hat and banging two whores, both of whom took it up the ricker, a first for me. In true Cinderella leave style, a few lads overdid it and one of my mess mates had to be sent home after badly injuring himself while attempting to climb the dockyard fence, another lad gobbed off at some locals and got battered. I wouldn't have minded but the cnut had borrowed my jacket and he returned it covered in blood. The rest of us returned onboard suitably refreshed and ready to sail to Rio, I couldn't wait.
     
  5. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz

    A few days later we rocked up in Rio and I thought it was awesome. I don't remember much about it but the Florida bar was our local, with whores everywhere and a big screen playing hardcore porn. The Copacabana was everything you'd imagine and we met a mental local who took us to a footy match at the Maracana Stadium and bought us maccy ds. I remember a lad called Spud trapped a stunning bird who drove him over 1000 miles to our next port in Fortaleza after he managed to blag some leave. I assume his DO took pity on him and realised that he would never ever get a chance with a bird like that again, she really was fit. I think we had four days or so there plus a night in Fortaleza, then we set off for a long stint of drug busting.

    We closed up in defence watches, 6 hours on, 6 hours off, I managed to blag the Forenoon/First (7am until 1pm - 7pm until 1am) this seemed preferable to me as it wasn't too different to my normal sleep pattern anyway. As the watches blended together and we all transformed into zombies, we were joined by a group of US Coast Guard guys, who lived down our mess. They were exactly how yank soldiers and marines are portrayed in films, gungho to the max, built like brick shithouses and thick as fcuk. On the whole they were nice guys but they couldn't drink and managed to piss most of us off after a few days. For some reason they all chewed tobacco and would spit it into beer cans which they then left lying around the mess. They were the butt of many jokes, easys and gash bites and I think they thoroughly hated their stay. It all came to blows one day when one of them explained that he was into wrestling (ie that grappling shit) on asking if any of us wrestled, a large lad called Keith, explained that he did, the yank challenged him to a match. Unfortunately for the young yanky Keith's style of wrestling was based more on what he had seen on WWF than ivy league college wrestling, Keith bounced the poor cnut around the mess giving him the people's elbow and holding him down while the rest of us bounced our cocks on his head and rubbed our sweaty hoops on his face. For some reason his oppos took offence to this and our relationship with the yanks soured.

    After weeks of boredom in defence watches we finally got some action. We stopped a dodgy looking boat and found around 4 million quids worth of ganja on it. This was seriously exciting and exactly the sort of shit I envisaged when I joined up, gunfights on the high seas, helicopters and fake Oakley sunglasses all round. I was tasked with guarding the prisoners for a bit and stood there watching them as they were cuffed to a ring bolt on the deck. A pair of French Martiniquans, they were about my age and I felt pretty sorry for them, clearly they were at the very bottom of a very large food chain but would in all likelihood spend the rest of their lives in prison because of it, while the guys at the top got away. I'd heard that many of these guys were just fisherman who had been forced into the drug trade through threats of violence. As I stood there with my SA80, I realised how lucky I was to have been born in a decent country with job prospects and a good education system.

    After handing the drugs and prisoners over in Martinique, we set off to Barbados, a highlight of the trip for me because my grandparents live there. I was the centre of some media attention because of my link with the island and a gash phot of me, unshaven and in my ovies was plastered all over the Bajan papers and news. News is slow in Barbados and they wrote a follow up story a few weeks later which included a made up interview with me and complete lies about what I did on the ship. I had gone from being a sprog dabber/WE to a 'Marine Officer Engineer' in charge of missiles. It gave my grandparents a laugh anyway. I took a few days leave and chilled at their house catching up with family, it was good to get away from the ship, but I had trouble sleeping in a large bed. I would wake up at night thinking I was back onboard and it would take a while to work out what the fcuk was going on. I went out with the lads a few times and as a 'local' I was expected to show everyone where to go out, we ended up in Harbour Lights and one evening an English public school cricket team decided to kick off at a few lads from the ship. I don't know how many lads are in a cricket team, but there are 287 lads on a stumpy 42, most of whmo were in Harbour Lights that night, needless to say the cricket toffs got a good shoeing.

    TBC
     
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  6. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz

    See? Told everyone it'd be an interesting thread. Awesome so far 2DD
     
  7. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz


    Fuckin hell you've had a busy and hard life ain't you?
    If you was 16 in 01 that means your 25/26 now?
    I thought you were in your 30's. 8O :roll: :wink:
     
  8. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz

    We left Barbados and headed off for some more drug busting. This time we were searching for a cargo vessel called the Northern Star or something or other. We had some pretty sound intel that it was carrying a massive haul of Columbian chang. Our helo spent the best part of two weeks flying about looking for the fcuker and my hat really goes off to the Wafus on the rare occasion that they actually did any work. We finally found it and two boarding parties (ours and the yankees) began securing it. It was pretty awesome to be honest, stopping this massive ship that we were convinced was carrying the biggest haul of chang known to man. We expected the crew to be armed and to offer resistance, so every gun on the upper deck was manned and I had a jimpy on the bridge wing. My young mind had visions of heroics with me blowing up the ship with carefully aimed bursts from it. Unfortunately my Die Hard moment didn't come. In fact no one's did. Our boarding party searched the ship for days, a team of stokers even went across and cut open bulkheads and decks but we found nothing except for a few small arms. The ship had evidently been kitted out for something though as it had hidden storage compartments in the fuel tanks. Unfortunately we had caught it before it made the pick up and we had to let them go. We watched as they sailed away and we went to St Lucia to drown our sorrows.

    St Lucia was lovely, a quiet island, the sort of place people go on honeymoon. There was a KFC just outside the dockyard, where I somehow managed to walk out with about £100 more change than I should have (see earlier thread). Being matelots, we found the whore bar straight away where I got a three way nosh with two Wafus from my mess. One of them spaffed on the other's leg which was pretty funny, so funny infact that I couldn't continue and had to retire early. We bumped into the same bird the following evening, plying he trade at the Sandals resort. I seem to remember everyone getting pretty smashed while we were there, partly due to being threaders about our failed mission but mostly just because we were matelots. A karaoke bar features somewhere in my memories and I seem to recall a lad called Alf impressing a load of yank tourists with his pretty good rendition of a Take That tune. St Lucia came and went without much incident and we headed off for yet more drug patrols.

    Back into defence watches we went and the monotonous boredom of sea set in. We played stupid word games on watch to pass the time and would count down the seconds until the end of our watches. This time I had drawn the Morning/Afternoon watch (1am until 7am - 1pm until 7pm) which was a lot worse, not least because you have lunch for breakfast when you get up for your afternoon watch. After stopping virtually every small boat in the area, we finally got lucky and stopped a sailing boat with a middle aged Austrian couple onboard. They'd decided to supplement their pension by doing a one off coke run in their boat. We recovered £58 million worth in the end but they had thrown loads more overboard, at the time it was the biggest drugs bust in history.

    Finally it was time to go home and after quick stops in Puerto Rico (more whoring, Bacardi 151 and American chicks) and The Azores (It's a catholic country and we were there on Sunday, nuff said) we headed back to Pompey, first dropping off the advance party who would take leave early to cover the duty watch while we went on leave. The first leave lads took great pleasure in winding us up about the fact that they were going to see their families two weeks before the rest of us. They graffitied the ship with 'FLIB' (First Leave Is Best) and fcuked off to get flights back. We finally arrived in Pompey the night before we were due and anchored off Southsea, it was torture and you could hear the slags coming out of Jo's. Knowing that we were so close to home and seeing our loved ones was only a day away. It didn't stop us celebrating though. Channel night was epic, we got absolutely cnuted and even the Skipper came down the mess for a tin. We stuck a smaller lad to the deckhead with black maskers and played human kerplunk, taking a strip of tape off with each turn. If your strip caused him to fall to the ground, you were the next one to be stuck up. I still have the carpet burn scar on my nose from when I headbutted the deck as a I fell.

    The next morning we raised anchor, donned our number 1s and sailed into Pompey. As we passed round tower, I could see loads of people waving at us, some of whom had welcome home and congratulations banners because of our bust. As we neared the jetty, with a few celebratory blasts of the ship's horn, I spotted my family on the jetty, mum, stepdad, two sisters, uncle and grandfather had all come down to watch the ship come in. Leave was granted pretty much straight away and we all fcuked off ashore but not before plastering the entire ship with 'SLIB' (Second Leave Is Best) Graffiti for the benefit of the advance leave party who had now finished their leave and were about to settle into two nice weeks of duties.

    On returning home after my first deployment, I didn't feel like I'd changed much. Clearly I had though, my parents noticed that I had grown up, I noticed that my mates, many of whom were just starting their first year of A levels, were generally doing the same shit, but I had somehow moved on from that. I found that I had no trouble talking to or impressing girls any more, I made the most of this by banging as many birds as I could during leave, including my mate's sister who I had fancied for years. :)

    Next chapter Far East deployment.
    [​IMG]
     
  9. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz

    I was in Freemantle WA when my first sprog was born.
    It coincided with the ships dance, so everyone was ordered to attend who was not duty part. (Tons of fanny had descended on the dance what a fuckin shame. 8O )
    As I was still pissed from the dinnertime lashing up I had received from the mess I had to be assisted to the dance. I pulled, spewed, and then got re pissed.
    At both watches as I was still shiters they put me over the side painting the boot topping from the ships dory.
    The fanny boats kept coming to oggle us and at one stage they were arriving quicker than I could drop my trollies and moon. Anyhow I got a bit carried away as the beer was still coming down to me in canvas buckets from the POGI to shut me up. I lent back against the boot topping and stuck fast on the fucker. My mates thinking this was extremely good fun moved the dory and left me hanging against the ships side like a seasoned pile and I'm fucked if I could get free.
    Until, an extremely big bastard ship came passed at a rate of knots and loosened me up.
    All of a sudden I just slipped down like the friggin Titanic and at the last minute as my head went under I just sort of oozed off and came back up the jetty side of the ship as we were at the pointed end.
    I sat on a cat and thought fuck it let em worry about me. I was still there at secure, the bastards spent ten mins trying to find me then just finished the quoter for the day. It took me three weeks and about ten thousand mega sulks to find out they had in fact seen me on the cat and just pretended not to give a shit. Bastards. :D
     
  10. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz

    My hairline gives me an air of maturity that I don't deserve.
     
  11. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz

    So how old are you old boy? :roll:
     
  12. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz

    Careful, Rummers. That will cost you two werners sweeties to find out :twisted:
     
  13. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz

    He must be v young, though:

    Carrying carpet burn on his schonk from the carpets in a Mess Deck 8O
     
  14. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz

    When I think of the quartersine (if that's how you spell it) green decks in the mess decks, I think of a certain incident when we sailed from Bangkok in 68. I had brought a bottle of thai whiskey on-board, and we were playing uckers. The bastard 6 face fucker I was playing with gave me a splendid fuckin great mixy blob and as I arose to fit the board over his head, I knocked the bottle over.
    Fuckin hell we wipes it straight up and stood back in amazement as we saw a dirty great big brown stain on the deck. No bugger would drink the whiskey then so we flogged it to the RO's grot for four tins of beer.
    The bastards lived. :twisted: :roll: :oops:
     
  15. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz

    I'm fuckin grateful you only did 6 years if your writing you autobiography on here or my hair line will have gone over the hill and south.
    But I've learnt one thing from it,

    Ziga zaga ziga 2 deck is a niga. :roll: 8)
     
  16. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz



    Found it at Wiki under Linoleum:

    <<.....The heavier gauges of linoleum are known as "battleship linoleum", and are mainly used in high-traffic situations like offices and public buildings. It was originally manufactured to meet the specifications of the U.S. Navy for warship deck covering on enclosed decks instead of wood, hence the name. Most U.S. Navy warships in fact removed their linoleum deck coverings following the attack on Pearl Harbor, as they were considered too flammable. Use of linoleum persisted in U.S. Navy submarines,

    However Royal Navy warships used the similar product "Corticine". ....>>

    Steel wool (except boats) & Teepol only. NEVER polished.
     
  17. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz




    Yes it was Bob, don't you remember Glift and Gleam? :wink:
     
  18. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz

    2DD, enjoyed that mate, cheers.
     
  19. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz

    Thanks 2DD much appreciated and a good read :1:
     
  20. Re: Hope I don't sound like a spaz


    You creep, you stokers are always working a number 8O :D :D
    He ain't sending you no Tickler :twisted: :twisted: :D
     

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