My mate in civvy street, I dont have that many, was an ex jack. We had good fun in the pub after work comparing war stories. He didnt have any. Something he talked about one day has always had the ability to make me burst out laughing ever since when I think about that chat. It sort of sums up for me, anyway, the difference between boots and jacks. He and a few of his oppos were on an adventure training excercise in Dartmoor, you know the type where you get issued bright red cagoules from stores , and a ratpack for the day comprising 2 cheese and onion sandwiches, can of fizz, 3 custard creams and a piece of fruit wrapped up in a white cardboard box. The cooks loved putting them together. Anway, him and his mates were off tramping around, pissing down with rain, bright red cagoules in the middle of the dartmoor plains, when they stumbled upon a bunch of royals on excercise. Camouflaged to fu**, weapons ready, ready for an ambush I think. So the navy lads start to shout "coooeeee...we can see you" at the royals. These guys looked as though they had been stood too for hours, pissed wet through. The response from royals was not surprising..."f*** off jack". Sort of sums up for me the difference between the two arms. Great story. When he was on board, he was nicknamed "running log" as he always walked around with a clipboard, simulating that he was already busy..and didnt get tagged by ranks higher than him. He also got tagged with ships cat cos he was a lzy cnut. I could go on...I met another of his mates, he was a diver in the service, left and went to Africa to earn top dollar in the oil industry. Ended up with hepatitis b after shgging a local. Not sure what the point of this thread is, apart from to say I wish in hindsight I had the ability to join the Navy when I was 16 rather than the Army. Your stories are always better.