The Sailor, the Sultan, and the Tiger

The Sailor, The Sultan and the Tiger

Whale Island, Sept. 1961.

A navy is an army
entirely surrounded by water.
Spike Milligan.

Whale Island, H.M.S. Excellent, to give its correct naval title, was the R.N. Gunnery School, Portsmouth.

I’d just paid off from H.M.S. Scarborough, a Whitby class frigate, after service in the Far East, and was given a draft chit to ‘Whaley’ to undergo six months of torture. I was press-ganged, I told them. I was filled with scrumpy and led screaming to the island, I told them. They said I’d volunteered. Whale Island, where every human function was performed at the double. You moved at the double, slept at the double, ate, wanked and dreamt at the double.

You saluted anything that moved, you saluted anything that didn’t; you then spoke, ran and crapped at the double. I saluted Whale Island in general and cursed my lot with a well-used naval expression, “I don’t mind a joke but fuck a pantomime.”

Whale Island was polytheistic. G.I.s (gunnery instructors) were gods. They were also reputed to be bastards. I found them, when off duty, to be human beings who found it necessary when on duty, to be bastards.

G.I.’s were the naval equivalent of army drill instructors. Ramrod straight, immaculately pressed uniforms, black gartered. A large orifice somewhere in the region of beneath the nose and above the chin issued forth a steady spray of spittle and strange language.

“Eft ite, eft ite, eft ite,” echoed daily round the huge parade ground. Sailors were sent into orbit for misdemeanours. An orbit was a lap of the parade ground, at the double; rifle held aloft. Matelots became shorter with each lap. Six-foot sailors became five-foot sailors in six months. Whale Island was a producer of nautical midgets.

Whaley was reached via a bridge; not much more than one-hundred-and-fifty yards long, single file traffic only. A set of traffic lights adorned each end; controlled by an able seaman at the main gate.

I drove onto the island in my battered Austin A40 van, bought on leave in Bradford for £15. A label from a Guinness bottle sufficed as a tax disc, a crumpled cover note nestled in my pocket next to my driving licence, so I was legitimateish.

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4 Comments

  1. artie shaw

    I was at Whale Island in Sep 61 as a Junior stores assistant

    • Tony Wright

      Hello, Artie, I was on course most of the time so didn’t see much of the ship’s company. Spent a lot of time at Frazer gunnery range. I’m on Facebook a lot of the time, great laughs with former matelots. Why not join us. Shiner.

  2. Ginge Deary

    This book is so good I nearly bought it twice!

  3. Andy Sherratt

    Shiner, your book is the d.b’s! I had almost forgotten just how life and times in a mess deck was in the 60’s. I joined as a Greenie in”62, first ship Manxman (FES), then Urchin, then a few more until ’86!!
    The book is a great read, it covered all emotions, never losing the great humour of the matelot.
    I just hope there is a sequel?

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