Basic Training at HMS Fisgard
I’m writing down some memories.
You can start at Chapter One if you like or just keep reading here.
— 1982 —
New Entry training in the Navy was the hardest thing I have ever done.
There was a spate of movies about military training in the early 80s: Stripes, An Officer and a Gentleman, Heartbreak Ridge, Full Metal Jacket and many more. They all emphasised the brutality of military training but what we endured at HMS Fisgard was as hard as anything they showed on the big screen.
They picked us up at Plymouth station and took us over the Torpoint Ferry where we heard the chug-a-lug-a-lug of the chains for the first of many crossings, and as we arrived inside the gates of HMS Fisgard, they split us into one of six divisions. I was in Frew Div.
We were the biggest entry ever because Mrs Thatcher’s government realised that if you are going to fight a war on the other side of the world, you need engineers. The Navy called us artificers — ‘Tiffs’ for short — and we were signing up for a four-year apprenticeship plus five years return of service.
Each New Entry class was assigned two apprentices from a previous entry to show us the ropes. There were 25 of us in our dormitory (our ‘mess’) aged from 16 to 21 — Jimmy Mac was only 15½ — and we started gently enough.
They took us for a warm-up run in the morning and we marched over the road to HMS Raleigh to collect our kit and we marched back carrying a heavy suitcase and a full kit bag. The rest of Fisgard was empty until Sunday night and we spent the weekend learning how to iron our uniforms and polish our boots and brasses.
When Sunday evening came, apprentices from previous entries started arriving in dribs and drabs. They were all a little bit drunk and they all wanted to inflict the same torture they had endured when they first arrived.
The most common torture was to make us hang from the beams. Our dormitories were World War II huts and the beams were the angle irons that held the roof up. When someone shouted ‘Up on the beams!’, we had to climb up and hang there, with the angle irons cutting into our hands. They always added some cruel twist like ‘Space Invaders’ where we had to shuffle across the beams while they threw pillows at us to knock us down. Anyone who fell had to do 50 sit-ups or 50 push-ups and climb back up again. I must have done 200 of each that evening while someone beat me across the back with a steel bar the whole time.
At one point, a bunch of apprentices from another division came looking for someone to challenge their champion to a nipple-biting competition. Their guy was maybe 7’6″ and looked just like Jaws from the James Bond movie. They had heard that we had a big, black guy who might be a contender. I think Rupert was the only black bloke out of 300 New Entries – and he was the best of us – but to his credit, he declined to fight. Craig was willing though. Craig fought valiantly and lost a bit of blood, but he still had both his nipples by the end.
Pipe Down (bedtime) was at 11 pm and we woke at 5 am to the sound of clanging dustbin lids.
“Two minutes! Boots and Ovies! Go!”
We had to dress in our work overalls, put on our combat boots and go for a run. This would happen two or three times some nights but we got to lie in until 5 am that first time. We had to jog in double time as a squad — like you see in the movies. We’d stop now and again for 30 push-ups or 50 sit-ups and, eventually, we were introduced to the static tanks.
The static tanks were concrete tanks, about 30ft long and 8ft wide, that collected rainwater for fire fighting. They had not been cleaned since World War II and were full of dead bicycles, broken glass and green slime. We ran — hip deep — through every tank, and swam though a few more. We were lucky enough to be there in September; in January, they had to break the ice first.
New Entry training lasted a month, and this cruelty continued until the very end.
In between classroom learning and fitness, we’d march over to HMS Raleigh to watch a training movie. The movies we watched had all been made decades earlier and were all about the horrible sores that would grow on our cocks if we caught venereal disease in Hong Kong, or how we might die from accidentally setting off a missile if we tested its resistance without unplugging it first, or maybe about the third degree burns we would get on our genitals if we pissed on the 440V cables where the electricity came into the ship. If we fell asleep during the movie — and who wouldn’t fall asleep after 3 or 4 hours of sleep per night? — we’d be woken with the biggest kick up the arse or a smack across the shoulders with a walking stick.
Marching back to HMS Fisgard from the movie theatre was always an adventure. HMS Raleigh was the New Entry establishment across the road for everyone who wasn’t a Tiff, and everyone there resented us because we got paid more than they did and got promoted faster. This was their one chance to give us shit before we were all promoted to petty officer. One time we were called out by Lieutenant Shovelface for less-than-perfect marching, and he had all 300 of us doubling around the parade ground for half an hour and we missed our dinner. He made a big speech at the end about what a disgrace we were.
You are a disgrace to yourselves.
You are a disgrace to HMS Fisgard.
You are a disgrace to the Royal Navy!Any time we had to ourselves, we spent ironing our uniforms or polishing our boots. We had a ‘kit muster’ every week, where we had to put items of uniform out for inspection, with each in the size and shape of the ship’s book. We had extra kit musters as a punishment, when we broke any rules.
Worse than this was getting ready for P.E. (physical education), when we’d use half a can of starch until our t-shirt and shorts could stand up on their own. We’d head over to the gym in our underpants, carrying our shorts so we wouldn’t bend them until after the inspection.
P.E. lessons were fun! Seriously, I enjoyed them, but God help you if you couldn’t climb a rope.
In two movements…claim your… ROPE!
With the right hand on top…as high as you can reach…upwards and inwards… GRASP!
Two shifts… CLIMB!
On the right… make… FAST!We had to climb the rope and stand up on it, holding on with just one leg. There were two men in my class who could never climb that rope, and they got beaten with a big stick.
I’m third from top-left.
Four weeks of New Entry training passed quickly and our families came down to watch our Passing-In Parade. We marched past to ‘She Wore A Yellow Ribbon’ before going out to celebrate with our families, boys no longer.
Chapter three — In the Workshop — is here:
I’m writing down some memories.
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I’d love to hear from you if you were there on that fateful day in 1982 and I’d be delighted to tell you more if you weren’t!
!!!!!
Mere children. Science now tells us that the brain is still developing the ability to think like “an adult” until age 25 or so. At least I’ve read a couple of articles on the subject and that’s what they said 🙂
Do you look back after decades have passed, on the facts and your memories of feelings at the time, and think any part of this initiation protocol is responsible for any of the best traits you have exhibited or relied on as an adult in the years since?
I hope some of your fellow tiffs will add notes here. This is fascinating.
Tough questions, Janet!
I’ve read the same stuff about adult brains but I don’t think I buy it. Still changing, sure. Still developing, sure. Not adult until 25, I don’t think So. Almost everyone on my ships was under 25 and I don’t remember extra years adding extra maturity. People get better with experience, not with age.
I think the things the Navy asked me to do revealed a confidence that I might not have discovered otherwise. I’ve always been confident. Maybe it taught me a responsibility that would have taken longer to learn if I’d turned right instead of left.
I hope some other tiffs will comment too!
From my perspective, you chose the wrong gender to be born as this time around, and perhaps the wrong nation. Here in the Colonies, born female, I was first a Blue Bird and then, at the appropriate age, “flew up” to being a Camp Fire Girl, both of which were the joys of my life. Yes, we had uniforms we didn’t select, and yes, we had to participate in group activities whether or not any one of them was our personal favorite. To earn certain honor beads we had to learn to lay two different kinds of fires (the log cabin and the teepee) at which I excelled, and to light a fire without a match, which I never managed, but was clever enough to stick with my best friend who could throw whatever was handy together in any old way and get it lit, even in rain. There was the thrill of the first overnight camping trip, a backpack trip, during which it rained all night and our tents flooded and we were up all night digging and mending trenches, giving us great stories to tell once home. A real adventure! But with none of the sore hands from hanging from beams or rope climbs that you described. Next time, I’d encourage you to come back female in the Colonies and see if you don’t enjoy it more. Oh, and you’d need to specify that you’ve chosen to do that in the early 1940s. I can recommend it highly.
Sounds enchanting, Norma Jean!
My choice is easier to justify in retrospect though. It may not have always been fun at the time but I do get a warm glow of satisfaction looking back and I feel sorry for y’all who did not get to hang from the beams.
I loved reading this. I went the Brownies & Girl Scouts route just long enough to discover that the amount of adventure to be had was directly related to the personal interests of the volunteer leaders. While my little troop met in one classroom after school and learned knitting and embroidery, we could hear the troop in the room next door learning exuberant and exotic folk songs to sing and dances to dance and planning their big outdoor expedition for the season. We moved soon after and I didn’t live anywhere with active Camp Fire programs. In my next life I hope I’ll have the confidence to ask for a switch to the troop next door if it comes up again! But the positive and encouraging and constructive philosophy prevailed in the GS as it did in your CF organization. I think I would be a broken person had I had to endure the kind of torture RC has described in this post!
Hi Paddy, you need to explain what a “locker bar” is. It’s not something that is in common use, thus people might not understand what you were being thrashed with.
Good thinking! Explaining now.
Looking at the adult vs child brain comments is really interesting. I think the ‘initiation protocol’ that was used on us gave us a sort of a hybrid solution. I still have my kids brain when I need it and get really angry with todays muppets that think having to work a bit is unfair. 30 years out and I still miss it. Fortunately, I now dive with HMS Neptune dive club, keeping the mob in my life!
Right. I wonder if that’s a military thing in general. We had to be men from the very start but we could all act like kids when we needed to.
I’ll cover that when I get to Sea Training!
Hi
I joined along with a number of other naive, unknowing lambs in Jan of 82. I adore reading this as it reminds me of the pain we endured. No I was not one of the 3 class who inflicted the pain on your lot as I was that most hated of the tiffs, the A boy and was at Daedulus when you joined. Looking forwards to reading more of these fine grimacing times!
I was an A-boy too. Next episode is all about the extra time we had to spend in the factory to get it done. Maybe a few stories about Fisgard Fester.
As a pinkie wafu tiff you became the most hated in the fleet!
Indeed Nick we were, the most despicable of creatures, “Pinky A Boy Tiff” spat out so many times, but with the 24 weeks extra advancement from the professional courses I wore it with pride and my buttons at a really early age! I still had zits!
The horrendous new entry period is met with disbelief when related to both Raleigh and Dartmouth joiners of the same time. Those bloody bits of angle iron and locker bars…… do you remember the underpants removal ?
I got my crossed anchors before I was 21 so I was a no-badge PO when I joined my first boat. I ended up in Dartmouth and I couldn’t believe how easy it was there. Even the cleaning for Captains rounds… you just had to pick off the worst of the dirt. And I was in the bar every night with my mate Craig (who ended up a captain).
I forgot about the underpants removal. Shitnicking, they called it. Very unpleasant.
Sprog 😂⚓️🛠️
793 Bennett, great memories though.
Great place to start the journey, I wish I’d done more than 10 years
I left after 6. I would’ve stayed longer if I hadn’t been drafted to submarines.
Paul, I remember you, being an ex Bennet 79-3 myself.
Any ideas how I may contact Paul Pugh….he’s on my bucket list!
M. Clare
Hello Mark,
Long time no see
I came across this site purely by luck and your email to Paul Gorton, who I also remember from Bennett 79-3.
Drop me a line and you Paul its been a while
As a pinkie wafu tiff you became the most hated in the fleet!
That seems absolutely brutal! But I suppose all boot camps are pretty much the same. Just the same, 15 and 16 years old feels awfully young. I guess it’s one way to burn off a lot of defiance in “angry young men and adolescents .” What’s the survival statistics? Kudos to you for getting through it. Must have prepped you for challenges to come. Hugs, Sleuth 🕵️♀️
Out of 25 in my mess, we had one quit after just a few days. I don’t remember anyone else quitting.
Having been met at the Torpoint ferry by the pussers tilley, we debussed at Fisgard gates. One of those present looked up the main drag, past the figurehead, and said ‘nah, not for me’.
He about turned and strode off alone back towards the ferry!
Never knew, or cared really, about who he was. I’d be interested to hear if he thought he made the right choice tho!
Hate autocorrect.
Debussed ffs! 😊
I am down-sizing. I look at the picture of kit muster with envy.
Did you take that photo at the time you arranged your kit?
I think I liked backpacking (do Brits call it trekking) because everything I needed was on my back. Simplicity. A life with only the necessities in nature.
I listen to veterans in documentaries talking of their military experience with tremendous feeling mixed with longing.
When I traveled in England, I met a wonderful group of bird watchers on the Isles of Scilly. They had been friends for forty years. Though I knew most of the English words they spoke, I was clueless as to the topic of conversation. I loved it. It is the same when reading this post. Some of the military terminology flies right by me. No matter. It is good to feel lost at times.
It is pleasant to wait for the next post and all the responses. Keep up the good work!
I backpacked around the world for almost a year when I left the Navy. I had hardly anything in my pack but, if I got to do it over again, I would cut back even more. I wouldn’t even take a pack. I would love to do it again now.
Trekking and hiking are the same thing.
I posted a link to this on the Facebook group for HMS Fisgard and it turns out that there was a big cultural change between the 60s and the 70s. In the mid-60s they banned bullying but it came back in the 70s and it was out of control by the time I got to HMS Fisgard.
Some of the folks who were there from 1965-67 just flat-out called me a liar because it couldn’t have happened because bullying was not allowed. It happened.
bullying definitely happened, i’d never experienced anything like it. The severity depended on the division and senior class. I was 821 Tribe and 812 were our senior class; some nasty cruel boys made life hell if you didn’t fit in. Did it make me a better person? no. Did it ruin some peoples self esteem and end their naval career dreams before they had started? in some cases, yes.
It was hard. I wonder if it was a coincidence that all the US movies popped up around that time where new recruits had to deal with horrible bullying.
Enjoyable read. I was S51 (May 1964)so a bit before your time. I don’t recall the bullying that you describe though. I was 16 when I joined and had to sign on for 12 years, after the age of 18. I was quite a shy fellow when I joined, but coped quite easily as my parents had brought me and my siblings up to be self-sufficient…. Ironing, washing clothes, cooking, darning socks, sewing on buttons etc… dead easy! Likewise, we were an “outdoor” family so expeds were a doddle, which I enjoyed.
Once I had my unit ticket and was out of “training”, 7 years later, I loved the job, the travel, the cameradery in the tiff’s mess.
However I left at 30 as I had no interest in being a “chief tiff” and so drafty had decided I would go on the nuclear long course and then subs… not likely!
Also I had met the girl that I wanted to marry and she wasn’t too keen on me being away for months on end, so I left.
I do miss the morning watch, flashing up…… that gave me a lot of satisfaction. 🙂
Thank you, Andy!
I did OK with care of my kit stuff as I had been in the Sea Cadets for 3 years before I joined up and my mum made me take care of my uniform. I was also pretty fit.
I also have fond memories of the quiet of the middle watch and enjoying a bacon sarnie afterwards. Hated it at the time!
Anyone from 862 & 863. I was in fisgard that time.
4 weeks of basic training.? I joined Lane division as part of 792, I seem to remember it being 6 weeks of basic training before your family were allowed to come and watch your passing in parade. Great read that dare i ssy it, is bringing back on the whole great memories.
Definitely four weeks, Jan. Glad you enjoyed it! I enjoyed writing it.
Pretty sure I remember you John, Ivan, also from 792.
Another cool visitor! Petty Officer Fletcher in the white shirt in the middle of our div photo. He left me a comment on another post.
He’s the one who inflicted all our pain, and made us run through the ‘static tanks’. Happy memories!
Fascinating stuff! My late father was the DO of Grenville at one point during his career in the Fleet Air Arm.We lived in the MQs down the road and I remember playing squash with him in the court in Raleigh, and swimming in the pool at Fisgard.
I’ve seen Paul Pugh reply to my post but it was months later and I’m not able to reply for some reason.
Stumbled my way back here accidentally but will check in weekly from now on.
It would be grand to hear from any 79/3’s – 80/1’s particularly Bennet, and especially PP.
I’m looking for PP on Facebook too but no luck so far. I don’t claim to be a digital wizard, so anybody with ideas or skills, please hit me up.
WAFU’s forever! 😊
I’ve been super busy for the last year, but I should have more time now, and I’ll start writing again this week. Next up: crazy episodes at Fisgards like 100 vs 100 pillow fights, being beaten into unconsciousness to celebrate our gold. Buttons, Scraesdon and more.
Mark, drop me a line on p.pugh@mail.com or copralite@ntlworld.com
Or
Call me on 07904 639960
PP