Yes I well remember being ' fresh meat' – and yes a rather unsettling experience.

Whats funny though as the years passed is watching the following classes join and go through the same! – You medics never changed, and some became renowned for their actions on 'the new class'.

Class 57 was elite, we were the last fully naval trained class, before the school of nursing joined with the Portsmouth hospital, to provide the RN's nurse training of the future.

Six months after the start of our training it all came to a halt! – War had been declaired in the Falklands and nurses six months in to their training were then found to be nursing….full on…….no experience, but we learnt a hell of a lot.

What an honour to nurse those who returned, wounded physically and mentally we helped them through……..although I'm sure they still live with many a scar.

I remember sitting on the sea wall late one night with Kevin Crook, watching most of his mates sail out. He was gutted not to be with you, but not being fit following smashing up his leg, it was not to be.

Too much in my mind and so many memories.

I wish all of you a Happy and Restful Christmas.

Anyone who knows me, get it touch…….Love u all

Sarah

Being brought up on an island meant that I had led a rather quiet, sheltered life prior to joining up. One great revelation – and a source of fear and fascination in equal measure – was the Haslar Club pay day disco and the resident platter spinner…..

Being brought up on an island meant that I had led a rather quiet, sheltered life prior to joining up.

One great revelation – and a source of fear and fascination in equal measure – was the Haslar Club pay day disco and the resident platter spinner. Ladies n' Gennelmen, I give you Barry Dyer!

I challenge anyone who was at Haslar in the early 70's and used to go along to the discos (is there anyone who didn't?) not to remember Barry's sign off tune and the last chance it represented to have a slowy and, who knows, a quick snog on the way back to F Block. There was never a square foot of free dance floor once the strains of this song were heard… Why didn't someone come up with the concept of an "all slowies" disco? Be still my beating heart!

As we all know. Haslar and Stonehouse are no longer Naval hospitals.  They were centres that offered the highest levels of care and cleanliness to it's service and civilian patients a like….

Although, predominently a Stonehouse rating I, nevertheless, held both of these hospitals in high regard. The levels of training and care provided by both of these hospitals put many of the NHS Trusts in the shade. I have fond memories of both.

Sad times indeed for a proud Medical Branch. They will be both, sadly missed.

Progress? I think not.

Mick Wright

1973 – 1987

Like the website lots of stories are probably exagerated now. It probably adds to the magic of the tale (sometimes). Here are a few from Gib – names removed for a variety of reasons but you know may recognise them?

A few dits about the days in Gib when the good ideas club shutdown the Hospital to see if we could set up an MDHU at St Bernards.

In the late nineties we (MA and Nurses) at RNH Gibraltar had been carrying out some resus training in the Casualty of B block. It was decided between the 3 of us ( an irish nurse now a Sir , a big bearded POMA ? and MAQ with a famous Aunty) to see if we could get a little reaction from some members of the locally raised militia (Gib regiment), by placing the resus dummy in a body bag with the zip half open and carry it past them dropping it half way with the arm falling out.  This had the required affect and cleared the waiting room with much "ai carumba!".

Using the ceremonial shovel to bury a Hospital Cat and quickly wiping the mud off it before a formal VIP visit.

Driving down to Europa point in the ambulance after taking someone to St Bernards in the small hours.  As we approached we could see the little vans as the smugglers collected their gains, I thought it would be amusing to hit the blue light much to the  surprise of the smugglers who froze for a second then scattered. The driver (local) nearly had a heart attack as his cousins were out that night (surprising in GIb!) with him swearing away and the MA in the back rolling around the floor laughing.

Collecting a little old lady from the top floor of the flats in the Laguna (probably why the Police asked us to do the job).  Carrying her down stairs to be met by the excitable family and onlookers. A bit of a melee ensued before we could get her into the ambulance and drive off with what I think are two relatives sat next to her. She cannot speak much English so,  I ask the relatives to translate.  They both look at me blankly, and tell they don't speak English either and she is not related; they were neighbours interested in what was going on!  At St Bernards all the family have arrived and we cannot get the ambulance near to the door, so this little old lady is  passed over the cars in a cross between the chuckle brothers and a catholic parade of the Madonna. Lots of learning from that one!

1 Mar 07

A Baby Friendly Award has been presented to midwifes at The Royal Naval Hospital (RNH), Gibraltar, making it the first military hospital to win international recognition from UNICEF (United Nations Children's Fund).

The Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen and Families Association Forces Help (SSAFA FH) midwifery team, based at the hospital, were supported by the hospital commander to join forces with UNICEF UK's Baby Friendly Initiative. They aimed to increase breastfeeding rates and improve care for mothers at the Royal Naval Hospital.

The Award was presented by His Excellency the Governor of Gibraltar, Lieutenant General Sir Robert Fulton KBE and the event was attended by the midwives, SSAFA FH staff, members of the Command and some of the families who took part in the initiative.

The Baby Friendly Initiative, set up by UNICEF and the World Health Organisation, is a global programme, which provides a practical and effective way for health services to improve the care provided for all mothers and babies and provide support to enable successful breastfeeding.

The Award is given to health facilities after an intensive assessment by a UNICEF team has shown that recognised best practice standards are in place. The assessment involved one to one interviews with all midwives, the hospital paediatrician, and pregnant or newly delivered women.

The Baby Friendly Initiative Programme Director, Andrew Radford said:

"We are delighted that the Royal Naval Hospital has achieved full Baby Friendly status. Surveys show us that most mothers want to breastfeed but don't always get the support they need. Mothers at the Royal Naval Hospital, Gibraltar can be confident that their midwives/health visitor will provide the highest standard of care."

Article and picture published with kind permission from:  www.mod.uk/DefenceInternet/DefenceNews/

I live in the north east now, have done for many years. I love it up here for lots of reasons, but when those winds come off of the North Sea in winter straight from Siberia I'm sometimes in danger of falling out of love with the place again, if just for a second.

To warm me up psychologically I often drift back to my time on The Rock in the mid-eighties. I don't know a single member of the medical branch who doesn't put their time spent at sea at the top of their "great times I had in the Andrew" list and I'm no different in that respect. However, my time in Gib, despite some…er…run ins with the authorities, runs this a close second.

It was a magical time where it felt as though the right bunch of people had come together in the right place and time to almost guarantee maximum fun. Even work was fun most of the time – not something I can say hand on heart about RNH Guzz once I'd started to climbing the greasy pole.

I have a photo of the flagstaff on the edge of the tennis courts at RNH Gib, taken at sunset. Swallows (or was it swifts?) dart around and the coast of North Africa lies tantalisingly near, clinging on to the horizon. I can still feel the warm evening breeze, so welcome at the end of a hot summer's day of working afternoon shift on Families Ward and the enormous feeling of wellbeing it induced. I felt like one of the luckiest people alive – everything was very laissez faire then, despite being on a military fortress, in those pre- 9/11, pre- Gulf War days. We were where it was at – and we knew it.

After sunset it would be time for some assorted kitchen scraps in Rooke Barracks, a flick at the Queen's, a barbie (there was always a barbie somewhere), pichitos in Jim's Den or a pint; maybe in the mess or The Matchbox or The Wembley Bar, The Coach & Horses, The Angry Friar, The Hole In The Wall, The Bull & Bush, The Captain's Table or any other of the multitude of little bars clinging to that tiny, cosy rock at the edge of Europe and Empire.

They haven't got the Yorkshire Dales its true, but what do have, and will always have, is a little piece of my heart.

I was serving in RNH Gibraltar between 1969-70 and I remember that one night on duty there was a Sub smash and HMS/M Auriga had a battery explosion in the Straights. Dr Toumy, MA Mick Barraclough LMA Soapy Watson and myself, then an MA, were sent out to board it to treat the injured.

The Captain of the Hospital then was Captain Binns. A few months later I voluntered for the Submarine Service.

My other claim to fame was being sent on board HMS Shavington from Gibraltar to Faro in Portugal to give medical cover to a bunch of Sea Cadets.

While I was in Portugal I rescued two Sailors from the local Police Station on the way back from shore. they were grateful but not so much as they might be as it cost them their TOT for the rest of the trip.

I now have the pleasure of being the Chaplain to the Sea Cadet Corps in the Falkland Islands.

Small world isn't it. I met my wife in Gibraltar. God Bless You All.

Fr Peter Norris SFO
Parish Priest St Mary's Stanley.

HMS Antelope took part in the Falklands War. On May 23, 1982, while Antelope was on air defence duty at the entrance to San Carlos Water, protecting a beachhead established two days earlier, she came under attack by Argentine A-4 Skyhawk jets. Not long after the ship exploded while bomb disposal worked onboard.

This was a particularly sobering experience for me. Let me explain…

Back in 1980, I think, my mate Andy Till and I were serving at the naval airbase – HMS Osprey in Portland.

Now, both of us had not yet had a draft to a ship – this is 7 years after joining the Navy. This was not particularly unusual, there were a lot of medics and not too many ships. Nevertheless, both Andy and I were keen to serve on board a seagoing warship – after all, that's what we had joined and trained for.

The Navy attempts to send you on draft (new posting) to the ships or establishments you asked for. Often this is not possible. Andy and I both put down Antelope as a choice for our next draft.

At the time, I had been dating my girlfriend, Sue, for a month or so – nothing too serious at this stage (she is now my wife of 26 years and counting). Whilst having a beer or two at HMS Osprey's club, the Flying Fish, I happened to mention to Sue that I had put in for the Antelope. Well! She rushes out of the club in tears. Now, what the hell had I done? Women, eh!

It was obvious that our relationship was a little more serious than I had thought. So, I withdrew my request for the Antelope. Subsequently, Andy got the Antelope as his next draft. So there you have it, my best mate sailed to the Falklands in 1982 on the Antelope and the rest is history. Fortunately, Andy survived the fate of the Antelope, at least physically. I saw him a few years later – he wasn't the same happy go lucky guy I used to know.

There are no guarantees that I would have got the Antelope if I had left my request in place – there is a good probability that I might have. I do know, that Sue, inadvertently, stopped me making what could have been a fatal mistake….

Footnote. The Antelope had been in the TEZ for one day before it was crippled.

Extract from – a Navy Lark! - Memoirs of a Royal Navy Medic

So, what makes a hero?

Is it a member of the public who takes on a bank robber, a man who saves a child from a burning house or a soldeir who storms a machine gun nest? Who knows – I'm sure we all have our views…..

The Falklands war saw men hailed as heroes – some were, some were not. I'd like to tell you about a man who was.

Heroism can take many forms; from the person who finds himself in an extraordinary situation and responds with gut instinct, to the military figure who is expected to do his duty. These people don't view themselves as heroes. They were there at a moment in time and just did what they thought was right.

I try not to name people in this blog, but Bob Young deserves mention. I first met Bob in 1973, we joined up at HMS Ganges as naval medics and were in the same class. He is a decent sort, from the west country, down to earth taking pretty much everything as it comes with a matter of fact approach.

We move forward to 1982, a time when servicemen were to find themselves thrust into extraordinary circumstance. When we joined up in 1973, I am sure that none of us actually considered that there was the remotest possibility of going to war. We were wrong.

Bob was serving on HMS Ardent at the time and found himself in the heat of the conflict. On May 21, 1982 the Ardent was sunk with the loss of 22 lives. Fortunately I was too meet Bob again, soon after this tragic event.

The Leeds Castle was tasked with transferring troops from the QE2 to the Canberra in preparation for their return home. I was amazed and relieved to meet Bob on board – he had survived relatively unscathed physically, emotionally was probably a different matter. This is what he told me.

Whilst under attack from Argentine planes Bob found himself at one of the Seacat launchers tending to a severely injured officer, unfortunately this man was fatally injured. Bob stayed with his patient, trying to make him as comfortable as possible by administering morphine.

While doing this, Bob described to me, witnessing the incoming Argentine aircraft dropping their bombs – he watched the bombs fall on the flight deck below him. The ships helicopter and the crew attending it disappeared before his eyes. He still remained with his casualty.

I asked him what was going through his mind during this attack. He just said, he had to concentrate on his job. It struck me that he retold this harrowing tale in a calm, matter of fact manner. No histrionics or drama. He was just doing his job.

To my mind, that is true heroism. I for one, salute you Bob.

Extract from a Navy Lark! – Memoirs of a Royal Navy Medic.