Some images from my visits to South Georgia and the Falklands – circa 1982 and 1984-85, HMS Leedscastle and HMS Yarmouth, respectively.

If you are single, Xmas in the Navy can be good fun, even when you are working.

Here's an example….

It's Xmas 1974, I am working on the officers ward at RNH Stonehouse in Plymouth. I have reached the heady heights of PMA (Probationary Medical Assistant). I am working the day shift over the Xmas period.

Xmas eve sees a pretty good 'thrash' going on in the Geneva club – the hospital bar. There is much alcohol and frivolity – a good evening is being had by all!

Note to self – in future try to keep alcohol consumption down to sensible levels when I have to work the following morning. On this occasion I fail to do this and get well into the fun! Frivolity and alcohol consumption goes on late into Xmas eve – no surprises there then!

The next morning sees me waking up not feeling quite as cheerful as the evening before. I have the mother of hangovers – take it like a man! I report for duty on the officers ward – smartly dressed in pristine ward whites, oh.. and 6 foot of tinsel wrapped around my neck. seemed like a good idea at the time – Xmas morning after all!

The sister in charge, takes one look at my sorry face (I must have looked terrible) and sends me to lie down in an empty room. This I do with gratitude and promptly fall asleep. Remember, I am supposed to be on duty.

Sometime later I am woken with a gentle shake. Let me explain something – it is a tradition for the senior officers of the hospital to do rounds on Xmas morning to spread some good cheer. I try to focus, still feeling bloody awful from the night before, this proves to be difficult. I am dazzled by the amount of gold braid that appears before my eyes!

It is, of course, rounds! There in front of me is a Rear Admiral, the Executive Officer, Matron and assorted others. Bloody hell! I must be deep in the mire. The Admiral wishes me a very merry Xmas, which I return. He about turns with the rest of the party and exits the room.

I promptly roll over and go back to sleep. To this day – I have no idea how I got away with it! I do remember that the Admiral in question was Rear Admiral Binns, he had come through the ranks – a fairly rare thing to achieve his rank (hell he was even rumoured to have tattoos!). Maybe, he remembered what it was like to be working on the wards at Xmas!

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

Whilst working on the wards in Plymouth in 1975 I became very adept at "laying out" the deceased. No idea why – just didn't seem to bother me that much. I was often called upon to help on other wards when I was on night duty…….

One Saturday night I was called upon to help on one of the surgical wards. So of I trot to do my stuff. In this case the patient had died from gas gangrene and had unpleasant, bubbling lesions along his spine – yuk!

Now this meant taking precautions. So my colleague and I gowned up, complete with masks and theatre hats – all in white. We prepared the body and then placed it in the bier (a metal box on wheels – used to transport the patient to the morgue).

I set off – just me and the body to the morgue. It was around 0100 on a dark night. The morgue was behind the hospital, close to the officers ward block and near to the staff quarters.

As I rounded a corner, pushing the body ahead of me I saw three staff members, obviously returning from a good night out at the other end of the hospital block, hove into view. I was some distance away but managed to have quite an effect on these 'drunken sailors'. They yelled as one and ran as fast as their boozy legs would take them to the staff quarters and disappeared from view. Hells teeth! What rattled their cages?

Ah!! Of course!. Picture the scene. You are returning from a good Saturday night filled with beer, you round the corner of a building and what do you see in the distance? A shadowy all white figure alone in the dark. The dark of an old military hospital reputed to have a good few un-departed souls. Well, you don't believe in this sort of rubbish, but, there it is, right in front of your eyes! Your first ghost! Of course, you run as fast as you, bloody well can!

Probably, the first and last time I will ever have such a 'spirited' effect on people!

Extract from  a navy lark! – memoirs of a navy medic

RNH Stonehouse 1974

Every month or so, can't remember exactly, there would be a new class of nurses arrive for training. This was quite an event for most of the male staff at the hospital – probably a slightly scary one for the new nurses!…..

The hospital, of course, had it's own bar called the Geneva club. It was here that ratings would gather in the evenings for a few beers, a disco or as a prelude to a run ashore. This was also a place of ordeal for a new class of 'baby' nurses.

I remember these nights very clearly. Once the new nurses had settled into their new surroundings they would pay their first visit to the Geneva club. It must have seemed like a cattle market to them. Male staff members would be in attendance to 'welcome them' and eye up the new talent! I'm sure that this first visit to the club must have been an uncomfortable experience.

Of course, these freshly pressed nurses would soon become extremely comfortable in their new surroundings. Stonehouse was a great place to live and work.

However, I always felt some sympathy on these nights and, would often introduce myself to help them feel welcome. I knew many, many nurses during my time at Stonehouse, purely as friends. There was many a good night at the Geneva club!

Extract from  a navy lark! – memoirs of a navy medic

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

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.

Steaming towards Ascension Island from the UK.

We have now settled into the routine. There are constant exercises – obviously, very necessary. An effective crew is one that has been well drilled. The aim is to practice for all eventualities – attack, fires, damage control, men overboard, aircraft ditches etc. As you can see, an awful lot can occur on board a Royal Navy ship…..

So, although repetitive exercises can seem a drag it is clear that they are vitally important. You never know when you might be called upon to put into action all that practice.

One of my duties is to train the first aid teams. These sessions would usually be undertaken on the flight deck (when not in use for other things). Remember, the average age of the crew is around 19-20 years old. Sometimes it is difficult to get the first aid teams to take the training to seriously – their minds are often on their normal duties and I don't think that they really believe that they'll need first aid skills.

The light hearted approach to first aid training was to change quite dramatically. I always believed that it was highly likely we would suffer losses; the Argentinian forces weren't up to much, really. But, the law of averages were against us.

May 4th saw an event that changed the attitudes of my first aid teams to training and one that concentrated the minds of the whole crew. This was the day that HMS Sheffield was hit by Exocet and sunk with the loss of 20 crew. It was now, obvious to all, that this was a bloody serious situation that we approached.

To their credit, my first aid team members, paid serious attention to my lectures and training. Although not called upon to perform under fire, I have no doubt they would have performed admirably.

 Extract from a navy lark!  – memoirs of a navy medic

8 Mar 06

A Royal Navy medic from Huddersfield has been doing her bit to help improve the lives of children in western Africa.

Medical Assistant Michelle Taylor, currently attached to the Royal Naval Hospital, Gibraltar, has just returned from Exercise Gambian Roller, a short-term training team detachment in the Gambia.

A Royal Navy medic from Huddersfield has been doing her bit to help improve the lives of children in western Africa.

Medical Assistant Michelle Taylor, currently attached to the Royal Naval Hospital, Gibraltar, has just returned from Exercise Gambian Roller, a short-term training team detachment in the Gambia.

Michelle, who joined the Royal Navy in 1999, jumped at the chance to be part of the medical team that deployed alongside the Royal Gibraltar Regiment soldiers. During her time in the Gambia, she provided the Infantry cadres with the vital medical cover they required.

She also helped out with the many community projects set up by the Royal Gibraltar Regiment to try and improve the lives of the local population. These included the building of a playground for children with learning disabilities. Hart House, near Banjul in the Gambia, provides care for children with physical and mental disabilities.

The project is funded locally but as the Gambia is one of the poorest nations in Africa, funding is very limited.

The work carried out by Michelle and the team from the Royal Gibraltar Regiment provided a much needed area for the children that will assist with their rehabilitation and allow them the freedom to enjoy a playground in a way that most of us would take for granted. However Michelle did not stop there.

Endeavouring to fill each spare moment, she also helped the Assault Pioneers to repair the bandstand for the final march-off parade, which included the salute being taken by none other than the Vice President of the Gambia Mrs Isatou Njie-Saidy.

Michelle also assisted in the running of clinics for the locals with Sergeant Johnny Zayas, an Army Medic from the Joint Medical and Dental Unit, Gibraltar. The two medics helped re-set a local man's dislocated shoulder and treated a young girl who had previously suffered a horrific leg injury.

The medical team also ran a bespoke medical training course for some of the Gambian Armed Forces medics, teaching techniques and procedures that are common practice that are required of a modern military medic.

The work of the British military personnel in helping the people of the Gambia did not go unnoticed. British High commissioner to the Gambia, Mr Eric Jenkinson OBE, said: "How wonderful it was to see the fantastic professionalism of the British Armed Forces at work in the Gambia."

On returning home Michelle, who has taken part in numerous exercises before but who regards Gambian Roller as the most rewarding and educational, reflected on her experience: "It was a unique experience, one that cannot be replicated in any other job. The people of the Gambia were great hosts, the children so fantastic, their warmth and love really shines through. Helping out in such a small way means so much to them. They appreciate things in a manner you wouldn't normally expect."

All pictures courtesy of HQBF Gibraltar.

Article reproduced with the kind permission ofwww.mod.uk/DefenceInternet/DefenceNews

24th May 1982

We've just taken up position with the task force in the Total Exclusion Zone (TEZ) in the South Atlantic.

There she is – HMS Hermes, the task force's flagship. Sort of gives you a warm, fuzzy feeling knowing she's close and that you are now part of the ring of ship's around her…….

Perhaps, we shouldn't feel so comfortable – why is the Hermes in the middle? Well, it becomes quite obvious on May 25th. This is the day that the Atlantic Conveyor and the Coventry are attacked.

The Atlantic Conveyor is closed up with the task force and is in it's position in the ring of ships surrounding the Hermes.

Here's something to consider – the Exocet – this missile caused untold damage to our ships. It was an Exocet that sunk the Sheffield – our first casualty of the conflict. Now, this missile is very difficult to counter – it can be launched by a Super Etendard at a distance of 47 miles away. It then skims 6 foot above the surface of the sea as it homes, rapidly, in on it's target.

Of course, one possible defence, if you are the flagship, is to surround yourself with other ships. I'm not sure whether this was the intention but it was certainly the effect. The Exocet, as it skims above the water, tends to hit the nearest lump of metal in it's way.

So, the Atlantic Conveyor took the full destructive power of an Exocet – it had no chance. I learned, later, from the Skippers diary that Leeds Castle had been directly between the Atlantic Conveyer and the aircraft while it was on the radar screen – hairy!

That warm, fuzzy feeling has long departed – never to return.

Extract from a navy lark! - memoirs of a RN Medic.