I was lucky enough to spend 2 years on HMS Ark Royal, an aircraft carrier, in the late 80s.  While on deployment in the Mediterranean, we had a 17 year old prospective Medical Assistant join us for 3 weeks.  Hed just finished basic training and had several weeks to wait before his MA course started.  This guy was 17 going on 12, very naive – in the nicest possible way.  He believed anything he was told and was ready to follow any order with enthusiasm.  I couldn’t help liking him, but also had a hard time not taking advantage of his willing personality.

I was a member of the seaboat crew and we were out 2-3x daily carrying out man overboard drills using a dummy.  The boat bay was about 45feet above sea level and the RIB (rigid inflatable boat) was swung out and lowered from a hydraulic boom on a cable.  Smudge (our intrepid prospective MA) was watching us one day & expressed an interest in coming out in the boat.  Smudge was promptly invited to play ‘man overboard’.  I told him we sometimes rescued a ships diver who would be dropped from a helicopter, but that he would have to jump from the side of the ship.  This was not really possible & there would be a fair chance of being sucked into the screws and turned into fish bait.  He said yes, but after looking over the side his face took on a worried look.  Once I saw this, I slowed things down.  Smudge was told it might be several days before he'd get the chance to jump.  Every day he’d ask if it was time.

3 days later we dragged him out of bed at 0500am and dressed him in a wetsuit, lifejacket, mask, fins and snorkel.  I strapped a dive knife to his leg and told him it was fend off sharks. “Poke them in the eye with it”.  We made him walk through the ship to the boatbay in full kit, breathing through his snorkel and peering through his steamed up mask.  He had to walk backwards up the stairwells.  People were backing up against the bulkhead to let him pass.  All 900 of the crew knew what was going on.  Only Smudge was less than blissfully ignorant.

When we got to the boatbay,  a ‘safety line’ was tied around Smudges waist.  He was told that when the time came to jump hed be untied.  The bosun sat Smudge on the edge of the ship.  He was so terrified that his trembling buttocks were lifting his body up and down.  The bosun counted him down from 5, and to give him his due, he moved to jump.  At the same time, 4 burly seamen heaved him back into the ship by his safety line.  Right at that moment, the ships photographer took a pic of the scene.  I had the Phot section make me a few copies that day.  For the next few years I stayed in touch with Smudges drafting and made sure a copy of the picture was on a noticeboard before he got where he was going.

Smudge – I wish you well, wherever you are & hope you have got over your POSD (Post Owen Stress Disorder)  I need to add that Smudges honour was upheld with help of CPOMA John Clinton.  JC helped Smudge turn the tables on Steve Moutrey and I.  Watch this space for the follow up dit…

I am still serving on HMS Yarmouth. We are now acting as guard ship in the West Indies.

So what is a guard ship? Basically the ship's duties are to patrol the islands and to respond to any requests for help, particularly in disaster areas. For example if an island was struck by a hurricane or tsunami we would provide search and rescue assistance, medical support and disaster relief.

Of course, during such a deployment there is usually plenty of opportunity for shore time to explore the islands. This is one of the better locations!

Now, let me explain a little about 'Jolly Jack' to you. He is away from home and tends to adopt the attitude that 'what they don't know, won't hurt them!" So, presented with the opportunity for, let's say, some female company, he usually doesn't try too hard to resist.

We are alongside in Antigua. This is one of the larger islands that is at once beautiful but of stark contrasts. On the one hand, there are beautiful beaches and expensive homes, on the other, there are many people living near the poverty line.

I am enticed ashore by a couple of my mess mates and we head out to find a suitable watering hole. This doesn't prove too hard and we settle down for a few beers! I haven't led a sheltered life but it takes me awhile to notice my surroundings fully.

While I sit at the bar I notice that there are quite a few of my ship mates here also. They regularly disappear upstairs and appear a little later. I casually mention this to my mates. They aren't concerned, after all we are sitting at the bar of a fairly large brothel! My ship mates are getting acquainted with the locals!

A few days later, we are back on patrol and my sick bay is pretty busy. I have about 25 cases of STD's (sexually transmitted diseases). This to Jack, is an accepted hazard of his life style! Around 15 of these new cases appear to have got their little problem from the same girl – yep, you guessed it – this group paid a visit to the brothel in Antigua.

So, many smears and painful injections later, all of the new cases are treated. The worrying thing, for me, is that it is during this period that the world is beginning to wake up to the threat of Aids. One of my roles is to lecture the crew on health & hygiene. But Jack, I think, always adopts the attitude to jump first and ask questions later!

Of course, as part of my stores I carry a good supply of contraceptives. I don't think there was a single occasion during my time on the ship that I was ever asked for any of these!

Extract from  a Navy Lark – memoirs of a RN Medic

It's New years eve 1984 – on board HMS Yarmouth on patrol in the South Atlantic. It's rough weather and the ship is rocking and rolling. No matter! It's Xmas – down to the mess for a few tinnies.

Now, I usually did not drink whilst on board – any medical problems and it was down to me. But, it was New Year's eve so I relented a little (for once we had a medical Officer on board – so he could take the weight a little).

A good few tinnies later (quite a few, actually) – I staggered back to the sick bay to get some shut eye. I only staggered, you understand, because of the rough weather!

I get woken on New Year's morning at around 0200 – there's been a bit of a rumble in the aft seaman's mess. Apparently, a Glaswegian and a Scouser, both the worse for alcohol, have had a bit of a falling out. I would point out that the Scouser is significantly bigger than the Glaswegian. Net result? Glaswegian is floored – he falls back and strikes his head on a hatch combing (this is the raised edge of a hatchway).

I, being a little under the weather myself, send for the Medical Officer. No chance, he's had a very good night in the wardroom – he can't even be woken from his slumbers! So, down to me then.

I get the patient onto my treatment table. Blood everywhere – quite a nasty gash – almost ear to ear. Obviously stitches required. This is easier said than done.

Picture it – very heavy seas, the ship is rolling all over the place, a very drunk Glaswegian on the table and, a not to sober, medic preparing to stitch his scalp back together. Not to inspiring is it?

I have one of his mess mates help me out with keeping the patient still and relatively quiet. First of all, local anaesthetic? No. He's so drunk, he won't feel a thing!

I get to work – a simple matter of closing the wound with sutures and then dressing it. Well, no. It proves very difficult, indeed. A number of factors conspire against me. First, a very drunk patient, a quite drunk medic and a treatment room that is moving around like a bucking bronco!

The job takes a good couple of hours – mainly because each time I thread the needle in to the wound the bloody ship lurches and I pull it straight back out again! Nevertheless, I finally get finished – a bloody good job under the circumstances.

Of course, that's not the end of it for me. The Glaswegian has sustained a serious blow to the head so, I spend the rest of the night, kept awake by copious coffee, keeping watch over the patient with regular head injuries observations. Happy, bloody, New Year!

It's now New Years morning, the ship's company has turned to. The Medical Officer pops his head around the door – "Quiet night?". Answer – "of course – no problems, Sir!"

I get the last laugh – the Glaswegian gets to clean my sick bay from top to bottom. Sailors, eh!

Extract from  a Navy Lark – memoirs of a RN Medic