I joined the Royal Navy in 1969 and after completing the compulsory nightmare, so-called basic training, was drafted to my first ship HMS Hermione (Herme One).
I remember going home on weekend leave and telling my folks in bullish excitement "I have my first ship, it's called Hermione and we are sailing soon".
After several attempts trying to get Dad to get the name right, my Mum then asked "Where you going Michael". To which I proudly replied "A nine month stint to the Far East".
This brought several minutes of wailing, moans, groans and shrieks of horror from Mum. Here was her precious son being whisked out of her protective bosom into an unknown arch enemy.... Naval life at sea...................
Two weeks later we docked in Gibraltar and on that very first evening, my initiation into the role of a matelots run ashore took place.
It was a mess run - the sailors mess of some 30+ radar rates and 'Doc' our LMA in tow crossed the gangplank and headed off out of the main gate down into the towns undergrowth......
Our first pub was 'Sugars Bar'. Owned and run by the quirky old shirt-lifter 'Sugar'. As we stood at the bar with the old hands joyfully engrossed in conversation with our host, one of the three- badgers turned to me and said "We are going to get Sugar to give us a bottle of rum and we want you to be the kingpin in help getting the bootie".
No problem I gingerly replied (I needed to please).
"Okay son, here's what happens. We sell you to Sugar for the principle sum of a bottle of Pussers Rum. You go upstairs in the bedroom at the top of the stairs as if to wait for Sugar whilst he hands over the goodies. Whilst he does the deed, you meanwhile shut the door, go over to the window and climb out. There you will find us waiting below to catch you. We all then run off with bottle in hand and finish off the stash... Okay!"
Nervously, but not wishing to look green, I replied "Alright, but don't be long".
"Now bugger off, the quicker you get upstairs the quicker we get to sample the dark stuff" hooky replied.
Going upstairs I quickly got to the top and found the bedroom door firmly shut. After several shoulder thumps the door sprung open and in I went. Closing the door immediately behind me I then turned around and looked at the remaining three walls............ No Bloody Window...... The Bastards.........
Once again I took to task in trying to open the door to make my escape and just as I managed to open my cell door, there springing up the stairs like a mountain goat was Sugar. It was no good, no escape to my left, right or my rear... oh my rear.. I was thinking very protectively of my rear...... There was nothing else in my brain that would help....... So, running down the stairs, screaming like a headless chicken about to have a baby (I never knew how a headless chicken manages to scream) I charged straight into Sugar, knocking him for six and scoring a strike as all balls and pins (legs) bounced down the stairs into one big heap at the foot of the bar..... Quickly picking myself up and zoomed straight out of the bar and ran for my bloody life (and my Bum).
After what seemed a lifetime (several seconds), I found my messmates, hid just around the corner, waiting for me.. all in absolute hilarity.. They were rolling on the floor in uncontrollable joviality... Worse was to come..... The barstewards had finished off the bottle of rum........
We all went off together, singing through the streets, with me in the middle.... I had been initiated..................