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and paraded about pretending to learn field-craft, signalling and shooting. At the
last I happened to be rather good, reaching the school shooting team about two
weeks after my first effort (my grouping, I learned, was as good as either of our
officers had seen in one so young) but the thing I most disliked was the incessant
parading about while being shouted out by Regimental Sergeant-Major Dowsing,
and the school Head Boy, who was our Company Sergeant-Major (and eventually
went to Sandhurst). Dowsing was actually a good man; he had fought in Italy
while a Regular, and taught us PE, but he above all reflected what many in our
type of school did not acknowledge, which was that it was his rank that had made
the Army so formidable (Major Lampard, the CCF’s senior officer, was reputed to
have managed during the war only to shoot down one of our own aircraft). It was
evident even to the boys that the officers patronised the rough-hewn Dowsing
(whom we respected) and that he in turn thought the officers a bunch of prigs, a
category well known to most of the pupils (who were pretty priggish themselves).

When at Warsash I had found, not to my entire surprise, that we had to again
learn drill. But Army and Navy drill, even the handling of rifles, was markedly
different; the army favoured much foot-raising and stamping. In the Navy, the
motions were smoother and swifter; basically, without the stamping. Our guide
was a Chief Petty Officer (CPO) whom we called Nelson; he had lost an eye in the
War, and, again, while disliking the drill, we all respected him. He was tough and
knew his business.

After settling in, we soon got down to the business of finding out what we were
there to learn. At the top of the tree was Whalley. He, I felt, would not be of much
moment to us; he liked pontificating, but was harmless enough. Immediately
beneath him was Captain Stewart, a formidable and very severe man whom I
had once seen smile, but with whom I had sailed on the School’s schooner and
observed to be a first-class seaman and ship’s commander. He, however, mainly
concerned himself the cadets yet to go to sea; as expected, he was not much seen
by MAR students.

Next day, we had our interviews. These were conducted by the disparate
staff; Captain Percy and Commanders McKillop and Peter Ward. I knew them
all; the first was an elderly waffler who had earlier taught ship construction and
could easily be parodied with his Geordie accent, but he knew his stuff and was
a good teacher, cordial and very knowledgeable. Mr McKillop was a different
cup of tea, and the denouement of his first lecture to us was instructive. We were
sitting around, chatting, when in he came, glared at us and declared, “I am going
back out and will return. I expect you all to stand up when I come back”. We
looked around and needed no real discussion; we were no longer schoolboys
and remained seated. He returned to silence. He was not happy but knew that
there was nothing that he could do; his paymasters were now the big shipping
companies. And finally, I was delighted to see the estimable Peter Ward, a very

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