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We took on the 16th Field Ambulance & it was good to have some soldiers onboard that we could relate too. But the best for me was taking onboard the Ghurkhas. I watched as they arrived & fell in on our deck in Seaview ward, now clear of beds. Each Ghurkha had the body of an Upland goose in his hand & more kit on his back than I could ever manage to walk the length of the ship bearing, let alone yomp with & some had extra equipment like the crucifix for the motors & LMG. They were small, excitable & smart as hell. They were soon shown down to the lower mess decks (which had previously held the walking wounded) & were soon sending they own chefs to the galley to cook they own curries.
At some point before we sailed we celebrated the Uganda’s 30th birthday. The grand old lady had been the oldest ship in the task force; another good night was had by all.
And so finally they could hold us no longer. & we slipped our anchorage& set sail for the Northern hemisphere. The journey back didn’t take as long as the trip down, or so it seemed. I remember bronzing on the deck chairs trying to re charge the tan long since faded from our last passage through the tropics. I don’t know had we spent all our time, just chillin mostly & that had a good effect on many; gave them time to come to terms with the events they had witnessed & in the case of the injured, begin to come to terms with injuries & disabilities.
Just before we left I sent my last letter to the RGF. I told her I had arranged to swap draft with another medic whose wife had just given birth & he wanted a shore base for a while. I took his draft of HMS Hermes, a carrier. It wasn’t due to go anywhere for 6 months at least as it was in dry dock but having finally had a taste of the sea I knew this is what I wanted.
Just off Cornwall & we received our last mail. Some letters were ones that had never made it down South months ago, other s were very recent (custom was to number the backs so if you got several together you could read them in order). I got my last one from the RGF. It started ‘Dear John, I don’t want a boyfriend who is always away at sea, it’s over.’
Now I was only 36hrs way from meeting her at the hospital & hopefully renewing our acquaintance, to be dumped at such a time was a real bitch. I mean we were homing coming heroes, right? Of course it would have ended once she heard about Sindy from the others but at least I’d have got a good couple of wks leave with her first.
We arrived of the Needles by evening & could have entered Southampton Sound but were held off overnight going around the bloody Isle of Wight so await a reception committee they had laid on for us. I can assure you none wanted to hang around whatever the reception. We had seen some news footage of the other war ships coming back to Pompey & Guz & it was truly inspiring but coming back late, on our own, as a non warship, we knew we would slip under the radar.
Sir John Knott, flew onboard in the morning & stayed with us as we got into our number ones & prepared to perform Procedure Alpha. That’s were the whole ship’s company lines the decks in full rig & stands to attention as the ship enters harbour until she ties alongside. We found a good position & kept trying to tell the nurse that it wasn’t the done thing to wave at the dockies, just coz they waved to you!
Soon we were picked up by the harbour tugs & they let rip with their horns, sirens & gave us an escort to our berth with fire hoses fountains dazzling in the sunshine. As we neared our berth we discovered we hadn’t been forgotten after all. There were hundreds waiting for us, cheering madly waving balloons & messages to individuals onboard. A couple of ladies on a pleasure yacht took off & waved their bikinis. We had sheets painted with ‘Mother Hen’ & ‘Jack’s coming home’ ect.
The bands were playing & we were cheering our well wishers, it was the headiest & most amazing day. Many returning servicemen of the yrs have come back with barely a thank you but they did us all proud that day.
There was a special contingent from Fleet & Church Crookham to meet the Ghurkhas. Having lived there for 10yrs, I knew the locals had a very good relationship the Gurkhas & didn’t want them to feel left out, as they wouldn’t have had any family to meet them.
My Mother, Father & sister were there & my best friend (& much later best man). The last night I had won 200 fags & had already brought 200 for my mother. After repeated threats about not declaring everything to HM Customs, I tried to make a declaration but was being pushed through by the crowd & Customs. ‘I have to declare something.’ ‘What’s that then?’ ‘200 fags extra’, he smiled & waved me through. Shame I hadn’t had a few boxes of Havana’s that fine day.
As we descended the gangway we were trying to spot our families so we knew where to try & make too once we had cleared the Customs shed. I had my seaman’s kitbag on my shoulder, weighing a ton& a Pusser's suitcase in my other hand, when I was hit on all sides in a group hug. I was ware of others all around us, clutching each other as mothers held the sons they worried for months that they might never see again, fathers actually embracing sons & children shyly approaching the fathers & brothers that had left so long ago. They were kids wearing deely boopers on their heads & Ra Ra skits, two fashions that had arisen since our departure & disappeared shortly after with the fading August sun. My Father asked my where I wanted to go & I said ‘Lets get out of here & go to a pub; I could with a decent pint’. And for once my teetotal father understood.
I waltzed into the bar like jolly jack tar, gold badges gleaming, hat at a jaunty angle & ordered couple of beers for me & my mate. I was kind of hoping mine host would say ‘No worries lads these are on me’ but then I guess not every one was caught up in the fever. After lunch we headed for Haslar, as I had to get a leave pass before I could go home with my parents.
Once inside Haslar I got the pass & with my parents waiting patiently in the car & took a detour to the Nurses quarters. I asked for the RGF & was told she was playing hockey (she used to play for the hospital). As I was leaving she came walking up in her hockey kit. I took her aside & sat her on my knee, as I tried my best to get her to give us another chance. I even offered to take her away the following weekend to Paris. She said she’d think about it & we kissed there, as my hands caressed her grubby thighs & my feelings were transmitted though her short shirt & navy blue hockey knickers.
I went home I phoned her later that night. She’d thought about it but it was definitely over. She needed a man but she needed one who would be with her, not travelling the world.
I was devastated, we to be frank frustrated but I had an ace up my sleeve. I made a phone call to the very recently widowed mother. ‘Hello is that Mrs D.?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘I am a journalist from the Nursing Times; I believe your daughter has recently returned from the Falklands & wondered if we could talk to her?’ ‘Oh, I don’t think she is supposed to talk to the press.’ ‘I understand but we have published the story of a nursing sister & even one of a medic but we haven’t really got the story of what it was like for an ordinary nurse in the Falklands’. ‘Oh, just hold on then’.
‘Hello?’ ‘Hi, sorry to disturb you on your leave but I am from the Nursing Times & we really wanted to get the inside story of live onboard the Uganda during the Falklands. We have other accounts but we really feel that you could give us a different perspective’. ‘Oh, I don’t know, I we aren’t supposed to talk to the press’. ‘Yes but we already have a Nursing sister’s story & even as medic, um a Simon Dove, do you know him?’ ‘Yes’ she said cautiously. ‘Well what can you tell us about life onboard, you must have had some dreadful moments?’ ‘Well yes we did’. ‘Yes but some better times too I guess?’ ‘Well of course we had a good camaraderie’. ‘Yes, I believe some of the nurses had a lot of camaraderie?’ ‘Um, I don’t know what you mean?’ ‘Well it wasn’t called the Love Boat for nothing was it? In fact I have heard you were very good friends with Simon.’ ‘Who told you that?’ ‘Well we have our sources but is it true you suggested he could drop around for a coffee when he got back?’ ‘I, I…’ ‘Well would tomorrow be okay?’ What?’ ‘Well I could drop around tomorrow if you’d like to see me.’ ‘SIMON IS THAT YOU? ‘Of course who else would be interested in an ordinary nurse’s story?’ ‘*****! You can’t just pop around anyway, I am in Yorkshire’. ‘Yes dear, I dialled a Yorkshire number to find you’. ‘Actually how did you find me, I never gave you my mother’s tel no. Well us journalists have our methods; I just worked my way through the D.’s in the your town until I found you’ (True!).’ Do you think your mother would mind, I mean intruding at this time’. ‘I’ll speak to her’.
The next morning I left my bewilded parents, having been home less than 24hrs & set forth for a town further North of Watford than I’d ever cared to go before. She met me at the station & it was slightly awkward for a moment or two. I explained that I’d been dumped & was therefore a free agent & would very much like to see if we could re-kindle the long & intense friendship that we had enjoyed just a few wks previously. That night I slept on a camp bed in the living room (yes we really used to do that sort of thing, no sharing beds in the parental home), I wasn’t going to push my luck on what I was hoping would turn into a long term relationship & upset her mother, by creeping along the hall way to her daughters room. And for once my common sense & patience in the long game was rewarded, when she slipped back into the living room.
A week later my parents held a home coming party & all my relatives & few of my friends came over. Sindy came down & stayed for a few days (separate beds again). I went back to Haslar after my fortnights leave to be told by the sisters on the wards, we were just to get back into the basic routine of nursing, no glamour here. Just graft as they had, as they manned the wards without leave during the conflict; even though they had wanted to go down South but had never been given the chance. In fact they gave us grief for about 6months. I never did get the Hermes, for some reason the swap draft wasn’t accepted & to add to the irony, the ex RGF ended up with Welsh Medic who was serving on the …Hermes! By Christmas I managed to get drafted out of the hospital & start a new life, with beautiful & passionate Sindy as the new RGF.
See short clip documentry of the Uganda's work & homecoming.ssuganda.post-211-1211069107.jpg
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6FowyYMokg
At some point before we sailed we celebrated the Uganda’s 30th birthday. The grand old lady had been the oldest ship in the task force; another good night was had by all.
And so finally they could hold us no longer. & we slipped our anchorage& set sail for the Northern hemisphere. The journey back didn’t take as long as the trip down, or so it seemed. I remember bronzing on the deck chairs trying to re charge the tan long since faded from our last passage through the tropics. I don’t know had we spent all our time, just chillin mostly & that had a good effect on many; gave them time to come to terms with the events they had witnessed & in the case of the injured, begin to come to terms with injuries & disabilities.
Just before we left I sent my last letter to the RGF. I told her I had arranged to swap draft with another medic whose wife had just given birth & he wanted a shore base for a while. I took his draft of HMS Hermes, a carrier. It wasn’t due to go anywhere for 6 months at least as it was in dry dock but having finally had a taste of the sea I knew this is what I wanted.
Just off Cornwall & we received our last mail. Some letters were ones that had never made it down South months ago, other s were very recent (custom was to number the backs so if you got several together you could read them in order). I got my last one from the RGF. It started ‘Dear John, I don’t want a boyfriend who is always away at sea, it’s over.’
Now I was only 36hrs way from meeting her at the hospital & hopefully renewing our acquaintance, to be dumped at such a time was a real bitch. I mean we were homing coming heroes, right? Of course it would have ended once she heard about Sindy from the others but at least I’d have got a good couple of wks leave with her first.
We arrived of the Needles by evening & could have entered Southampton Sound but were held off overnight going around the bloody Isle of Wight so await a reception committee they had laid on for us. I can assure you none wanted to hang around whatever the reception. We had seen some news footage of the other war ships coming back to Pompey & Guz & it was truly inspiring but coming back late, on our own, as a non warship, we knew we would slip under the radar.
Sir John Knott, flew onboard in the morning & stayed with us as we got into our number ones & prepared to perform Procedure Alpha. That’s were the whole ship’s company lines the decks in full rig & stands to attention as the ship enters harbour until she ties alongside. We found a good position & kept trying to tell the nurse that it wasn’t the done thing to wave at the dockies, just coz they waved to you!
Soon we were picked up by the harbour tugs & they let rip with their horns, sirens & gave us an escort to our berth with fire hoses fountains dazzling in the sunshine. As we neared our berth we discovered we hadn’t been forgotten after all. There were hundreds waiting for us, cheering madly waving balloons & messages to individuals onboard. A couple of ladies on a pleasure yacht took off & waved their bikinis. We had sheets painted with ‘Mother Hen’ & ‘Jack’s coming home’ ect.
The bands were playing & we were cheering our well wishers, it was the headiest & most amazing day. Many returning servicemen of the yrs have come back with barely a thank you but they did us all proud that day.
There was a special contingent from Fleet & Church Crookham to meet the Ghurkhas. Having lived there for 10yrs, I knew the locals had a very good relationship the Gurkhas & didn’t want them to feel left out, as they wouldn’t have had any family to meet them.
My Mother, Father & sister were there & my best friend (& much later best man). The last night I had won 200 fags & had already brought 200 for my mother. After repeated threats about not declaring everything to HM Customs, I tried to make a declaration but was being pushed through by the crowd & Customs. ‘I have to declare something.’ ‘What’s that then?’ ‘200 fags extra’, he smiled & waved me through. Shame I hadn’t had a few boxes of Havana’s that fine day.
As we descended the gangway we were trying to spot our families so we knew where to try & make too once we had cleared the Customs shed. I had my seaman’s kitbag on my shoulder, weighing a ton& a Pusser's suitcase in my other hand, when I was hit on all sides in a group hug. I was ware of others all around us, clutching each other as mothers held the sons they worried for months that they might never see again, fathers actually embracing sons & children shyly approaching the fathers & brothers that had left so long ago. They were kids wearing deely boopers on their heads & Ra Ra skits, two fashions that had arisen since our departure & disappeared shortly after with the fading August sun. My Father asked my where I wanted to go & I said ‘Lets get out of here & go to a pub; I could with a decent pint’. And for once my teetotal father understood.
I waltzed into the bar like jolly jack tar, gold badges gleaming, hat at a jaunty angle & ordered couple of beers for me & my mate. I was kind of hoping mine host would say ‘No worries lads these are on me’ but then I guess not every one was caught up in the fever. After lunch we headed for Haslar, as I had to get a leave pass before I could go home with my parents.
Once inside Haslar I got the pass & with my parents waiting patiently in the car & took a detour to the Nurses quarters. I asked for the RGF & was told she was playing hockey (she used to play for the hospital). As I was leaving she came walking up in her hockey kit. I took her aside & sat her on my knee, as I tried my best to get her to give us another chance. I even offered to take her away the following weekend to Paris. She said she’d think about it & we kissed there, as my hands caressed her grubby thighs & my feelings were transmitted though her short shirt & navy blue hockey knickers.
I went home I phoned her later that night. She’d thought about it but it was definitely over. She needed a man but she needed one who would be with her, not travelling the world.
I was devastated, we to be frank frustrated but I had an ace up my sleeve. I made a phone call to the very recently widowed mother. ‘Hello is that Mrs D.?’ ‘Yes.’ ‘I am a journalist from the Nursing Times; I believe your daughter has recently returned from the Falklands & wondered if we could talk to her?’ ‘Oh, I don’t think she is supposed to talk to the press.’ ‘I understand but we have published the story of a nursing sister & even one of a medic but we haven’t really got the story of what it was like for an ordinary nurse in the Falklands’. ‘Oh, just hold on then’.
‘Hello?’ ‘Hi, sorry to disturb you on your leave but I am from the Nursing Times & we really wanted to get the inside story of live onboard the Uganda during the Falklands. We have other accounts but we really feel that you could give us a different perspective’. ‘Oh, I don’t know, I we aren’t supposed to talk to the press’. ‘Yes but we already have a Nursing sister’s story & even as medic, um a Simon Dove, do you know him?’ ‘Yes’ she said cautiously. ‘Well what can you tell us about life onboard, you must have had some dreadful moments?’ ‘Well yes we did’. ‘Yes but some better times too I guess?’ ‘Well of course we had a good camaraderie’. ‘Yes, I believe some of the nurses had a lot of camaraderie?’ ‘Um, I don’t know what you mean?’ ‘Well it wasn’t called the Love Boat for nothing was it? In fact I have heard you were very good friends with Simon.’ ‘Who told you that?’ ‘Well we have our sources but is it true you suggested he could drop around for a coffee when he got back?’ ‘I, I…’ ‘Well would tomorrow be okay?’ What?’ ‘Well I could drop around tomorrow if you’d like to see me.’ ‘SIMON IS THAT YOU? ‘Of course who else would be interested in an ordinary nurse’s story?’ ‘*****! You can’t just pop around anyway, I am in Yorkshire’. ‘Yes dear, I dialled a Yorkshire number to find you’. ‘Actually how did you find me, I never gave you my mother’s tel no. Well us journalists have our methods; I just worked my way through the D.’s in the your town until I found you’ (True!).’ Do you think your mother would mind, I mean intruding at this time’. ‘I’ll speak to her’.
The next morning I left my bewilded parents, having been home less than 24hrs & set forth for a town further North of Watford than I’d ever cared to go before. She met me at the station & it was slightly awkward for a moment or two. I explained that I’d been dumped & was therefore a free agent & would very much like to see if we could re-kindle the long & intense friendship that we had enjoyed just a few wks previously. That night I slept on a camp bed in the living room (yes we really used to do that sort of thing, no sharing beds in the parental home), I wasn’t going to push my luck on what I was hoping would turn into a long term relationship & upset her mother, by creeping along the hall way to her daughters room. And for once my common sense & patience in the long game was rewarded, when she slipped back into the living room.
A week later my parents held a home coming party & all my relatives & few of my friends came over. Sindy came down & stayed for a few days (separate beds again). I went back to Haslar after my fortnights leave to be told by the sisters on the wards, we were just to get back into the basic routine of nursing, no glamour here. Just graft as they had, as they manned the wards without leave during the conflict; even though they had wanted to go down South but had never been given the chance. In fact they gave us grief for about 6months. I never did get the Hermes, for some reason the swap draft wasn’t accepted & to add to the irony, the ex RGF ended up with Welsh Medic who was serving on the …Hermes! By Christmas I managed to get drafted out of the hospital & start a new life, with beautiful & passionate Sindy as the new RGF.
See short clip documentry of the Uganda's work & homecoming.ssuganda.post-211-1211069107.jpg
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=e6FowyYMokg
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