After close to four decades in the Navy, a question that I have been asked a thousand times is “What is your most memorable reminiscence of your earlier days?” A rather unfair question considering that the entire journey has been memorable in so many ways. Before we joined the Navy, Reader’s Digest was our only source of Humour in Uniform. Little did we realise that the Indian Navy provides us with our daily dose of humour in generous measure. It is a small wonder that you find naval officers walking around with silly grins on their faces at most times. Delve a little deeper and you may end up at the bar with the ‘silly-grin guy,’ guffawing your guts out over a glass of beer, with some real outlandish stories.

Into the Deep End

Once upon a time, early in the ‘Orwellian’ Year 1984, our NDA batch of cadets appeared at the gangway of INS Brahmaputra (that old Leopard Class frigate) at Kochi to start our naval voyage, where we were joined by our counterparts who were fresh out of the Naval Academy. The First Training Squadron (1 TS) then comprised Brahmaputra, Betwa and Beas, one of which was always under refit. So, the seventy-plus cadets were ‘equitably’ distributed between two ships - Brahmaputra and Betwa. After a welcome address by the Sub of the Gun (SOG), peppered with some of the choicest expletives of Indian and foreign origin and a brief ‘toughening-up’ session, we were dispatched to the Barber Shop for the most humiliating haircut of our lives before being directed to the ‘Chest Flats.’ Nobody told us why they were called Chest Flats and neither did we bother to ask anybody. It is my guess that it was perhaps because we spent much of our lives onboard the ship on the bunks there - either Chest Up or Chest Down.

Steep Learning Curve

Then there was this sudden ‘whistle’ over the Main Broadcast followed by the announcement “Both Watches Fall-in” The confused cadets (the NDA ones, yet to be navalised) started wondering why anybody in the world would wear two watches at a time. And even if they did, why must these watches ‘fall-in’ for God’s sake? Soon enough, this intellectual conversation was interrupted harshly by the Gunnery Instructor (GI), ordering us to move our posteriors in quick time to the ‘Hello’ Deck. Ah! Now we thought someone would really be welcoming us. Why else would anyone summon us to the ‘Hello’ Deck? As we were pushed out into the scorching sun and the heated deck, we were greeted with a steely look from an officer who appeared to wield some authority. Later, we learnt that he was the Executive Officer who was somewhat peeved at the cadets’ delay in showing up on deck. Needless to mention, our first ‘Both Watches’ was spent in the ‘murga position,’ even before we learnt the meaning of ‘Port and Starboard.’

Lowest Form of Marine Life

Well, things moved along the way they did in the past and we soon got used to our new-found status as the ‘lowest form of marine life.’ Nothing surprised us - not the severest of punishments; not the worst of humiliations. We were assigned to stand understudy watches on the Bridge, in the Engine Room and on Deck. While we did learn a few things by observation, much of our time was spent in certain ‘asanas,’ on top of the mast or inside the bilges. Classroom instructions also happened, but we were expected to ‘pick up’ stuff in general and there was hardly any academic rigour. These were also the filthiest six months of our lives. There was no air- conditioning. Punkah-louvres spewed hot air. Rats bit off your toes while you slept at night - it was not unusual to find two small eyes staring at you from the foot of your bunk if you happened to wake up to a nibble on your toes. Fresh water was severely rationed. A few minutes in the morning and a few minutes in the evening. There was no time for niceties like changing into gowns or waiting for your turn at the shower. Thirty guys had to finish their baths in under ten minutes so it was invariably rubbing soap off each other in the raw as water ran continuously for those precious few minutes. Some unlucky guys remained dry and smelly to bathe another day.

Shell-shocked

Another constant companion was the 4.5-inch shell. The ship had a Vickers Armstrong 4.5-inch gun turret which occasionally fired a star shell for us to engage with the 40/60 Bofors gun and small arms. There were a large number of ‘dummy’ shells that were meant for carrying out loading practice but much of the time these were loaded on the cadets’ shoulders. We knew every detail about the shell since it was our constant companion. The slightest infringement would result in a 46-pound shell resting on our shoulders for the next two hours. I remember one of my coursemates dropping a shell on the deck on purpose, citing dizziness. He was quickly dispatched to the Sick Bay for medical attention, much to his relief. Some others who tried the same trick later were not so lucky and ended up with an extra two hours. We quickly understood that imitation may be the best form of flattery, but apparently not for Gunnery!

Inspection Fever

Despite such trying conditions, we somehow got used to the horrible life – just like pigs get used to the muck in which they roll about. I daresay, the officers too got quite fond of us; we were kind of ‘likeable rascals,’ if I can coin such a term. In the course of time, the ship was to be inspected by the Commander-in-Chief. That is when we realised our importance. The raison d'etre of 1 TS is the training of cadets and hence, that would be the C- in-C's focus too. In all the feverish activity in the run-up to the inspection, we suddenly felt that the world was becoming rather kind to us. There were fewer punishments, classroom instructions suddenly increased and most importantly, there were grooming sessions for the cadets. The SOG was trying to second-guess the questions that the C-in-C might ask us. “Don't give ‘Admiralty Pattern’ answers when the Boss asks you something,” he barked. Should he ask you, “How is life onboard, don’t give some silly answer like “Fine, Sir” or “Good, Sir.” Say something different, like “Tough but interesting, Sir.” Look bright and cheerful. That’s what will impress the C-in-C.”

Come Judgement Day

Then came the day of reckoning. Sharp at 0800h, the C-in-C arrived onboard to inspect the ship's company at Divisions. He was most impressed by the Guard of Honour, paraded by the cadets and went on to inspect us at Divisions. The Cadets’ Platoon, briefed to the gills, was standing resplendent on the Helo Deck, in their gleaming white No 2s. The first line was inspected; no questions. The second line was inspected; no questions. Good going, so far, with the Captain providing some snippets of information about our ‘top class’ training and other niceties. The C-in-C stopped at the second-last Cadet of the last line who was looking a bit extra cheerful and asked, “Son, how is the food onboard?” Without flinching, Cadet Cheerful blurted out, “Tough, but interesting, Sir.” While the Captain's expression at that moment was worth a million dollars, the C-in-C had a hearty laugh. “Good sense of humour, Captain,” he remarked as a stern-looking ExO reported “Divisions Completed, Sir.”