We Joined The Navy Read Online Free Page A
knowing, but they believed that it was more blessed to give than to receive and were thankful for it.
The end of an Interview Board normally found the Admiral in a state of acute melancholia. When he thought of the personalities he had seen across the table and considered that he was launching some of them, of his own free will and while in his right mind, into the service he loved, he sometimes prayed for guidance other than that given by the Admiralty.
‘ Must be something wrong with the recruiting these days. Or else there just isn’t any better material to be had. I’ve been in the game a long time now and never have I seen such a bloody awful shower as that last lot. I think I’d better write to Dartmouth and warn them or I’ll never be able to look Reggie in the face again.’
The Board nodded. The end of the Interview Board was proceeding as much according to precedent as the beginning. This was the Admiral’s usual verdict on every new term of Special Entry cadets.
2
It was not until Vincent, Dewberry, Bowles, Hobbes and the rest of the new term saw the uniforms on the platform at Paddington that they believed that they had really joined the Navy, with seniority in their rank of that day. The sight of each other convinced them far more than the arrival of the Admiralty letter announcing their success (which had convinced and delighted their fathers) or the arrival of their uniforms (which had convinced and delighted their mothers and sisters). Neither of these two previous events, sensational though they had been, compared with this present sense of pride when they saw each other, this feeling that they were about to become part of a great fighting service with a mighty tradition. It was a feeling which would not wear off until they had been in the great fighting service with a mighty tradition for at least another twenty-four hours.
Paul Vincent was accompanied by his mother and Cedric. Mrs Vincent wore a close-fitting dark blue wool suit and a tiny black hat with a veil. She had the type of features most often seen at fashionable weddings--their natural habitat--and her poise and grooming suggested that she might be at that moment waiting for the photographers. But that was only a surface illusion. Mrs Vincent was afraid that she might break down at any-minute and present an appearance which would have shocked her friends in Lowndes Square, and for that reason she had asked Cedric to come with her.
Cedric was a tall, pale man in morning dress. He wore a carnation in his buttonhole and looked like an usher at a fashionable wedding. He was Mrs Vincent’s stockbroker but his attendance on the platform was not in a financial capacity but as moral support when Mrs Vincent’s composure showed signs of breaking down, as it did.
Mrs Vincent took out a small lace handkerchief and dabbed behind her veil. Cedric put his arm round her shoulders.
‘Steady, Louise, my dear,’ he said. ‘You mustn’t make an exhibition of yourself in front of these young devils.’
‘Oh Paul, darling, do look after yourself,’ sobbed Mrs Vincent.
‘Mother, don’t be so lachrymose ,’ said Paul. ‘Anyone would think you had to commit suttee after I’ve gone. It’s me who’s joining the Navy. I should be in tears. I will look after myself and I’ll write every week and tell you how I’m getting on. Does that make you feel any better?’
‘Oh Paul, darling.’ Mrs Vincent sniffed and dabbed again.
George Dewberry was also accompanied by his mother. Dewberry’s mother was a large woman, deep-chested like the hunters she rode, with a voice which could start a fox from its sleep a mile away. She wore a tweed suit with a W.V.S. badge in the lapel and a beret with a ptarmigan feather in front. She also carried a shooting stick.
‘Pity your father couldn’t see you now, George,’ boomed George’s mother. ‘He’d have had a stroke.’
‘Why, mater?’
‘He told me a thousand times before he died
The end of an Interview Board normally found the Admiral in a state of acute melancholia. When he thought of the personalities he had seen across the table and considered that he was launching some of them, of his own free will and while in his right mind, into the service he loved, he sometimes prayed for guidance other than that given by the Admiralty.
‘ Must be something wrong with the recruiting these days. Or else there just isn’t any better material to be had. I’ve been in the game a long time now and never have I seen such a bloody awful shower as that last lot. I think I’d better write to Dartmouth and warn them or I’ll never be able to look Reggie in the face again.’
The Board nodded. The end of the Interview Board was proceeding as much according to precedent as the beginning. This was the Admiral’s usual verdict on every new term of Special Entry cadets.
2
It was not until Vincent, Dewberry, Bowles, Hobbes and the rest of the new term saw the uniforms on the platform at Paddington that they believed that they had really joined the Navy, with seniority in their rank of that day. The sight of each other convinced them far more than the arrival of the Admiralty letter announcing their success (which had convinced and delighted their fathers) or the arrival of their uniforms (which had convinced and delighted their mothers and sisters). Neither of these two previous events, sensational though they had been, compared with this present sense of pride when they saw each other, this feeling that they were about to become part of a great fighting service with a mighty tradition. It was a feeling which would not wear off until they had been in the great fighting service with a mighty tradition for at least another twenty-four hours.
Paul Vincent was accompanied by his mother and Cedric. Mrs Vincent wore a close-fitting dark blue wool suit and a tiny black hat with a veil. She had the type of features most often seen at fashionable weddings--their natural habitat--and her poise and grooming suggested that she might be at that moment waiting for the photographers. But that was only a surface illusion. Mrs Vincent was afraid that she might break down at any-minute and present an appearance which would have shocked her friends in Lowndes Square, and for that reason she had asked Cedric to come with her.
Cedric was a tall, pale man in morning dress. He wore a carnation in his buttonhole and looked like an usher at a fashionable wedding. He was Mrs Vincent’s stockbroker but his attendance on the platform was not in a financial capacity but as moral support when Mrs Vincent’s composure showed signs of breaking down, as it did.
Mrs Vincent took out a small lace handkerchief and dabbed behind her veil. Cedric put his arm round her shoulders.
‘Steady, Louise, my dear,’ he said. ‘You mustn’t make an exhibition of yourself in front of these young devils.’
‘Oh Paul, darling, do look after yourself,’ sobbed Mrs Vincent.
‘Mother, don’t be so lachrymose ,’ said Paul. ‘Anyone would think you had to commit suttee after I’ve gone. It’s me who’s joining the Navy. I should be in tears. I will look after myself and I’ll write every week and tell you how I’m getting on. Does that make you feel any better?’
‘Oh Paul, darling.’ Mrs Vincent sniffed and dabbed again.
George Dewberry was also accompanied by his mother. Dewberry’s mother was a large woman, deep-chested like the hunters she rode, with a voice which could start a fox from its sleep a mile away. She wore a tweed suit with a W.V.S. badge in the lapel and a beret with a ptarmigan feather in front. She also carried a shooting stick.
‘Pity your father couldn’t see you now, George,’ boomed George’s mother. ‘He’d have had a stroke.’
‘Why, mater?’
‘He told me a thousand times before he died
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