Murder Ball...!

It's a lovely view from the sea wall, isn't it? Well no, not really. Particularly when you are running alongside it in mid-winter, at dawn, dressed only in shorts and vest freezing your bits of.

Yes, we are still at Haslar in early February 1974 undergoing part 2 training. We have a particularly sadistic, or so it seemed at the time, Chief Petty Officer as our instructor. He believed a fit trainee is a happy and alert trainee. Alright as far as it goes.

So back to the sea wall. It is 06.00 in the morning - my class is up and dressed in shorts, vest and plimsolls. This is our standard exercise gear. We are in the freezing cold winter air running alongside the sea wall. We do this most mornings in the week. After a couple of miles we reach a grassy clearing. This is were we get to play a fairly unique game for the RN - I'm sure that the other services have something similar.

We now partake in 15 minutes of Murder ball. Murder ball? Yep - Murder ball. A simple game with no rules. We a split into two teams. The objective is to score touchdowns - you can kick, throw and run with the ball. The Chief blows the whistle and bedlam ensues. Bodies everywhere!

Oh, I failed to mention the main strategy when playing Murder ball - get rid of the ball as soon as you get it! If you fail to do this you will find yourself underneath a pile of bodies intent on crushing you, seemingly, to death. After 10 minutes or so the 'game' comes to an end. Who knows who won? I just know some of us have a few more bumps and bruises.

Right, back to the school. No, not quite yet. We run back along the sea wall. Now, just to make sure we are wide awake we all plunge into the icy cold Solent. Bloody hell, it's freezing! My testicles panic and try to get as deep into my abdomen as rapidly as possible.

Now soaking and frozen we run, pretty rapidly, back to the school, shit, shower, shave and have breakfast. Then it's into the classroom for the day's lessons.

Funnily enough, nobody ever seemed to doze during these lessons!

You want me to stick it where....?

So here I am, at Royal Naval Hospital Haslar in Gosport, its February 1974. I've learnt how to row a whaler, how to march, shoot, tie knots and a host of other nautical stuff - not forgeting, the importance of spitting on shoes! Now it's time for my part 2 training - the medical stuff!

I will revisit Haslar on a few occasions. My first tale concerns my first visit to a ward and my first 'procedure'.

Around two to three weeks into part 2 it's time to meet a real patient. Theory is great, of course, but it takes on a whole new perspective when applied it to a living, breathing subject.

I now have proudly displayed on my arm, a red cross, signifying I am a member of the medical branch of the Royal Navy. It's OK to wear it at Haslar because it is obvious that I am a lowly trainee. In fact, I revel in the 'rank' of Junior Medical Assistant 2 (JMA2) - can't get any lower than this in the pecking order.

Anyway, back to the task in hand. What fascinating thing will I be doing this morning? This thought runs through my eager mind as I enter one of the general surgery wards. Here, my tutor lets me know that I will be performing a high-colonic lavage (popular in some parts of the community, today) on a poor, unsuspecting patient.

Trust me, this is not the procedure to start your medical career with! I will spare you all the gory details - suffice to say it involved shoving a tube up the patient's rear end, pouring many pints of warm water down the tube and, cleaning the lower intestine as well as possible. This is in preparation for surgery.

So, a smelly, thoroughly unpleasant hour later - I leave the surgical ward having, well and truly, been introduced to the reality of my job. Welcome to my world!