Dr Death..................

My last draft before leaving the branch was to Portsmouth. The NBCD (Nuclear, Biological and Chemical Defence) School at HMS Phoenix. It was here that we instructed all branches in these cheery subjects. The clue is in the name!

I was a Petty Officer by this time and my role was that of an instructor. My subjects were light rescue, first aid and the fun one - the medical effects of NBCD agents.

These agents ranged from mustard gas (first used in Ypres, France to devastating effect in the trenches of WW1), through blood agents like cyanide to nerves agents like tabun and sarin. Some of these charming forms of warfare are thought to have been used by Saddam in Iraq against the Kurds.

When I wasn't putting poor souls through the CS gas chamber I was lecturing them on what to expect if they came into contact with the various agents already mentioned. This, of course, I delivered with a smile resulting in the nickname of 'Dr Death'. Charming, eh?

We also taught decontamination procedures in the event of nuclear or biological attack. This involved the use of fullers earth to absorb any external fluid contamination and then the careful removal of protective clothing. I'm sure you have seen the military dressed in their green hooded NBCD suits.

I came away from this particular role with the feeling that the procedures we taught were somewhat dated. In fact, in the heat of war I doubt how effective they would actually be. To this day I still think if the bombs were dropping, I would prefer to be directly heading one back - poof!!!!!!!

Mind you, my wife maintains if there was any form of disaster she would prefer to be with me, at least we'd have the skills to deal with it - possibly........

What shall we do with the drunken sailor.....?

Young sailors often get into spots of bother due to a little alcohol here and there. I, of course, am no exception to this ancient maritime law.

A couple of examples illustrate the point (I'm sure if I rummage through my memory banks I can find a few more).

The first finds me at RNAS Yeovilton (my first proper draft after training) -now a fully fledged, highly responsible medic. Hmm? Its Friday and time to have a run ashore with the lads. We head for Yeovilton, a couple of miles from the base.

A great evening is had by all. I spent the evening imbibing and fleecing the locals on the pool table. A winning streak sees me the recipient of many free pints of beer. Closing time sees me leave the pub somewhat later than my mates. Worse for wear I determine to walk back to the base. Only a couple of miles after all!

Around 10 hours later I make it. Roger Bannister - you can relax. This amazing feat of endurance and speed is probably due the the fact that I spent the walk taking one step forward and two steps back! With the occasional fall into the fields alongside the road. I'm not even sure how I managed to get through the gate without incurring the wrath of the officer of the watch. Ah well , we live and learn. Well....perhaps not.

My second example finds me on another run ashore. This time in Plymouth, another Friday night. The details are a little dim, however, the end to the night is very clear in my mind. I am slowly waking up, head pounding, cold and surrounded by noise. As my consciousness clears, I realize that I am not where I should be, that is in my bed back at the hospital quarters. I am, in fact, quite high up a fir tree in the middle of a roundabout in the centre of Plymouth. The noise is that of traffic and Saturday morning shoppers!

I casually climb down from the tree, drawing curious glances from the locals, and gingerly make my way back to the hospital to get some more kip, in my bed this time.