I joined the Royal Navy in 2003, a month after my nineteenth birthday. As the coach pulled up outside Britannia Royal Naval college I couldn’t stop myself from smiling. This was to be my home for the next nine months or so. This amazing building set high on the hill overlooking Dartmouth and the river. It looked like a castle, or a boarding school from an Enid Blylton book, magical and full of secrets I was yet to discover. As I marched across the parade ground in my civilian skirt suit and heels, I felt proud to be embarking on such an adventure.
I was sharing a room (or a cabin, as I was to quickly learn) with three other women and we bonded over bars of Dairy Milk, stories from our past and a shared hatred of ironing. These women would laugh we me, cry with me and fight with me over the next few months but no matter what, we knew we were in it together.
None of my uniform fit me and I had to wear my own clothes for the first few days while everyone else paraded about in their freshly starched trousers and blue shirts. It was clear that clothing stores weren’t used to catering for smaller sizes and the college staff weren’t used to seeing people wearing them. I lost count of the number of times someone called my size 3 combat boots ‘cute’.
The officer cadets were split into four divisions and allocated a divisional officer who was a Lieutenant in the navy with many years experience. This was the person who would guide us, encourage us, discipline us and ultimately mold us into officers worthy of a commission. Knocking on Lieutenant Brown’s office door for my joining interview, I felt the first flutter of nerves. I wanted to make a good impression.
He was older than I imagined because he had worked his way up through the ranks rather than joining directly as an officer. His handshake was firm and he looked me in the eye with a confidence that comes from years of experience. We chatted about my background and what I hoped to achieve. He told me I was too nice to be a pilot and that I’d have to toughen up if I was going to make it in the Fleet Air Arm. ‘Be more arrogant’ he said, which surprised me, and although I didn’t say it I thought to myself, ‘No, I can do this job without changing my personality.’ We moved on to talk about expectations and again, I was surprised at what he said. ‘You will be like a kid in a sweetshop,’ he said, referring to the majority of cadets being male, ‘Just remember you didn’t look like Claudia Schiffer before you joined and you still don’t.’ I’m sure he meant well giving naive nineteen year old me this piece of advice but at the time I just felt slightly put out. Romance was the last thing on my mind; and of course I didn’t look like Claudia, she was a blonde and I was a brunette. ‘You can look but don’t touch,’ he continued, giving me wink.
An Officer and a Lady 