Ganges Boy

By Ken Smith

A true account of my first weeks in the Royal Navy.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Ken Smith
• Release date: Oct 6, 2011
• ISBN: 9781465838995

Ken Smith

Ken Smith has had a lifelong love of wilderness and exploration. As a young man, he worked as a farm hand and labourer, untill 1975 when he moved to Yukon, Canada. On his return, Ken took to wandering across the British Isles, settling at Treig to resolve his grief and build a new life. Will Millard is a writer, BBC presenter, public speaker and expedition leader. Born and brought up in the Fens, he presents remote Anthropology and Adventure series for BBC Two, and a series on Rivers, Urban Exploration and History for BBC Wales. In 2019 his series My Year with the Tribe won the Realscreen award for Travel and Exploration. His first book The Old Man and the Sand Eel follows his wild journey across Britain in pursuit of a fishing record. He has also ghosted many projects and written for numerous national and international magazines and newspapers, including BBC News, Daily Telegraph, Vice, Guardian, Geographical and Outer Edge.

Book preview

GANGES BOY

Ken Smith

Copyright 2011 Ken Smith

Smashwords Edition

It was the worst winter ever, the Mother of all winters. It began snowing on Boxing Day, and now, the first week of January, it was snowing even harder. In fact, it snowed until March. Last evening I’d arrived at HMS Ganges training annexe, with an assortment of other would-be-sailors, and placed in the capable hands of a spotty faced Junior Instructor (JI) and a bullet proof Gunnery Instructor (GI) who wore crossed guns on both lapels. The only thing I can remember of that awesome night, apart from collecting a kit bag and filling it to capacity with kit, was sobbing myself to sleep. Oh, and that I ate the biggest meal I’d ever eaten in my entire fifteen years of life, the kindly chef asking me whether I intended to eat the mountain of food I’d heaped on my plate or climb it.

I suppose five-thirty in the morning was a civilised time to have my brain squeezed from my scull by a bugle call, Reveille, and to the voice of that massive GI screaming, Hands off cocks. On socks!

How did he know I was doing that?

Looking pretty in candy-striped pyjama bottoms and naked chests, he ordered us across the parade ground, through the snow and ice, to the Heads - that grown-up pottyland which had neither doors nor partitions around the bowls for privacy - to partake in our morning ablutions. It was a most embarrassing experience, an experience that will haunt me for the rest of my life.

After bathing and potty training, we were fed. If nothing else, the Navy did know food was the most important thing for a boy.

Porridge was on offer, that salt-coated gruel I’d been forced