I am not a superstitious person. If I have to walk under a ladder, I would take the reasonable precaution of making sure that no one was at the top of the ladder, and about to spill a pot of paint over me. If I break a mirror, I accept that my 'bad luck' is represented by the cost of it's replacement.

Consequently Friday the thirteenth has never really been any different for me than any other Friday. March the thirteenth in 1942 was no exception. Far from bringing me the bad luck with which it is traditionally associated, it was to become one of the most significant days in my life! It was the day I ceased being a child supported by others, and became instead, a wage earner, and member of the work force.

As I said, March thirteenth was like any other day for me until about midday, when we (the boys) were lined up on the terrace, waiting to march in for dinner. It was cold and windy, with skies the colour of asphalt, with rain barely holding off.

On this occasion we were all playing around on the terrace outside the main school, waiting for some one - an officer - to call us in for our meal. It was windy and cold, but as there was no rain, we had to be outside in the fresh air - no matter what!

I heard my name called. I recognised the voice, and knew at once that it was the Captain. When the Captain walked by, all boys had to drop whatever they were doing, and stand to attention.

He did not have a very loud voice, but it carried all the authority of 'the man in charge'. As soon as he called 'Sollors', all the boys stood still and at attention. This made me all the more nervous, because it appeared that I was being singled out for something. Very conscious of the fact that I was the only person moving, I called out 'Yes Sir', and began the long walk toward him. As I did so, he called out to the other boys to 'Carry on'.

I stood in front of him, at attention. 'Ah Sollors, you are still interested in the sea are you not?' His demeanour toward me was almost friendly. Still barely able to comprehend the reason for such a question I replied 'Yes Sir.' Looking back, I think my main thought had been that at last, being fourteen and a half years old, I was going to be elevated to the senior division, and as a consequence of such a move, into the seamanship class.

So far, being of school age, and not yet fifteen, I had not yet progressed to the seamanship classes which were conducted by the school. Thus the traditional knowledge of seamanship, which broadly covered knots and splices, international 'rules of the road', plus a host of associated subjects which were normally taught to boys with my aspirations, remained largely a mystery to me.

Having affirmed to the Captain that I was indeed still interested in the sea, he turned on his heel, and told me to follow him. We walked through the Main Corridor, past the Regulating Office, past the Main Entrance, and into his office which was just on the other side of the Main Entrance. I was still blissfully unaware of the real purpose of all this, still thinking that at last, I was to be made a Senior. I would be leaving Number Four Dormitory where I had slept for the last three and a half years and going to Number One Dormitory. I would at last, be leaving Number Four Division with whom I had paraded for the last three and a half years, and (despite my diminutive size) I would be joining the 'big boys' in Number One Division.

My speculation and day dreaming were brought to a swift end. Captain moved into his office, and sat at his desk. I stood dutifully to attention in front of him, awaiting the good news. Well, it was good news, but quite different from that which had been going through my mind.

Without any preliminaries, other than to tell me to 'Stand at ease', the Captain went straight into detail. It appeared that the Orient Line needed a bugler for their ship, SS.Orion which was a troop ship. Since I was still interested in the sea, and being the most senior bugler, and over fourteen, (which in those days, was the legal minimum age requirement to leave school and join the work force) I had been chosen for the job. I would be leaving the school the very next morning. I would proceed by train to Paddington, where a Captain Mooney, of the Orient Line would meet me, and take me to the Merchant Navy Reserve Pool in Dock Street, London. There I would receive a railway warrant to Glasgow in time to join the ship and sign Articles on Monday, March 16 1942.

By this time, I was inwardly shaking with excitement, nodding my head at every piece of information, and mumbling, 'Yes Sir', 'Yes Sir', 'Yes Sir'. In reality, I was barely able to comprehend what he was saying after the first few sentences. He rattled on, telling me that after dinner, when the boys went back to school classes, I was to report to the Regulating Office, where I would receive further instructions. These included the time table and method of my departure, my orders to be 'kitted out' with civilian clothes, and the fact that I would be given all the money which was in my (school) 'bank' account, plus some money from the school, and my Leaving Certificate. I was still 'Yes Sir-ing' as fast and coherently as my brain would allow. Somewhere in the depths of my mind, was the horrible thought that if he didn't think I was up to it, he might change his mind!

He further informed me that there had been no time to obtain permission from my mother. He remarked that, from the nature of the correspondence which had passed between my mother and myself, (it was all read before being posted by the school) he felt sure that this was the option she would want me to take. I wasn't about to argue, and added a few more 'Yes Sirs' as positive confirmation of what I knew were my desires, and that deep in my heart, I hoped my mother would agree. My mother would be informed that I had left the school, and my (ship's) address would be sent to her.

He then informed me that although I was leaving the school, I did so under licence, and if I should be foolish enough to get into trouble in the outside world, I would be sent back to the school. He added the rider that he thought that I was mature enough to ensure that this would not occur.

Finally, he reached over his desk, proffered his hand, and shook hands with me saying that due to other business matters he had to attend to that afternoon, this would be the last time he would see me. He wished me all the best, telling me that a life at sea was a great life. He thought that I had made a wise decision, and that I would do well. Despite my excitement, and the turmoil in my stomach, I remember thinking that the handshake was the first time that I had ever consciously touched him! I 'about turned' smartly, and left his office.

To say that I was elated, thrilled, exhilarated, enthused, would be to understate an understatement. I could barely believe what had happened. There had been no warning, It had all occurs within ten minutes, from the time I had been summoned into his presence, to the present. From a boy out on the terrace in the freezing cold who thought he was in some sort of trouble, to a boy who was on top of the world with excitement, all within ten minutes.

Leaving the school is something that we had all discussed quite often. It was something we all thought about, but never in a 'real' sense. It was always someone else leaving, and in my case, I was still in the 'juniors', and school classes, so a serious thought of me actually leaving really did not exist for me, certainly not in my head. I would at least have to be elevated to the senior divisions first, but no, here I was, officially informed by no less an authority than H.E. himself that tomorrow, I would join the big, wide, world 'out there'.

I floated down the corridor. The boys were in at dinner. I went up to the Duty Officer who was taking dinner, and told him (somewhat smugly) where I had been. Usually, in matters such as a boy leaving, all the staff were informed first. This was done by sending a boy - usually, the boy who was on duty as the Quartermaster - around to all staff members with a note to that effect on a clipboard. Each staff member would then sign it to indicate that he was aware of whatever the contents of the clipboard were. My discharge had really come up quite quickly, and as yet, there had been no time for such niceties. I didn't know it then, but taking round the note informing the staff of my discharge was to be my job, first thing after dinner!

The Duty Officer was surprised to learn that I was leaving, and after a little chat, told me to get some dinner from the galley. By this time, most of the boys had finished dinner, and were on to 'afters'. I took my plate of dinner and sat down at my regular table. Needless to say, with a broad, smug, grin on my face! The boys really had thought that I had been 'in for it', and were astonished, surprised, amazed, but far from speechless, when they learned that I would be leaving in the morning.

Within a very short space of time, the news of my impending departure was all over the junior end of the dining hall. Although we were on small tables, the juniors were still all sat at the entrance end of the hall, and the seniors at the Sick Bay end of the hall. My plateful of dinner was eagerly snatched up by one of the boys who understandably, was not as excited as I. My 'afters' was immediately sought after by another boy who, despite the excitement generated by my news, had an eye on his own immediate future. I was aware of many eyes turned in my direction. For the moment, at least, I was a curiosity and minor celebrity.

Dinner was over by 12.30, and it would be 1.30 before the boys went back to school and seamanship classes. I had an hour to wait around, surrounded by my friends, and several other boys casting envious glances in my direction, and all of us talking excitedly of what I would be doing 'this time tomorrow', plus a million and one other things. My good friend Brian had left sometime previously to go to sea, so he wasn't there.

At 1.30 when the boys went to their school classes, I reported to the Regulating Office. The clipboard with the notice informing them that I would be leaving at 7 AM tomorrow, was there for me to take around to all staff members for their signatures. Since the hour of my departure was to be early, and tomorrow was a week end anyway, many of the staff members would be unlikely to see me again after signing the note. They all took time to wish me well, a quick handshake, and in one or two instances, a little chat, and even a bit of fatherly advice. Whilst the officer was reading the note, I stood in front of the class, soaking up all the envious glances, and thoroughly enjoying every minute of it. Well, I'd been on the other end of it so many times myself!

Matron was particularly kind, and took time to tell me to eat well in order to reduce the amount of septic boils that I had seemed prone to attract during my time at the school. (As a matter of interest, my skin cleared up entirely within months of me leaving!) She also wondered laughingly, how I would survive at sea, being so small. (It was only eighteen months later when I visited, that she remarked to me that I was now taller than she was!) The Linen Ladies were also very nice, remarking laughingly as had Matron, how small I was to be going to sea. When I visited Mr. Windibanks in the woodworking room, he told me that if I had time after tea, he would like to see me at his home in Portishead for a cup of tea, and a chat. It was an accepted thing, that boys about to leave, were allowed 'ashore' the night before so long as they were back in the school by supper time. I was happy to accept his offer.

My next job was to go up to the store behind the gymnasium to be kitted out. Mr. Powell, who had taught me in Form Five after Mr. Davies left, was there as the stores officer. He fitted me out with two overall suits, two suits of underwear, two pairs of socks, a pair of shoes, a pair of grey flannel trousers and a green sports jacket. The trousers were of that thick, grey flannel which even then, I recognised as being cheap, and not very 'dressy'. The jacket was only slightly better - but who cared? Next, I was given two dress shirts, each shirt had two separate collars, and as was the practice in those days, there were several studs with which to fasten the collars.

I must digress here to explain the significance of these shirts and their collars to me. The next day, I went to London as planned. I was booked into the Sailors Home in Dock Street by Captain Mooney for the Saturday night. In contrast to the previous day, that (Saturday) was a magnificently warm, and sunny day. I went up to my room on the third or even fourth floor. Hardly had I got there, when there was a knock on the door. It was the Home's Chaplain. 'Ah Mr. Sollors, I take it we shall see you at Communion in the morning?' I was not far enough removed from my school mentality to refuse what appeared to me to be such a veiled command! 'Yes Chaplain' I said, and thankfully he left - no doubt to press more sailors to attend his (Communion) service!

I was at last, left to my own devices. I was still dressed in my Best Blues - quite a distinctive dress for me to be wearing outside. I wanted to be out of them and into 'civvies'. Having promised the man that I would appear at his service, I realised that I would have to put on one of the new shirts, and more importantly, one of the separate collars. I had never used these things before, and thought I had better practice putting one on. The collars were not only separate, they had extra little tabs which had to be fitted to the front stud underneath the tie.

Since on my first 'free' day, all I wanted to do was to get out and about, and possibly go to the pictures, I left the sartorial experiments until I returned later. 'Later' was at about ten PM that night. I returned to my room, and tried to put on the shirt and separate collars. Never having worn anything like them before, I was at it until the small hours, trying to get the small tabs onto the front stud. I eventually gave up and went to sleep, vowing to try again in the morning. Morning came, I still had not mastered the collar, and by the time I went downstairs, (I did not have a watch then), it was 8.30AM, much too late for communion.

Weeks later, when I went ashore in Cape Town, one of my first purchases was a pair of 'coat' shirts. They were not widely used in England then, and I vowed to use the other shirts for work. It was years before I was able to bring myself to buy shirts with separate collars - and actually wear them!

Back to the stores, and 'kitting out'. All these clothes plus some items of school gear which I was allowed to keep - the jerseys, daps, socks, raincoat, and one or two other things - were packed into a rather cheap, fibre case. I did not need to wear the 'civvy' clothes, as I was expected to leave the school wearing my 'Best Blues'. Back down to the school, and up to the blue room to change, for the last time, out of the blue serge shorts. I donned my best blues, and by about 4PM, was ready to go.

I took my packed suitcase to the Regulating office, where I was given my 'bank' money, plus some money from the school, I think the total cash was something less than ten shillings. I was given an envelope containing my leaving certificate, (see page 149 ) all typed out, and signed by H.E.Evans, and a railway warrant which would get me a single ticket to Paddington. I was advised to leave my money in the office, 'just in case', and I was all ready to go. I also had to make sure that my gas mask was with my case, and ready to go.

Tea time came and went. Once more, I was the centre of envious attention, dressed in my best blues, and ready to go. By this time, it was common knowledge that 'Ginger' Sollors was leaving in the morning. I hadn't eaten any dinner, consequently, there wasn't quite so much of my tea to give away as some of my table mates had hoped. Still, there was more to friendship than a slice of bread wasn't there? We speculated excitedly on what I would be doing '...this time tomorrow...'. Of course, the first thing I was advised (and fully intended) to buy, was a packet of cigarettes. In all sincerity, I was advised to wait until I '...got to the States...' before buying a lighter - '...you can get a good Ronson there for a couple of dollars...', and so it went on. Quite suddenly, everything was possible - or so it seemed. I knew I was going to be a Deck Boy, but I had no idea what a Deck Boy earned. Still, talk was cheap and every one had their own idea of 'what it would be like'.

After tea, I reported to the Regulating Office for a pass out. I was given one, and told to be back 'before supper'. It was almost dark out, and I set out for the village in good spirits. I reached Mr.Windibank's house at about 6.30. I was asked in, and Mrs.Windibank set out some tea and cakes. It was strange, not only seeing one of the officers in a domestic setting, but being his guest. Despite his (sometimes) fiery temper in school, as I should have known, Mr. Windibanks was quite human, and really nice to me at his home! Mind you, I had never been in trouble with him at the school - maybe that was because I liked his woodwork lessons. He asked what my ambitions were. Other than getting out of the school, my answer had to be going to sea. Not very enterprising, but that really is one of the limitations of a place like the National Nautical School - they didn't really teach us to think or act independently of others - or was that just par for the course for all kids in those days?

An hour or more soon slipped away talking to Mr.Windibank and his wife. They wished me well, and I made my way back to the school. Supper was in progress, and as I had been stuffing cakes down my throat all night, I was able to magnanimously give my slice of bread and dripping to one of the boys on my table. Up to the dormitory, a quick wash, and into bed, surrounded by a few excited, and inquisitive boys, who all seemed to have even more advice to offer. A quick visit from the duty officer, to check that I would be called at 6 AM in the morning, and there would be breakfast for me when I was ready.

9 PM, and for the last time I was to hear 'O.K BOYS,...PIPE DOWN,...LIGHTS OUT...NO TALKING' From the balcony overlooking the gym, I heard for the last time, the Last Post echoing throughout the building. I was too excited to sleep. I lay thinking of that Friday night three and a half years ago, when I had arrived there. When everything had seemed so impersonal and unfriendly. When, for the first night of many, I had cried myself to sleep.

'C'MON SOLLORS,... WAKEY WAKEY ...TIME TO GO...' I needed no further call. I was out and washed, bedding all properly folded up and laid at the foot of the bed. Towel draped over the head of the bed to dry. Fully dressed...a last look around...it was still dark, but one or two boys called out 'S'LONG GINGE,...ALL THE BEST...' 'S'LONG LADS...' and I left Number Four for the last time.

Down to the dining hall, into the galley. Mr.Petley the cook was there, asked me if I would like bacon and eggs,.....WOULD I!!! What a breakfast, bacon and eggs, and tea poured from a pot with my own spoonfuls of sugar put in! I dined in the warmth of the galley. Mr.Petley was a man of few words. I had never worked in the galley, so he didn't know me. After breakfast, he said ' 'Bye Lad...look after yourself...' I went out to the Regulating Office. I'm fairly sure it was Mr.Peebles who saw me off. I put on my raincoat, picked up my case. A quick handshake, and then '...'Bye Sollors, ...do well...' and off I went, into the still quite dark and cold morning.

I walked along the terrace, and up the drive. Not a sound, other than my boots on the tarmac. My elation was beyond description, I was now the sole judge of everything I would do, and I no longer needed permission to do things, or go places. (Once in the outside world, it did not take me long to realise that such 'freedoms' are relative, and in some cases, illusory, depending on the prevailing social, political, or economic environment.) Half way up the drive, I heard 'Reveille' sounding in the school. Another day, but I would be miles away before it was over! At that time, there was a little rustic wooden hut at the top of the drive, opposite the Secretary's house. I sat in there, waiting for the sound of the bus, which I knew from experience, I would hear long before it reached the school.

More time to reflect. I had no idea of what London would be like, so I reflected on the past. I thought of the number of times I had marched up to the church. Deep down, I didn't really believe in god; I remember thinking that now I would be able to make up my own mind as to whether or not I attended church. Even these fleeting thoughts gave me an uncomfortable feeling of guilt. The bus came, saving me from the need for any further philosophical doubts.

Once on the bus, I sat in the front seat by the door. It was now getting quite light. The bus gathered speed. The black railings which marked the school boundary, for so long my physical and psychological containment, merged from single railings into a single, dark blur. The National Nautical School slipped behind me. I looked out of the front window of the bus. It was a crisp, clear day, not a cloud in the sky. We were moving eastwards towards Portishead, the sky was getting lighter all the time, a new day, and for me, a new and exciting life was about to begin.

GORDON STUART SOLLORS (544)