Royal Naval College Osborne

The Royal Naval College at Osborne on the Isle of Wight was in operation from 1903 to 1921 and was the junior section of the Royal Naval College at Dartmouth. Boys went there at the age of 12, moving on to Dartmouth at 14 or 15. Among the sons of several European royal families sent to the college were the future King George VI and Earl Mountbatten. It was also the institution where the incident occurred on which Terence Rattigan based his play, "The Winslow Boy".
Having been selected by a process of interview, examination and medical, cadets were introduced to the life of a Royal Naval officer. They were taught how to behave - how to salute, march and how to prepare for life on board ship. They also studied a wide range of subjects, spent time on the playing fields and scrambled for food in the college refectory.

Cadet entry at 12 started under the Selborne Scheme and ran till 1913; this gave cadets 2 years at Osborne followed by 2 years at Dartmouth. In 1913 this was changed to 1 year at Osborne and 3 years at Dartmouth. The R.N. College, Osborne, finally closed down in 1923; its ship-name had been H.M.S. RACER.

Life at RN College Osborne Captain Jack Broome
Scraping through my written exam was also a great relief, and I shall never know how much I owe to the declaration of World War I at that time which, naturally, led to the immediate expansion of our fighting services. RN College Osborne was a different world. Once upon a time it had been Queen Victoria's stables. Osborne House remained untouched and majestic, overlooking Osborne Bay and Spithead. The stables had been demolished and replaced by long corridors off which sprouted at intervals, dormitories and gunrooms, the name given throughout the navy to the living spaces of junior officers. The legacy from Her Majesty's horses was "pinkeye" (conjunctivitis) which medical experts had failed to stamp out. Pretty well every cadet passing through Osborne suffered from it at some time or other. Up till then, there had been three entrance exams each year. Successful Cadets at each entrance formed a Term. Each Term was named after a famous Admiral and they kept that name through their 2 years at Dartmouth before going to sea as midshipmen, known throughout the Navy as snotties, the lowest form of sea life. So through peaceful years, a "Drake" Term would be going to sea from Dartmouth as a new Drake Term was forming at Osborne. Mine was a Hawke Term, and with it came World War I which, I suppose, was rather a godsend for me. The Blake Term, one term senior to us numbered about 50 cadets, whereas the Hawkes admitted while World War I was being declared were twice that number. I had passed in pretty low down the list, indicating that had there been no WWI, there would probably have been no Broome!
Osborne, to me, was a new world and a very strict one with countless rules which one only found out by breaking them. The penalty for every misdemeanour was, invariably, six on the backside. For me, it was a painful change of life. We spent our meagre recreation in our gunroom, opposite our dormitory. The long, long corridor joining these gunrooms had the gymnasium at one end. Collingwood, the mess room (everything was named after an Admiral) was the other. The senior Term lived next to Collingwood. The junior scum next to the gym. Meals were heralded by bugle. A junior termite always had to pass a senior termite's gunroom at the double, unless he could provide a written medical excuse.

 

War declared
World War I was declared in the middle of the summer holidays of 1914. There upon the peacetime routine for cadets, (namely 2 years at Osborne followed by 2 years at Dartmouth) was altered. Cadets in their second year at Osborne were immediately moved on to Dartmouth, and the size of each term admitted to Osborne was doubled. War also brought an immediate upheaval in the internal organisation of the two colleges. In peace time, each term had its own executive naval officer who remained in charge of that Term for its duration at Osborne, then another Term officer took over at Dartmouth. In peacetime, Term officers were picked men. When war came these bright young officers were, naturally, wanted at sea. So off they went leaving recently retired officers or selected masters in their place. My Term called the Hawke Term, was governed by an ex-naval Instructor, assisted by a young master, an ex Oxford cricket Blue!
Looking back, it seems extraordinary how smoothly this change of routine worked but, then I never knew what it was like before. Lower down the scale, cadet captains were distinguished by a badge (a sort of good conduct badge) in gold braid on their right sleeves. Two Cadet Captains with much the same authority as public school prefects were permanently allotted to a term junior to them. Retired technical officers were dug up to provide the necessary technical instruction required. Each Term, also, had it’s own Chief Petty Officer. Some were kind and helpful others were a bloody nuisance. Whatever sort of life you had before facing RNC Osborne, thereafter, you were rolled out flat and rebuilt. We had a famous Royal Navy with a great tradition. Their Lordships decided that we should be trained to fit into it, not alter it. As a rather spoilt youngster, at first, I found it pretty tough. One's life consisted of obeying gongs and bugles at the double, almost forgetting what it felt like to walk. By bugle or was it gong we retired, nightly, after a brief space of relaxation in our gunrooms. There we undressed, folded our clothes in a set pattern on our sea chests at the foot of our beds.

Cadet’s Regime
At one gong (a formidable brass affair which clanged at one end of each dormitory, manipulated by that dormitory's cadet captain) we all knelt by our beds and said our prayers and/or sucked our last sweet. Then two clangs which meant we got into our beds and shut up. Going to sleep was no trouble at all. I seem to remember, a brief space was allowed here to wash and/or visit the loo. Accommodation in those dormitories was allocated in alphabetical order, from swing doors at one end to the bathrooms, plunge bath and loos the other. My name beginning with a "B" meant I was always the door end. When we were in our beds, our Term Officer went "rounds". God help us if our clothes were not tidily folded. Visits to the loo during the night were not restricted but they had to be made at the double! For me, on a cold night, it was a long trip and I soon learnt to contain myself, except in cases of emergency. Far too early for comfort, we awoke to the blast of a reveille bugle call. That meant out of bed and turn bedclothes back. One gong which followed, meant off pyjama tops, wash at our bedside basins then, clad in bath towel only, stand by our sea chest. When everyone was there, the next gong meant full speed to the bathroom, into one end of the plunge bath. (I suppose they were about 10ft square and 5ft deep, full of tepid water), out of the other, find towel, dry, back to sea chest, dress and fall in for inspection alongside sea chest, having made our beds. When all had fallen in, probably with some rebuke for the last to do so, another gong which signalled a general stampede for Collingwood, the mess room which bore the name of yet another bygone Admiral. After breakfast, "Divisions" all candidates fallen in by Terms, on the quarterdeck (the name given to this big hall). When fallen in by cadet captains and inspected by term officers, the latter reported them to the Commander, the College Executive Officer. The Chaplain read prayers, hymns were sung and all cadets were marched away to their studies in order of their seniority by their Cadet Captains. The two chief Cadet Captains, wearing a badge on each arm, were attached to the senior term. This seemed to be the only time we marched! We doubled when we changed studies, we doubled up or down that long corridor when passing the gunroom of a senior term. Loitering past a senior gunroom was asking for trouble. Almost certainly, you would be spotted, hauled into that gunroom, bent over a table and be given at least three cuts on the bottom. The Cadet Captains had a room of their own, nearest to the mess room. Walking past that room meant six cuts for any ordinary cadet.
On Sunday afternoons we were allowed to roam about the spacious woods between the College and the sea, but even that had its drawbacks for groups of senior term cadets were roaming too and if you met they made you sing songs or else! This gloomy picture of starting a naval career is how it struck one rather spoilt youngster who hardly knew his parents and who had run wild. There was no avoiding this sudden wave of strict discipline, heaven knows I tried.
About half way through my first term, I was sent for by the head of Hawke Term, a "no nonsense" schoolmaster called Mr. Watt. He told me that if I didn't like my treatment I could go. I wasn't worth bothering about. There was no chance that training to be a naval officer would be altered to suit my convenience. I remember this interview well. It was the biggest shock that I had ever had and it certainly had its effect. It was exactly what I needed. It made me aim to be first in everything, not to be content with last. Up to that moment, no reproach had cut so deep. Mr Watt had touched me on the raw and that was what I needed. I began to accept the rules, to work and play hard. I didn't become a saint and I never made Cadet Captain at Osborne or Dartmouth, but I was average at work, good at games and, reasonably, self-confident. Thankyou Mr Watt!
By the time the Hawke Term moved on to Dartmouth College lots of junior officers had been killed in the Battle of Jutland and other naval skirmishes. With new warships appearing as fast as we could build them, the requirement for junior officers at sea increased rapidly. This meant that the Hawkes which contained me, instead of the peace time routine of 6 terms at Osborne, then 6 at Dartmouth were cut down to 5 terms at Osborne and also 5 at Dartmouth.