The first thing to do on arrival was to get fitted out and this was done in the "tailoring room", where the inmates learnt to sew and therefore sewed amongst other things uniforms. One entered the front door and inside was a large counter. Often the tailoring officer, who was a very old man who's name I do not remember, would just shout out to the newcomer to come in, which they naturally did, and unfortunately rendered them a clout round the ear from the officer as shoe's were not allowed to be worn inside. When one finally got to know and understand the officer he was reasonably friendly but no newcomers would believe it. I worked there myself for about four months and knew how he was. I remember how I managed to sew my thumb to a bit of cloth. There I sat with me thumb and called out for his attention. He came, he saw and he clouted my ear but at the same time pushed out my thumb from the needle. Smart, I thought at first the clout was unfair but that took my attention from the pain of getting my thumb from the needle. Sometimes some of the lads would have some fun. When sewing pyjamas we would now and again sew up one leg or do it to underpants.

One of the first things done was of course a medical check up. I remember standing behind some other boys and that the boy in front of me told the matron that he had scoriasis, and she just made a note of it checked him out. My turn, She asked questions which I answered, and as I also had scoriasis told her that. Whack, one slapped ear. She could not believe that there could be two boys in the school with it. She did not even say sorry until the next day, she was terrible. Luckily there was two nurses there, one was older and very kind and gentle. She married one of the officers there, Mr Potter. A wonderful couple. Liked by all.

Anyway, the officers were OK, some of them. The captain when I was there was a real gentleman, he would do anything for the lads, even defended one Welsh boy in court as his lawyer, (which was his civil job). The commander, Jannesson, was both good and bad, he was very short so he could have had some sort of problem. He was probably a sadist and I mean that. The canes were of the sort one used to make baskets with (not bamboo) and they were always standing in a bucket of water. Caning was done with only trousers on, underpants were removed. When Jannesson punished boys with the cane he always lost control. I remember one boy who I took to the polis station on a Saturday to witness his back, raps marks were all over his back, way up and way under his buttocks some had bled slightly. The police thought it was best not to say or do anything as we might have got into more trouble with Jannesson.

As I was very big, about 6 ft high and well built I had it easy at Wellesley and soon became a "petty officer" which meant I was in charge of my dormitory, Boscowen, and the about 20 boys in it. Life for the weak there was not too comfortable. Other petty officers and their friends often had fun by bullying the weak. In my first months I saw some horrible things there. One boy I found unconscious in the toilets with his face smashed in. That I think got me really angry, so I found out and told the captain who has done it, these boys naturally got punished. But they left me alone, I was bigger and they were cowards. I never did like violence. The violence became much less after that.

On the school premises was a building for submarine training, left from the war. We were never allowed in there but I do remember that when we returned from the summer holidays, we were all made to demolish the building. There was nothing inside it.

Other memories; one of the huts was for the home army, mainly for there social gatherings, threw the window could be seen that they had beer barrels in there, so one day we took us in there through the floor somehow, filled some bottles with beer took it out and drunk it. Naturally someone had seen us so we got 8 on the backside from the captain who did not use wet canes. We also found out that the barrels only contained old left over beer.

"Uncle Bert" was the officer in charge of the catering course. He was a superb cook and teacher, having received his training in the ROYAL NAVY. But every evening he would have a little packet under his arm when he walked home. One day the "dragon" of a nurse challenged him about what was under his arm. He never told her. But there was a hell of a row. In the end she took charge over all incoming foods.

The lads doing the cooking course took turns in helping the 2 cooks (1 cook on Sundays) prepare meals. This meant that on Sundays the duty boys missed church. This also meant that all officers were away or off duty and that gave one cook the idea that he could go out the back way and have a few drinks in the local pup. He did that several times but one day he had been observed, reported and sacked.

Hendersson, the gardening officer was well known as a sly bastard. Always enjoyed stirring up trouble between boys. He was also a cowed; he found enjoyment in hit small boys but kept far away from the bigger ones.

There was two Scottish officers there, one was McDermott, both were very good and honest.

All the boys at Wellesley were more or less problem boys, nearly all sent there from court, but one or two were voluntary there. One boy did not even no that he had come to an approved school. He was so sad. Certain boys were apt to abscond. All were always caught and returned. It was easy to runaway, as there were no fences around the school. Absconders always received the cane.

Some boys including myself joined the Duke of Edinburgh's award scheme. We did our hiking test in the lake distrikt, 72 summits in 10 days? If I remember rightly. Our controll person was no less than Sir Edmond Hillary who was a friend of the schools captain. Some of us made it to the silver medal; (our time at Wellesley was too short for the gold). We were amongst the first in the country to get it so the Duke flew out by helicopter to present us with our awards. I was very proud of that and still have a photo and negative of my receiving the award. I can also lend you that if you are prepared to return it.

We had leave on Saturdays, marched to church on Sundays behind the school band, amazing as none of us could read music, where some boys made up the quire, (only for the chance to slip away and steal a few sips of community wine). Petty officers had leave even on Sundays.

No it wasn't all that bleak! it just seemed like it at the time. We really didn't mix with any of the locals and as the school is in a remote position and we didn't go out much I guess that's not suprising.

My mother (now deceased) found out about the school, I suppose through our local Education Dept. I had always wanted to go to sea and was not doing very well (attitude) at Grammar School so I think she saw it as the best alternative.

The Senior Staff in those days were a tough bunch and as long as the bruises weren't to evident didn't worry too much, I think they saw bullying it as part of the toughening process! Smoking was prohibited and therefore indulged in by all.

Tailor made fags were a real luxury we all rolled our own, very, very thin or nicked the dogends from the staffroom ashtrays to break down and re-roll.

The Captains messenger was a plum job as he had access to the village on a daily basis and could assure himself of a steady income obtained from the supply (at a profit) of quarter ounce packets of Old Holborn or Golden Virginia.

The school abounded in "baccy barons" who were a constant source of supply once again at a profit. The corner shop at Llanfair PG must have had their tobacco supplied by articulated lorry!!

 

Christmas and summer was holiday time, which we spent at home.

Wellesley was the best "home" I ever had, believe it or not. We were always told that we would be sorry when we left there, but who believed that. But it was true for some of us, and I was one of them. It was home.

Robert Brant now lives in Sweden