Walking into Blackfriars
Important decisions are often expected to announce themselves with suitable gravity. Looking back, it is tempting to imagine that the first visit to a Royal Navy Recruiting Office must have been preceded by careful thought, lengthy discussions and a firmly held ambition to serve at sea.
Nothing could have been further from the truth.
The visit began as little more than a challenge between a small group of school friends during the final weeks before leaving school. None possessed any real understanding of the Royal Navy, none had a settled career in mind and none expected the afternoon to amount to very much. Going to Blackfriars House seemed little different from satisfying curiosity.
Situated in central Manchester, Blackfriars House served as the city's Royal Navy Recruiting Office. For generations of young men from the surrounding districts, it represented the first formal point of contact with naval service. Locally, however, it was known simply as Blackfriars.
Crossing the threshold was enough to suggest that this was not simply another public office. The atmosphere differed markedly from school. Everything appeared orderly, quiet and purposeful. Staff were friendly enough, but there was also an unmistakable sense that procedures existed for a reason and would be followed accordingly.
There was no opportunity to stand about looking uncertain.
Having entered the building largely in search of information, events moved with surprising speed. Before there had been much time to consider the consequences, forms were being completed and arrangements made to undertake the entrance tests.
The assumption remained that there was very little to lose. At worst, the Navy would simply decide that none of the applicants were suitable and everyone would return home none the worse for the experience.
The written examination proved rather different from anything expected. Arithmetic formed part of the assessment, accompanied by verbal reasoning and mechanical comprehension exercises. Much of it was described simply as an aptitude or intelligence test, consisting largely of multiple-choice questions intended to measure ability rather than accumulated knowledge.
Unlike school examinations, there was little opportunity to prepare. Either the answers came or they did not.
This perhaps worked in favour of applicants who arrived without preconceived expectations. There was no pressure to achieve a particular result because there seemed little reason to imagine that anything significant depended upon it.
The written papers were followed by eyesight testing and a comprehensive medical examination. For many boys, this represented the first genuinely thorough medical assessment they had ever experienced. The process was systematic, efficient and surprisingly matter-of-fact.
Throughout it all, the assumption remained unchanged.
This was simply an interesting afternoon.
There was still no certainty that anyone present would actually join the Royal Navy, nor much understanding of what naval life might involve if they did. The various branches of the Service meant almost nothing. Apart from recognising the familiar White Ensign, knowledge of the Navy itself remained remarkably limited.
There was, however, one question on the application forms that proved unexpectedly awkward.
Why do you wish to join the Royal Navy?
Another asked which branch of the Service the applicant hoped to enter.
Both assumed a degree of knowledge that simply did not exist.
There had been no lifelong ambition to serve at sea and no informed preference for one naval trade over another. Faced with questions demanding confident answers, the only realistic response was to invent something that sounded plausible enough to complete the paperwork.
The absurdity of the situation was difficult to ignore. Honest answers such as 'I don't really know' seemed unlikely to inspire confidence, while admitting that the visit itself had begun as a dare appeared even less advisable.
Like countless nervous teenagers confronted by official forms, educated guesses seemed the safest course.
Eventually the examinations ended. Applicants dressed, gathered their belongings and waited for whatever came next.
There was every expectation that the afternoon had reached its conclusion.
It had not.
One by one, names were called.
Some young men collected their papers and quietly departed.
Others were asked to wait.
Among them was one rather puzzled schoolboy who gradually realised that all three of the friends with whom he had entered Blackfriars House had already disappeared.
He was about to discover why.
Part 1 Essay 4
Part 1 Essay 5: More by Accident Than Design
Primary source: RN-001
RN-E-104
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