A friend of mine in the RAF told me that on one station the ground crew were similarly equipped though in their case the bayonets were welded on to 5-foot lengths of electrical conduit; he said that when they came on parade it looked like the Monmouth Rebellion all over again. I don't recall much about our meals, with one exception only. Every Thursday over a long period a new cook came to us. She didn't appear to be ATS and I would do her no injustice if I guessed her age as being between 30 and 40, older than the rest of the cookhouse staff. I found out very little about her except that she was Cornish but she made the most delicious cornish pasties, the real thing and they were so large that one was quite sufficient for any growing lad. We only ever saw her on Thursdays and we all looked forward to those days. The regular cookhouse staff came under "Jackie", Corporal Jackson and she and her girls were billeted in a private house nearly opposite Bowden Battery in a road running parallel with Fort Austin Avenue. There were about eight of them I think, of whom Mary, Ginger and Minnie from South Wales, Kitty from Cornwall and Sylvia from Dewsbury are the ones who stay in my mind. Jackie was very solicitous for her charges and she meticulously recorded the dates and times of their social engagements together with the names of their escorts. In the early days we were instructed in the various do's and don't's of army life and introduced to the Army Act and King's Regulations. We were told that "barrack-room lawyers" were not permitted to quote from these. Complaints could be made only through official channels and it was forbidden to contact our Members of Parliament with our gripes though of course they couldn't prevent our parents from doing it for us. Forbidden also was the singing of Irish nationalist songs or whistling The Dead March; likewise engaging in discussions likely to cause "alarm and despondency" was also ruled out. All of this together with a bit of regimental training was gradually converting us into obedient little souls. Plymouth and Devonport were primarily navy-oriented, true there was the RAF station at Mountbatten with its Sunderland flying boats and there were assorted army units scattered around but essentially the navy was supreme. Being a peace-time garrison area the civilian population was used to the presence of the forces and was not particularly hospitable, a vast contrast to the friendly treatment meted out by the Scots when for a month or so I was billeted in a distillery in Wishaw.