She graduated with a 2:1 and was advised by the university to consider a career in the civil service. But jobs were not plentiful, and she was pleased to be offered a position in the finance department of a local London district council, which would make some use of her university training. It was a start, and her task was to maintain records of failures to pay council tax and start legal proceedings against miscreants. It was interesting, at least at first, and it paid the rent for the small flat which she shared with a former classmate in Dalston and left a little disposable income for general London life. Her long working weeks were punctuated by joining friends for a few drinks or the occasional date; although her social calendar was far from lavish, she was a social person by nature and really enjoyed her free time away from the office.
Her job at the council soon became routine and laborious, and although she was promoted to a supervisory role, she wished she had more room to develop and progress in the public sector. Some friends from her degree course had found accountancy jobs at big firms such as Goldman Sachs, and she couldn’t help but feel a bit envious of their excessive pay cheques, exciting lifestyles and holidays. But she also saw these jobs in “the City” as somewhat insecure and risky.
She was always on the lookout for the right new opportunity and was scouring the recruitment websites when she spotted an advertisement from the Royal Navy. She had often pondered the excitement of working in the armed services, but truthfully, the prospect of long absences overseas did not appeal. However, this advertisement was for a civilian job, as an administrative assistant in the offices of the Commodore and based in Portsmouth Dockyard. It certainly ticked many of the right boxes for the next stage in her career. It was not too far from London, and the higher salary would mean an extra few hundred pounds each month to put away in her savings. Perhaps she would be able to upsize her flat or buy that new laptop she’d had her eye on? Her attention was most certainly caught. She was a quietly ambitious girl and not content to stay put in the same mediocre job for years on end, and so she bit the bullet and sent in an application. Somewhat to her surprise, she received a reply ten days later, inviting her to an interview in Portsmouth.
She did some online research and discovered that the Royal Naval Base in Portsmouth included the historic Portsmouth Dockyard, which was a tourist attraction, especially because it included Nelson’s flagship, HMS Victory, from the Battle of Trafalgar in 1805. Also, there were the Mary Rose from Henry VIII’s days, painstakingly salvaged from the Solent in recent years and now lovingly restored and on view to visitors, and HMS Warrior, one of the first ironclad ships from the 1860s, plus a naval museum. An exciting new life was beckoning… if all went well.
The day of the interview arrived, and Marina was feeling nervous as she followed the directions in her letter. From the Portsmouth railway station, she walked through the sights and sounds of a new environment, preparing to make her first acquaintance with the enticing world of the Royal Navy. After about 20 minutes, she walked through the historic Victory Gate into the Dockyard, showed her letter to a security guard and was directed to the offices of the Commodore. This was clearly visible from the gate, the tallest building in sight, topped by the new Semaphore Tower. The guard told her that this was where she would find the administrative functions of the Portsmouth naval command.
Once there, in good time for her appointment, she found an enquiries desk and absorbed her surroundings until, after a short wait, she was taken upstairs to the office of a female Navy officer, smartly uniformed and with two stripes on her arm. “Must be someone important,” thought Marina as she took her seat across the desk as elegantly as she could. Although she was somewhat distracted by the view from the window of HMS Victory, the interview was relaxed and friendly and seemed to go smoothly. Afterwards, she was shown around the offices and, in particular, the Communications Department, where half-a-dozen desks were manned by civilian women staff, busy at their computers and wearing headsets. She was told that this was the hub of all the communications to and from the ships of the Royal Navy’s Portsmouth Base – currently over 40 surface ships in various parts of the world; the exception, it was explained, was the nuclear submarine fleet, which was a separate operation with communications handled elsewhere.
It was certainly something quite different for Marina and gave her much to think about on her train journey back to London. She had apparently made a good impression because early one morning a week later, she received a brown envelope bearing the initials OHMS – On Her Majesty’s Service. She opened it carefully and pensively, and her heart leapt when she read the letter inside, offering her the job and at a salary well above her current earnings in London.
Her flatmate had already gone to work, and she could hardly wait to get to her office and share the news with her closest friends there. Then, in the evening, she went by underground train to visit her parents in Putney to tell them about her new opportunity. Her father, now semi-retired and quite Anglicised, was especially proud to hear of his daughter’s new plans.
“Not just the navy, but the Royal Navy”, he said over and over again to his wife Shona – who was pleased but also saddened by the prospect of her only daughter moving further away from them. “Your grandfather Viktor would never have believed it possible,” he told them both. Then, turning to his daughter, he asked, “What will you be doing? Will you be on a ship?”
Marina explained, “Oh no, it’s just an office job in the Dockyard. But when I went for my interview, it looked really interesting. It’s in the section which handles all the communications between the headquarters and the various ships around the world. A bit different from chasing up unpaid council taxes.”
“That sounds quite important, my dear, and I am sure you will do well. But come back to see us often, won’t you?”
And they began to share her excitement as Marina went on to tell them all that she had learned so far about Portsmouth.
During the next month, while working out her notice period in her current job, she read all the research material she could find about Portsmouth and the Royal Navy. Searching on line, she also found herself a first-floor flat to rent in Southsea, just a ten-minute walk from the Dockyard. She phoned the rental agency and fixed a moving date for a few days before starting her new job and then found a “one man and a van” advertising in the local paper. She booked him to take her from London with her belongings to the new flat. It was just what she expected, small but comfortably furnished, with one bedroom and a nice enough view across Southsea Common towards the sea and the Isle of Wight in the distance.
“This will do very nicely,” thought Marina, who was now in her thirtieth year, a tallish and elegant brunette but still single and preparing to adjust to a new phase in her life. After a quiet weekend of settling in and shopping for essentials, on the following Monday morning, she made the ten-minute walk to the Dockyard ready to start her new career.
She tried hard to hide her nervous feelings during that first day, which was a series of briefings and familiarisation tours. There were forms to be completed and documents to sign, including the Official Secrets Act, with all due solemnity in the presence of a senior officer. Then over the following days, after a spell of training with the department leader, she found her work in the communications office to be both challenging and all-consuming. During her working hours, she soon learned the fundamentals of the job, and her colleagues were friendly and helpful, often extending invitations for drinks in the evenings.