The perils of growing a beard in the Navy

In my teens I joined the Navy and I found out, early on, that the military have policies for everything. One of their favourite policies is that they don’t allow you to start the day without shaving. Doesn’t matter whether you need it or not, you will shave. Doesn’t matter where you are you will shave. Doesn’t matter what the weather is like you will shave. The rule is that you can miss breakfast and starve, but you cannot miss shaving. Imagine, you’re in the middle of a tense standoff, both sides are facing each other in readiness, World War 3 is about to start and you haven’t shaved. I am sure that some senior would still yell at you and say something like, “You horrible little man. We will not start the war until you get back there and shave. I’ll not have you out on the front line in the dirt and mud unshaven”.

Being a sailor, we didn’t spend much time in the mud but we did spend long periods at sea. So to kill a bit of time, the guys would hold a beard-growing contest. Not to be left out I thought, ‘no worries I can do this’. It’s not that I really wanted a beard, I just wanted a couple of extra minutes in the bunk before going on watch (shift). Not having to shave would save all of three minutes off my showering time. More sleep time was a big incentive and still is.

The catch was that before you can grow a beard in the Navy, you need to submit an application form seeking permission. This is called an Application to Cease Shaving. The application needs to be reviewed, inspected, dissected, signed and countersigned and that’s just to get it out of the office. All this bureaucracy so you don’t have to use your shaver for a while. I think deep down the Navy was probably intent on ensuring the sale of razors didn’t diminish. The rationale may be that they wanted to maintain a market demand for some of their older ships. True, our metal imports today may have been our old warships. Just think, you could be shaving your face with a bit of history, so doesn’t that just bring a patriotic lump to your throat?

Okay, where was I? Yes, first day at sea and there is an influx of application forms; everyone wants a break from shaving. The applications will still take days to process before you can actually stop shaving and even then you should carry it with you as proof you are an approved non-shaving person. The process does not end with a completed and approved application form. No, that would be too easy. You have ten days to prove yourself, at which point there is a beard inspection which is carried out by the all powerful and all seeing eye of the Chief Coxswain.

The sorts of messages you don’t want to hear are, “Jules, the Chief Coxswain wants to see you”. This instantly ties your stomach in knots while your brain is having a vicious game of rugby trying to remember what scheme he could have found out about. Maybe he saw me put my dirty fork in with the dirty knives this morning. Oh no! The end is neigh. The inspection by the Chief Coxswain is for him to decide on the potential of the beard. The decision is simple: will it continue to grow, become a full furry thing in its own right and a credit to the Navy or not? But, that inspection is a whole ten days away. Plenty of time for someone like me to grow a beard, or so I thought.

I am not what you call a hairy guy. When I was in my forties, I probably had three hairs on my chest. I only had one when I was younger. I’m a bit like those Mexican hairless dogs, all wrinkly skin and no body hair. So growing any form of facial hair is a painfully long process. It’s as if the body says “I agree to grow hair on your head but there is a demarcation line between head hair and a beard”.

Where was I? This young, inexperienced, naive person (me) proudly delivers the duly completed application to cease shaving. “You”, exclaims the Chief Coxswain, “You only shave every second week as it is”. The compliments didn’t stop there. “All you have to do is stand in a stiff breeze to take your beard off. My cat has more whiskers than you’ll ever have”, he says. I am sure these guys spend years of professional training to perfect the method of making you feel real comfortable and secure in their presence.

Finally the application is approved. I did think the form had been wet at some stage but I later found out that it was from tears of laughter. But it was approved and I could put the shaver away for a while. The news that I had approval to cease shaving spread like wild fire through the ship. Money changed hands as the betting odds, on my likelihood of passing the final inspection, shortened with a resounding crash to odds on. Not to be put off, I continued.

Day three of no shaving arrives and the other guys are having competitions to see who had the longest (beard that is). I, on the other hand, was so proud I could see something like light sand paper growing. When I squinted, and got real close to the mirror, I could actually see stubble. I felt even more proud when on day five my boss came to me and said, “You horrible little man. Get back there and shave. I will not have you working unshaven here in the engine room in all this grease, dirt and grime”. All Chiefs are issued with standard phrases they learn and resurrect them as required. “I have an approved application to cease shaving, Chief”, I proudly blurted out. I could see he was so pleased with my ambition to grow a beard that he was unable to speak. His face started to twist to a smile then as he walked off but his loud raucous laughter could distinctively be heard above the noise of the main engines.

Half way through the ten day period and I was in with a chance. It was actually noticeable. Someone else could see it except me. I was floating on air. Walking down the passageway on day seven and the Chief Coxswain shouts, “You, get here”. I front up and reply “Yes Chief”.“How many months ago did you put in your application to cease shaving?” he asks. “It was last week, Chief”, I replied, making me feel so proud that my new beard growth was recognised and had improved beyond expectations. “Shave that bum fluff off your face. Your application is cancelled”. With that devastating blow delivered, he turned and walked off. My world was shattered. From one moment, believing I had a monumental beard then crashing down to total emotional abyss in the blink of an eye. I must give him credit though: he did take at least ten steps before the laughter became audible.

The crowning insult was that it took the rest of the crew two days to realise that I had shaved off my precious stubble.

During my remaining years in the Navy, I did not submit another application to cease shaving. However, now as a grandfather I was able to grow a beard but the Chief Coxswain, reincarnated as my ex-wife, made me shave it off under threat of murder. So next time your contemplating growing a beard, submit your application to your wife before you start.

PS – I now have a beard and a new wife; only took sixty years to grow a beard.