What NAAFI means to me...

My Family has been involved with the Armed Forces since 1820 and have served in conflicts all over the world, from the Siege of Montevideo in 1823 and the first and second World Wars, to myself in the Falklands and my brother currently in Afghanistan.

As such the Army and its welfare has played a part over the years, I can only imagine what it was like for the older generations who had little or no support.

My own dealing with the NAAFI started, as most did, when I signed up with the Armed Forces in 1980. We were taken round the camp, shown everything, issued kit and when we got to the NAAFI we were told “right lads NAAFI, if it don’t sell it you don’t need it”.

The shop bar and van were all integral to Army life; I well remember drilling on the parade square in the pouring rain waiting for that all important command “for a NAAFI break, fall out” then the mad rush as we all tried to be the first in line – a cuppa, a bun and a fag – sheltering under a tree and waiting for the NCO’s to start shouting again! A haven of peace and temporary tranquillity.

After joining my regiment (17th Port and Maritime RCT), the NAAFI on camp was a real focal point; there was a shop, bar, TV, telephones, pool and snooker (all long before mobile phones and portable music and TV).

During the Falklands conflict I worked on port operations, moving cargo from ship to shore and fuel ammunition. Very soon after the war ended, NAAFI decamped off the ships and took over a local shop. It became an instant hit with the troops, many of whom had been living in extreme conditions up in the hills and mountains around Stanley.

I can’t describe the pleasure of sitting down on the wall outside the NAAFI and chomping my way through a Mars bar and guzzling cans of coke after ages living on compo rations. It was sheer bliss! And we took it all for granted; we were here, so obviously NAAFI would be as well.

All through my military career NAAFI was part and parcel of the set up. If you went to the ranges the NAAFI wagon would turn up; 10 O’clock in the morning working in the port, NAAFI would be there with the wagon; midday to midnight, beer, fags, TV, boot polish was only a short walk out of the accommodation and across to the NAAFI.

Since I started working for NAAFI I have seen a lot of changes; downsizing, reorganisation new systems and new ideas. However, the overriding thing for me is I know how important the NAAFI was to my time in the military and I know what it means to have that bit of home from home comfort. I might have taken it for granted when I was in the Army but I and many others would have been the worse off it wasn’t there.

If me doing my job means some squaddie somewhere in the world can take a break, have a cuppa and a bun and relax for 5 minutes, I have done a good job.