Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW II

[Geriaviator]

Tim, Danny

We did find a bomb trolley, but did not dive upon Binbrook village. The trolley was on the salvage dispersal near the south end of the main runway which can still be seen on https://maps.google.co.uk/maps?hl=en&tab=wl&authuser=0

The hill began at the Patch and ran down past the junction with Orford Rd. It was steep enough for the Bedford OE school bus to attain 50mph and the trolley would probably have been close behind it. Fortunately, it was about three-quarters of a mile from the salvage dump to top of the hill, too far for three little lads to haul the monster. Otherwise, Geriaviator would not have been posting here today. :ouch:

http://i1278.photobucket.com/albums/y503/Oldnotbold/BombTrolley_zpsd7f2a2b7.jpg

[Danny42C]

The two weeks passed by, we had no significant problems, our troops collected their fortnight's pay plus (I think) their Annual Bounties; we said "Goodbye" to Martlesham and went back to Thornaby. There training was suspended for a week or two to give everybody a rest and allow the regulars to get in a spot of leave.

I've earlier described my failure to get a full career Permanent Commission, and my acceptance into the humbler "Limited Career" PC in the GD (Air Traffic Control) Branch. This would, of course, mean the end of my flying career. The details had not been worked out, but I imagine that the transfer between Branches would have taken place after my current tour at Thornaby. That they would allow me to continue as GD (Pilot) until the end of my SSC (in'57) was too much to hope for.

But now, five years before that date, AMO A499/52 appeared, extending the LCPC offer to the GD (Pilot) Branch. Naturally I immediately applied for my LCPC to be switched to that. And it was approved, too. But (and it proved a very big "But"), it was conditional on my passing the full aircrew medical board again. I didn' t anticipate any difficulty. From the very first, in 1940, I'd known that my mother's concern over my "Weak Chest" was not without foundation. But this had been no hindrance to me in any way; I saw no reason to mention it and the medics couldn't find it. On my two previous full Boards (in '40 and '49), I'd "blown up the mercury" for the full 60 seconds: that satisfied the Board that my lungs were good enough. And 35,000 ft in an unpressurised Meteor had been no problem.

Since my return to the RAF in '49, I'd had a blameless aeronautical conduct sheet, I hadn't bent or scratched a single aircraft, or committed any misdemeanour. It was a pity that I managed to blot my escutcheon so late (as it would prove to be) in the day. I shall tell the sorry story in my next two Posts.

Goodnight, all,

Danny42C.


"If you have tears, prepare to shed them now" (Shakespeare: Julius Caesar)

[Danny42C]

It was a Sunday afternoon in late '52. I was strolling back from lunch to my office when the howling of Goblins indicated that 608's first detail of interceptions was getting into the air. "Sooner 'em than me", I thought.

For it was "a dull, dark and soundless day in the autumn of the year" (E.A. Poe : The Fall of the House of Usher" ). This was one of them. Weathermen call it "Anticyclonic Gloom". A huge high-pressure system was anchored over the UK. There was little or no wind; over all Teeside lay a thick blanket of haze from ICI, the blast furnaces and coke ovens, together with the chimney smoke from hundreds of thousands of coal fires. In those days the Environment hadn't been invented, and nobody would have cared a jot for it if it had.

Slant visibility was very poor, but it is a feature of this smog that you can see straight down through it fairly well. And it usually goes up only 1500-2500 feet into an "inversion", which effectively traps it into a layer above which all is (more or less) clear and blue.

I'd settled back into the regular routine of the day; everything was running smoothly in the Unit, and my afternoon tea and biscuit had just arrived at my desk. The phone rang. It was John Newboult over on the squadron. "Look", he said "we've got a Vampire just in off routine inspection. The Boss wants it on the line ASAP, but it needs an airtest. I'm up to my eyes in it here, and Mike's in the air with the Auxiliaries. Could you possibly...?"

You do not look gift horses in the mouth. Stifling a suggestion that his Boss might get off his rump and do the airtest himself, I agreed (well, you've got to help a mate, haven't you), collected my kit, hopped on the bike, and went over to Flights. It was now mid-afternoon and the light was starting to fade.

I went straight up through this stuff into the clear air above. The Vampire seemed sound in wind and limb, my last check was to take it up to 35,000 to make sure that the "Minimum Burner Pressure" light didn't flicker at max continuous - (I never heard of a Goblin flaming-out, did anyone else ?)

Now I was up high with not much else to do. I did a few rolls to keep my hand in, which entailed a bit of mental arithmetic at the end. A Vampire has a group of five fuel gauges: you have to tot-up the five readings to get the total. That isn't too hard if the fuel stayed in its own tank, but if the aircraft is thrown about a bit, it all goes walkabout. A tank which previously showed full is now half empty, another which showed empty is now half full. One which was three-quarter is down to a quarter. You have to do the sum all over again.

Then I thought, I'll do a nice big loop. Going down was fine, gentle pull up with full throttle fine, over the top with just enough "G" to keep me comfortably in my seat, throttle closed and start on down. We hadn't got all that far when the old "snatching" and "thumping" started, and I realised that I was well on my way to my first (and last !) supersonic Vampire. Idiot ! I slammed the dive brakes out, hoping that the structure would hold together (yes, I know that the book says you can put them out at any speed, but............) This brought us up "all standing", but the wings were, thankfully, still in position when I looked out. I started to breathe again and we reached equilibrium once more.

Now it has always been my practice that, once you have tried the patience of Providence and got away with it, not to do anything silly again on the same flight. It would be S&L and gentle turns from now on. I'll do a Controlled Descent. It'll give the Auxiliary Controller a bit of practice, and save me having to scratch about in this murk trying to find the field. If it works OK, and I have fuel, might do another one.

As the squadron was still out on exercise, I was the only customer and the QGH should be "straight out of the book". I was soon overhead. All the QGHs I'd done there before had been done on a NE >SW Safety Lane. This brings you in over Tees mouth, and there are plenty of landmarks from then on, culminating in Thornaby cemetery (the many white military headstones show up a treat) acting as a sort of Inner Marker for the 22 threshold.

But today he sent me out SW>NE. I didn't even know they had a second safety lane, but you learn something every day. I thought he was a bit slow letting me down outbound, but no matter - it would give me more time to settle down inbound. Check Height 2,500, and I'm skimming over a sea of mushroom soup. "Descend to Visual - call field in sight". Down into the clag I go, at 1,500 I can see a circle of ground perhaps half a mile wide below me, but nothing further out. But not to worry, the steers are 040-045-040, I'm right "in the groove", the field must appear any moment.

But things are not always what they seem.

Have a good weekend, gentlemen (Part 2 on Sunday, D.V.)

Danny42C.


It is better to travel hopefully than to arrive.

[Danny42C]

There it is ! "Field in sight"......"Over to local"...."Silversand 21 joining" ..The bored Local Controller puts down his Sunday paper: "21-04left-1019-circuitclear-calldownwind". I watch the runway as a cat watches a mouse, never taking my eyes off it. For I know, from bitter experience, that in these conditions you only need to look away for a couple of seconds and it's gone. Thrashing around trying to find it again is no good, you have to swallow your pride and go back to Approach for steers to bring you home again (this does no good at all to your image).

"21 Downwind".......Call finals-surfacewind-020tenknots". The local Controller hasn't seen me, but in any case he wouldn't expect to in this smog, and besides, I'm behind him as he sits in the Tower. And he's entitled to assume that a pilot is where he says he is...."21 finals, three greens".."21, land". I swing round and down to the runway.

Half way round, something strikes me as odd. Prewar, there had been a small road running close to that side of the boundary. The runway was extended during the war, a section of the road was closed off, and had been incorporated into the new taxiway. Post war, the road had been reinstated, some 200 ft of the runway had been cut off with an angle-iron and wire fence across. (The useless stub of runway and its verges were a popular picnic spot for the locals; there they could watch the flying as they scoffed their sandwiches).

Landing on 04, you came over this fence to the displaced threshold. But the fence had gone ! Someone had taken it away ! Nobody had told me ! I hadn't flown for ten days or so, had I missed something on the crewroom blackboard ? I was very low now, concentrating on the "piano keys" (did we have them then ?). For the first time, I had a quick glance to my left. There were one or two gliders far over on the grass. Thornaby didn't fly gliders ! Help ! - I'm having a nightmare ! - Where am I ?

Even then the penny didn't drop, but instinct (at last !) took over. "Get out of it !" I slammed the throttle open, but the Goblin spools-up only slowly. The Vampire settled and I felt the wheels rumbling on the tarmac. And then, at the far runway intersection, an old sit-up-and-beg cyclist appeared, making slow and stately progress across my bows from left to right.

Clearly, he hadn't heard me (must have been deaf as a post) - and there was no reason for him to expect aircraft on a Sunday. I'd to decide whether to swerve in front of him, or behind, or wet-hen over the top, for I knew instantly that we would arrive exactly at the middle of the intersection together. Time started to pass in milliseconds. At this point, some sixth sense warned the old chap that all was not well. I cannot swear to it, but I'm sure I saw a puff of smoke from the back tyre and the bike do a "wheelie". It shot out of my field of vision.

Back in the air again, over the far end of the runway, and all became clear. In an impossibly small field lay a crashed Meteor. A few days before an AFS student had stalled on finals to runway 22 at Middleton, and pancaked into this tiny spot. No one could imagine how he had done it; it hadn't done him any good, he was severely injured and the aircraft, seemingly undamaged, had a broken back. It was still there as the engineers couldn't work out how to shift it. The fame of this incident had spread round the North East, eveybody in the air with a few minutes to spare had gone to have a look, and MSG were getting quite stroppy about it.

This sad sight clinched it: now I knew where I was. A few seconds more, and I was over the railway viaduct at Yarm. No way of getting away with it -there had been too many witnesses. I sighed and called Local: "Ring Middleton and apologise for me - I've just done a roller there by mistake". Now 608 had come back on the frequency, so it was a public confession. Guffaws and catcalls filled the air (I'm afraid R/T discipline was rather poor in those days !).

I nipped back ahead of them into the circuit, round and down. There shoudn't be anyone in the Flight Office just now, I should be able to book-in and get out without anyone seeing me. Too late! - the snitch in ATC had phoned the Squadron as soon as he'd hung up on the SDO at MSG. Boss Martin was there, and he addressed me more in anger than in sorrow. What the devil was I thinking about, a pilot of my experience, to do a damned silly thing like that ? The Squadron would get the blame for this: it was one of his aircraft, they would be the laughing stock of the Command. And what about the gliders ? Supposing there had been a tow wire awaiting pickup on the runway ? How far would I get with that wound round a wheel. ?

I thought it unlikely that MSG would be doing aerotows in these conditions, winch-launched C&Bs at the best, but it didn't seem advisable to make the point just now, or to mention the little matter of the cyclist. Boss had got his Vampire back without a scratch, hadn't he ? I'd done his airtest for him, hadn't I ? What had he to moan about ?

All my service life, I'd enjoyed stories of pilots who had done just this very thing (the favourite being the tale of a Very Senior Officer who landed somewhere or other, but remained very taciturn until he'd a chance to read DROs - and so found where he was !) How could anyone be so stupid ?, I thought. Now I knew.

In my defence, I could say that the runway patterns, the orientation of hangars and control tower, and the main runway headings were identical. The fields were only six miles apart (say little more than two minutes' flight), and the visibiltiy was appalling. I couldn't even see the oxbow in the Tees (about a mile to the west) which points like a dagger at Thornaby. But none of this exculpates me. I should have overshot as soon as I noticed the missing fence.

Good news travels fast. It had got back to my unit before I did (tail between my legs). People were very kind to me at tea in the Mess. Jack Derbyshire answered the phone and came over, sympathetically: "Old Man wants to see you in the morning - 0900".

Malcolm Sewell was a man of few words: "Three extra auxiliary weekends SDO"......"No more than I deserve, Sir".

That's all, folks.

Danny42C


Please sir, I'm not lost - it's just that I don't know where I am.

[Chugalug2]

There but for the Grace of God, Danny. The way that a/f's were packed together in WW2, like sardines in a tin, meant that your away-day was by no means uncommon. Given the NE murk and the non-precision approach aid on offer one would have hoped for a rather more understanding reaction from the boss. However lesser fleas have smaller fleas etc, so I guess he had his own worries, no doubt.

The more renowned examples of the genre include the Pan Am 707 landing at Northolt, mistaking it for LHR. In Singapore the parallel runway directions of Paya Lebar (then the main civil airport) and RAF Changi led to occasional cross overs (though only from the former to the latter AFAIK). I was downwind, No1, when we suddenly became No2. A BOAC VC-10 came off Kong Kong NDB, called field in sight to Paya Lebar but was lined up for 20 Changi, so his clearance to land was of limited value when he touched down there. Like you though he clicked that all was not as it should be and poured on the coals to deliver his pax to their ticketed destination. I believe his touch and go resulted in a landing fee from the MOD to BOAC, No doubt his chat with his Fleet Manager was even more terse than yours with the boss. :)

[Fareastdriver]

Changi, and poured on the coals to deliver his pax to their ticketed destination

Lufthansa used to land, taxi around and take off again.

[angels]

Presumably this was after they noticed there was no terminal?? :)

[Danny42C]

Although I did not know it, my Vampire flying days were nearly at an end (my last flight was on 4th September'52.) It was nothing to do with my inadvertant roller at MSG. Two quite separate factors would play a part. The first started off with what had appeared at first sight to be good news indeed.

I've earlier described my failure to get a full career Permanent Commission, and my acceptance into the humbler "Limited Career" PC in the GD (Air Traffic Control) Branch. This would, of course, mean the end of my flying life. The details had not been worked out, but I imagine that the transfer between Branches would have taken place at the end of my current tour at Thornaby. That they would permit me to serve out the five years left on my SSC had to be a forlorn hope.

But now, two years before my current tour ended, AMO A499/52 appeared, extending the LCPC offer to the GD(Pilot) Branch. Naturally I immediately applied for my LCPC to be switched over to that. And this was approved, too. But (and it proved a very big But), it was conditional on my passing the full aircrew medical board again. I didn't anticipate any problems.

From the very first, in 1940, I'd known that my mother's concern over my "Weak Chest" was not without foundation. But this had been no hindrance to me in any way; I saw no reason to mention it and the medics couldn't find it. On my two previous full Boards (in '40 and '49), I'd "blown up the mercury" for the full 60 seconds: that satisfied the Board that my lungs were good enough. And 35,000 ft in an unpressurised Meteor had been no problem.

Third time unlucky. I went down again to Kelvin House, Old Portland Street - an address I was to learn to know all too well. The radiographer blew the whistle. Just a small spot on one lung. Probably nothing to worry about, thought the Board, but we'd better check it out, we'll put him into Wroughton (RAF Hospital) for investigation.

There the ENT man got in on the act, "reamed-out" my sinuses (ironically on my 31st birthday), kept me in for a fortnight until I was recognisable again, and sent me back to CMB. They turned me loose with a limited category (A2G1) - Fly, but not above 10,000 ft. - How about a pressurised cockpit ? No dice, the pressurisation might fail. From now on, I'm no use to 608 Squadron, but restricted to the Station Harvard and Tiger Moth. And I must come down every three months to Kelvin House for a check-up, to see if there had been any improvement.

Coincidentally, about this time the Air Ministry reversed their policy regarding the maintenance of the flying skills of pilots on ground tours. The accident rate from this source had been creeping up, and the reason was obvious. A little flying, like a little knowledge, is a dangerous thing. Every pilot needs a minimum of regular flying practice to remain safe, especially when he is handling front-line machinery. The current "do it yourself" arrangements were just not good enough. Some people (like myself) had been lucky in having sufficient flying on tap. But others had not been so fortunate, and had become accidents waiting to happen. It was proving expensive, it had to stop.

From now on, a Ground Tour would mean what it said (Harvards and TMs excepted - and, I suppose, Ansons and Oxfords). Once a year you would attend a two-week Refresher Course, and a final full Refresher before return to flying, and that was all. I do not remember the exact date this came into effect, but I did Refreshers in the summers of '53 and '54, and a final full one in Nov'54.

So whichever way you look at it, my Vampire days would have been over - at least for the time being . Meanwhile my position was that my LCPC as GD(Pilot) was on hold, with GD(ATC) as a fallback.

It was a bit of a disappointment, but that's life.

Goodnight once more,

Danny42C.


It's just the way the mop flops.

[Chugalug2]

Some catch, that Catch-22! Of all the challenges to be faced when deciding on a career as a pilot, the most difficult to overcome, once it stands in your way, is the medical one. Danny, you have flown the creme de la creme, the ultimate in piston technology, and moved onto the new white hot heat of technology, the jet turbine. Two very different technologies powering two very different airframes, yet having a common feature, sheer beauty! You mastered them both, but now here is something that cannot be controlled, that leaves one at the mercy of the men in white coats. Once they draw the breath in through their teeth, all hope and ambition can be destroyed at a stroke.
Your problem was a "weak chest". Mine was hay fever. Half way through training the pollen count went through the roof. I reported sick, was given some pills, but the eyes kept streaming and I kept sneezing. Like you I was packed off to CME. I was seen by a number of high ranking doctors, the most junior being a Group Captain. Eventually the "Board" decided that I could continue in training subject to a course of ever increasing doses, both in quantity and potency, of a "soup" of everything that I was deemed to be allergic to. So on a weekly basis I reported to Sick Quarters for yet another fix.
As it happened that year our course was lucky enough to be packed off to the USA for a whistle stop tour of military academies and bases. So fix day found me at West Point where a very dubious Army MO obliged me by injecting yet more of the dollop. Eventually the treatment finished and off again to CME for their decision. No sucking in of breath thankfully, but some timely advice from I think an Air Marshal. "Always remember, once you report sick we have to decide what is to be done with you. It might not be what you wish." That somewhat oblique yet pointed comment stayed with me thereafter so that my only contact with their trade was for the annual medical. Of course that was where the real challenge lay, and could not be avoided. Mess up a simulator session or a check ride and you can make sure to do better next time. Mess up the medical and you are on a hiding to nothing, unless you are Yossarian of course! Some catch.

[Danny42C]

Chugalug,

Once again a timely and pertinent analysis of a fear which must lie at the back of the minds of all military and civil pilots - if their health should be impaired for any reason, their career is finished. All too truly spoke your Air Marshal; I would only add that once the medics get their claws into you, they never let go (as Private Frazer was always saying: "We're Doomed !"). You at least escaped their clutches - well done !

A brief possibility of escape was dangled in front of me in the early months of my via dolorosa. The small section of lung which had developed bronchiectasis could be surgically removed to enable me to return to A1G1. But as the RAF had little occasion for thoracic surgery, they bought-in a civilian consultant for such jobs, and the one they used was going to cost an arm and a leg.

Nothing but the best for the RAF (and in general I would go along with that). Their man had been the Royal surgeon who had operated on the late King George VI ("The King's Speech" King), in a vain attempt to repair the ravages of a lifetime's cigarettes. The King had died (I imply no causal relationship), but even so, it was maybe just as well that the RAF decided that they weren't that short of pilots as to warrant the outlay. "As you were" ! as far as I was concerned.

For the next two years they pursued a policy of masterly inactivity, but now I'm danger of shooting my own foxes, so I'll call it a day.

It occurs to me that I should have said something more about "Positioning Flights". I have no more than a layman's knowledge of commercial operations, but, as it was explained to me, there are times when you want your aircraft somewhere for the first flight in the morning; it's somewhere else the night before, and you have to fly an uneconomic trip to get it to where it's wanted the next day. So you slash the fares to fill as many seats as you can.

Having said that, I did wonder why they could not arrange matters so that the Air France aircraft could "position" at Orly, and the BEA one at Heathrow, but I suppose that would have been too easy.

Cheers, Danny.

[Danny42C]

"Everone can be famous for fifteen minutes in their lives ", said Andy Warhol (or words to that effect). For the little town of Thornaby in the North Riding of York (now just a suburb of Teesside), which had never been famous for anything since the Vikings named it, and never would be again, this was to be its brief moment in the national limelight.

Six miles to the southwest lay the RAF airfield of Middleton-St-George (of evil memory), later "Teesside Airport", and recently (to universal derision) "Durham and Tees Valley Airport". In January '53 it was commanded by a New Zealander, Group Captain Geoffrey Jarman, DSO, DFC. Like Ratty in the "Wind in the Willows", he felt that nothing, absolutely nothing, in life was more worth while doing than messing about in boats. (There is a contrary opinion which defines a boat as "a hole in the water, lined with mahogany, into which you pour money," but let that pass).

His dream was to have a cabin cruiser with which to roam the waterways of the North East. Even on a G/C's pay these are pricey items, and he resolved to go about it the DIY way. He bought an ex-ship's lifeboat with a view to converting it himself. Well, perhaps, not exactly by himself. The O.C. of a large RAF Station is surrounded by highly skilled tradesmen of all kinds, who - for a suitable consideration and (of course) in their own time, could be induced to make his dream come true.

It is also true that RAF Stores has all manner of engineering bits and pieces which can be adapted for marine use - but perish the thought that any of them should accidentally find its way into the project.

Naturally it would be easier all round, and save time, if the boat remained on site during the conversion, and a corner of a hangar was devoted to the purpose. An AOC's Inspection might present a difficulty, you might suppose ? Not at all, they surrounded it with a hessian screen. "What's in there ?"......."Paint Spray Bay, Sir"...."Ah yes, very good, what's next ?".

Of course it was bound to come unstuck sooner or later. The underground story was that a SNCO, exasperated at the manhours his section was losing to the boat, blew an anonymous whistle, and the fat was in the fire.

At the end of January '53 the subsequent Court Martial was convened at RAF Thornaby. Ostensibly, this was on account of the spacious room we had in our Drill Hall. MSG would certainly have had a cinema (can any alumnus confirm ?) and this would be big enough to be the usual venue. Perhaps there is a convention that you don't court martial a Station Commander on his own Station ? (From schooldays I recall that an unfortunate Admiral Byng was hanged on his own quarterdeck "pour encourager les autres", as Voltaire put it).

The Jarman affair brightened up our dull life on Teesside no end. A crowd of Press and TV men descended on us from all over the place. We made the national newspapers (and if you Google you can find a report in his home town paper in NZ). His (no doubt expensive) defence did its best; he was cleared of many of the host of charges. But they got him on the theft of some steel sheet, and it was enough. He was duly found guilty and dismissed the Service, "Cashiered" - which means the loss of his pension. A high price for a cabin cruiser.

I had a small part to play in the affair. The part-converted boat (Prosecution Exhibit "A") was brought to Court on a low-loader trailer and parked outside my HQ. I had a photograph of it somewhere, but doubt if I could find it now.

The sentence had to be confirmed by the AOC. Batchy quashed it (for the sake of Jarman's fine war record) and allowed him to resign (so he kept his pension). It was not his only stroke of luck. In the R.Aux.A.F was a Group Captain Geoffrey Shaw, a steel baron (Chairman of Shaw's Special Steels).He took pity on Jarman and shoehorned him into a sinecure as the Secretary of the "Steel and Iron Founders Federation" (or something like that). So with this, and his pension, he finished up, if not exactly smelling of roses, at least a long way off the breadline.

And then he asked the RAF for his boat back ! There was nothing in the book to say he couldn't have his boat, and it was handed over to him. So he did quite well out of it at the end, and I trust has had a long and happy retirement, with plenty of time to spend "messing about in boats" (Wiki tells me he died in '83.)

You think that's the end ? Well no, not quite.

Goodnight, all,

Danny42C


Be sure your sins will Find you Out

[Danny42C]

I shall tell you a Mystery.

Roughly twenty years ago, long retired, in late 1991, I was leafing through a copy of "Der Spiegel", which WHS ordered for me weekly. The idea was to hang on to the smattering of German I'd picked up on a tour ('60-'62) there. An article took my eye, and made me look closer. In the text was a "mug-shot" of an RAF officer, not a particularly good one, but enough to make out the "scrambled egg" on the cap. It was our man, all right.

The article was an obituary of "Freddie Mercury" (who died 24 November '91), and who will be better known to our younger readers. It stated unequivocally that his real name was Jarman and that he was a son of the "RAF Ace" they pictured. Some ten or fifteen years later I had a look at the first laptop, googled up "Freddie Mercury" to learn that he came from a Lebanese family (IIRC).

Checking up again lately, Wiki now says that F.M. came from Parsi stock in Gujerat (India). Muddying the waters is that there is also a Derek Jarman, who is described as coming from "a military family" in New Zealand (and who died, I think, in'94).

"Spiegel" is a very highly respected and influential publication. It has a huge corps of international correspondents and a story like the one it carried would have been carefully researched.

Someone has the wrong end of the stick. I offer no explanation.

Danny42C.

[smujsmith]

Danny

This seems fairly definitive of Mr Mercury's forbearance:

Freddie Mercury was born Farrokh Bulsara on Thursday September 5th 1946 on the small spice island of Zanzibar. His parents, Bomi and Jer Bulsara, were both Parsee (Persian). His father, Bomi, was a civil servant, working as a High Court cashier for the British Government. Freddie's sister, Kashmira, was born in 1952. In 1954, at the age of eight, Freddie was shipped to St Peter's English boarding school in Panchgani, about fifty miles outside Bombay. It was there his friends began to call him Freddie, a name the family also adopted.

As St Peter's was an English school, the sports played there were typically English. Freddie loathed cricket and long-distance running, but he liked hockey, sprint and boxing. At the age of 10 he became a school champion in table tennis. Freddie was not only a good sportsman, his artistic skills were incomparable. At the age of twelve he was awarded the school trophy as Junior All-rounder. He loved art, and was always sketching for friends or relatives.

He was also music mad and played records on the family's old record player, stacking the singles to play constantly. The music he was able to get was mostly Indian, but some Western music was available. He would sing along to either and preferred music to school work.

The principal headmaster of St Peter's had noticed Freddie's musical talent, and wrote to his parents suggesting that they might wish to pay a little extra on Freddie's school fees to enable him to study music properly. They agreed, and Freddie began to learn to play the piano. He also became a member of the school choir and took part regularly in school theatrical productions. He loved his piano lessons and applied himself to them with determination and skill, finally achieving Grade IV both in practical and theory.

In 1958, five friends at St Peter's - Freddie Bulsara, Derrick Branche, Bruce Murray, Farang Irani and Victory Rana - formed the school's rock'n roll band, the Hectics, where Freddie was the piano player. They would play at school parties, at annual fetes and school dances, but little else is known about them.

In 1962, Freddie finished school, returned to Zanzibar and spent his time with friends in and around the markets, parks and beaches. In 1964, many of the British and Indians, due to political unrest in Zanzibar, left their country, although not under forcible pressure, and among those driven out were the Bulsaras who migrated to England.

Initially they lived with relatives in Feltham, Middlesex, until they were able to find their own small, terraced house in the area. Freddie was seventeen, and had decided he wanted to go to art college, but needed at least one A level to ensure he could get in. In September 1964 he enrolled at the nearby Isleworth Polytechnic.

I like his music, I'm with you on the rest.

[ACW418]

There must be something strange about MSG and Vampires. In mid 1964 I had an incident involving MSG and a Vampire whilst doing my Advanced Flying Training at Linton on Ouse.

I was doing my Final Handling Test with a Sqn Ldr I did not know and half way round a loop he shut the throttle and said engine failure. I did all the checks and came to the conclusion that the problem was the bloke in the right seat closing the throttle! I put out a Practice Pan and was given a steer to MSG not realising that I was virtually in their overhead. But straight ahead on the steer heading was an airfield (nearly on the horizon mind you). So I set off calling MSG on Flying Training Common which was the only frequency crystalled that most stations monitored - everyone else in the RAF being on UHF. After a very long glide and at a very worryingly low height I realised that the airfield had a lot of Jet Provosts in the circuit and twigged it was Leeming. Quick change of call and Leeming answered. I only had enough height to land on the cross wind runway and Leeming obligingly cleared the circuit for me. Jet Provosts started zooming off in all directions and my checking instructor said OK you'll get in overshoot and you've failed - we'll do it all again tomorrow.

I am glad to say it all went OK the next day. I now know that it wasn't really me be the hex affecting MSG and Vampires!

ACW

[Danny42C]

ACW418,

Possibly a malign effect of the MSG Ghost !

Danny.

[Danny42C]

As we were so few living in Mess, almost everybody had a place on the Mess Committee. I think John Newboult was PMC, and I picked up the task of Wines Member (Bar Officer) for pretty well the whole of my time, so they must have been fairly satisfied with me.

Our beer came from the Vaux Breweries of Sunderland, and we always had to arrange delivery "just in time", as we had no refrigeration, and after tapping the "Samson" was only good for 48 hours in the warmer weather. And I think we used to get it in "kilderkins" (half-barrels), as there weren't all that many of us to drink it.

Although we carried a fair selection of bottled beers (Newcastle Brown Ale being the favourite), most people were content with the bitter "from the wood". In those days, lagers were almost unknown, and canned beer was far in the future. I soon found one trap that I should have to guard against. A chap would button-hole me: "Why don't you try a case of (somebody or other's) bottle ? Marvellous stuff. Had it in my last place, sold like hot cakes". So I'd order a couple of cases, he'd drink a bottle or two, then get posted and no one else would touch the stuff - I'd have to drink the rest myself to get rid of it.

Most of our trade would be on the Saturday and Sunday nights when the Auxiliaries came in with their WAGs after they'd been out for the evening (and the pubs had closed, and we were cheaper, anyway !) As until the very end of my time there, we were all ex-war aircrew or ground officers from the same era, much of the atmosphere of a wartime Mess (only ten years ago then, remember) still prevailed. We fried sausages on a pan over the open fire which was the only source of heat in the room, and if a carelessly aimed butt ended in the pan, well, that just added to the flavour.

As for pubs, we left the "Oddbods" (Oddfellow's Arms) opposite the camp gate, and the town pubs to the airmen. 608 Squadron had adopted the "Bull" at Seamer (a small country village a few miles out of town) as "their" pub. I mainly remember it as a crowded little place, blue with tobacco smoke as they all were; the bar and lounge stools being two-inch slices of solid walnut cut from right across the trunk, mounted on wrought-iron legs. They were exremely heavy, it would need a Samson to wield them as a weapon.

Of course all this meant a lot of running about in our old and dilapidated cars. Luckily there was no MOT then, and the breathaliser was a long way away still. But your old car was still your most valuable material asset, and you would not risk losing it from being "under the influence", for it would only be insured third-party, and a write-off would be a financial disaster (and death to your social life).

Besides the bar, I had my own "lock-up" in a former storeroom in the old house. The Mess had dealt with Harveys of Bristol from time immemorial, and although we were only very small customers, we were very old ones, and they treated us well. At Christmas they would always give me an allocation of three or four cases of Scotch, when it was virtually unobtainable outside for love or money (had to go for export to bring in dollars, you see - or onto the Black Market).

In this Aladdin's cave of mine I found all sorts of things which had been gathering dust in far corners for years. Who drinks Madeira now ? Yet it's quite pleasant stuff - if an acquired taste. I had a dozen tucked away (probably since the war), it was my bounden duty to the Mess to turn these back into cash. For stock that is glued to the shelf is bad news in any business, even if it's still on your Balance Sheet.

Nobly, I therefore wrote the stuff down to historic cost and (as nobody else volunteered) started to work through it myself. In three years, even a modest drinker like me can make a mark. And there were other wonderful finds. I can scarcely believe it now (and I haven't imagined it), but there was Chateau Margaux and Chateau Latour (admittedly non-vintage and under the "Harveys" label - "house wine") at four bob a bottle ! - say £5 now.

Wine drinking in Britain (at least among us lower classes) was in those days a rarity, but I'll try anything once. A couple of glasses a night helped our meagre fare to taste better; the part-bottle (with my name on it) safe under lock and key inbetween times. (Actually our grub wasn't at all bad, even if, on one occasion, quite improperly short-cutting through the kitchen into the Mess, I caught the cook turning a pan of potato soup into Creme of Tomato with a bottle of Mr Heinz's best).

I cannot leave the name of Harveys without reference to their most famous import - "Bristol Cream", of which we are inordinately fond. I have never understood the Anglo-Saxon preference for wines which turn the lining of your mouth inside out. The supermarkets must sell ten bottles of Brut for every Demi-sec, even though that is (to my mind) a better drink. And I longingly recall their "White Cap" Port, which we trotted out on Dining-in nights. It had an "incense" flavour, which I liked (yes, I know, you can get "White Cap" still, but it isn't the same thing).

Off-thread for far too long. Must do Better Next Time.

'Night all,

Danny42C.


"For Malt does more than Milton can,
To justify God's ways to Man". (Houseman: Shropshire Lad - IIRC ?)

[pzu]

Danny - I believe it's not uncommon even now for 'catering establishments' to keep a stock pot on the go and starting with a 'consomme' on a Sunday produce 'Mulligatawny' by Saturday!!!

Re your 'wine stocks' were Winterschladens of Middlesbrough not involved?

PZU - Out of Africa (Retired)

[aw ditor]

Danny,

Madeira is still consumed'! Excellent source is a Wine Society not a million miles from Stevenage. However, the airfield at the island of the same name is not known as "HMS Funchal" without reason in spite of fairly recent "extensions".

A.D.

[Union Jack]

Who drinks Madeira now?

I like port but sadly it doesn't like me so, to paraphrase an old saying, when someone says, "Have a drop of port, sport", my invariable reply is "I'd rather have a glass of Madeira, m'dear.":ok:

Jack

[Danny42C]

pzu,

I remember Wjnterscladens well (on the corner down by the station). We would get a few "top-up" supplies from them, but all our regular dealings were with Harveys: we had been with them so long and they had treated us so well.

Yes, I suppose the idea of a thin potato soup as a "basic stock" in an hotel or restaurant would make good sense - you could turn it into almost anything with a bit of ingenuity !

As a matter of fact, I find the flavour of Heinz "Mulligatawny" Soup the nearest thing on the shop shelf today to the curries I ate in the subcontinent 70 yesrs ago.......D.

aw ditor.

I'ts good to know that Madeira has not been consighed to the history books - I grew quite to like the stuff. And I'd bet that Union Jack could enlarge on the story of "HMS Funchal" !..........D.

Union Jack,

Great Minds think alike ! I'ts "over to you" for HMS Funchal .......D

Regards to you all,

Danny.

[Harry Lime]

God be with he days on the 'Herc' fleet when the in-flight dinner ration included one tin of Mulligatawny and one tin of Vegetable soup. To save any disagreements over who had which, the 'Loadie' would mix the contents of both tins and we would each have a half paper cup of Mulligaveg.

Finest kind :ok:

[Chugalug2]

Danny, the post re your Wine Member duties reminds us of the various and innumerable tasks that can be one's lot under the general title "secondary duties". You can be required to hold Inventories of items of service equipment (usually of the barrack room variety), be responsible for non-public funds (usually concerning Mess expenditure) as well as a host of other jobs which for the most part have one thing in common, ie that you have had no training or experience for doing any of them! Indeed the very people that could do them standing on their heads, such as Equipment and Accounts Officers are respectively barred from the first two examples quoted. One can see the logic in that requirement, to avoid possible corruption, but it can be at the cost of efficiency to say the least. In your case it clearly wasn't as, but for your day job, you could clearly have made a good fist at being a Licenced Victualler, though the practice of consuming excess stock to increase turn-over could be injurious to one's health and happiness if taken to excess. :)

[smujsmith]

Harry Lime,

Is that the origin of "honkers stew"? Or was that another mish mash I missed on the early Herc Fleet.

[Geriaviator]

You flying gourmets did well. In-flight meals for a Tiger Moth two-hour leg were a Mars bar and/or an apple. Liquid refreshment there was none for reasons which have become even more apparent now that I'm 70+ :uhoh:

I'm greatly enjoying the daily stories, as always Danny's memories are remarkable, please keep them coming. I have commitments at present but in this Battle of the Atlantic anniversary year I hope to post on behalf of Coastal Command and my dear friend and instructor Desmond, sometime Catalina pilot, who to the end remembered his former comrades who still rest a few miles from their bases in Northern Ireland. Best wishes to everyone!

[Danny42C]

Harry Lime,

"Mullagaveg" is a favourite of Mrs D. and me, and "Mullatomato" goes down well, too. (Did you ever have a "loadie" called Len Rapkin(s), by the way ?).......D.

Chugalug,

Ah, the Subsidiary Duty ! The word in my time was that, on your 1369, it mattered far less how you'd done your proper job, but how good you'd been as Officer i/c Pig Farm, or Fire Officer (one of mine - very interesting), or Officer i/c Officers' Mess Cat - that was what really counted.

"Publicans and Sinners". It was only in my later years, when I had metamorphosed into the dreaded VAT-man, that I realised how apt was the biblical association. We reckoned that we could "ring the bell" every third visit on average (average "ring" £5,000), but pubs we reckoned at every second one.

I came to specialise in pubs (perhaps my earlier experience had been a help). It was not that a publican was necessarily more apt to (shall we say) make mistakes in his VAT accounts, but that the nature of his business made him simply easier to catch.

Accordingly, on my first arrival in any new locality, I always checked all the local pubs at lunchtime to find where the Senior Citizens were dining. As that meant the best grub, I would let someone else "do" them, so that at least I should not be barred from that one, however many of the others might mingle a bit of powdered glass in my curry after an official visit......D.

Smujsmith,

I don't know the derivation of "honkers' stew" (are you going to eat that, or have you just eaten it ?), but I've sure seen a lot of it (mostly as a hospital patient).

Harry Lime will fill in the details, I'm sure.....D.

Geriaviator,

You had it good. No one ever gave me any Flight Rations - had to buy my own Mars Bars (and "Bounty Bars", which the Americans called "Peter Paul's Mounds").

Now we're standing by all agog for Coastal Command ! Bring it on !......D.

Keep the ball rolling,

Danny.

[BEagle]

...or Fire Officer (one of mine - very interesting)...

I was joe'd for that at in my early days as a UAS QFI. So I arranged for the Command Fire Officer to come and have a shufti and advise on our facilities - as would surely any diligent secondary duty holder.

I duly took note of all Captain Flack's observations, then wrote to the Boss and OC Admin Whinge, listing all the deficiences and requesting the appropriate corrective works services....

Which would have cost thousands! The Boss thanked me for my diligence and 'asked' whether I would prefer a different secondary duty. So I volunteered for Flight Safety Officer and had a nice week (or was it two?) in London on the firm.....

The worst secondary duty I had was as silver member at a certain East Anglian fighter base. There was heaven knows how much unaccounted plunder lurking in the silver room and attempting to sort out the property book was impossible. I asked whether it was OK to check that everything which should be there was actually there - and anything else I could keep. That fell on stony ground though....:\

[Harry Lime]

Danny 42C

A Loadmaster by the name Len Papkin(s) does not compute with me. There was a Perkins on 47 Sqn. but then there were up to six Squadrons at Lyenham during the '70s. Perhaps someone else might know and oblige.

In flight dining on the 'Herc' was well above "Honkers Stew" level. Even the inimitable 'Lumpy Box' was a joy by comparison.

Harry

[pzu]

Danny

in attached link, the Thornaby 'replica' Spitfire in storage in 2007

Dismantled Spitfire, Billingham ? 2007 | Picture Stockton Archive (http://picturestocktonarchive.wordpress.com/2013/05/16/dismantled-spitfire-billingham-2007/)

PZU - Out of Africa (Retired)

[Blacksheep]

Proper "Honkers" was made by putting everything in the flight catering box into a Dixie and boiling it up on the one ring in a Shackleton galley. The home waters equivalent was "Atlantic Stew" - same recipe, different name. The job of cook went to any spare bod who was aboard.

[Geriaviator]

Aldergrove's 202 Sqn Met Flight crews aboard the Hastings for 8-10 hour flights out into the Atlantic dined on Banjo Rolls. The name came from the banjo union, a circular fitting used for components such as petrol feed to carburettors or oil drains from motorcycle valve gear.

The crew took it in turns to fry bacon and eggs for insertion into a round bread loaf, known in Northern Ireland as a bap. Two captains used their rank to demand the fat from the pan poured over the delicacy, thereby boosting their cholesterol levels to undreamed-of heights, had they only known about such things. My father complained that the cockpit often became a greasy mess and had to be wiped down with petrol.

[Fareastdriver]

When we went to Kuantan in Malaysia on exercise during 1970 two Indians volunteered their services to run a snack bar on the squadron site. We gave them a 12X12 tent to operate from and they would supply snacks of various ethnic origins to keep us going despite the C Rations we were issued with.

They were making a fortune in local terms and we had no compunction, after demolishing several cans of Tiger, about knocking them up late at night to get weaving and fire up some egg banjos.

[smujsmith]

Honkers Stew,

Ok here's what I saw as "Honkers stew" as a Ground Engineer during the 80s/90s, when deployed, and given in flight rations from your departure base, the loadie needed to provide something, nearing, a decent meal. It usually ended up being some sort of "slurry" that you could dip a bit of bread in, and, was known to me as "honkers stew" ! Not a reflection of the medical result of eating it, more, making do with what was available. I would never "diss" a loadie from Alberts. I recommend "Honkers Stew" to all. Usually good Scran!!!!:ok:

[Danny42C]

BEagle,

I was Fire Officer at Linton-on-Ouse from '62-'64. Grand bunch of men. I particularly recall my training Course at RAF Catterick and the terror we felt on launching ourselves into space on our first try on the Fireman's Pole. Some chaps leapt at it with such force that they knocked a tooth out on it.

My recurring nightmare was the Aldwark Bridge. If you plot a 60 degree wide cone out from each end of the runway, you have the area in which most airfield crashes occur. Part of one of these areas is over the other side of the Ouse. The short way is over the bridge. But it was a wooden structure of limited bearing capacity (I'm not sure what it was) and our Saracen came in at 13 tons, all-up.

Supposing you have a crash on the far side. The Cpl of the Crew has the choice of taking a chance on the bridge (and risking ending in the river on top it), or going almost to York to get across, get back and find that the fire has burnt out.

You can't expect the Cpl to take the responsibility, So it falls to me to issue the Standing Order. Bridges don't come cheap (nor do Saracens). It's way beyond my pay scale. The Council engineers thought it should stand the strain, but would not commit themselves. The Station Commander ? - Forget it ! Group ? The Corridors of Power resounded with the sound of Staff Officers running for cover. No one would carry the can.

So it was left to us. Fortunately it never happened on my watch. Does anyone remember any more about this problem in later years ?

Mess Silver ? There must be a storeroom somewhere packed with the stuff. I suppose MOD will sell it all off as a job lot when the last Station closes.....D.


Harry Lime,

The name was Len Rapkin. (Clue: he'd been a RAF Diving Champion of some sort). He came to us as a F/O in ATC about '70.

What's a "Lumpy Box" ?......D.


pzu,

Thanks for the link (haven't been to Thornaby since I don't know when). Think
the Spitfire's still on the rounabout......D


Blacksheep,

Sounds revolting !.....D.


Geriaviator ,

The "Bap" is well known and esteemed in these parts (NE England), too.....D.


Fareastdriver,

If there was money to be made, your Indians wouldn't mind what hour of the day or night you knocked them up !

"Banjo" - seem to remember a "Banjal" in India, maybe same thing, can't be sure, too long ago....D. EDIT: Of course ! It was BRINJAL I was thinking about. Silly me !......D.


Smujsmith,

Well, if you're hungry enough, any grub is good grub !....D.


Goodnight all, Danny.

[smujsmith]

Danny

My description on the "Honkers stew" is probably quite gross sounding, but, I think Blacksheep seems to describe the origin of the recipe. Either way, in dire times "down route" I have enjoyed a good old "Honkers" when "enjoying" a 14 hour leg with only compo rations. Bless the loadies, always reliable and never ever fed me any rubbish. I doubt you had such fine dining in your time, but it sounds like the wine was good.:ok:

[pzu]

Danny

Thornaby Spitfire installation

Thornaby Spitfire, March 2007 | Picture Stockton Archive (http://picturestocktonarchive.wordpress.com/2013/05/17/thornaby-spitfire-march-2007/)

PZU - Out of Africa (Retired)

[Harry Lime]

The best as memory serves is of a plain white cardboard box about 12 by 9 by 2 inches which contained some or all or none of the following:

Half round of Spam sandwich,
Half round of 'Cheese' sandwich,
Usually a piece of Fruit and a sealed plastic container of Orange Squash.
Then, either;
Penguin Choc Bar, or
Apiece of Fruit Cake, or
Three Custard Creams.

These were issued on any flight or exercise of a duration where a main meal would not normally be taken. Included were Sim exercises, all training flights (MCT, CPT etc.) and route trips to say Northern Ireland, Scotland and Germany, - possibly even further.

Apart from keeping the chocy bars for the kiddies at home, little else was consumed. Even the Ground Crew turned their noses up at them, and I say that as one who started in the RAF as a Locking Apprentice.

[Blacksheep]

Even the Ground Crew turned their noses up at themExcept for one. We had an LAC on Line Servicing Squadron at Brize Norton ('71-'74) who turned up to every arrival on his bicycle and, as soon as the crew departed, would raid the galleys and put anything he found in the bicycle pannier. This was how he fed his family. I shudder to think what his wife and family made of their rations. :uhoh:

[Danny42C]

Smujsmith,

I recall the night "fry-ups" in our old Radar Rest Caravans. Like your "loadies", Radar mechs could turn out a feast from whatever lay to hand. As to the disposal of surplus beer and wine, it was a hell of a job, but someone had to do it !.......D.


pzu,

Again, nice pics of the original Vb, hope it's back in the air somwhere now. But the plastic replica looks quite nice, and the scrap metal thieves round here would have had the real one away by now anyway. Thanks once more .........D.


Harry Lime,

"Spam" is an acquired taste, but it "kept the home fires burning" (in a manner of speaking) in the war. The rest of it doesn't sound at all bad. Your Ground Crew was too "picky", but de Gustibus etc.....D.


Blacksheep,

When I think what the RAF paid me sixty years ago, I'm not surprised that a
LAC had to scavenge. Perhaps his family liked Spam au gratin......D.

This is what our Forum's all about !

Danny.

[smujsmith]

Danny

Sounds like your radar lads could do the biz :ok:

Smudge

[Danny42C]

The first half of '53 saw the changing of the Old Guard. The first to go was W/Cdr Sewell in March, who must have been short-toured, as he'd arrived not long before me. His fate was to be the next Stn Cmdr. of Machrihanish (I don't know if this involved promotion: it's a place of which I knew little and had no desire to learn more). Unfeelingly, in the weeks before his departure, "The Road to the Isles" suddenly became popular, and was much hummed and whistled around the Station.

He was succeeded by a S/Ldr F.G.Daw (according to a history of RAF Thornaby, which has proved correct in those details I do remember) As for Daw himself (who was, I suppose, soon put up to W/Cdr), my recollection of him is totally blank (even though it must have been he who carpeted me on occasion). It was one of my "Carlstrom Field" amnesias (Chugalug will remember the reference).

In May, I flew the Harvard to Manby to pick up S/Ldr John Newboult, so he had his feet on the first rung of the ladder: I don't remember who succeeded him as Squadron Adj. And on 31st July Mike Beavis appears as certifying officer in my log book for the last time: he must then have started on the meteoric rise which would lead him to the pinnacle of an RAF career.

In March I'd gone to CMB for the first of my quartely check-ups. My routine was unvarying. I went down on the afternoon train (1st Class in mufti - as the warrant pad was in my safe, and I signed them!) King's Cross to Sloane Square, round Peter Jones to the Officers' Malcolm Club in Cadogan Gardens, where they did dinner, bed and breakfast for 18/6 (good value). In the morning, a toss-up between Warren Street and Goodge Street, to be on the Kelvin House doorstep as soon as they opened up. Then round the production line of medics, blow the mercury up again, "no change" said the President, "carry on, come back in June".

Pub lunch somewhere, King's Cross again, send a telegram to my Unit to meet the next train on arrival at Thornaby, and that was that for the day. And I had another quarterly duty to do as well - the TAAFA Unit Report and Meeting at the County Hall in Northallerton. Generally, only one or two of the T.A. battalion commanders and auxiliary C.O.s would attend: all the rest sent their adjutants to represent them. (I don't think Dave Brown ever put in an appearance).

I'd been going to these boring affairs for the past year now, and my determination to recruit for quality rather than quantity, and to cut out the dead wood, was paying off. The morale of the remainder went up; word-of-mouth has ever been the best Recruiting Sergeant; I could report that my numbers were rising satisfactorily. TAAFA, which had looked at me askance last year (and tried to unseat me, but was foiled by "Batchy"), reluctantly decided that I might just be a Good Chap after all.

Now the next Summer Camp was on the horizon. This year we would be going to RAF Wartling (East Sussex, near Bexhill) another ROTOR station on the South coast. I decided to take the pool Staff Car, a rather well worn Hillman "Minx" with a known prodigious appetite for oil. Having armed myself with two gallon cans of the stuff from M.T., I thought I should be all right, but in fact used the whole lot getting the "Minx" down there. Again the two weeks passed off without any trouble that I can remember.

We got a pat on the back that year from O.C. Wartling. I think we were the last FCU of the year for them, and they told us we'd been the best and most efficient of the lot (I suppose they say that to all the FCUs !) This time, besides oil, the Minx was carrying two nine-gallon kegs of "Chalk Farm" still Cider, a local product which we had discovered and which had made quite an impression. This cargo was bar stock. We retailed it at 3d as a "short" (it was the cheapest drink in the Mess, but still gave us a handsome profit), and it tasted very nice, but it was a stealthy, slow anaesthetic which had to be approached with caution. We used it as a basis for a fruit punch at the Mess Garden Party and most people thought we had used vodka.

Almost as soon as I got back, my first Annual Refresher came up - 7 FTS at Cottesmore, on Boulton Paul "Balliols". I'd only heard of these things, but never seen one. Five minutes after I got into the air, I knew it of old - it was just a big Miles Master in all respects. Comfortable, safe, easy - a real "old gentleman's aeroplane". Side by side seating, so you had someone to talk to, and a huge rear compartment (for what ?), which would hold any amount of kit if you were taking it for a weekend. And a great wide undercarriage like a Master, so no trouble on the ground. I can't recall what Cottesmore had as well as these things, but we had an RLG (Woolfox Lodge ?) so they may have wanted us out of the way for something more important.

My abiding memory is of the Night Flying Session. I'd not flown at night since Finningley in '49. It was a farce. Cottesmore then had a white concrete runway, and it was full moon in a cloudless sky. You could read a newspaper at midnight. It was day flying for all practical purposes, and almost dead calm. The Balliol settled down contentedly on each roller, I was almost sorry when I had to stay down for good.

And that was the last night flying of my "career" !

Bit more day flying next time.

Cheers, everybody,

Danny.


Never mind.

[Icare9]

Hi, Danny, just back from 2 months in the sun in Spain, so catching up and there you are, just round the corner at Wartling!
Now you've set me to finding that Chalk Farm cider "just to see if it's as you said it was!" you understand - important social research.... ahem
Glad the thread is still making P1 on the Forum and long may these entertaining stories continue.

[Danny42C]

Icare9,

Welcome back ! Have tried a cursory Google, but no joy. It was a fairly large enterprise as I remember, but may have been taken over, and 60 years is a long time.

If you find it, let me know your opinion. As a native of those parts, you will know that these products must be approached with extreme caution !

Danny.

[Chugalug2]

Icare, welcome back to Blighty! I too am a local and like you will pursue a relentless and selfless quest for Chalk Farm still cider. It will be a long and weary road no doubt, but someone has to do it...
Danny, I suspect that the Carlstrom effect is common to all of a certain vintage, it certainly is for me. Your mention of Machrihanish though reminds me that the equivalent of being banished to Siberia for the RAF was a posting there as OC GD Flight. Its attraction was more for visitors than residents, I suspect. Good for stocking up on fish of various types though, from Salmon to Kippers. The ramp on the Hercules, being the coldest part of the fuselage, was the best place to stow it.

[clicker]

I'm about 15 miles west of Wartling so will also keep a look out for the cider when I'm in the area.

Never knew there had a radar station there unless it was the one often mentioned as Pevensey in various hstories etc.

[smujsmith]

Danny and Chug,

I had the pleasure of being SNCO I/C Visiting Aircraft Servicing Section for 3 years at Machrihanish. The station had many things going for it. A beautifully sandy beach where your kids could play all day, some great whiskey distilliaries in Campbeltown and on nearby Islay and then the Golf. Machrihanish Golf Club is a full championship course, no longer used by the pro's due to its location. We were allowed full membership for only a few pounds a year. I arrived there never having hit a golf ball, and, left playing if a 4 handicap. Those were the days, but a great place.:)

[Danny42C]

Chugalug,

There seem to be varying opinions about Machrihanish (see Smujsmith's glowing report), so I'll reserve judgment for the time being (never fancied the place much myself). I can well believe it might be a good place for fresh fish: it would make sense to stow it as far downwind of the Flight Deck as possible, even apart from the refrigeration aspect.

Hope it was securely lashed down, as I believe you opened the lid at the back from time to time as circumstances demanded (must have been very draughty).

The "Carlstrom Syndrome" is particularly unsettling. I could understand forgetting some place or individual - we all do that - but when a photograph is shown to you of a place which you must have seen a hundred times, and it still means nothing, or a Station Commander is named, under whom you served for over a year, and your mind is still blank, then it leaves a strange feeling.

I seem to have set a hare running with Chalk Farm Cider, wouldn't want anyone to waste much time on historical research, for the firm is probably long defunct. Google tells us no end about the cider farms down there, and there are plenty of others who, I'm sure, sell an equally potent product...D.


clicker,

As before, google "RAF Wartling", and it'll come up with the goods. There are a lot of nice pics (one on the side "8-06"), looks like a nice des. res. In fact it would be the innocent-looking Guard House and top of the stairs down to the business end far below (the "hole"). AFAIK, all the ROTOR stations on the East and South Coasts were underground, with a dummy "house" like that on top.

Apparently they're excavating the place (You Tube)......D


Smujsmith,

Sounds like a wonderful place, so long as the sun was shining ! Was it a G/Capt station in your time ? There was some gossip about the reason for his shortened tour; W/Cdr Sewell was a very personable chap, with a lovely new pale blue Standard Vanguard (Fortune has Pandered to the Man with a Standard), and I can't remember ever being introduced to a Mrs S. But you know how people talk !...D.

Cheers, everbody,

Danny.

[Icare9]

Danny, don't worry, as chugalug2 (very appropriate monicker, as we now realise!) says "someones got to do it" and we've had all sorts of research helping with identifying the type of Vengeance, cars and all sorts of other incidentals, so in the name of "purely" historical research, he, I and clicker will do our verry besh hic to search out an an er tashte all der vunnerful sidres, siders an an ciders ar thash the wun in ower neck of the woods an an come back and report on ower er findings..... hic I insisht dear boy an on this we wunt be druv hic.

I'm not actually a native of these parts, as we only retired to the country from the City 18 months ago and loving it here. I'm a Sarfender originally and making the most of it whilst Mrs Axe is getting various joints replaced and easing the remaining ones with generous dollops of Spanish sun (and wine!).

Check out the info from the Wartling village site: Subterranea Britannica: Sites:RAF Wartling WW2 GCI Radar Station (http://www.subbrit.org.uk/sb-sites/sites/w/wartling(raf)_gci_radar_station/index.shtml) and also get some of the delicious meat from Chilley Farm down on the Pevensey levels.
We're supposed to be living on the hill where Duke William first raised his standard (either of Normandy - with the two lions, not 3 as in the English - or perhaps the Papal banner allegedly supporting his "rightful" claim to the throne of England) before trolleying off to do Battle with Harold who was on his way back from Stamford Bridge. Damn silly time to be off watching football if you ask me.

[smujsmith]

Danny,

No, my time at Machrihanish was 81 - 84. But, the staish was a Wing Co, and a real gentleman, it was a great tour. Just to give you a "flavour". The day after I arrived there, as SNCO i/c VASS, they closed the runway for resurfacing. The only visitors we had for the first half of my tour were choppers from Prestwick. I had two, very competent Corporals, and four top notch airmen. We split the working week into two. Corporal "A" led a two man shift for two days, and the following week three days, and vice versa for the other shift. Me ? I had a radio, and was in contact at all times with my men, even if I was on the Golf Course. We had some great visitors
http://i1292.photobucket.com/albums/b572/smujsmith/image_zpsef0b41b6.jpg

I enjoyed Machrihanish so much, I have spent lots of time up there since leaving.

Smudge

PS, I'm second right, who the bloke to my right is, well, there's a challenge. On that flight I got to meet Yoko Ono as well. And Linda, the Kids, Denny Laine........:bored: I have to admit, the bloke on my right could play the guitar, slightly better than me. And we did have a go together in the all ranks club 1983. The bloke to the right of me became a very good C130 Ground Engineer, I would say " as did I" for want of modesty.:uhoh:

[Neptunus Rex]

My great-grandfather was the village butcher in Machrihanish. My first (Shack) co-pilot, and his wife, came from Machrihanish, then in 1985 I did a 'roller' landing there in a brand new RAAF P3C Orion.
Happy days!

Now, back to Danny and the real dits.

[smujsmith]

Neptunus Rex,

You are of course spot on, lets get back to Danny's "Eximius fabula". What we must not miss is the reminiscences that he, and his ilk, raise when we read. I think that one of the attractions of this thread is that many of us, ex RAF etc, can empathise with the tales told and the memories jogged. Long may it continue. I'm sorry for the thread drift.

Smudge

[Danny42C]

Smujsmith and Neptunus Rex,

In ATC we always said "This'd be a fine job if it weren't for these damned aircraft ! You at least seemed to have attained Nirvana (i/c a Visitors' Servicing Flight with no visitors !).

Fine body of men ! I like the AA badge. Did the driver still salute you (and if he didn't, we all know what that means, don't we ?).

Next Fabula on stocks. Eximius ?.*..Tot homines, quot sententiae !

Thread drift ? Vive la différence ! ('Ware incoming thunderbolt from Zeus/Moderator).

Danny. EDIT: * "Extraordinary, excellent" (no idea, had to look it up !)

[smujsmith]

Danny,

Eximius fabula - Uncommon fable, sorry, didn't do too much Latin at Halton.:eek:

[BEagle]

I like the AA badge. Did the driver still salute you (and if he didn't, we all know what that means, don't we ?).

Another of those old traditions which probably won't mean anything to yoof of today!

I remember the grumbling when they stopped the practice in 1961! A rather grumpy business acquaintaince of my father passed an AA man, who didn't salute. So this chap continued cautiously, although this was 4 years before the nanny-state 70 mph limit was introduced by Barbara Castle and there wouldn't have been any speed traps out of town. So he went back and gave the patrolman a piece of his mind, only to be told that the 'saluting code' had been discontinued....:rolleyes:

[Chugalug2]

I remember as a small boy sitting in the passenger seat of my Grandfather's Rover 12 "Lizzie" on a Sunday afternoon, for that was the day he and my Grandmother would take it out for a drive and a picnic in the country (they lived in Southgate, N. London). In those days petrol was cheap enough and the roads uncrowded enough to make such an idea reasonable. My sole pre-occupation was to spot an AA patrol man approaching in the opposite carriageway, because my Grandfather was a member and proclaimed such with a chromed and yellow enamelled badge on the front bumper. Resplendent in a khaki uniform with black facings, astride a motor bike and sidecar combination, the patrolman would throw up a smart gauntleted salute having espied the badge. My Grandfather thought it was aimed at him, being a member, but it was of course for me. Occasionally though there was no salute, much to my disgust. My Grandfather never seemed phased by such a seeming slight, explaining that he simply hadn't seen our badge. What a nonsense! Now of course I see a more sinister explanation, a subversive plot to undermine the forces of law and order. I'm shocked. Deeply shocked!
Smudge, apologies for having so defamed your Pied a Terre, and you a Hercules Ground Engineer to boot! Please ignore my unforgivable crassness.

[pzu]

I've previously posted 'links' to interviews with SAAF WWII pilots by Tinus Le Roux

Have just been introduced (via the Net) to a guy in the UK called Neil Pugh, here is a link to an interview he's done with Eric Carter a Murmansk veteran of 83 Squadron - be warned it's long!!!

Watch Eric Carter last surviving member of RAF No.81 Squadron - War Memories | Videos by Mysticpuma - Now showing Checkertails Part1 Episodes | Videos | Blip (http://blip.tv/videos-by-mysticpuma-now-showing-checkertails-part1/eric-carter-last-surviving-member-of-raf-no-81-squadron-war-memories-2397199)

PZU - Out of Africa (Retired)

[Danny42C]

Chugalug,

Ah, the Rover 12 ! All Connolly leather and walnut, dash and door cappings. Lovely little fitted tooldrawer slid into bottom of centre panel. Some had a "free-wheel", which took all the terror out of gearchanging. Silvery Viking's head on radiator cap. Them were the days !

Poor man's Rolls Royce - don't make 'em like that any more - more's the pity.

Think that, at the end, the AA men were threatened with "obstructing a constable in the execution of his duty" for the noble service they performed.

Even in your Grandad's day, petrol wasn't all that cheap. At 1/5d a gallon (prewar), it would represent an hour's labour for a semi-skilled man. The average hourly rate for a working man today is £13.29 (source, D.T.) A gallon today costs about £6.

And (prewar) Grandad had to pay £10 per annum Road Tax (£500 today)

Must get next Instalment Gripping Story in tonight, before Moderator's patience snaps !

Danny.

[Tim Mills]

More lovely stories from all. Called up Aug 48, accepted for pilot training, Cottesmore I think, tried hard, achieved 15 plus hours on the Tiger Moth, and even then not going solo! Not entirely my incompetence, weather related, that's my story. Luckily off to Cranwell,, to learn manners and the proper hat to wear in civvies, and they had the ponderous Prentice which allowed me to land it without bouncing all over the place, and it was all go from there with the good old, and most enjoyable, Harvard to come. And Wings!

Which brings me to the real point of all this. The students bar in the College was of course a lead in to future Happy Hours, but the thing I really remember was that they had rough cider on sale, which I think was meant to lead us gently to the real stuff, and I think it was probably cheaper than Mr Watney or whoever. But in fact it had a rather more profound effect, so was deservedly popular. I'm afraid I don't remember who made it. Good though. Though I did progress, and even here where the cold and fizzy rules I still prefer the hop to the apple!

Nearly back on track!

[clicker]

Danny,

Found the area on a larger scale map showing a place called "Radar House".

I use to work for the local plod in one of their control rooms in Brighton. I've just asked if any of the local lads or dog handlers know of "Chalk Farm Cider" and if I get any replies I'll post them here.

[Blacksheep]

Machrihanish may have been paradise on earth in Smudge Smith's day, but it was a different matter to we "V" Bomber boys in the sixties. Macrihanish was a dispersal for the Vulcans of the Waddington Wing and was not, shall we say, the most popular place to be assigned to for exercising the ground equipment - or worse, for a 'Mickey Finn'. Cold, lonely and windy, it was a nice place to leave in a Beverley - taking our own fire engine back home with us.

I remember one routine visit when we ended up at a dismal pub somewhere after the Bombers had flown off. A local fellow latched on to us and ended up back at our hut for the night. In the morning we boarded a bus and climbed aboard our Beverley for the trip home. Upon arrival at Waddington in darkest Lincolnshire, we discovered that our "guest" had joined us on the bus, boarded the flight and climbed onto the fire engine for a kip. There was no way on earth for us to take him back, so we escorted him out to the A15, pointed out which way was north and bade him farewell and safe journey (hitchhiking was a common mode of travel in the sixties)

If he was indeed fortunate, he never made it. :oh:

[Danny42C]

clicker and Tim Mills,

Do not be too assiduous in your search for "Scrumpy" (for I assume that C.F. was a refined version of whatever that was). As the old Chinese proverb tells us "Be careful what you wish for - you may get it !"

As I recall, the victim showed no signs of intoxication, spoke and behaved quite rationally until he got out of the Mess/Pub into the open air. Then his knees turned to jelly. So have a care !

Google has no end of pics of "down the hole" at RAF Wartling".

Danny.

[aw ditor]

T.M.

I believe the Cider was Merrydown'. As Danny implies it went to your knees after a couple of pints! Thought it was withdrawn from the then College Mess after a couple of "incidents"?

A.D.

[Icare9]

Middle Farm, near Firle on the outskirts of Lewes is reputed to have a vast range of ciders, so I'll endeavour to persuade Mrs Axe for a trip over the Bank Holiday to conduct more research. Of course, they may have changed the name so I'll have to try a lot..... !!!!
Apologies for thread drift :ok:

[Danny42C]

Now my flying is restricted to the Station Harvard and Tiger Moth. The Harvard I'd been flying off and on since I trained on them originally in the States, but the only previous experience I had with the TM had been at Valley, where my initial efforts had not been particularly glorious. Anyway, who wants to fly Tigers when there are Spitfires and Vampires waiting for you on the line ?

Besides getting in as much time as possible on 608's Vampires here, I seem to have been used this first year as a "taxi-driver", picking people up and dropping them off with the Harvard at Newton (several times, as it was 12 Gp HQ), Hawarden, Church Fenton, Ouston and Leconfield. When Dave Brown became C.O., we went to Auxiliary Conferences at West Raynham and Leconfield, and down to Martlesham Heath to spy out the ground for our first Annual Camp.

In my second and third years, when the Harvard and TM were all that I could fly, I started "Air Experience" flights for our troops. Volunteers soon filled the list. We would kit them out, shoe-horn them into the back seat, give them a sick-bag and tell them what to do with it. These were very rarely needed, as I took care to fly S&L with gentle turns all the way. You must remember that, even though they were serving in the RAF or Auxiliaries, the great majority of people then had never been off the ground. It would not be till the mid-sixties that the Great British Public started to grow air-minded to any extent.

One fine afternoon I climbed in for a solo trip in the TM. It was late summer, the gorse and heather would be in bloom over the moors, it was nice and warm, I was looking forward to this. I took it to our grass patch, turned into wind and opened up. Tail up, it seemed rather sluggish. The clock crept round to 40 kts, but then there was no more coming. Not enough to fly.

Puzzled, I stopped, turned round and went back to the start and tried again. Same thing, even though I was getting the correct 2150 (or whatever it was) rpm from the motor. This time I left it ticking-over, climbed out to see what might be the matter - and found myself in foot-long grass ! The poor old thing just couldn't go any faster. There would no more flying till the grass was cut. Disconsolate, I went back to the office.

As most of my trips with Dave were (relatively) "long-haul" in the Harvard, I took it into my head (not being a QFI) to teach him to fly the TM a bit. I see that, at the end, we were doing C&Bs (I was pushing my luck !) I'm sure he was ready to solo, but of course I couldn't authorise it, and the 608 Training Officer certainly wouldn't.

I got my payback in this way. On a cross-country flight in the Harvard, I would carefully trim and settle the the aircraft on Course, Dave would zero his D.I., I would hand over to him and he would fly S&L, hanging on to the D.I. like a leech. So I had a human autopilot, and could devote myself to the navigation. Not that I did much of that, for I navigated Indian fashion -draw a pencil line on the map and follow it. We had heard vague rumours of these new-fangled airways things, but paid no heed. When time-elapsed suggested that we should be in VHF range of the destination, a few steers would take us in. Life was simple in those days.

One day I took the Harvard solo for half-an-hour. We all know that 90% + of a pilot's expertise is deployed in the last 15 seconds of every flight. So I decided to spend the time doing rollers to hone my skills a bit. Ever since my time in the States, I'd put the flaps up on the roll in a Harvard, always using a clenched fist to knock up the flap selector. Second or third time round, I had a premature "Senior Moment". I forgot, used an open hand and (of course) took hold of the u/c handle. I'd pulled it up out of the detent before bells rang and lights flashed in my head, and I realised what I was doing. Luckily I hadn't moved the control a fraction, so I could smartly push it back again. No harm done.

That was close ! Take a hold of yourself, man !. I can remember the horror of that moment to this day.

I Learned about Flying from That (stay awake !)

Goodnight, everybody (beware of Scrumpy),

Danny42C


"Flying is not inherently dangerous, but it is terribly unforgiving of the slightest mistake" (Lord Brabazon, ca 1905)

[Fareastdriver]

From one of my previous. posts.

One Friday my father was later than usual coming back from work. I then saw the cloud of dust as the Chevvy came down the road and turned into the drive. It undershot the turn and collected the brick pier that the gates were going to hang on to. There was great bang and then a pile of collapsed masonry and dust

My father was the wines member at RAF Morton in Marsh and he introduced Merrydown one Friday.

I was at school at Chipping Campden and I would travel in the school train to Moreton and walk to the station entrance to be picked up by my father after work. I had to wait an extraordinary long time and when he picked me up he seemed remarkably cheerful. We lived in a house that was within the grounds of a mansion and he did the same thing again. This time the masonry was 16th century and a Frazer Nash is not so robust as a Chevrolet.

We needed a new car anyway.

[clicker]

Icare9, I

Its still called Middle Farm, never stopped there but its well known and liked I'm told. Must try it myself sometime as its half way between my home and Eastbourne.

Danny,

My contacts suggest Chalk Farm might be linked to Chalk Farm Close in Eastbourne just off the A22 near whats knwn as the Willingdon Triangle. Not known yet if the cider is still around though.

[Taphappy]

All this talk of cider is making me feel quite light headed, what you chaps need is a large glass of finest malt!!!

[Danny42C]

Fareastdriver, clicker, and Taphappy,

I fear Chalk Farm, Merrydown et al may have been responsible for a lot of destruction of property and not a few bruises (but hopefully nothing much worse) in their time.

Our troops were specifically warned against the stuff on first arrival at Wartling, with the inevitable result that they made a bee-line for it as soon as they hit town, with the inevitable result................

I suppose "Chalk Farm" probably predates the Cider firm; they just used the name and may well be defunct, but the name lives on. If you have a local Historical Society, they may have a handle on it.

Malt ? The consolation of old age !

Danny.

[OffshoreSLF]

Going back to Machrihanish, we spent our honeymoon near there in a charming little country cottage.

One day we were out for a drive, and came across some traffic lights in the middle of nowhere. These were at red, so of course I stopped. Suddenly a jet shot across in front of us, which was a bit of a surprise to say the least.

When the lights turned green, we went forward onto what was the runway. there was a white line in the centre of the "road" which we followed for 100 yards or so along the centre of the runway, then it turned off on the opposite side and then reverted to a normal road again. There was another set of traffic lights on this side of the runway (obviously) for traffic going in the opposite direction.

I've tried to find it on Google maps, but failed. Perhaps they thought mixing cars and fast jets was not a good idea.

Please tell me I'm right in my memories and not imagining it. It was a fair few years ago now.

(Have I really been married that long?)

[smujsmith]

Offshore

I don't know if this will work but, here's a shot taken from the Eastern end of the runway at Machrihanish, the public road running parallel to the taxiway that crosses the end of the runway:

http://i1292.photobucket.com/albums/b572/smujsmith/image_zpsd9bd254c.jpg (http://s1292.photobucket.com/user/smujsmith/media/image_zpsd9bd254c.jpg.html)

ISTR, from my time there that it had traffic lights on the road, which you can see running across the base of the runway. I can't ever remember the public road actually crossing, let alone running along the runway, but you certainly got some low approaches when sitting at the lights. The road, of your experience, must be this one as the other end of the runway opens directly onto the golf course, beach then loads of oggin. Hope that makes sense and helps.

Smudge

[Danny42C]

OffshoreSLF and Smudge,

Exactly the same arrangement was in force at Thorney Island in '60. In this case the public road ran straight across both taxiways and the runway, with traffic lights (controlled by ATC) at each end.

It was comical to see bikes and a double-decker bus crossing on "green", with a Varsity waiting patiently on the taxiway, engines smoking at idle, for its turn to cross!

Smudge, lovely pic, what ASR arrangements were there for a flop in the sea after takoff ?

Danny.

[smujsmith]

Hiya Danny,

As far as I knew there was no ASR/SAR when I was there. The nearest would have been the Navy chaps at Prestwick. About 30 minutes away, I suppose you would have to rely on your survival gear. :ooh:

Smudge

[Danny42C]

Smudge,

Better than my Bomb Scow (qv) ! (you mat recall I had the same problem). Still I suppose the Westerly gale would have soon blown them up onto the Golf Course ! (can't quite see runway heading).

Danny.

[clicker]

Visit to Middle Farm made this morning, vast amount of ciders including a godd 15-20 Sussex ones in bottles. The guy there had not heard of Chalk Farm Cider I'm afraid.

(Did come away with a few to sample later :ok: )

[smujsmith]

Danny,

Runway is 29/11, that's the 29 approach end. I remember your Bomb Scow tale :ok: nothing so upmarket for us 60/70s servicemen. Keep your story going Danny, it's compulsive reading.

Smudge

[OffshoreSLF]

Smudge,

Thanks for the picture. I was wondering if the road middle right, which comes down and sweeps round the end of the runway actualy carried straight on and crosses the light patch of ground before crossing the taxiway was how the road was at that time. There is definitely a line on your photo to support this view. It's 30 years ago now and we were only there a week and - ahem - had other things on our minds at the time.:O Perhaps my memory is fading a bit.

What I do remember was that we came across the "Main terminal" for the flights to Glasgow. It was a portacabin with a Loganair aircraft parked outside. The "security" was a plastic chain-link fence that I could have just stepped over! While we were there the pilot and passengers came out of this portacabin and got on board. The one and only ground staff lady then came out, locked the portacabin door, and the pilot said, "Bye Morag. See you tomorrow." then opened the front door of the aircraft, climbed in, started the engine and left! Flying as it used to be!

[smujsmith]

Offshore,

The "Logiebaird" terminal/pan, is bottom right of the runway. 30 years ago would put you right at the time we had the runway resurfaced (the start of my tour there). Up to that point VASS had handled the Loganair Trislander on the VASS Pan (up to the left of the Gaydon Hangar on the photo). I believe that during the resurfacing Loganair were allowed a direct access gate to their terminal from the road. That would fit with your memory of driving on to the airfield. You were lucky with your luxury travel with Loganair, I well remember seeing the Trislander off one afternoon. It was so full one of the pax sat in the co pilots seat, with his suitcase on his lap. We had just got back to our crewroom when the squawk box from ATC informed us that Loganair was returning to the pan. When he got in the pilot asked if we could look after the passengers suitcase for the next flight as, he couldn't pull the stick back far enough to take off with it on his knee. As he already had 2 people on board more than he had seat belts for, we were happy to lighten his load. Happy Days, we sent his suitcase on the next mornings aircraft, it was empty:\ (the aircraft, not the suitcase).

Anyway, this must now be guilty of serious "driftus threadus" and well worthy of a wrist slap. I'm glad you had a good time on the Mull, I certainly did. Mods, Thanks for your patience.

Smudge

[Danny42C]

Smudge,

The Moderators are absolutely right to let us old-timers natter on like this. It is exactly the purpose of a Forum - it is a perfect example of the "Virtual Crewroom" I like to imagine in cyberspace.

It is this "loose rein" which has made this the Prince of Threads in "Military Aircrew", ever since Cliff Nemo (RIP) started it years ago. My humble story (as the last RAF Pilot who Gained his Wings in WW2 - at least the last in captivity on this Thread) acts as a sort of a wick in a candle, on which the comments, suggestions, queries and (if needful) corrections coagulate like wax. Or at least I hope it does.

What it must not be is a monolgue. I submit this analysis to the Moderators, who will correct me if I am wrong.

Thanks for the compliment ! (More Post soon),

Danny.

[Danny42C]

A lot of Funny Little things happened after I got back from Cottesmore, and then two Funny Big Things. I am not sure of the order of events, so will give you the lot in one or two bunches.

A letter came in from the Stockton Corporation Transport Manager. Their conductor on our last Sunday's Seaton Snook "special" had reported a broken window on the top deck during the journey back. This was presumably the result of some (ferocious !) horseplay. Who was going to pay for the damage ? Tongue-in-cheek (for I knew that in fact there was no conductor on these runs), I retorted that it was surely the task of the "conductor" to maintain order on his bus, and to secure the name & address of the perpetrator.

This had him on the back foot straight away, as he had to acknowledge that there was no "conductor" at all, as stated in his first letter. Still he persisted, and I pointed out that the not inconsiderable sum the RAF was paying for hire must include an element for insurance. What about that ? This elicited the astounding information that the bus was not insured against passenger damage (what a way to run a Bus service !) I jumped on that. What might be the extent of a passenger's liability in such cases ? Supposing a bus were to be written-off in these circumstaces, was it remotely reasonable to expect a private individual to pay up ? Why wasn't it insured in the first place ? Whose fault was that ?

Now we had him on the ropes; he became a humble supplicant, and for the first time the sum at issue was mentioned (£18, or thereabouts). At the time our Tea Swindle had about £1,000 in the bank; this trifling sum would not hurt us. Accordingly I wrote back a letter positively oozing with magnanimity: in view of the good relations which had always existed between us, and purely as an act of grace, and admitting no responsibility, and he must understand that this not to be taken as establishing any precedent, here was a cheque for the £18. So honour was satisfied, and we called it a draw.

Two subsidiary questions will have sprung to mind. Why did I not investigate the circumstances myself ? - because I know omerta when I see it coming. And why did I keep it "in house", and not turn it over to the Station ? Are you serious ? - I' d be wrapped up in Boards of Inquiry and Summaries of Evidence from then to Kingdom Come ! (Now you know what Adjutants have to do for a living).

The next little one was really not funny at all. We had a W.R.Aux.A.F. Drum & Pipe Band; TAAFA bought the instruments, but the Drum-Major's mace was a wondrous thing, presented to us a few years before by the Lord Lieutenant. The hollow silver cap was suitably engraved with the fact, and richly decorated: fine silver chain criss-crossed down the shaft, and I think there was a silver ferrule. It was polished to perfection.

One ass left it on the ground as the kit was being loaded, another reversed the truck over it. It was a sorry sight. Of course the wheel had to have run over the cap (and not the much cheaper shaft) and squashed it. We could hardly ask the Lord Lieutenant for another one, and TAAFA would have raised a stink, so we had to send it to Boosey & Hawkes (musical instruments suppliers, who have skill in brass and silver bashing) to straighten it out; it wasn't cheap, the Mace was never the same again and the Tea Swindle took the hit.

Now for a Big One, and some good news for a change. We were now fully restored in TAAFA's good books, but even so we were surprised and gratified to learn that we should have a Unit Crest and Motto, and that they would pay the bill. Why this should be, I know not, but presumably it was on the grounds that everyone else had one, so we should have one, too.

Accordingly, I was to submit draft designs and mottoes to the Chester Herald (there are four of them, I believe, but this was our man, and he ain't cheap) for approval. I then made the gross error of proudly announcing the honour to our troops, and asking for suggestions. You never saw such a load of rubbish as came in: daggers dripping blood, knight's helmets, lions and leopards every which way, eagles drawn with varying degrees of skill, in fact everything that a Hollywood producer could think of to put on the shield of a Ye Olde Medieval Knight in a bad B-movie.

I quickly realised my mistake, and that whatever choice I made (for Dave wisely washed his hands of the affair), I should make one friend and 119 enemies. I therefore cut the Gordian knot, declared the competition null and void, and decided to do the job myself.

The White Rose of York would have been nice, but RAF Thornaby had bagged that already. I hit on the idea of a pointer, rigid, paw lifted and tail level, with the motto "I guide the hunter". I was nervous about the idea of a natural looking dog, but the Herald was all for it. It seems that the dog has an honoured place in heraldry as an emblem of fidelity and loyalty to the Sovereign. The Herald's draughtsman did a good job, a tan and white hound gazing fixedly to the left in the act of pointing, as I'd suggested.

TAAFA liked it, everbody liked it, in particular everybody liked the motto (about time we had one in English). It perfectly expressed the purpose of the Unit, and it was particularly apt as the Hunter (aircraft) was just then coming into service.

I'm a bit hazy about the details, but the design went back through TAAFA to the Boss Herald in London, he (theoretically) had to refer it to the Sovereign for final approval; she signed the Top Copy (or was it just facsimile ?); it came back to TAAFA and they put it in a nice frame; we held a Station Parade; the Lord Lieutenant turned up in full fig; he presented it to me (why not Dave Brown ? - don't know); the "Evening Gazette" took a nice photo of the presentation; I must have it somewhere or other.

That's enough for the moment, chaps,

Danny42C

[Chugalug2]

Danny, when you call it a tea swindle, was it a swindle or a Swindle? I only ask because £1000 seems a prodigious amount from such a mundane and unglamourous source. Perhaps it was not from the sale of cups of the stuff but profits from tea futures, brilliantly accumulated by outsmarting the market?
At any rate it was a handy pot to have for unpredictable expenses such as damaged buses and maces. Given the barrister like flooring of the wretched Bus Manager, I can't help wondering if he might not have got his own back had he known of the slight contretemps involving "a Stick with an 'orses 'ead 'andle, the finest that Woolworth's could sell", or words to that effect.
"Well surely", he would have asked unctuously, "you must have had it insured?"

[smujsmith]

Danny

I remember, on my first posting to Colerne in 1971, we had a tea swindle. I can't remember that it ever did more than cover the cost of tea, coffee, milk and a few biscuits. Perhaps in later years the "rules " changed. Whatever, sounds like your Swindle was more enterprising than my experience. Blimey £1000 :ok:

Smudge

[BEagle]

Perhaps in later years the "rules " changed.

Probably with the advent of 'NonPAs'? Or was it the Navy food fraud scandal (of about those times) which threw the spotlight on such things?

Whilst serving at one particular base, I was volunteered to be Oi/c station gliding club. This was supposed to involve simply keeping an eye on things with no requirement to be involved in the financial side....:rolleyes: Of course that's not the way it ended up - I had to check our books with some minor Blunty every month. We had to hit our target 'profit' within something like ±0.5%. Which we always did.

During a session in the bar following my dining-out, said Blunty came up to me and told me how pleased he'd been with the performance of our club and wished that every other club ran its finances so well....

"You obviously don't know about the balance tank", I told him....
"What's that?"
"Every month when I tot up the figures and count the cash, I work out how we did relative to a number in the range you allow us. If we're over, the extra goes into a big, black tin in my office. If we're under, I raid the tin for the necessary amount".
"YOU CAN'T DO THAT!!"
"Well, it keeps your books straight, no-one makes anything out of it - so what's the problem? If the tin gets a bit heavy, we have a party and partly subsidise it; if it gets too light, we review the fees....."

It never did get light. Usually because anything left over from a BYOB party would be sold over the bar at later parties.

Blunties never really did fathom out the number of ways we aircrew could find to cope with inconvenient administrivial nonsense in a pragmatic manner!

But that was before computers.....:uhoh:

[OffshoreSLF]

Here's a link to a youtube video of the opening of the Pilot Training Project at Montrose air station heritage centre. The first 10 mins are speeches, but then you see a few shots of what's there, including a link trainer.
Just thought you guys might be interested.
Montrose Air Station Heritage Centre - End of Pilot Training Project - YouTube (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zn5beiRx4jw&feature=youtu.be)

There's also an interesting piece in today's Dundee Courier newspaper -
Montrose Air Station Heritage Centre solves ghostly tale of true love - Angus / Local / News / The Courier (http://www.thecourier.co.uk/news/local/angus/montrose-air-station-heritage-centre-solves-ghostly-tale-of-true-love-1.95964)

[Danny42C]

Chugalug and Smudge,

Our Tea Swindle was really a small Canteen. Run by unit volunteers in a Laing hut behind our HQ, it had been running for 2-3 years. We opened it during the training periods, which were 1900/2100 on Thursday nights and all day Saturdays and Sundays. Besides our own troops, a lot of the Regiment auxiliaries came over (but I think 608 had a place of their own).

You'll remember that one of the first things I did was to get a grip of the finances of this operation, which if properly run can be very profitable indeed, as we had no overheads. We did not make much on the cakes, buns and scones, and it is difficult now to remember what we would be paying for tea, milk and sugar in those days, but roughly 4/- worth of makings should have turned into £2 over the counter (at 2d a cup).

Of course we couldn't do cigarettes or alcohol, they were reserved to the NAAFI. They tolerated us as their trade was all in the evenings, when the Auxiliaries had all gone home.

In addition to this main source of income, there had been windfalls like the highly successful (and criminal) Christmas Card racket in '51 to start things off. TAAFA did not charge any fee for the Band's outside engagements, being content with its value as a recruiting tool (which itmost certainly was): the members got a small increment in pay as Bandswomen. But of course we expected (and got) a contribution for "expenses" (what expenses ?), and even after a suitable contribution to the RAFBF, the Tea Swindle (aka Unit Fund) got its fair share. One way and another it mounted up over the years, as we never really found anything much to spend it on.

Why wasn't the Mace insured ?.....Touché !.....Oh, dear...D.


BEagle,

They seemed to have refined the torture over the years. At the beginning, the Accountant Officers didn't want to know about these unofficial non-Public funds, on the basis that what they weren't involved in couldn't hurt them. Towards the end of '54, the A.M. sent out a posse of itinerant auditors. (I think certain Territorial Adjutants, who are almost completely autonomous, had been found with their fingers deep in the till), and they feared that the infection might have extended to the R.Aux.A.F.

Accordingly a very suspicious individual with a bulky briefcase appeared in my office one day, demanding an account of my stewardship. But our system (set up two years previously by F/O Tom Oliver of some bank or other) was absolutely copper-bottomed. A complete set of books and Annual Accounts was shoved under this auditor's nose to baffle him. We got a Bank Statement and did a Reconciliation.

As Tom took the weekend takings away every Sunday night to bank them on Monday, there was very little in the cash box. But of course there was also a small cash bag at the back of the safe, because there is always some surplus which can't be accounted for when all the dust has settled. Unlike your Inquisitor, ours said that that was evidence of our probity. Apparently, if the books are too perfect, they smell a rat !...D.

No computers ? Ah, happy days !

Danny.

[Fareastdriver]

Money always grows when you deal in cash. I once worked in a bank as a teller and we had what was called a 'Teller's Deficiency Account. Any deficiencies when you cashed up at the end of the day's business was covered by this account.

I, or any of the other tellers, never had a problem. We were always £20-£30 up every day and this was in the late fifties. None of our customers complained; the money just materialised.

The TDA used to be part of the Xmas bonus.:ok:

[Danny42C]

The next Funny Big Thing was a real stunner. This time Sgt Watt had a puzzled grin on his face as he brought in the mail one September morning. It seemed that we had another change to our Establishment. Not more bikes this time, but in our personnel. The Unit's C.O. post had been put up to Wing Commander (R.Aux.A.F. of course).

How and why had this happened ? Nobody (as far as I know) had ever suggested it, and there was no earthly reason for it. Had it happened at any other FCU ? Not to my knowledge. How ? My only guess was clerical error (could that be even remotely possible ?) But supposing that to be the case (and the fact that I do not recall any previous advice from P2 or TAAFA supported it), it is conceivable. It was a surprise (to say the least) to the Station Commander.

Clerical error or not, everybody went along with it, and Dave duly became W/Cdr Brown, DSO. Every cage on the Station was rattled. Dave was now senior to the other two Auxiliary C.O.s, and level with the Station Commander (for an Auxiliary W/Cdr in uniform is as good as any other). The FCU, once the Ugly Duckling of the Auxiliary family, had blossomed into a Swan.

Soon, tangible evidence appeared to prove that, even if it had been a mistake, they were sticking with it. We were allotted an Austin 16 Staff Car, all black and glossy - a real Group Captain's car (I think it came with the pennant in the glove compartment). Of course, all cars are in Station "pool" in theory, but in practice it worked fine. W/Cdr Daw had the car Mon/Fri (when Dave had no use for it): he (and I) had it on Sat/Sun, when Daw had his weekend.

During the week, I was content with the oil-junkie Minx. This I used once or twice on a weekday morning to go down to the "Bodega", a small restaurant under the Middlesbrough Exchange Building. There Dave would meet me for a coffee, while we mulled over the recent problems of the day.

It would be about this time that I thought I would Tidy Up a Loose End. When I got the Bond three years before, I'd only the car licence I'd had since '38, but no m/c licence, as I never had enough money to buy one. But the Bond is a motor cycle in Law. Strange but true. It is a "Non-reversible Tricycle", and is lumped in with motorbikes. So I'd been driving without a valid licence for three years. It was time to get legal. I applied for a Test, everything went fine (not surprisingly, as I'd got some 20,000 miles on it), the examiner (who had done a few on type) congratulated me on the Bond's performance, said it was the best one he'd ever met. Accordingly I now have a motorbike licence, and the Law doesn't even know if I can ride a bike !

Winter was now coming on, and my thoughts turned to the snows again. This time I would go alone, and with the RAF Winter Sports Association, in early January after a long Christmas break at home. They had chosen Ehrwald, a small Austrian ski resort just over the border from Garmish-Partenkirchen. There was no air travel option - the Combined Services Association fiasco three years before may have put them off it. It was train/boat/train, like it or lump it. On the SNCF down through Europe, I joined up with a F/Lt Witold Suida, one of the many Poles who had thrown in their post-war lot with the RAF rather than return to a Communist Poland. He proved to be useful in two ways: he was fluent in German and a very competent on skis.

The whole trip was a disappointment. Checking on Google now, I read of a resort 6,000 to 9,000 feet (presumably up to the top of the Zugspitz) with plenty of red and blue runs. But in those days it was a far more modest affair, I don't think it ran up more than 4-5,000 ft, at which level snow is unreliable. I remember it as a collection of nursery slopes, with hardly anything much more testing. I think they had only two or three drag lifts. The weather was atrocious - I think it actually rained on us one day.

I remember being very impressed by the quality of the devotional frescos covering nearly all the facades - we were housed in the Hotel Maria Regina, with a magnificent rendering of the Madonna and Child over the entrance. Inside we were warm, snug, comfortable and well fed, but that didn't compensate for the poor skiing. All in all, it was an eminently forgettable experience. But you can't win 'em all !

An amusing story next time.

Goodnight, all,

Danny42C


......and some have greatness thrust upn them......

[Chugalug2]

A very puzzling very big thing indeed Danny. Puzzling because you as Adj was not made aware of its imminence. puzzling because it was the post and not the man that was so elevated, even more puzzling that the man should be so elevated anyway. Obviously the RAuxAF was not the RAF, and different rules it would seem applied but puzzling nevertheless, as you say.
The RAF had its own puzzling aspects in the converse situation, at least to an outsider. The aircraft captain, ie the member of aircrew who commanded the others during the "period of operation", was never defined by rank. Hence he could be a SNCO in command of commissioned officers (in WW2), or of junior rank to the others if all were commissioned or SNCOs, or simply the least paid of all anyway.
I fell into the last bracket as a Flg Off, with Flt Lt and above (right up to Wg Cdr) as well as Master Aircrew, all of who earned more than me, as I was single and most of them married and hence in receipt of marriage allowance. I was wont to remind them of this from time to time, if only when it was time to buy a round. ;)
The Wg Cdr crewmember was of course the Sqn Cdr, and though a Nav was the one exception to the "First Pilot is Captain" rule in Transport/Air Support Command, in that he could be aircraft Captain himself. He always waived that right, happy for someone else for a change to have to do all the organising re early morning calls, pickup times, briefings, etc. :)

[Fareastdriver]

There was one occasion in Bomber Command where a Flt Lt captain and a Sqn Ldr navigator were having a 'discussion' after landing.
At one point the Flt Lt was standing at the top of the access ladder in the cockpit with the Sqn Ldr at the bottom shouting, "you come down here and say that."

[Danny42C]

Chugalug,

They didn't pay us much, but we were "Masters under God", as they who serve under the Red Duster proudly term themselves. If anyone disputed that after you got the wheels up, you could clap him in irons !.......D


Fareastdriver,

I'm not sure that would stand up in Court. I seem to remember that QRs & ACIs says something about the Cloak of Invincibility covering you only when you're in the air. But then your F/Lt could quite reasonably argue that, as he was manifestly not on the ground, there was nowhere else he could be, and it would seem that the S/Ldr appreciated the situation in that light.....D

Is there a Barrack Room Lawyer in the House ?

My regards to you both, Danny.

[Danny42C]

In the New Year, I had hardly got back from Ehrwald when something really unexpected came my way. I had always skirted round the outer fringes of the Courts Martial empire: first as an Officer Under Instruction, then as being threatened with one, then as a possible Defending Officer, and lastly as the (temporary) custodian of the Prosecution's Exhibit "A" at another.

Now the wheel turned full circle, I was bidden to hie me to RAF Acklington and there to serve as Junior Member of a District (?) Court Martial. The faithful Minx was pressed into service, I got out my Best Blue (+ Medals ?) and drove up to a colder and bleaker part of the North East even than Teesside (if that be possible). But a pleasant surprise awaited me there. It seems that the members of a Court are not permitted to stay at the Station where the Court is to convene, lest impartial justice be put in peril by opinion or prejudice overheard there.

Accordingly they put us up in a cosy old pub in Alnwick. Warm, comfortable, good grub, a nice little bar and all paid for. After settling-in, I rather hoped that the proceedings might last a few weeks. But it was not to be, and a good thing too. The Court was to sit in the Station cinema; I think the central heating was bust, and it was absolutely freezing. We were all huddled in our greatcoats throughout.

IIRC, we consisted of a W/Cdr (President), a S/Ldr and myself, with a Deputy Judge Advocate to keep us in line. We all swore the sonorous Court Martial oath (".....that I will not at any time, in any place, under any circumstances whatsoever, reveal the verdict of any member of this Court..."). And so the business began. The Prosecutor outlined his case in his Opening Statement. He unfolded a tale so far beyond reasonable belief that you would not credit it as fiction.

There were three known Bad Lads at Acklington (A,B,& C, shall we say). After a Saturday night's carousal in the NAAFI, cash was a little short and our trio knew where they could lay their hands on a bit more. In the Station Adj's office there was a safe known to contain the cash balances of the Non-Public Funds. This safe was not secured in any way, but merely sat on a strong wooden stand (so did mine, for that matter). They broke into SHQ round the back, got into the office and manhandled the safe back out the way they'd come.

More tractive power was now needed. Leaving it there for the moment they went down to the MT section (Duty Driver ??? - don't know) and returned with a tractor, haulage chains and a fire axe they'd picked up somewhere on the way. They chained the safe up and shackled it to the tractor. Then they dragged it through the domestic camp onto the airfield, round the taxiway to a salvage dump on the far side, and set about it with the fire axe.

Of course there was never any hope of cracking it that way, so after inflicting some minor damage and hacking the handle off, they gave it up as a bad job. The alcoholic fumes having dispersed somewhat by now, they abandoned it and the axe, took the tractor and chains back to the MT bay, retired to the billet and slept the sleep of the unjust.

Normally things would be quiet over the weekend, but an unusually conscientious Station Adj had some urgent paperwork to do. He went down to SHQ after breakfast and found himself safeless. All Hell broke loose, the place was soon crawling with SPs and the local police. A frantic search of the environs turned up nothing, and it was not until Monday morning that a little man who was, it appeared, the custodian of the salvage dump, came in and diffidently asked "Are you quite sure you wanted that old safe you've just put out to go for scrap ?"

They all rushed out, the key still worked in the lock, it was all there and the panic was over. Now to find the miscreants. Curiously, nobody came forward with any information, but the SPs had a good idea where to start. They roped in the three Likely Suspects (as it was obviously an "inside job"), and set about it in the time honoured way. grilling them separately.

They started with A. "B and C have given us statements. They say it was all your idea". "Go away, please", said A (or words to that effect). They fared no better with B, but hit pay dirt with C. "The dirty b@st@rds" said C , "I'll tell you what really happened". They got a statement from him, confronted A and B with it, got two more, all blaming each other, and now had the whole lot in the bag.

All three pleaded "Guilty" (mercifully, as by now we were all in dire brass-monkey peril). The Court gave them six months imprisonment apiece, and a dishonourable discharge, all confirmed by the AOC. I understand that it was after this case that A.M. ruled that all safes containing more than a small amount of cash must be bricked-in.

Good evening, chaps,

Danny42C.


We don't make much money, but we do see life !

[pzu]

Gentlemen - I've posted links to some of Tinus Le Roux's works before, today I offer you his latest

https://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=cF2CPtV94mE

This is a subject close to my heart as my Dad flew with 34 and then 31 SAAF from July '44 to Feb '45 as an RAF(VR) Air Gunner on attachment completing some 43 missions including Danube mining, Ploesti & Warsaw supply drop;

For info a group of us are in the preliminary stages of organising similar interviews with a small number of UK based veterans who also served with 31 & 34 SAAF

PZU - Out of Africa (Retired)

[Danny42C]

The weeks passed and the question of the next Summer Camp started to loom large in our thoughts.

In March we were told that we'd picked a real plum this time. We should be flying to Gütersloh (but employed and quartered at Sundern) at the end of April. This caused a real flurry of excitement. You must remember that at that time very few "ordinary" people had ever gone, or would ever hope to go "abroad" in their lives - excluding, of course, the large numbers of us who'd spent past years "abroad" at Government expense. "Abroad" was were the "foreigners" lived (ie all those who had not "won first prize in the lottery of life" - by not being born British). There they spoke strange languages, used strange currency and had all sorts of strange un-English habits. Here be Dragons. Better not go there.

Coupled to this was the fact that we were going to fly out and back, courtesy of RAF Transport Command. As I've mentioned before, this would be an equally novel (and for some, terrifying) experience. IIRC, the airmens' Pay Books included a Will Form (do they still ?) and many were carefully completed, usually leaving all their possessions to Mum and Dad.

Now I can't remember whether they had to have Passports or not. On balance, I don't think so. In those days we were going out to BAOR (British Army of Occupation on the Rhine), and it was still clear who was the Chief and who the Indian. It was different in the sixties, when I was on standby for Borneo, and the RAF bought me one of the last big, blue and gold "proper" British Passports. I have it still.

I have no record of the exact dates of our 14-day Camp, but it was in school term-time, instead of the previous years in which it had always been in the summer holidays. This immediately caused trouble. Several of our officers were teachers and the local Directors of Education were wholly opposed to the idea of releasing them at this time for their two weeks of R.Aux.A.F. training (and you can't really blame them). The North Riding of York Education Committee was fairly co-operative, but its next-door neighbour in County Durham dug its heels in.

It was time to bring up the big guns. Brigadier Fairweather mentioned the problem to our Lord Lieutenant and he had a chat with his counterpart over the border in the course of some well-fed official function. It was subtly hinted to Alderman Foodbotham, (the "iron watch-chained, grim booted Perpetual Chairman of the Education and Tramways Committees") that Mrs Alderman Foodbotham might find that the invitation to the Garden Party that year (on which she had set her heart and for which she had already bought her outfit) might unaccountably be lost in the post. The Director of Education, who had his sights set on the OBE which (he felt) was long overdue, might have to wait a year or two yet.

There was an agonising reappraisal in Durham County Hall: they found that they could release our people after all, the noble public servants were granted their hearts' desires, everyone was happy except the Headmasters, who had to dash about a bit and take a few classes themselves.

I am not sure what Transport Command had on its inventory at that time, but the best they could offer us was two Valettas. As we would be taking out almost exactly four Valetta loads, we would have to split our troops up. One load would travel on the Saturday morning and the second on the Sunday. It would be a full day's work for the crews. They would have to start from base (down South somewhere), come up to Thornaby, take us to Gütersloh, load the previous FCU (if any ?), take them home to wherever and go back to their Station.

Apart from a few faint hearts who cried off for various reasons, the rest had to be brought up to date with kit and inoculations ready for the great day. The count-down started.

And how will it all work out ?

Good afternoon, chaps,

Danny42C


All Present and Correct.

[Chugalug2]

Danny, the RAF's Dumps have brought forth some treasure in their time, like bomb trolleys for instance, but a fully loaded Stn Adj's safe has to be a spectacular first. Thankfully the resourcefulness of those three bad lads did not rise to the task they set themselves, but marks for effort might be awarded in retrospect, if understandably they were not so granted by the CM.
The restricted capacity of the aircraft tasked for your unit move to Gutersloh obviously added to your problems, but at least they came to you and not vice-versa. I have a hunch that those subject these days to "trooping flights" might well envy you your door to door bespoke arrangements.
Perhaps if you'd left those teachers behind anyway....?

[Danny42C]

Chugalug,

I think, perhaps, that in those days, there were far fewer "short-haul" airlifts, and so they could be tailored more closely to the customers' requirements. And of course they were far easier to organise !

Teachers were always over-represented in the Territorial and Auxiliary forces. Because, when their little dears vanished at the end of summer term then, they had no intention whatever of seeing them again before they returned in September.

They therefore had eight blissful weeks ahead of them. Allowing two weeks for the family holiday, there was still six weeks to kill. Many of them would be ex-service, two weeks on full Service pay and allowances in a world already familiar to them was no great hardship. (No, I was never one of them !)

Cheers, Danny.

[Geriaviator]

Mention of the salvage dump brings to mind a fine trophy from RAF Leuchars, where we acquired the pilot's seat from a two-seat Meteor. I think it was a night fighter version but it was NOT an ejection seat or this snippet would never have been written.

The seat followed a long line of treasures from bomb trolleys at Binbrook to land crabs in Aden. By this time (1954) I had graduated to "sailers", Scottish word for a lethal device comprising a packing-case chassis mounted on pram wheels. The Meteor seat completed the ensemble to perfection and made me the envy of the Patch.

My sailer was mounted on large diameter, ball bearing wheels from a Silver Cross perambulator, no less. Rolling resistance was next to nothing, as was braking which consisted of one foot on the ground. Watching my descent of the hill near Leuchars station my father said I would have been better with the ejection version of the seat.

On our departure in September 1954 I bequeathed the device to my friend Alan, who promptly broke his leg on encountering its severe oversteer. For myself, I lost a week's summer hols because the Northern Ireland schools had a different schedule. Ah, the exigencies of Service life ...

[Danny42C]

Geriaviator,

When I were a lad (in Liverpool) we called them "trollies". All of them were directionally unstable (and the tramlines were a bit of a problem !)

The "Silver Cross" pram - the Rolls-Royce of perambulators. I've done my stint as the motive power behind one of those. Quite right, there was very little rolling resistance ! Did you manage to get the soap-box on top of the suspension "undercarriage" ? (went on the roof-rack, the "boat" in the car).

Danny.

[Fareastdriver]

We bought a Silver Cross when we had our firstborn and at about six months later we went out to Singapore shipping the pram with us. We discovered when we got there that that type of pram was virtuallyeunknown and would have been pretty useless anyway.
We advertised it for sale but not for a lot of money as we wanted to get rid of it. Surprisingly we had an enquiry from an Australian. He pitched up with his daughter of about seventeen and it was apparent that her new brother was a bit of a mistake. They both looked at this immaculate Silver Cross pram with absolute disgust. I asked him why he was so keen on buying it.
"The wife wants a high pram."
Obviously having a child so late had given her delusions of grandeur.

[Danny42C]

I particularly remember the departure of the first party on the Saturday. It was a lovely calm spring morning, the troops had been marched down and were standing at ease in the space between the hangars, their kit piled ready for loading. Self-importantly, I'd written out a sort of amateur Operation Order for everybody, including a planned time table. In it, I'd scheduled the ETA (Thornaby) of our aircraft at 0900 (sticking my neck out a bit there !) All was quiet, for 608 were yet to start work.

We heard the drone of the approaching Hercules in the first aircraft. As it straightened up on finals, a distant radio in one of the hangar offices started the Time Signal. Precisely on the last "pip", the tyres squealed on the tarmac. We all thought it marvellous (so it was - never happened again, though!)

Dave flew out on the first party, I would follow on the Sunday. As I recall, the aircraft fit was just a row of shallow metal bucket seats down each side, same as all the Daks I ever flew in. I was in the last aircraft off, never caught sight of the leader until we joined Gütersloh circuit, where we saw that the circus was in town, and the other Valetta was on short finals.

We were bussed over to Sundern and formed up as a unit again. I met a very irate Dave. I'm very hazy about the payment of our troops, for the Accountant Officer looked after all that during the year. I think that they were paid monthly in arrear, but on the occasion of Summer Camp the plan was to pay the last month's pay immediately on arrival there.

But of course the Accountant Officer at Sundern wanted The Cheque from his opposite number in Thornaby before anything could happen. Certainly we'd picked it up from him on the Friday, and it ought to have gone out with the first party on Saturday. There's always some cock-up on these occasions, this was it, the cheque travelled out with me on Sunday.

Consequently the early arrivals, who'd been looking forward to painting the town red that evening, found themselves confined to camp, skint. On arrival, I was as popular as a pork-pie in one of Geriaviator's pal Graham's "sinn-a-gogs" in Khormaksar, for I'd to admit that it was All My Fault. It would be some time before another happy accident would redeem me in the eyes of the troops.

My impression of Sundern was that it was built to last the lifetime of a thousand-year Reich. After years of "temporary" wartime RAF structures, I was amazed at the solidity of the buildings and all the fittings, and the granite-setts camp roads. We were told that the place had been Goering's signallers' training School (a sort of Luftwaffe "Yatesbury") during the war, but Wiki says that it had been a Gestapo HQ. Could've been both, I suppose.

I can't remember now where our people were employed. Of course it would be at some Radar station or another. I dont think Sundern had a "hole" for them to go down, and I don't remember any Radar aerials, but it must have been somewhere in the vicinity. I believe we were the closest station to the W.German border; our fighter Squadrons must have had Fighter Control from somewhere and this was a likely place to put it. (Wiki is not much help, either). There must be many readers with memories of a tour in RAF(G) who could help me out here.

In the weekend in the middle of the Camp we officers went off to Winterberg, which I don't think was very far away. (My wife and I, with our small daughter, were to spend some time there in '60). The big hotel there had been built as part of Hitler's Strength Through Joy organisation, and we had requisitioned it as a Forces R & R facility.

We came back in early May: again there had been no disasters apart from the unfortunate business with the pay on arrival. It was inexcusable of me, for the year before I'd been caught in a very similar way. For some reason I'd been charged with collecting the Station's pay from the bank in Stockton. I went down and walked in. "Where's our money ?" I said. "Where's the cheque ?" they said. By the time I'd got back, picked the cheque up from the seething Accountant officer, gone down to Stockton again and back, Pay Parade was an hour late. Ah, well.

On the Saturday evening after we got back, I went down in the Bond with Mike Tew, a NS officer, to the Saltburn "Spa" (which was the "in" place of our day). Across the ballroom a raven-haired beauty caught my eye. I made a bee-line for her. It was the "once-in-a-lifetime"; she is at my side now and has been for 59 years. We were engaged by the autumn and married in the following July.

1954 was to be a momentous year for me, as will presently appear.

Goodnight once more,

Danny42C


What's well begun is half done.

[smujsmith]

Blimey Danny,

Pardon my ignorance but the "hearing the sound of approaching Hercules" got me going(being an ex Hercules GE), but then reason settled my addled brow when I recalled that the Hercles was in fact a marvellous British Aero engine. Having experienced the trouble, anyone, could get in to with RAF accounts, when seeing some of our poor co pilots struggling with their flight impress. You seem to have had a problem with collecting cheques at the appropriate time. I sympathise, why should anyone in your position need to worry about stuff like that ? Keep going Danny, this thread is still more rivetting than the books I'm reading currently. And more informative !!!

Smudge

[airborne_artist]

Across the ballroom a raven-haired beauty caught my eye. I made a bee-line for her. It was the "once-in-a-lifetime"; she is at my side now and has been for 59 years.

It must be an aviator's thing Danny. A baby Observer on the Dartmouth flight before mine looked across a dance floor at a young lady for the first time and said to his oppo "I'm going to marry her" and he did. I'd need to ask Arkroyal his name, but I can see him now.

[CoodaShooda]

It must be an aviator's thing Danny.

Another sample to test the hypothesis over time.

Roll forward to 1979, the ballroom is now a disco and the young lady is an ash-blond beacon in the wilderness.

34 years on and she's still putting up with me. :O:ok:

Please keep the tales coming, Danny.

[Chugalug2]

Danny, little or no mention of Sundern on t'internet as you say. It has though featured on PPRuNe some 5 years ago, albeit in passing as a RAFP SIB base. Many will be familiar with this tale, of a hijacked Canberra at Gutersloh, but as it is of the present thread period it might be of interest to some:-
http://www.pprune.org/aviation-history-nostalgia/354300-night-57-squadron-lost-canberra.html
An interesting aside from ColinB is that the many capers carried out by the younger generation then were facilitated by a laissez-faire attitude from their wartime generation seniors. Present company very much excepted of course, but your thoughts on that would be of very great interest Danny.

[Danny42C]

Smudjsmith,

"This Thread is still more rivetting than the books I'm reading currently...", you say.

Listen up, everybody, unless you've heard the tale already (and I was in RAF(G)' 60-'62, and I've never heard it before), you must read Chugalug's link ("The night 57 Squadron lost a Canberra") in his #3840 ! If Seville's story had been fiction, it would have been laughed to scorn. It's absolutely unbelievable !......D.

CoodaShooda,

Ballroom - now a disco in '79. Could it have been the Saltburn Spa ? (bit far from Leeming, but just possible).....D.

Chugalug,

Thank you for the lead to the funniest story I've read in years. How could he have got away with it for so long ? Talk about "Fred Karno's Army" - if those were our Security Services then, how on earth did we ever win the war ?

"A laissez-faire attitude from their wartime generation seniors ?" indeed. The W.G.S.s must have been brain-dead ! ......Please tell me it couldn't happen today.....D.

Thank you all for the kind words of encouragement, for dark days lay ahead for

Danny

[Blacksheep]

Please tell me it couldn't happen today.....D.I reckon it could.

In "Fred Karno's Air Farce" (i.e. RAF Waddington) in 1968, "Angry Frank" Moorhen deserted Queen and Country. The RAF Police staked out his Mum's house and searched far and wide but found no trace of him. No wonder: he had moved into the barrack block inhabited by the civilian workers of "Joe SWO's Gang", adopted civilian attire and grown a beard. He ate his meals with the SWO's work party in the Airmen's Mess and everyone knew where he was except the RAF Police. We watched and wondered how long it would take them to find him. Nearly three months passed before he got fed up with the lack of cash and gave himself up. He was 'working his ticket', of course, but it didn't work out for him. After 56 days in Colchester military detention he was returned to Waddington to resume his duties. The 'Colchester Cure' worked its magic on Frank who, being no longer angry, became a useful man on Line Maintenance again.

Security? Nah! Not unless there has been a major change in Plod recruitment.

[ACW418]

In 1964 at Linton-on Ouse two young gentlemen after a particularly alcoholic Dining-In night took it into their heads to fly one of our Vampire T11's to Germany. They managed to open the hangar doors and were trying to push the aircraft out but got tired and gave up and went back to the mess to bed.

How did they get caught? One of them got a bit hot and bothered and took off his bow tie and left it in the cockpit. Unfortunately his name was written on the tie.

It was all a bit hushed up and no action as far as I am aware was ever taken against the two other than an almighty rollocking. As far as I can remember one of the two was subsequently Court Martialled for low flying - twice. The other one made one star.

It wasn't only Canberra that had attempts made on them!

ACW

[Chugalug2]

Seems that our man mastered the art of taxying eventually and indeed of flying, for he ended up doing it for a living. His career included being the Spy in the Sky for Piccadilly Radio, that involved flying, keeping up a running commentary on traffic hotspots, and working Manchester ATC simultaneously:-
http://www.pprune.org/military-aircrew/477030-anyone-lost-canberra.html

My memories are of a period some six years later, but the obvious affection and even respect amongst his peers rings true for another man. Just before I was posted to Changi, there was a Court Martial of a Captain there. Among other duties he was often on the Christmas Island shuttle, routeing back via Brisbane. On arrival there a Holden station waggon would reverse up to the rear door and certain unmanifested items offloaded and whisked away. The pattern became so well known that the shuttle was rerouted through Newcastle, but the Holden merely diverted there as well. Eventually these and other demeanours brought our man to book. The outcome was inevitable but the Defending Officer hoped to extend the proceedings with various character witnesses. His enthusiasm was not shared by his client however who merely wanted the verdict pronounced and to take the rap. His wife had already gone off to Australia and he was soon to follow. They both settled down there raising sheep, showing a very good return on our investment. Or so I was told...
The general impression was that he was a likeable rogue. I'm not so sure he would rate such a forgiving attitude from his peers these days...

[Danny42C]

Tomorrow (5th) is the fifth anniversary of the day when Cliffnemo (RIP) penned the first Post on this (probably the most successful and best loved) of all the Military Aircrew Threads. To date it has attracted nearly 4000 Posts and a quarter-million hits. One thing has characterised it from the outset. There has always been at least one "regular" contributor who had "Gained an RAF Pilot's Brevet in WW2" and, after the war, continued post war flying either in the RAF or in Civil Aviation.

Now it looks as this continuity may be broken. My future 17 years of RAF service will all be in ATC. I shall never fly again. It is possible (and earnestly to be hoped) that another old-timer may appear to "pick up the torch", but this seems increasingly unlikely as the months go by.

This may well put the Moderators in some quandary. There is already an established ATC Forum, and they may think it logical that I should "set up shop" there, with some such title as "Tales of Old ATC" or some such. This Thread could then be closed.

Frankly, I should like to stay where I am. I've had a quick look at the ATC Forum, and it seems to be almost entirely "technical" in nature. I suppose the "Nostalgia" Forum is also a possibility, but that does not appeal to me either.

On my own behalf, I can advance one argument. For the next ten years at least, I shall be almost exclusively working with the ex-war aircrew who formed the mainstay of ATC up to the early '60s. The stories I shall tell will all have their roots in that background.

Now I throw this open to you all, and respectfully await the decision of the Moderators.

Danny42C

[smujsmith]

Danny,

I have the honour to request,

Firstly, having followed this thread from inception I'm sure "Cliffnemo" would be proud that the thread continues after all this time, I'm not sure whether records have been set, I suspect yes, but I do know that I never miss a day without checking what's happening on "Gaining a Pilots brevet......" I'm sure all followers will have a beer for Cliff on this anniversary.

Secondly, as I see it the thread title calls the shots. Now, whatever way you want to wiggle your joystick, you did, and therefore you have a devoted audience who are keen to know how we get to where "You" are today (I don't see a limitation on when your story stops as you qualify for the original subject of the thread).

Throughout this thread (our journey) we have had diversions (not a bad word for ground crew?) to civilian aircraft hijacking, bomb trolleys stolen from the RAF, and how to beat officialdom in the pursuit of having a decent squadron fund. As someone who served in the RAF for 30 years, it took this thread, for me to realise that young chaps like yourself served and fought so hard in India. The beauty of the whole thing is that it relates, not only to your service, Cliff and all the other contributors from that time. But it makes the likes of a young shaver "like mesself" think and say " not too much change then. Danny, sorry to go on, I joined PPRUNE because of my interest in this thread, I think it belongs exactly where it is, and the continuing story of a Pilot, who earned his brevet in WW2, regardless of branch, is essential reading. I do hope that somewhere, a co contributor can help you along, and who knows, maybe even now, there's someone from the qualifying period sharpening his typing finger. Once again, a day to remember the originator of the thread. I believe the standard he set, along with Reg later, is being maintained by yourself, and I thank you for that. I would finally suggest that if the "real" Military Aircrew on this thread can put up with me, you Sir have no worries. Wow, that's a lot of words for an ex rigger I hope it's not too OTT !!!!!!

Stay well Danny, and fondest memories of Cliff "Habe fabula vivit"

I have the honour to remain, Sir, your obedient servant

Smudge

[Union Jack]

On my own behalf, I can advance one argument. For the next ten years at least, I shall be almost exclusively working with the ex-war aircrew who formed the mainstay of ATC up to the early '60s. The stories I shall tell will all have their roots in that background.

Now I throw this open to you all, and respectfully await the decision of the Moderators.

As I see it, Danny, you have very effectively answered your own essentially rhetorical question - this outstanding thread tells the tale of those who all had something in common, namely that they started their Royal Air Force service during the Second World War, and most of the principal contributors did indeed gain an RAF pilot's brevet.

Inevitably, what they then did with their lives post war was very largely shaped by their war service, irrespective of whether they continued to fly or not, and I for one have found each and every one of the tales told by you and your predecessors absolutely fascinating, and feel most strongly that whatever you, and any past or, hopefully future, contributors did subsequently, it should all be carefully continued and kept in the thread started by Cliff exactly five years ago. In my view, anything else would be a travesty, and totally lacking in the respect that you and your peers are amply due.

With very best wishes and keep on keeping on - preferably right here!

Jack

[Nervous SLF]

As a mere civilian, albeit one who sometimes interacted mainly with the Army and once in a blue moon the RAF, I would like
to add my four pennyworth. I also really enjoy reading this thread in fact it is the first that I look for when looking at PPRuNe.

Please keep posting your stories chaps and even more so please continue within this section. I would truely be astounded if any Mods
re-located this thread.

Just one small request, are there any Fleet Air Arm chaps around? I would love to hear from them as well.

I will now withdraw from here before I outstay my welcome.

[Chugalug2]

Danny, all the main contributors to this thread, from Cliff right through to you, had the one thing in common which tells us so much about your generation; diffidence. Others perhaps had more interesting and significant tales to tell, but each of you knew that you didn't. With very great respect, you were all wrong!
The very success of Cliff's thread belies that feeling. Many of us learned our various trades from those who had started theirs in WW2. They taught us well, but had little to say of their own learning curves and experiences. We soon knew not to ask. Now at last we can, and you and your fellow raconteurs patiently reply with details about food, transport, clothing, whatever. In short you dot and cross the i's and t's that we all wondered about.
Of course we want you to go on Danny, just as long as you are willing to do so, and right here is the place to do it. Mods don't generally endorse threads, rather it is their role to take action when a thread goes awry. I think you can take it as read though that they feel the same as we do who are you ardent followers. Let Mastermind be your inspiration, "I've started, so I'll finish...".

[Geriaviator]

Smudge speaks for all of us when he writes: I never miss a day without checking what's happening on "Gaining a Pilots brevet......"

It's a pleasure and a privilege to share your wonderful memories, Danny. Pray continue. :D :D :D :D

[RFCC]

Smudge speaks for all of us when he writes: I never miss a day without checking what's happening on "Gaining a Pilots brevet......"

It's a pleasure and a privilege to share your wonderful memories, Danny. Pray continue

Seconded from another ex-brat and ex V-Force Crew Chief who follows this thread avidly :ok:

[LowNSlow]

I always check this thread and would be lost if it was moved.

Leave it where it rightly belongs, which is where it is now!!

[Fareastdriver]

Military Aircrew A forum for the professionals who fly the non-civilian hardware, and the backroom boys and girls without whom nothing would leave the ground.


My future 17 years of RAF service will all be in ATC.

Danny, I think that fits the thread admirably.

[Wander00]

IMHO this thread is brilliant, and should remain where it is so I know where to find it for my first read of the day. Thanks to all the contributors

[ricardian]

Thanks for sharing your memories Danny. It's 40 years today since I left the RAF after 12 years service and joined the civil service.

[Harry Lime]

"What Cliff and others have put together, let no man put asunder."http://images.ibsrv.net/ibsrv/res/src:www.pprune.org/get/images/icons/mpangel.gif

[Icare9]

Cliff and Reg, fredjhh and others - We DO remember you and raise a toast to you and all who never had the chance to come back and write their tales.

As has been said, this thread is a "Must Visit" whenever possible, preferably daily.

The standard of tales has been of the highest, and not only does it bring back the memories, but the essence of those days when none knew the outcome from one day (or night) to the next.

This is life as it was, as it was lived and all the many diversions simply enhance the thread and I value each and every contribution to making this the most absorbing record of Wartime (OK and Post War) life.

Thank you all for the kind words of encouragement, for dark days lay ahead for I hope that is not a coded message, Danny - is all well with you?

[Danny42C]

Icare9,

No, then was then and now is now ! "Lay" was the word. No code.

No present cause to worry - but thank you for your concern just the same.

Danny.

[ACW418]

Danny,

Like the others this thread is essential reading every day - I am reading this sat in my hospital bed as proof. Please do not desert us.

ACW

[Danny42C]

First, let me thank all of you who've replied to my "cri de coeur" for the unanimity with which you've endorsed my wish to stay where I am - here! The kind words said about me and my generation of war survivors truly leave me humble. For, as I've earler said (in another context): "We just did what we had to do, and we all got away with it". Now, (having shot my next few foxes - for we all know the end, don't we ?), I'll fill in some more details of my time at Thornaby.

At the end of June I was off on my annual 2-week Refresher. This time it was to CFS at South Cerney. They'd given the "Balliol" up as a bad idea and gone back to the Harvard (good one). (I saw a thread here recently about a Harvard which is being fettled up, and something about it being adopted by the BBMF as a lead-in for the new boys who'll be flying tail-draggers for the first time - note they didn't try to beg, borrow or steal a Spit IX(T) - far too nice for the job - and the RAF certainly couldn't afford to buy one in any case).

So I was quite at home with the Harvards at S.C., and hoped to borrow one to take up to Thornaby for the weekend. But I had no valid I/R, it was no-go, and I had to stay, champing on the bit, for the whole fortnight.

And then 608 went for their Annual Camp. Far afield this time - El Adem, no less. How did they get that far ? I've a vague recollection that they staged through Orange. Could they have done that ? (France was holding aloof from NATO). With L/R tanks, I suppose they would have had the range.

Then a tragedy. At the very end of their time at El Adem, they lost a Vampire and a pilot. 608 were always cagey about it and I don't remember any details of the accident. And then there were two "blacks" put up, one bad and the other worse. The coffin was flown back to Thornaby (whose Coroner was in the North Riding), and taken over the bridge to a hospital in Stockton (Coroner in County Durham). We hadn't asked for the proper permission to do this, a sort of demarcation dispute flared up, and we were in grave danger of incarceration in the Tower for contravening some medieval statute. It took the intervention of TAAFA to smooth the two Coroners' ruffled feathers.

There was worse to come. Although the Squadron's Ground Party was flown out and back in a Hastings (probably), the coffin came home separately in a Dakota. Of course, the sad reception ceremony was held in the Mess, as it was only for the mourners and 608's private grief, so everyone else stayed away.

We have all had moments in our lives when some unguarded words have slipped out, and we wished the earth might open and swallow us up. The young man was very recently married, his desolate widow thanked the Dakota pilot for bringing him home. "It was a pleasure", blurted this poor devil (he'll live with that to his dying day).

There's still quite a bit to come about Thornaby, but meanwhile,

Cheerio - (and ACW418, get well soon, please !)

Danny42C


You can't win 'em all.

[smujsmith]

Aaahhhh, bugger Danny, why do I read your soliloquy when the ash from the pig on't hill, burning plant emits at its strongest. Like you, I've witnessed the return of comrades, people I have known personally, and to this day there's a feeling of why not me? "Nothing in life prepares you for life" seems to me very apt. As always though, a pleasure to read your "renuntio".

[Ubehagligpolitiker]

Danny,

This thread is pure gold, please do keep going. My first tour was 1967 on 210 Sqn heavily populated with WW2 veterans. I learned a lot from them and you're continuing that link with a generation that gave the RAF a lot, not least a splendid sense of humour.

[Taphappy]

Danny;
By unanimous decision of the judges ie all of the bods who contribute to this thread there is no doubt that you must keep telling your riveting story here and no where else.
In any event the thread often wanders far of track without any interference from the moderaters so more power to your elbow.
Although I did not gain my brevet until after end of hostilities I suppose I still qualify as a veteran since I did volunteer for aircrew in 43 and I often wonder how life would have turned out had I stayed in the mob.
My 4 years service is insignificant in comparison with yours and many other contributers to this thread.
I, in company with many others look forward to reading about your further experiences in ATC. Keep em coming

[Danny42C]

The Station had got a new SWO. New brooms sweep clean: this chap was no exception. He thought that we needed sharpening-up (so we did, but that was the way we liked it). He descended on the airmen's barrack block one morning; everyone who hadn't at least one leg on the ground at 0710 was "on a fizzer". All the Units and Sections were caught in this sweep, my share was two NS airmen.

Now Reveille (Tannoy) was at 0700. But (as in most places, I should imagine), if you were on parade (boots and buttons shining), or at your place of work at 0800, and your bedspace was tidy and bed properly made up, it was no business but your own if you'd skipped breakfast for the sake of an extra half-hour's "kip".

As they'd all been booked together, all the Orderly Rooms were held at the same time. Together with the other three Adjutants, I'd cleared my desk, put on my flat 'at and assumed an appropriately stern expression. Then I thought about the charges a little. Could Reveille really be construed as an order to leap out of bed before the last notes had died away ? How about 0705 (or 0702) ? Now if the Room Corporal (or the SWO for that matter) had ordered the chaps out of bed, and they had not complied, it would be open and shut. But as it was ?

I got the Room Corporal in. Had he given any such order ? No, sir, he had not. Sir came to the conclusion (rightly or wrongly) that no offence had been committed. I dismissed both charges, much to the amazement of everybody on the station. But of course, it didn't stop there.

The other three Adjs had followed habit and automatically dished out 3-7 days CB according to taste (and the crime sheets). It made them look fools, their airmen were justifiably aggrieved. The SWO was livid, went to the Station Commander and demanded my head on a platter. It was not long before the expected summons came.

By that time I'd prepared my defence. Pari passu, if this had been a Court Martial offence, and the Prosecution had gone to court on such slender evidence, the Prosecuting Officer would have been thrown out on his ear, with stinging comment from the Deputy Judge Advocate. Why should a lesser standard of justice prevail because it was a trivial offence and I was merely a Subordinate Commander ? This was unanswerable and Daw fell back on "what would happen if everybody did it ?" Respectfully, I pointed out that everybody had been doing it, and the Station had been jogging along all right, as far as anyone could see.

We agreed to differ on that one; not for the first time I thanked the Lord that, in taking away my Career, the RAF had thrown away the only stick it had to beat me with. Daw reflected with bitter satisfaction that my Tour would end in a month or two. The SWO would have said "Amen" to that - it's amazing how much venom and dumb-insolence an experienced W.O. can put into a "Sir" (on the rare occasions when we subsequently met).

I became an overnight hero to my chaps. David had slain Goliath, St.George had speared the Dragon, I was Robin Hood to the SWO's Sheriff of Nottingham. David Brown (who'd backed me throughout) was quietly amused. My cheque fiasco (earlier in the year) was quite forgiven.

It only remains to wrap-up RAF Thornaby and the Auxiliaries.

Goodnight again, chaps

Danny42C


All good things come to an end.

[BEagle]

Any of these reprobates familiar to you, Danny?

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a341/nw969/Internet/Thornaby1951_zps9bbd93d8.jpg (http://s14.photobucket.com/user/nw969/media/Internet/Thornaby1951_zps9bbd93d8.jpg.html)

[Chugalug2]

Danny, where were you when I was charged and found guilty of having dust in the welts of my boots? My first offence and I didn't even know what welts were, let alone that they were a vital component of my boots, and anyway I couldn't see any dust dust in them. I was set up I tell you, done right over, and me as innocent as the day is long.

Never mind, your two airmen were the beneficiaries of your knowledge of what is right and what is wrong. The matter was decided in the correct place, the orderly room, not at the scene of the alleged offence, nor in the corridors of power, but at the place assigned and by the subordinate commander empowered by the AFA as laid out in MAFL. The right thing is not always easy, but it is still the right thing.

[mmitch]

I remember a quote from 'Fly for you Life' by Bob Stamford Tuck. An 'erk' brought before him for wearing shoes instead of the regulation boots, was given 3 days 'confined to barracks.' This is not for wearing shoes my lad, its for being caught!"
mmitch.

[Danny42C]

Smudge,

Very profound, but can't quite get my head round it. Never mind - thanks all the same...D


ubehagligpolitiker,

Thank you for the generous compliment ! I shall try to continue to give satisfaction, with a bit of humour on the side.

"ubehaglig" ? German dictionary is buried somewhere, was there an "unbehaglich" ("uneasy", "uncomfortable" - or have I got that wrong, too). Is there a linguist in the house ?

"Politiker" - know what that is. Don't trust 'em !......D.


BEagle,

Marvellous picture ! The elegantly posed chap in the middle (fag between finger and thumb) is Bill Goodrum. I remember several other faces, but can't put the names to them with any certainty. Don't recognise Boss Martin there - he would have been in pole position, anyway. (Could he have been the cameraman ?)

pzu (out of Africa) in #3654, p.183, gives a link (middle one) to a cartoon of 608. I could get it much bigger then and vaguely recognise faces, but can't do it now. Perhaps one of our wizards could blow it up as big as possible for me ?..... D.

Chugalug,

It was a hard life, wasn't it ? I sympathise with you; Section 40 could land you in trouble for breathing. Dust in the welts must have been a capital offence, almost as bad as not polishing the backs of your buttons !.....D.

mmitch,

The good old Eleventh Commandment:- "Thou shalt not get Found Out". It was ever thus....D.


My thanks to you all for your interest. Cheers,

Danny

[Union Jack]

Never mind, your two airmen were the beneficiaries of your knowledge of what is right and what is wrong.

Like the time when one of my division was faced with a charge brought by the First Lieutenant in a frigate. No 1 outlined the case for the "persecution" then, much to his annoyance, I went for "No case to answer" on the grounds that Ship's Standing Orders had been amended to make the said crime an offence - but only on the day after the alleged act had taken place!:ok:

Jack

[BEagle]

Would that be this cartoon, Danny?

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a341/nw969/608_zps0f183f58.jpg (http://s14.photobucket.com/user/nw969/media/608_zps0f183f58.jpg.html)

[Danny42C]

BEagle,

Thank you, thank you ! Yes, that's it. Will play for hours with this, although any recognitions must now be suspect. Sadly, John Newboult (the Adj I knew) and Mike Beavis (Training Officer) had left before this cartoon was sketched in 1953 (?) And later Doc Groves was replaced as M.O. by Flt.Lt. Ian Stewart (and we had a Station M.O. as well, F/O Hamlett IIRC).

Danny.

[ancientaviator62]

Danny,
the RAF legal 'system' could be used to advantage if you knew how.
One of the members of the WRAF had been told that her ATC aptitude scores had been lost and she would have to start all over again. As the annual AOC inspection was not far away I helped her draft a submission to see the august gentleman in question. Despite pressure at every level to have her withdraw the application we persisted. Now as everyone knows if you finally do get to see the great man it means that the underlings have failed and this is not good for their careers. In this case her scores magically came to light a few weeks later !
In a similar vein on of my airman's application for a commission was lost between Lyneham and OASC . As the application 'window' had now closed he would have to wait another year ! This time we went down the Section 181 of the Air Force Act route, Redress of Grievance. Admin at Lyneham produced their log showing that they had forwarded the application and the resulting confirmation from OASC. Quelle surpise, in this case an exception could be made ! And yes he was successful. Like you Danny I had reached my service ceiling of Spec Aircrew S/L, so no career to worry about.

[Ubehagligpolitiker]

Danny,

Ubehaglig is Norwegian, my missus is a Norsk damer, and it means "Nasty" - a nickname donated to me during initial training I hope because Nasty Nastase was contemporaneous rather than being apt, it stuck throughout my 35 years.

Cheers

[ricardian]

As a brand-new corporal posted to the Air Ministry commcen in 1964 my first job was to escort an SAC under "close arrest" to his court martial (he was drawing married allowance but living in quarters with a woman who was not his wife). I was rather surprised to be told to meet the SAC at Charing Cross underground station and deliver him to the court martial. I stood on the platform waiting, then an elderly SAC came up to me, introduced himself and we both walked to the building (location long forgotten) where I handed him over to a RAF policeman at the door. Very weird!

[smujsmith]

I remember 1971 RAF Colerne as a recently ex Brat Jnr Tech. I had a little Honda 90 for whizzing home at weekends. The Tax disc had dropped off and it's not being displayed was spotted by a Plod one morning. I had already applied for a duplicate, and was waiting to receive it. I was charged with riding my motorbike, untaxed. It was remanded from my Flight Commander to the Sqn Ldr. I stated that I had applied for the dupe etc. He very kindly allowed a further week for the certificate to arrive. The following week I was fined £5, the dupe had not arrived. It did the day after my fine though ! I asked, but was told I could not have my money back. And a fiver was a lot of money in those days. :mad:

[pzu]

Apologies to others for keeping on with 608

Danny, just found a Poor print of some 608 types, believe it is from Summer Camp in Malta? 52 or more probably '53

Scan 31 | Flickr - Photo Sharing! (http://www.flickr.com/photos/21234417@N06/9008578785/)

pzu - Out of Africa (Retired)

[smujsmith]

PZU

So, as I remember its Cisk or Hop Leaf, at least that was the choice in beer in the 70s. Went there with 56 Squadron (her Majesties premier Lightning Squadron) from Cyprus 1974. A great time was had by all.:ok:

Smudge

[Danny42C]

ancientaviator62,

Yes, there's nothing like a bit of quiet blackmail to hurry the system along, is there ? As soon as you start making a nuisance of yourself and look like trouble for them, they cave in and do the job they should've done in the first place (it's always the squeaky wheel that gets the grease !)

And what a blessed relief it must be, never to have to fear a 1369 or the "Feast of the Passover" again...........D


behagligpolitiker ,

You learn something every day ! The words do seem to have a common root in both languages. Now that I come to think of it (and still unable to get my hands on a dictionary), I think "unbehaglich" has a "spooky" or "uncanny" connotation. Not too far from "nasty". Someone will put me right.....D.


ricardian,

This brings to mind the practice (mentioned some time ago) of mounting Guards when there is absolutely nothing to guard. So long as the letter of the Regulations is observed, it doesn't matter how ridiculous the result is....D.


smujsmith,

That was a bit hard ! Was it a RAFP who grabbed you, or PC Plod ? I don't see how this can constitute a Service offence. In 1951, I was once "done" for "Leaving a Motor Vehicle on a Public Road during the Hours of Darkness without Showing Lights", and it only cost me 5/- at the Magistrates' Court.

£5 fine - horrendous ! - and you couldn't get your money back. Pity you didn't know about ancientaviator's Section 181 (Redress of Grievance) above (is it too late now ?) How about petitioning the Crown for a free Pardon (how does one set about that ?)......D.

All interesting stuff,

Cheers, Danny.

[Ubehagligpolitiker]

Danny,

in German: unbehaglich =awkward, uneasy etc.

Norwegian is a Germanic language - Norwegians, Danes and Swedes can understand each others' languages. Nobody understands Finnish which appears to originate from somewhere in the Urals, at least it's described as a uralic language.

[Danny42C]

pzu,

Thanks ! Can't remember any 608 faces. Could they be their groundcrew ? (I wouldn't normally see much of them, but their pilots would be in the Thornaby Mess all the time. I'm a bit puzzled by the "uniform" leisure kit (and some ties !) Would this be some kind of formal night rig for Malta ?

Apologies ? Forget it ! (the more, the merrier). All's grist that comes to this mill......D.


ubehagligpolitiker,

Somewhere I once read that Finnish has a strange resemblance to (could it be) Maltese. Or was it Catalonian ? Or Turkish ? Something like that - some language that it has no business to resemble........D.

Cheers to you both, Danny.

[Danny42C]

My time at Thornaby was coming to an end. My replacement came in (can't remember his name), and I wished him the best of luck (the whole Auxiliary set up was to close down in the next 2-3 years, so I suppose he would be the last Adjutant). My faithful Technical Expert, Bob Schroder, stayed behind with him.

My posting was to 12 FTS, Weston Zoyland, at the end of October. I cannot recall when my last visit to CMB had been, but the position had not changed (A2G1) from my first visit (after RAF Hospital, Wroughton) two years before. The height restriction of 10,000 ft still remained in force; I was as far away as ever from my LCPC in GD(P). But surely, there must be some reappraisal before I went down to Weston ? It was a Meteor FTS, I would be back on oxygen and going up to 30,000 in an unpressurised T7 (up at 10,000 ft/min and down at 8,000). How would they square that circle? I decided to wait and see.

Meanwhile all the coventions had to be honoured. I would leave the Mess with the customary small memento of my three years' membership. We didn't have Antique Shops in those days (at least so far North of Watford), but in a junk shop in Stockton I spied a little cut-glass and silver ink-stand (the inkpot tops and pen were silver, but the tray only EPNS). Fountain pens had been in use for almost half-a century; the present-day passion for old things was yet to come; nobody wanted an ink-stand. It was ridiculously cheap, even with engraving it wouldn't have cost me a fiver. It would add a little dignity to the small table in the hall with the In/Out Books. I presented it to the PMC (name forgotten - do we still do this sort of thing these days - and how about Cards ?).

In return, the Officers of 3608 FCU gave me an EPNS presentation tankard: it looks fine with a jar of flowers in it. The troops presented me with a travel clock. I said my "goodbyes" all round.

My kit and I crammed into the Bond in the last week of October. I did the journey to Somerset in two stages, overnighting in Tamworth. When I booked-in at Weston, I fully expected to be pulled in by the M.O. and given some explanation of how they were going to play it. But none came. I reported to my Training Squadron and was introduced to my instructor (F/O Wyard). Still no mention of my medical category. I kept my mouth shut and waited. Two or three days went by, I started flying, and slowly realised that they simply did not know anything at all about it.

I thought about this. It might be better all round if they remained in blissful ignorance. As I expected, the flying was not causing me the slightest difficulty. If I completed the Course and passed, I should have a very strong card to play next time round at CMB. As to how this ridiculous state of affairs had come about, I can only guess that the man who recorded medical categories worked at the far end of the corridor (in A.M.) from the chap who dished out the Refresher Courses, and they never spoke to one another. Mind you, there were examples galore of the RAF's Right hand not knowing what its Left was doing - indeed some disaffected persons suggested that, most of the time, its Right hand didn't know what its Right was doing ! But ours not to reason why ! Better to lie low (like Brer Rabbit) and say nuthin'.

That's all for the moment,

Danny42C


It'll all sort itself out in the end.

[Harry Lime]

According to one of my golfing partners who is Swedish, Finnish has it's origins in Hungarian.

Honest Injun! That's what he said, after several Cruzcampos.http://images.ibsrv.net/ibsrv/res/src:www.pprune.org/get/images/icons/winksbuddie.gif

[pzu]

Danny - I'm only 65 and my memory is rather sievelike!!!, just found a book on my shelf about 608, wonder if you've seen it

It's available on that S American river and they even have a Kindle version

The Kipper Patrol by Louise Wilkinson - ISBN 978-1-905809-45-5

PZU - Out of Africa (Retired)

[Danny42C]

pzu,

Thanks for the information ! But from the title I assume that it treats of the wartime days when Thornaby was mainly engaged in anti-submarine work over the North Sea with Ansons and Hudsons, and this was long before my time.

I don't think any of the post-war auxiliaries I knew stemmed from that source (as they were all s/e pilots)' and the pre-war fighter 608 auxiliaries seem to have started the war with Spitfires, Ansons and Hudsons. This cutting (from "Thornaby Aerodrome Wartime Memories" (ISBN 0 9517229 1 3) may be of interest:

"But the real tasks of 608 Sqdn were to locate surface mines which were subsequently destroyed by minesweepers of the Royal Navy, the sighting of U-boats or ships suspected of aiding the enemy, and searching for small boats carrying refugees and escapees in addition to guarding North Sea convoys. This searching of vast expanses of sea, often without reward, was nicknamed the 'kipper patrol'."

Danny.

[ricardian]

On the subject of medical categories:
When I joined the RAF in 1959 I failed the colour vision test and thus could not become an Apprentice Ground Wireless Fitter at Halton. However, I could train as a Boy Entrant Telegraphist at Cosford. I duly passed out in 1961 and after tours at Driffield, Sharjah, MOD AIR, Akrotiri and 38 Group (Tangmere) I found myself posted to 604 Forward Air Control Unit which was part of 24 (Air Portable) Brigade at Crownhill Fort, Plymouth. I could not drive so was eventually sent off to RAF St Athan's driving school. It was only when I got my F1629 that I noticed that despite my medical records showing "Colour blind" it said "Colour perception - safe". As I was not going to be driving on many airfields I decided to keep quiet about it!
Incidentally, I was taken seriously ill whilst at 604 FAC (recurrence of childhood asthma) and was treated by the Royal Navy at HMS Drake. The result of this was that, as far as i know, I was the only member of the RAF who was officially "P7 - unfit for seagoing duty".

[smujsmith]

Hi Danny,

I came across this whilst looking around at FCU's. it's a copy of part of a debate, from Hansard, held during 1957. Looks like your mob were spared at that time.

Fighter Control and Radar Reporting Units (Disbandment)

HC Deb 13 November 1957 vol 577 cc56-7W 56W
§92. Wing Commander Bullus asked the Secretary of State for Air whether he is aware of the prevailing uncertainty among Royal Air Force Auxiliary personnel about the future of the remaining Auxiliary units; and whether he will make a statement.
Mr. Ward Yes. As I explained to the House earlier this year, the Control and Reporting System is in process of being re-equipped and reorganised. This process is producing economies both in units and in establishments, and for that reason we were unable to justify at the beginning of this year the retention of more than twenty-one of the original total of thirty Fighter Control and Radar Reporting Units.
In the nature of things, there can never be complete certainty about the long-term requirement for these Auxiliary units, and it is now clear that there is no longer any requirement to justify the retention of three of these twenty-one units. We have, in consequence, no option but to disband them. The future of a further five units is in doubt, but, so far as we can foresee, we shall have a continuing requirement for the remaining thirteen. Particulars of the units falling into each category are appended.

I should like to express our sincere thanks to the public-spirited men and women of the three units which are to be disbanded. The date of disbandment will be the 1st February, 1958, but all training will cease forthwith. Bounties will be paid on the same basis as for the earlier disbandment, i.e. personnel who transfer to the R.Aux.A.F. Reserve as an alternative to discharge will be paid bounty apportioned to the date of disbandment and, in addition, one year's bounty, or proportionate bounty to the end of their current engagement if it ceases in the year.

I would like to make a special appeal to the personnel of the units at Brighton. Bristol, Stockton-on-Tees, Edinburgh and Glasgow, the future of which is in doubt, 57W to continue to give their voluntary service. They can rest assured that their units will not be disbanded unless changes in our operational requirements made this inevitable.

Following are the units in each category:

Fighter Control Units being retained.

No. 3500 (County of Kent) F.C.U. Margate.

No. 3502 (City of Belfast) F.C.U. Edenmore.

No. 3505 (East Riding) F.C.U. Sutton-on-Hull.

No. 3506 (County of Northampton) F.C.U. Peterborough.

No. 3508 (County of Northumberland) F.C.U. Long Benton.

No. 3511 (City of Dundee) F.C.U. Dundee.

No. 3604 (County of Middlesex) F.C.U. London.

No. 3609 (West Riding) F.C.U. Yeadon.

No. 3612 (County of Aberdeen) F.C.U. Dyce.

No. 3617 (County of Hampshire) F.C.U. Bournemouth.

No. 3618 (County of Sussex) F.C.U. Eastbourne.

No. 3619 (County of Suffolk) F.C.U. Ipswich.

No. 3620 (County of Norfolk) F.C.U. Norwich.

Fighter Control Units and Radar Reporting Unit whose future is at present in doubt.

No. 3507 (County of Somerset) F.C.U. Bristol.

No. 3602 (City of Glasgow) F.C.U. Glasgow.

No. 3608 (North Riding) F.C.U. Stockton-on-Tees.

No. 3603 (City of Edinburgh) F.C.U. Edinburgh.

No. 3701 (County of Sussex) R.R.U. Brighton.

Fighter Control Units to be disbanded.

No. 3611 (West Lancashire) F.C.U. Liverpool.

No. 3613 (City of Manchester) F.C.U. Manchester.

No. 3621 (North Lancashire) F.C.U. Blackpool.

By heck though, didn't we have some Oggies and reservists. Those were the days.

Smudge

[Danny42C]

Smudge,

Very interesting, thanks. It would seem that we were "in doubt" even at the time of the Question, but of course it made no difference in the end. The whole lot was "chopped" in '58.

As for the flying squadrons, the plain fact was that the nation could not afford to re-equip them with the Hunter. The pilots were game to carry on, but they were getting old now, and there weren't enough ex-NS ones to fill the gaps.

"The Control and Reporting System is in process of being re-equipped and reorganised. This process is producing economies both in units and in establishments." In other words, cut to the bone !

Nothing changes,

Danny.

[smujsmith]

Danny,

It seems to me that the RAF you served in at that time, was being given the same treatment that our modern forces are. My simple (it has to be I'm a simple bloke) analysis would suggest that politicians always take advantage of conflict reduction to accomplish force reduction. and always with the guarantee of modernising, upgrading or more efficient cause that our elected representatives use in their always hubristic attitude to anything they have a genuine lack of knowledge on. I doubt, as now, anyone would have stood against the tide of promises of future benefits from such cuts, but, history shows us we had some close calls along the way.

Perhaps the wrong thread to mention it but we live now in an age where many warn about threats to our country. Even our government raises concerns about defending ourselves from radical Islamists etc, and yet, at the same time our economy dictates cutting the very people that can do anything about it. Unlike the 1930s I see no, modern, Winston on the horizon (let alone in the currently elected bunch) who have the vision to cut through the bull. Perhaps your generation may have had similar thoughts.

Best regards Danny

Nil illegitimi carborundum (as they say) !

Smudge

[Danny42C]

Smudge,

Too true ! Many a time now I look back 75 years, and think: "I've been here before" !

I think we've squeezed the pips out of this.

Cheers, Danny.

[Chugalug2]

Danny your description of the Leaving of Thornaby brings back long forgotten memories, of calling cards (I still have the rump enders, in their buff coloured cardboard box, along with the engraved copper plate ready to run off another gross if I should enter a space time continuum and start all over again), of the correct way to "PPC" as well as to arrive at a new Mess.

I've no idea if the "Customs of the Service" have been updated (do you now simply email the entire mess membership, or "Blog" them?). Even in the 60's it all struck me as somewhat archaic, like living out a PG Wodehouse plot. The first thing I had to purchase before even reporting for my first day's service was a "pork-pie" hat. That was in order that it could be doffed to all Ladies and to all Officers when one was in civvies. Moral; stay indoors unless wearing sports gear!

The Pewter Tankard was still the standard Record of Service as you moved from unit to unit. I got a rather fancy one on my last full day in Singapore. It had a glass bottom to it (so that you could check that it didn't contain a recruiting Sergeant's shilling before swigging from it). The inevitable happened later when, tired and emotional from it all, I dropped it and broke the glass. In a panic I went down to Changi Village (which could out-Harrod Harrods!) and they arranged to replace it by next morning with an identical one, fully badged and inscribed as the original, for a small consideration. I have it, and its sisters, still.

[Danny42C]

The Course at Weston was more or less a re-run of the one I'd had five years before at Driffield, except that by now intentional spins had been prohibited (and a good thing, too). And the RAF's paranoia about Meteor engine failures had gone one step further. Besides doing the practices with the "dead" engine idling, now they would only do Flame-out landings dual. Each such FOL had to be recorded in your logbook, and my end-of-course Summary added, as a useful bit of extra information, that I had been guided through five of these.

With no engineering or background experience to call on, I can only recall one jet engine failure (a Viper) for any reason other than fuel starvation, or bird ingestion, in my entire service. All jet engines seem to be extremely reliable, and Rolls-Royces above all others. When I look back on the toll of accidents and fatalities in Meteors during the early '50s from FOL training alone, I cannot help thinking that it might have been better if we'd forgotten all about it, and let the rare unfortunate take his chance.

As I expected, flouting the 10,000 ft restriction caused me no problems at all. I put in 12 hrs on the 4 and the T7, and was duly assessed, on my 414, as a "proficient" Meteor pilot. My last flight from Weston was on the 16th November. On the 19th of the month, I went up to the CMB for what was to prove the very last time.

I thought I had a good fighting chance. By now I knew the "production line" of tests like the back of my hand, sailed through them all, blew up the mercury, sinuses were clear now, lung spot still the same (it's no worse today). Now for the Board. I rehearsed my arguments.

Across the desk sat a kindly, grey-haired old family doctor (thinly disguised as an Air Commodore). I went straight in with my story. He was taken aback and frowned a bit when I told him about how simple it had been to bounce my way onto and through the Course. So I pressed my advantage, concluding that I'd clearly demonstrated that the height restriction was quite unjusified, and pointing out that his ENT man was now quite happy with me. So what about a return to a full flying category and my LCPC as GD(Pilot) ?

He sighed. "It's not as straightforward as that. You may be fit now. But you hope to serve another 17 years on that Commission. How do we know that your condition may not become worse in a year, five, ten, fifteen years down the line ? We may then have to invalid you out with an enhanced pension on account of your disability (for it would not be hard to argue that it had been exacerbated by your flying). To put it bluntly, it's not on".

"The best we can offer is this: We will continue your limited flying category for the balance of your SSC (only two years now), and then you're out. Or we'll give you A4G1, which will enable you to take up the LCPC offer in ATC. Choose now".

It was Hobson's Choice. I would be getting married soon, I would have to put food on the table and a roof over our heads. "I'll take Air Traffic Control", I said, "Thank you, Sir".

The die was cast. I went back to Weston - for I'd been posted there, so there was no return to RAF Thornaby. Three days before I'd been a "proficient" Meteor pilot (or so the 414 said).

Now I was no pilot at all, but there were better things to come.

Goodnight, all,

Danny42


Sic transit gloria mundi.

[BEagle]

One of my earliest childhood memories was seeing the 'crash compound' at RAF Weston Zoyland piled high with silver and yellow-banded Meteor wreckage...:eek:

After the RAF left, during our trips to our works on the aerodrome, the massive earth-moving machinery being used to rebuild the roads was of rather more interest to a small boy though.

A couple of photos of RAF Weston Zoyland here: In pictures: New archive documents RAF Westonzoyland airfield (From Bridgwater Mercury) (http://www.bridgwatermercury.co.uk/news/10449612.In_pictures__New_archive_documents_RAF_Westonzoylan d_airfield/)
.

Also some photos of Westonzoyland aerodrome as it is now:

?v=3QYVCAImQyw

[Fixed Cross]

Dredging the past through fading memory and old Log books I recall being one of the last pilots to qualify on the Meteor (1971) at CFS. My conversion training stressed the necessity to keep the IAS at less than 120Kts on finals when only on one engine and the absolute essential of making a commitment decision (land or overshoot) at 600ft.

Keeping in balance on one at 120 Kts involved vast rudder/leg forces if any thrust was applied on the live engine. Moreover, the port engine supplied the pneumatic pressure (brakes); the starboard provided the hydraulic (u/c). The choice had to be well anticipated whether committed to land or overshoot. Get it wrong and the Meatbox was very unforgiving.

Almost all difficulties stemmed from the 120 kts approach speed. This seemed to be a residue of the earlier days when runways were fairly short and stopping more of a challenge on jets. Flying finals at 140 kts minimum removed most of the handling problems! Most runways offered at least 2000 yds in the 70s and diversion to longer landing strips was usually available.

As I was suffering the post of fast jet trapper I was able to raise the finals speed to min 140 kts. (Very few active Meatbox pilots left). Life on finals on one became less problematical. Later, flying the Meatbox on 79 at Chivenor/Brawdy seemed a very "gentlemanly pastime".

On a final note regarding the alarming toll of accidents practicing assymetric approaches, as I was about to fly my first Meatbox solo my instructor gave me a final piece of advice. If you have a real engine failure do a run and break from 600 ft (on one about 250 kts plus), close the live throttle over the caravan, break high onto the downwind and do a dead stick landing-works every time.

[Blacksheep]

The last time I saw Meteors being flown by an RAF unit was when I was at Changi. In 1971, I watched as 1574 Target Facilities Flight's Meteors were being broken up and carted away. The Singapore Armed Forces didn't want them and they were certainly not going to be flown back to Blighty, so they were scrapped on site. I believe civilians flew them as target facilities aircraft in UK for a while after that, but there were no more in proper RAF service.

[26er]

Having instructed on Meteors at M St G and Tarrant Rushton from '52 to '54 then served on a Meteor squadron, and also flown the Chivenor and Changi aircraft at various times between 1957 and 1969 (my last flight in the RAF was to ferry one to St Mawgan prior to the Chivenor runway being resurfaced) I firmly believed that the 600ft asymmetric decision height was to be used to convert height to speed and to ease the climb back to the circuit at a reasonable IAS. So many tried to go around from 600' without loss of height! Of course full flap was not lowered until one was committed to land. And to see some unsuspecting student try to "clean up" whilst using the hand hydraulic pump with the starboard engine out was a joy to behold.

[ricardian]

The last time I saw Meteors being flown by an RAF unit was when I was at Changi. In 1971, I watched as 1574 Target Facilities Flight's Meteors were being broken up and carted away. The Singapore Armed Forces didn't want them and they were certainly not going to be flown back to Blighty, so they were scrapped on site. I believe civilians flew them as target facilities aircraft in UK for a while after that, but there were no more in proper RAF service.
There was a Meteor at Chivenor in the very early 1970s, flown by Flt Lt Bill Arrowsmith and used to train army FACs and ACOs.

[Danny42C]

Beagle,

Another wonderful link ! Following it, and looking at the first picture of the three T7s, it occurs to me:

(a) In what Golden Age did the RAF have so many bowsers that it could refuel three aircraft "one to one" at the same time ?

(b) Was I the only one to have a sensation of claustrophobic doom when that huge barred canopy swung down over your head, and clanged into position with an awful finality ?

(c) Was ever aircraft bulled-up like the one nearest camera ? Truly, "Motorists wise - SIMONIZE !" (as we used to say)......D.


Fixed Cross and 26er,

With barely 40 hours on type as a stude, I stand in awe of your depth of experience ! As far as I can remember the survival techniques we were taught, the main thing was: "Do not go below 150 knots until the landing is 'in the bag'."

Fixed Cross, I think you meant "more than 120 knots" on finals". The idea of a 600 ft decision height sounds sensible. The Bloggs of my day was left with the belief that, with 120 knots, you could go-around almost from the threshold. The "Middleton Ghost", I was told, tried a roller on one when he was running out of runway, but the bird would'nt fly. He careered off cross-country, it was just hard luck that the Mess got in his way after that.

Too true, speed was/is our friend. A slow prang in the overshoot is always preferable to a fast one in the undershoot !.....D


Blacksheep and ricardian,

Yes, it would seem that the last gasp of the Meteor was as a target tug (might have ended my days on that job, as it turned out)......D.

EDIT: Blacksheep, your Thornaby Meteor would have been the single one that 608 Squadron had for I/F training and Rating tests. Hours on it were closely guarded, I never got to fly it (not that I particularly wanted to, as Vampires were on tap all time). From the cockpits, it would be long way for an 8 yr old to fall - hope they looked after you.......D.

Cheers to you all,

Danny.

[Blacksheep]

I wasn't considering the odd aeroplane being flown by RAF pilots. I was considering a formal unit, equipped with Meteors and flying as an operational formation.

My soft spot for the Meteor is that it was the aircraft that first fired me up for a career in aviation. I have a photo of myself and my best friend, both aged 8 at the time, in the cockpit of a Meteor taken at RAF Thornaby on a BoB Day in 1955.

[Fixed Cross]

With the Mods permission for thread drift:

My goodness you chaps have caused some turbulence in the old pad. Mrs FC is not amused! Last evening after the traditional glass or two of "attitude adjustment" and shooting at the wrist watch with the right hand, my thoughts drifted back to Meatbox handling. To reinforce my recollection I ventured into the gloom of the loft seeking old scraps of service memorabilia and discovered a long forgotten set of Pilots Notes for the Meteor F8&9.

The section on asymmetric handling is brief. It states "maintain a speed of 140kts until the decision to land has been made (145kts on large intake aircraft-deep breathers to those in the know). Aim for a threshold speed of 105-110 kts and a final approach speed 15 kts higher. An overshoot at decision height with the port engine operating will involve a decent until a safety speed of 145kts is attained and full power can be safely applied for the climb". The U/C and 1/3 Flap should be left in place throughout.

Thank God the Hunter only had one engine...

[BEagle]

In 1975-6, I was fortunate enough to have 3 back seat rides in WA669 'Clementine', one of the 2 Brawdy meatboxes, during air-to-air firing sorties. The take-off brief included a brief for assistance with full rudder in the appropriate direction, should an engine fail....

A fascinating experience; the speed had to be kept in a narrow band between safe single engine speed and banner towing limiting speed. I was allowed a brief couple of minutes stick time at height and found the control harmony excellent.

After the banner was released at the end of the sortie, we'd go out to the IP and run in for the break. Another critical aspect of T Mk 7 flying than became apparent - after double checking that the airbrakes were in, the landing gear was lowered but always came down asymmetrically - requiring some deft and essential footwork to keep the ball in the middle.

I was surprised that few of my fellow students took the opportunity of a trip in the venerable old beast - I thought it was something which shouldn't be missed.

More Meteor tales in this old thread: http://www.pprune.org/military-aircrew/70987-meteor-accident-statistics.html

[ancientaviator62]

I think that the Mods are as entranced as the 'rest of us' by this wonderful thread as it meanders along crisscrossing the tale that Danny is the current
custodian of.

[Danny42C]

BEagle,

Another winner ! Everybody with an interest in the subject must click onto
Meteor Accident Statistics. Keep you enthralled for hours (well, it'll keep me, and I feel I could add something to almost every one of the Posts, if only "Amen"). Thank you, BEagle !

I can only comment on one point. The MSG Ghost story is told with alternative endings. One has it that he, somewhat ungallantly, punched through the wall of the O.M. Ladies (luckily unoccupied). The other (correct) version is that he went through the (ground floor) window of his own room, and might well have survived. But the impact took away most of the side supporting brickwork and (in the exact words of my authority: "the lintel fell on his swede").

My authority is (was ?) Flt. Lt. John Henderson, ATC, ex-war pilot, who was in the Weston Zoyland tower when I went through there, was with me in Strubby tower, had been in MSG tower at the time of the incident and much later was SATCO at Teesside Airport.

Danny.

[Danny42C]

The obsequies were brief. I handed in my flying overalls, helmet and goggles at the Flights (I seem to have forgotten "Spectacles, Anti-Glare Mk VII", for they are still with me in their blue box - I wonder how that happened ?). It was cease-work on a winter afternoon, I walked into the hangar. The Meteors were being put away for the night, right in front of me was VW290, a Mk.IV, the last entry in my log, the end of my flying career.

It was no sort of "Arab's farewell to his Steed" moment. The Meteor was never one of my favourites. But it had been 14 years almost to a day since a callow youth had walked, hopefully but nervously into a Recruiting Office in Liverpool and signed on the dotted line. It should count for something. Curiously, some weeks later, I found out (by what means I cannot imagine, still less recall), that the RAF had a job lined up for me if I'd made the other choice - a Meteor tug pilot on the AGS at Acklington !)

For the time being, Weston lost interest in me. I had several weeks' leave over Christmas, some at home, but most of it with my fiancée in Marton. In the New Year Of '55 I went back. The Devil, as is well known, finds work for idle hands. At Weston, the W/Cdr(A) filled in for him. Of course, a supernumerary officer is fair game for any job that nobody else wants to do. And in all conscience, I cannot complain at what I drew out of the hat.

Until Google came along, I'd no idea when the idea of the "Hiring" system of civilian MQs was first mooted (it seems that it was up and running in July '49, as there were Parliamentary Questions about it then). But even as late as '55, it was a bit of a mystery to most people, and in any case only the married ones had to think about it.

On posting to an RAF Station (and some are really "out in the sticks"), a married officer/airman's first thought must be: "where are we going to live ?" If it was a well-established place, there would be Married Quarters on the Station (but never enough to go round). Any vacant ones would be allotted to the more fortunate (?) few who qualified under a system of Byzantine complexity. These would occupy a MQ of the size (and pay the rent for) one appropriate to their rank.

Historically, the rest were out in the cold. They had to lease local furnished properties on the open market; in some areas the rents would be very high, beyond the purse of a junior serviceman. But how about an arrangement whereby he might find a suitable place, the RAF would take the tenancy (usually for a minimum of a year) and pay the agreed rent - but then sub-let it to him at just the rent of his quarter ?

Not surprisingly this idea was welcomed all round. The Landlords liked it, they were sure of their tenant, the rent would be paid whether the place was occupied or not, they no longer feared "moonlight flits", the RAF would pay for damages above "fair wear and tear" at the end of the tenancy.

The first serviceman got a place which he had himself chosen, but the cost to him was only that of his MQ rent: this was usually well below the going rate. Everbody was happy, and how they got this past the Treasury, I'll never know. Everybody ? well, not quite.

More about this next time (sorry to bore you, but it's an integral part of the story).

Goodnight, all,

Danny42C


Home, sweet home.

[Danny42C]

......"got a place which he himself had chosen" ......(I said). The RAF did not go out to do any house-hunting on its own account. You had to find a place for yourself, find out if the landlord was willing to enter into the Hiring scheme and what the rent and conditions were, then put the proposition up to the Station Housing Officer. He would then inspect the property and its furnishings, to ensure that they were of a reasonable size and standard in relation to the rent asked.

At this time a decent small place would be on the market for 3 - 5 guineas per week (say £400 - £600 p.m. today), which is pretty well in line with what is asked round here now. (I think 5 guineas was the most the RAF would pay). Only then, and given that the station had still got scope for more hirings, would the Station Housing Officer sanction the arrangement. This would involve an already harassed individual in even more time-consumimg work. But why have a dog and bark yourself ? Step forward, Danny.

I did quite a number of these inspections in the next three months I spent at Weston. As to suitability, my criterion was simply: "would I be content to live in this place myself ?" If not, it was out of Court straight away, no matter how low the rent. For I had to consider not only the chap in front of me, but the next man to whom the hiring might be offered. If the rental asked was excessive, I would say so, but remand the case to the Housing Officer to decide.

The curious thing was that at first there was no correlation between the desirability of the place and the rent asked for it. One day I would be offered some wretched hovel for which the owner brazenly expected to get the full five guineas. The next, I would see a perfectly nice, well kept house; the (usually elderly) householder would timidly ask "would three guineas be too much ?" Of course, this happy state of affairs did not last for very long, and soon £5/5 became the standard price asked for everything (whether they got it or not was another matter).

The ones to whom I gave the green light were never grateful for very long. But there were other cases where I'd had to harden my heart and say "No" (with the next man in mind). These unlucky ones could still take the place themseves, of course, and pay the landlord the rent demanded, but that might be twice the rent of a MQ and put it out of their reach.

In this way I had to disappoint a number of people, these did not suffer in silence, I was not the most popular kid on the block. However, the experience gained was valuable and would come in extremely useful to me later.

That's the lot about Hirings, you'll be pleased to know.

Goodnight, chaps,

Danny42C


"We must all of us be somewhere, and I might as well be here" (Well known obiter dicta of an old High Court Judge)

[smujsmith]

Danny,

Don't be apologetic. I for one have just understood why several of the "accommodations" provided to me and my family in 30 years of RAF service were a bit dodgy. It also explains why one will be a great place and sometimes, for the same money, rubbish. Maybe the rubbish ones didn't have as discriminating an invigilator (as yourself) when originally accepted. How often would many decisions be more valid if the decision maker had put himself in the "recipients" position ?

Keep up the good work Danny, it's all very relevant, and means a lot to your readership.

Smudge:ok:

[mmitch]

Forgive me if this has already been posted but I found this short 1950 film on the R Aux AF. It may stir a few memories. :)
LiveLeak.com - Wings of Defence
mmitch.

[Wander00]

A lot of dust around....................

[smujsmith]

What a smashing bit of film that was. Hope it brings back a few good memorIes for Danny and others. Thanks for sharing it with us Mitch.

Smudge

[Danny42C]

mmitch,

Thank you for the video ! I must say, they gave the FCUs quite a fair share of the footage - pity the RAF Regt. auxiliaries didn't rate a mention, for they gave up their spare time to serve just as the Squadrons and FCUs had done. Nice to see the Mk. IVs doing their stuff - the last aircraft I flew !


Smujsmith,

Yes, it brings back vividly the atmosphere of those days. The Auxiliary story ended, for all intents and purposes, in 1958. But the Squadrons had a short but memorable history from the thirties onwards until then. Mobilised for WW2, many of the Squadrons fought in the Battle of Britain; several of the top-scoring fighter pilots were Auxiliaries.

Post war the 22 (?) Auxiliary Sqdns made up half (I have also heard a third) of the fighter squadron strength of the RAF. They were not "chocolate soldiers", but reckoned to be as efficient as the Regulars of Fighter Command.

Cheers to you both,

Danny

[DFCP]

Danny, Visiting MSG a couple of weeks ago I was shown the repaired wall where the Meteor impacted what is now called ,I think, the St George Hotel.
What struck me was the apparent long distance from the runway where I assume the "excursion" began to this impact area.
DFCP

[Chugalug2]

DFCP, hopefully this link
https://maps.google.com/maps?ll=54.509167,-1.429444&q=loc:54.509167,-1.429444&hl=en&t=h&z=14
will reveal the Google Satellite image of Teeside Airport and still show the 3 original MSG runways, as well as the then OM (St Georges Hotel now, as you say). Danny covered the incident some time back, but looking at the layout I'd hazard that the TO runway was the one marked 28? (strangely still not obliterated and replaced with a cross).
If that were so he didn't have that much distance to cover in a RH arc until hitting the Mess. As the Tech Site & ATC was then further East, and the modern terminal not even dreamed of, he could have had a pretty clear run until his own room loomed into view.
RIP.

[Danny42C]

Chugalug,

A most informative link, which to my mind makes the whole sad affair clear as day. Thanks !

09/28 looks far too short for a Meteor (even allowing for the fact that the white rectangular patch in the SW corner is the Leisure/Catering/Goofers platform Centre of a much later date, and a chunk of the west end of the old 28 must have been chopped off to build it.

He must have been on the much longer 23, took to the open country about abeam the Centre position, then roared round clockwise in an "ever-decreasing circle" of about 240 degrees until head-butting the W wing of what I take to be the Mess (marked "St George"), coming in from from the West.

The other end (05) would be the spot where I disgraced myself in '52 !

dfcp,

Yes, he got quite a long way, didn't he ? I wonder if, in the heat of the moment, he left it too long before cutting the power ? Hard luck in any case.

RIP, as we all say. Poor chap !

Danny

[Danny42C]

mmitch,

A few more points come to mind when re-viewing this wonderful video. I never even knew of the existence of this footage until now (reminds me of Chugalug's video of the Vultee Vengeances in India months ago - I knew nothing about that before, and I was out there at the time !)

The reference to the FCU's "Town Headquarters" may need explanation. All the Auxiliary flying squadrons must obviously be based on an airfield. But a FCU can be anywhere (one was at Alton Towers, which I think was a big leisure Centre). They had to be somewhere where their people could easily and quickly reach them on public transport, for only the officers would generally have cars.

So they were based in a town centre for the most part; they would do their basic and synthetic trade training there, and presumably be bussed out at weekends to the particular "hole" where they did their practical training as Radar Operators and Fighter Plotters. For that reason the Town HQs could not be too far away from the ROTOR stations they served. It follows that they might never even see an aircraft (apart from Summer Camp - and even then perhaps not, but they were usually accommodated on a nearby airfield as being the only place which had the room for them.

RAF Thornaby was a very special case, for it had been built right on the outskirts of town; No.8 bus ran into Stockton High Street (10 mins); all the Teesside towns were generously connected by bus and trolley-bus. So we needed no "Town HQ" at all, and the old Coastal Command Operations block might have been tailor-made for us. But we were exceptions, and I presume all the video shots were of the more "normal" variety of FCU.

I was surprised to see an auxiliary squadron of Meteors , all the ones I knew ran Vampires with a single T7 for I/F training. The Meteor would be more difficult for their pilots to handle: they would need twice as many engine etc mechs for the two engines; they would burn more fuel. I presume this would be somewhere in London or the Home Counties.

1915 hrs, had another look to see, still pic there, but now says "Video not found" - what's amiss ? (anybody know ?)

Danny

[smujsmith]

Danny,

It still works for me. I'm using an IPad. Are you selecting the title block at the top of the video screen, that's what opens the link for me. Hope that helps.

Smudge

PS this is the direct link. It may work as an option.

http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=1b6_1323049249

[ricardian]

In 1970 I was posted from 604 FAC to 3 Maritime HQ Unit RAuxAF. My boss at the time, FltLt Peter Maillard, did not believe the posting as he thought that the RAuxAF had been disbanded years ago! However, it turned out that there were 3 MHUs - No 1 MHU London (Valency House, Northwood), No 2 MHU Edinburgh (Pitreavie) and No 3 MHU Mountbatten. Had an interesting time 1970-73 instructing RAuxAF teleprinter operators (TPOs), wireless operators (WOps) and telegraphists (Telegs). The unit also had some ops clerks & ground wireless mechanics/fitters. All trades worked at Mount Wise in the commcen and ops room. Training was carried out on 3 Sundays a month plus 1 or 2 evenings each week. There was also the annual continuous training of two weeks.

[Danny42C]

smujsmith,

Thanks for the tip, but no joy, I'm afraid. Not to worry, will try again tomorrow. Am operating on a laptop of which 99.9 % is a complete mystery to me. My touchscreen has a mind of its own, works or not as it pleases. (Could never see the sense in using touchpad to manouvre a spot the size of a gnat's proboscis into another gnat's fundamental orifice).

ricardian,

Yes, I've heard of these odd bits of RAux.A.F. which escaped the general chop in '57 - '58'. MHUs are new to me, but an RAF Regt contingent was around for a long time.

Danny

[smujsmith]

Danny:ok:

Sorry I was of no use, I must say your description of the Gnat/touchscreen brought to mind the old, oft heard song of long ago, "The sexual Life of a Camel". Now, I'm not sure why, but your description just makes me think of that song. I'll not get any sleep tonight now, I can't stop chuckling :O. Maybe something to do with the line - The sphinx's inscrutable orifice ?

Goodnight Danny

Smudge

[Blacksheep]

Danny - Google "liveleak" to get the host website and type "Wings of Defence" into the search box. That way you can bookmark it and watch it as many times as you like. :ok:

[Danny42C]

Smudge,

It ended:

"Which accounts for the hump on the camel,
And the Sphinx's Inscrutable Smile !"

Blacksheep,

Thanks ! Off to bed now. Will try it tomorrow and report progress.

Goodnight to you both. Cheers !,

Danny

[mmitch]

Just tried mine and smujsmith's links (click on the video screen) and both work.
mmitch.

[Danny42C]

The winter of '54/'55 was wet and miserable in Somerset. Flying conditions were poor, a lot of low cloud and drizzle, and in the four months I spent there we had several fatalities. When a man was killed, there was a delicate question to be asked of the next of kin. Would you like us to bury him here, with military honours ? We will bear the whole cost; the grave will be maintained in perpetuity by the CWGC.

Or would you prefer us to send him home to you for burial ? We'll pay the cost of the carriage, and (this is not a misprint) pay £10 (!) towards the funeral expenses. This was an ungenerous offer (even allowing for inflation); I think we were embarrassed about it. To avoid having to exchange letters (and because time was of the essence), an officer in uniform would be sent to the family to put the sad question as tactfully as he could. Someone who could easily be spared for a day or so. Guess who?

This task fell to me on two occasions. I was always well received: my wings and ribbons marking me as one who (as they supposed) shared the dangers which had robbed them of their boy. It was harrowing. A mother would break down. Family photographs would be trotted out for me to see. His sporting trophies, brightly polished, would be on display. I could honestly assure them that he didn't suffer, death would always be instantaneous in the sort of accident we had (CFIT - we had one incident in which a wingman bounced his Meteor off the Quantocks and got back to tell the tale).

The case which is burned into my memory came late in January IIRC. The family concerned lived in Loughborough. It was the only one to opt for a private funeral. It was just a matter of sending him home. Now any barrack-room lawyer will tell you that the RAF Casualty Manual then stated: "Escorts will not be provided for corpses" (or so I'm told - AP 1922 ?)

But of course we did provide. You really can't send him home like a parcel. And who more suitable as an escort than the officer whom the family had already met ?

So out with the black armband (rest of story in a day or so).

Evenin' all,

Danny42C


You've got to take the rough with the smooth.

[Danny42C]

Smudjsmith and Blacksheep,

Problem solved (by accident). If I close the tab, go back to "Military Aircrew", select the "Brevet" thread and start again, it works ! But thanks for the excellent advice

Cheers, Danny

[ancientaviator62]

Danny,
during my time with the Hercules I did several repatriation of bodies mainly from the Balkans operations. Usually a special flight was laid on with the a/c fitted out inside with black drapes. An escort party would be waiting at the UK airfield. However one day when we landed (at Split I think) a coffin was loaded along with other cargo and pax. When I queried this with the Movements Officer he showed me a signal from MOD which stated that anyone who had taken their own life was not to be afforded the usual full military honours and the body was to be returned to the UK on as 'normal cargo !.
Once we were airborne an Army Major started to have a go at the RAF (via me !) for a lack of respect. Fortunately I had a copy of the MOD Order and showed him. When he calmed down we both agreed that it was petty in the extreme but typical of 'them'. When I got back I rang the relevant department in MOD to query this but the only reply I got was a 'wingegram' saying MOD policy was none of my business. I do not know if this is still the policy today.

[Danny42C]

ancientaviator62,

Your quote: "saying MOD policy was none of your business". Typical ! T'was ever thus.

"Theirs not to reason why, theirs but to do or die". Nothing changes.

Danny.

[Xercules]

You will recall that Repatriations are a recent phenomenon. In fact, the first ones as we know them were after the first Gulf War. The deceased were to be returned through Brize Norton (6 if memory is correct) by C130 but the crew for the final leg was in Akrotiri and needed to know what was required, especially on the ground once at BZZ.

The Stn Cdr sent me over to Brize with the rehearsal aircraft. We parked and I went down the crew entrance steps to meet the London GSM - he is the one you see at the head of the steps marshalling the troops in the RAH for the Festival of Remembrance. He is always ex-Guards is about 9ft tall with (out of dress uniform) a cap vizor which conceals not just his eyes but most of his face as well. Being a relatively diminutive Sqn Ldr at the time, he addressed me to say "Right, Sir, the aircraft will land and park here" with the tail facing directly at the gathered grieving relatives. With some trepidation I challenged this claiming that the back of the Herc was not what the rleatives would need to see - who knew what the need would be to stack coffins end or on top of each other to make sufficient room for each bearer party to muster, drape the coffin, lift and march out.

He saw my point, much to me relief, and what you see today is the result - first view is the bearer party and coffin in immaculate parade order being guided down the ramp in perfect unison. I always feel humble but proud each time I see it on the News.

[TT2]

"Humble but proud"

I feel bloody angry every time I see such a scene. These poor lads and gals died and the associated grief thrust upon their families purely due to the commercial interests of the funders of the US government. Blair and Cameron being utterly complicit in the whole utterly corrupt state of affairs.

It's all about profits for the few whilst our servicemen and women are expected to die or be maimed as part of their contract.

WMD? Yup. Saddam funding Al Q?. Yup. Gaddafi's murder? Yup. No fly zone over Libya? Civil causalties due to bombing released? Yup. How many mistakenly targeted drone strike deaths? Yup.

Every time I see a returned dead serviceman or woman to Blighty from these invented wars in the interests of the multi nationals who actually run the US, I get angry. Such a bloody waste.

[ancientaviator62]

Xercules,
with the a/c parked tail towards the families, they would not have appreciated the blast from the Allisons even in ground idle, nor the waft of Avtur that would have enveloped them. I recall in the early seventies repatriating bodies from the Oman, who all appeared to have died in 'car crashes' They were not afforded what has now become the usual honours. But my first recollection of the current ceremony is of the casualities from the various Ops in the Former Republic of Yugoslavia. But as Danny will confirm the previous policy was not to repatriate as the CWG in many parts of the globe bear witness to

[Danny42C]

ancientaviator62,

Yes, in former times the principle was that the British soldier was buried where he fell, and, in the glorious words of Rupert Brooke (?):

"There is some corner of a foreign field
That will be forever England" (hope I've got that right).

It was then impossible to bring them home (although Nelson was pickled in a barrel of brandy for the purpose). There were so many of them, they were too far away, it would take far too long, they didn't have the transport anyway.

It so happens, in my next Post which will shortly appear, that it wasn't all plain sailing, even as late as '55.

Danny.

[Danny42C]

"Oh, Mr Porter, whatever shall I do ?
I wanted to go to Birmingham, but they've taken me on to Crewe !"

An ambulance took me with the coffin to Taunton station on a dark, foggy evening. An enclosed "parcels van" had been attached to the end of the train, and the coffin went into that. We were to change trains at Bristol and Birmingham, to reach Loughborough about ten in the morning. I snuggled down in an empty compartment, and dozed as the train crawled through the West country, coming into Bristol just before midnight.

I watched like a hawk as the van was uncoupled and shunted onto the waiting train. So far, so good. Then we trundled off again into the darkness, reaching Birmingham (New Street) about two in the morning. The next train to Loughborough was not till eight, so we were stuck where we were for the rest of the night.

Our train had not yet been made up, so the first thing was to see the van uncoupled and parked. There were three lines of track between platforms, and the van was left in full view in the middle one, where I was assured it would stay, so as not to impede trains running through during the night. Now I could look after myself. The only waiting room open was a scene of Dickensian squalor, with a couple of miserable coals smouldering sullenly in a grate. "I'd nip up to the hotel, sir", said a friendly porter. "He'll be all right where he is for the rest of the night".

It sounded like good advice. Climbing an infinity of stairs and out into the street, I turned to face the black Gothic turrets of a Dracula's castle. (In fairness to Birmingham, I must say that the same was then true of every Victorian railway hotel after a century's accumulation of grime). Pushing through the revolving doors into a gloomy, cavernous hall, I found an old night porter and the lounge, pulled a couple of easy chairs together and settled down under my greatcoat. At six the old chap woke me up with a mug of tea and a piece of toast. After a shave and brush up down in a magnificent Victorian temple of rose marble, gleaming brass piping and snowy porcelain, I gratefully left him a half-crown and went down to the station.

The van had gone.

I've read that the victim of car theft stares in denial at the empty space, willing his car to reappear. I'm absolutely sure this is true. Reeling from the shock, I raced round the station, fairly gibbering with horror and grabbing every railway official I could find. But the night shift had gone off, the day shift knew nothing about it and cared less.

Where was the van ? It didn't bear thinking about. It could be going anywhere on British Rail, and in those days might not be found for weeks. What can I do now ? With or without it, I must go on to Loughborough. Suppose it's without. A reception committee of the undertaker and maybe the family will be waiting on the platform. I'll have to creep off the train like a condemned man going before a firing squad.

"Well, where is he ?" What can I say ? "I'm awfully sorry, but...." I can see horror dawning on every face as they realise the implications. And what will happen to me when I get back ? To the end of my time in the RAF (and that might not be all that long), I'll have this can tied to my tail: "The Man who Lost the Coffin he was supposed to be Looking After".

It was a Bateman cartoon come to life. Suppose the Press got wind of the affair ? It was just the sort of publicity the RAF did not need: public opinion was already growing restive over the mounting casualties in what was no longer a wartime service.

This waking nightmare must have lasted a good half hour. At last an assistant stationmaster chased after me: the van had been found. I fell on his neck like the Prodigal Son. It had never been lost, but merely shunted out of the way into a siding to be coupled to the Loughborough train. Happily reunited, we travelled on, arrived and the family's undertakers took over.

Visibly aged by several years, I represented the RAF at the graveside and caught the next train back to Weston. Needless to say, I kept my mouth shut. To this day, over half a century later, the mere mention of "Birmingham New Street" sends a cold shiver down my spine. Thankfully, I never had to act as a coffin escort again !

Still trembling from the memory,

Danny42C


It's quicker by Rail

[NutLoose]

The VC10 used to have the front hold fitted out in black drapes, I remember when the Dutchess of Windsor was dying a Ten was prepped and VIP readied. I seem to remember she recovered slightly, so the jet was released back into service and then later another was prepped later which brought her back. If I remember rightly, it was left prepped for quiet a while to await her demise in the end.

[smujsmith]

Just for interest,

The, black curtain fit, on the Herk (C130, Fat Albert) was called the HAZE fit. Despite many years of service on the fleet I have no idea what HAZE stood for. Danny, were it not so serious a problem, your experiences accompanying a fallen comrade home seem straight out of a "pseudo horror comedy movie". I can not even begin to imagine the emotions you went through. I can though salute the fact that you stuck to your duty and did not let the service or the family down. As for New Street, I come from not too far away, and I agree, never a welcoming station, preferred, Tamworth.

Smudge

[Xercules]

The Herc in the HAZE fit was required either as a back up for the VC10 or to go to collect from a place to which the VC10 could not go. Operation HAZE was the name and there was a contingency plan to cover certain events. We re-wrote the plan and Op order that went with it in the late 80s to include the use of a 146 in certain circumstances. I think then there was new name for the Op but I cannot remember what it was.

[smujsmith]

Xercules,

Thanks for that, I have to say that as a GE, explaining acronyms to me was not a priority for the crews I flew with. I do remember doing a very unusual repatriation during Op Northern Watch (I believe). I was tasked with an SF crew and an RAF police SOCCO to repatriate the remains of three journalists who had been murdered by their Turkish guides in northern Iraq (I believe they were contracted to The Times, 2 men and a woman ISTR).

We proceeded to Akrotiri and waited for a couple of days, until the Royal Marines had captured the ground where the bodies had been located. We flew, low level all the way to Sirsinq, and with the greatest respect to him, our Captain (Max B) landed with only a couple of yards either way to spare. The runway had not been fully de mined and the "safe" area was just 2 meters either side of a C130 MLG Track, indicated by a line of dayglo flags.

On landing we were told that the area had been secured, and, we could use that Land Rover over there! We hopped in,all of us, SOCCO drove and off to the hills we went. I do not wish to dwell on details, suffice to say that recovery of the remains was not "run of the mill" for a forty plus year old GE. We returned to the aircraft and placed the remains in lead lined caskets. Our orders were to return the remains direct to BZN, something to do with the Oxford Coroner.

Unfortunately, Albert couldn't make BZN direct due to our low level infil/exfil from Turkey, possibly some sort of political denial on their behalf, we never made radio contact with any Turkish controller throughout the flight, in or out, although to this day I can not understand that. So we went back to Akronelli, refuelled and then went direct to Brize. Arriving at 0130 hrs seemed to surprise both the movements people and VASF at Brize, but the undertakers were there. So we unloaded the coffins as a crew, handed them to the undertakers, and then did a quick 15 minutes back to Lyneham.

Probably, like many C130 people, I've seen my share of repatriation flights, but that was definitely something different. Whilst I was never subject to the crew duty day restriction as a GE, on that day the aircrew operated for more than 20 hours continuous, no one even flinched when told we had to recover the remains, and we all remarked at how VASF and a Houchin at Brize might have made life a little more respectful for the relatives than our GTC. Sorry for the long winded blather, but, for me, a memory that sticks, as an aside Saddam had one of his palaces near the airfield at Sirsinq, and one of the Royal Marines gave me a piece of black Marble, which lined the place, as a souvenir, for me it's quite a morbid bit of stone, which for some reason I hang on to.

Sorry for diverting from thread, but the current subject matter from young Danny brought it all to mind.

Smudge

[Reader123]

Danny, you could always have gone AWOL and enlisted again...

[Chugalug2]

Ah,the dreaded Shift Change! How many otherwise sound plans have come awry as a result? I'm much relieved that yours at least survived it, Danny (though not half as much as you, I suspect).
From Ernest K Gann (as previously discussed) onwards it has struck without warning, not least of all in the RAF. My experience though was a happy one. Having recently left the Service, I arranged for my wife to be booked into the RAF Hospital, Halton for the birth of our eldest son. Being a "Thoroughly Modern Man" I witnessed his birth, as well as the Shift Change of attendant Doctors and Nurses in the middle of it. Happily, the changeover happened seamlessly, and mother and son spent a restful week with the patients outnumbered by staff, despite the right of any NHS patient to be treated there.
All swept away now, of course, in this Brave New World...

[Danny42C]

smujsmith,

I overnighted in Tamworth several times in the old days, transiting Somerset/Teesside. It was a commercial traveller sort of place where I stayed, name forgotten, but it had partly covered parking space behind, where the Bond could stay out of the rain. I think it might have been an old Post House.

Apropos of nothing at all: Tamworth was where "Del-Boy's" old 3-wheeler Reliant van was built......D.


Reader123,

Don't suppose they would have had me in ! Probably I should have been given a Colt.45, a bottle of Scotch, and expected to do the decent thing ....D.


Chugalug,

I "did time" in RAF Hospitals Wroughton and Halton - both run as Hospitals ought to be run. No "Shift Change" problems - they worked till the job was done.....D.

Regards to you all, Danny.

[smujsmith]

Danny,

Tamworth, or as we pronounced it "Tammerth". Was famous when I was a lad for two things. Firstly, and as you say, the Reliant. IMHO a finely crafted work of motorised perambulation. Secondly, R Whites, the Lemonade makers, who had a really nice jingly advert around the 80s. Since I left only the two "Tamworth pigs" and their escape have made the town worthy of note. I actually come from a small village around 8 miles from Tamworth, Edingale, and its famous for more than Tamworth, but not mechanical or drinkable therefore not mentionable. Diversion corrected, back on thread. Over to you Maestro.

Smudge:rolleyes:

[Blacksheep]

Ah! the shift change! We were coming to the end of our day shift at Waddington Line Servicing and the night shift coach had arrived. A Vulcan crew arrived for debrief and the Captain asked about the mob milling about outside. "That's the other shift, Sir" said Chiefy. The captain rushed outside and addressed the throng. "So, you're the Other Shift! who cause all the problems. I've heard all about you and finally we meet!"

[smujsmith]

Blacksheep,

Absolute cracker. What a wag that captain was. :ok:

Smudge

[BEagle]

Crewing in to one of HM's Vickers FunBus tankers in the cold, early morning some years ago, all was clearly not well. Whilst wandering about waiting for someone to arrive with the steps, my navigator happened to peer down the centre line Hose Drum Unit (HDU) tunnel (he must have been bored), only to find the HDU servicing notes lurking therein.

I found another problem, so walked back to the squadron...

"There's no autopilot", I announced to the Eng controller.

"What - both autopilots U/S, sir?"

"No - there is physically NO autopilot. Where the dual amp controller normally lives, there is but a large hole, with various wires and connectors poking out".

"Ah - best I send someone out to see what he can do, sir"

"Yes please!".

They fixed that snag and retrieved the HDU servicing notes, then checked a few more strangely suspicious items before we started up and set off....only for someone to come scurrying out onto the taxiway giving me a STOP signal. Rather strange, I thought. But then the Air Eng exclaimed that someone else had just opened up a large panel in front of the HDU before disappearing inside clutching some large tool and all he could see was a pair of legs dangling out.

"I don't want to worry you", piped up a Flt Cdr in another jet, "but your aircraft appears to have just swallowed a tradesman!".

"I know - when he comes out, we're taxying back. Talk to you later!".

At that point a very annoyed looking SEngO appeared atop the ramparts which surrounded the squadron, clearly wondering what on earth his chaps were doing.

And we did.

It seems that one shift failed to complete the handover to The Other Shift and a whole load of job cards had been left open - including a serious HDU snag. The mysterious stowaway had, it seems, been checking whether some sprojit flobbling widger or whatever had been wire-locked.

SEngO then charged more of his oilies than he'd charged in his entire career up to that point! Which was a great shame; they'd held their hands up to this totally uncharacteristic screw-up and in their can-do manner were doing the best they could to get the jet underway. But the 'stowaway' was the last straw and I guess SEngO didn't have any other alternative.

[smujsmith]

Blimey Beags,

A real one straight out of the annals of "I learned about flying from that", or not in this case. Have to say, some days even with the best will in the world, sh1t happens. But what a comedy of errors, thank goodness you didn't get aloft.

I do remember whilst a Cpl at Abingdon signing a Chippy out to a very nice, elderly chap, who was to give experience to the young ATC cadets. He signed the form 705 (Flight Servicing Certificate) and checked the F700 for reds and greens etc. all things I'm sure you are familiar with. Having signed the form I detailed a tradesman to do the see off with the Squadron Leader. I put the F700 for (lets call it) WP805 back in its slot and carried on sorting out the rest of the Chippies, and both ULAS and OUAS Buldog details for the rest of the mornings flying program. I was surprised to see the Squadron leader appear back in the control room some 40 minutes later. He had had to curtail his flying plans due to lack of fuel in the aircraft, and was not too pleased about it, add to that the engine was certainly not very happy during his one sortie made me wonder what was going on. I asked him to accompany me to the aircraft so that we could go through the problems, one of my lads was going to be in big trouble.

Standing to the side of WP815, I listened carefully do the flight debrief. We then returned to the control room. It was only when I picked up the 705 and F700 for WP805 that I realised what had happened. I asked the Squadron Leader if he would be happy with the aircraft he had signed out and left him to ponder his mistake. I too was at fault, I should have ensured that the tradesman detailed to see him off was aware which aircraft it would be, I ratted on myself to the Flt Sgt and we changed the procedures. Out of interest, WP815 had been awaiting our sumpy tradesmen to investigate some engine snags reported from an earlier flight, it had not been refuelled as the debrief indicated fuel contamination could have caused the problems. I learned about managing aircraft from that. Sorry for the diatribe, I do think though that Beags experience and mine both show that mistakes were never the exclusive property of a particular trade.

Smudge

[NutLoose]

Similar at Deci I defuelled Hotel as requested to allow the droppers to be removed with hand held Crux bars.... Lots of swearing later by Armourers Chief and threats of tech charges as tanks were full when released with gravity taking over the removal process.... Looks out window and points out that the aircraft in question wasn't Hotel.... Sheepish apology ensued.

But we are digressing from a Stunning thread by Danny and Co, who should write a book.

[Danny42C]

Chugalug, Smujsmith ( no Maestro, I !) and Nutloose (you do me too much honour, "write a book" indeed !) Thank you all for the kind words (and thank you to the Moderators for the all-encompassing latitude which they've always allowed to this best of Threads).

BEagle and Blacksheep, Marvellous tales (especially the the one about the Captain, who voiced what we've all thought at times).

This has been a perfect example of a Forum at its best - my throw-away remark about a shift-change, and look what follows in its wake !........D.

**********

Shortly after I got back, I was given the dates for my Air Traffic Control Course: RAF Shawbury from beginning of March until end of June. Now we could make our plans. I was to finish there on Friday 1st July. We would marry on the Monday, the 4th (yes, I know that's Independence Day), and take it from there.

Now a sad parting of the ways lay before me. The Bond was now almost five years old, with 30,000 on the clock. The little Villiers engine was as lively as ever, but the body was showing signs of wear and tear; fatigue cracks had started to appear from the base of the screen pillars, and although I'd drilled them to stop them as soon as spotted, it was a bad sign. Worse, the "soft top" now leaked like a sieve; it was becoming anti-social.

Apart from this I had to acknowledge that it was hardly suitable transport for the Married Man I was soon to become. It would have to be replaced by something more conventional. I scouted round the local village garages. Somewhere (can't remember) they had a 1938 black Vauxhall 12-6 ticketed at £105 (guineas died hard) in front of the tin shed. It had 65,000 recorded (I thought that that was probably genuine).

By the way, I should perhaps remind you that at that time new (or any post-war) cars were scarce and prohibitively expensive. Outside any Service Mess nine out of ten would be of pre-war vintage and in various stages of disrepair. A seventeen year old was nothing out of the ordinary (for that matter, I'm running a 14 year old myself now, and the paintwork's fine).

The story was this: it had been owned from new by a bank manager who'd taken it into his retirement. He washed and leathered it down every week and treated it like a baby. On his death 18 months before it had passed to a young carpenter, who used it as his work van. (Timbers ? - Easy, open sunshine roof (sort of sash window affair) and shove them through onto back seat. The inside trim was knocked about a bit, but what's the problem ? Bang any loose bits in with an inch nail). The Registration Book backed up the story. A year later the Carpenter had prospered sufficiently to buy a van, ELY 410 was on the market again.

A buyer in those pre-war times didn't have to worry about rust as much as we've had to do in recent years. You started with a steel girder chassis which could have come from the Forth Bridge (and would last as long). They mounted this on four cart springs and put a beam axle across the front (and a solid back axle behind). Stick an engine and transmission in the chassis, and an ash frame onto it, bolt-on the body panels. Four wheels, and that's about it.

Consequently, after I'd seen that the inside would be acceptable after a thorough clean-out, I turned to the mechanicals. It was a wreck. Everything needed doing or replacing. The thing would move and (after a fashion) stop. But again, in those days, this was no cause to despair. Any garage or machine shop in the land would tackle the task, and you could buy a reconditioned anything quite cheaply. I decided to take the job on.

Now we got down to business. After some haggling, we shook hands on £50 plus the Bond (I think they gave it to the apprentice to play with). The deed was done. As I drove away, I looked back at the poor little thing sitting forlornly at the side of the shed. We'd come a long way and had a lot of fun together (my fiancée and I did our courting in it). Smoke gets in your eyes. (Where are you now, EY 9548 ? And was he kind to you ?)

The smoke was all coming out of the back of the Vauxhall. Most cars smoked then, but this had to be seen to be believed. You could see nothing in the driving mirror at all - it was just a solid wall of smoke. Oil consumption was about 50 mi/Quart, but again the garages catered for this. "Reclaimed" oil (ie filtered old sump oil) was on tap everywhere at 1/- a quart.

In this appalling vehicle I made as many journeys back to Teesside as I could. It was not noticeably quicker than the Bond. Again I overnighted at Tamworth, or once in a nice little pub across the green from Kenilworth Castle. Steering was a bit funny as the primitive Vauxhall IFS ("Knee-action Ride") was in the same state as the rest (knock-kneed). The weeks went by.

Evenin' all,

Danny42C


Say not the struggle naught availeth.

[Yamagata ken]

Crikey Danny!

Again I overnighted at Tamworth, or once in a nice little pub across the green from Kenilworth Castle.

I grew up in Kenilworth. Here's the castle. They used to charge an entrance fee, but a castle wall was no barrier to an adventurous little scrote such as myself. I honed my climbing skills here. Kenilworth is a delightful little town for a growing boy.

http://imageshack.us/a/img801/3885/eoli.jpg

Castle green with pub in background.

http://imageshack.us/a/img826/12/bflo.jpg

And the pub. The Queen & Castle (original, eh?). Photos taken in 2010.

http://imageshack.us/a/img12/8854/bvs7.jpg

[Fareastdriver]

It shows you how times have changed. You talk about a pub in Kenilworth and somebody posts pictures of it from Japan.

[Chugalug2]

It shows you how times have changed. You talk about a Vauxhall 12 and somebody in West Sussex posts a video of one in Portugal.
(but is it the right one,Danny?)
VAUXHALL 12 - YouTube

[Danny42C]

Yamagata Ken,

Lovely pics - a bit of Old England ! Yes, I remember the Castle well, didn't have time to look it over it as I just overnighted there. But what lad with any spirit wouldn't scramble over a wall, or find a gap in the hedge, to play "Cavaliers and Roundheads" for free in a magnificent setting like that ?

The pub is more faintly recalled, but if it's the only one on the green, it must be the right one.......D.


Fareastdriver,

And it shows this Thread and the PPRuNe Forum up as the wonderful thing it is.......D.


Chugalug,

That's the one ! Think they mostly came in black (on Henry Ford's dictum), can't remember a coloured one, but suppose there must have been some - probably export models.

I think the very similar 14-6 had a rudimentary boot, but it is obscured by the man at the rear. * They both had essentially the same straight-six engine, 1508 cc, I think in the 12-6, bored out to 1700 + cc ifor the 14-6. The 12-6 was a bit slow, but very smooth.

* Are my old eyes deceiving me or is there a small "bump" in the shadow behind the car ? (a 12 had a straight back, but a door opened to reveal the spare wheel, and folded down to act as a luggage rack.

Tyres are oversize on this specimen.......D.

Cheers to you all,

Danny.

[Danny42C]

March ended, and I was off to Shawbury. The Joint Air Traffic Control Course assembled for the "Welcome" party (I think we had one RN officer in our number). Witold Suida was a welcome familiar face, all the rest were strangers, but ex-wartime aircrew officers and SNCOs to a man. I particularly remember one case, whom I shall not name, for he may yet live.

He had been a W/Cdr Nav at the war's end. Leaving the Service, he'd joined British South American Airways. Not as a nav, but as some sort of Station Manager at Rio or Buenos Aires. As I don't suppose they ran more than one service a week, he was pretty well placed - and then BSAA folded. He was out on the street. It was downhill for him from then on.

He was a family man, they were reduced to penury. At last a life-line: he was offered a SSC as a Flt. Lt. in ATC. But of course this was conditional on his passing the Course. So it was for many of us (including me, I was in the same boat with my LCPC, and others had SSCs or LCPCs at stake).

But this did not worry us in the slightest. All aircrew are "naturals" for ATC to a greater or lesser degree. Above all pilots and navs are genetically fitted to become "poachers turned gamekeepers". This Course would be a doddle: it was impossible to fail, we were all convinced of that.

But so much was riding on it for him that this poor devil set about working himself to death. Every night he'd be up to the small hours mugging up his copious lecture notes, he never came into the bar. By day, when he wasn't at a lecture or in the "Mock", he'd be wandering around in a kind of trance, muttering his mnenomics. He was clearly heading for a nervous breakdown unless we could get him to relax.

As I was without wheels for much of the early part of the Course, I was stuck in the Mess for most of my time. I was sorry for this chap. He reminded me of the few ex-servicemen whom I'd been able to help in my brief sojourn as a Resettlement Advice Officer, although goodness knows the miserable little jobs in the Civil Service I was able to shoe-horn them into would hardly keep a newly born wolf cub from the door, they were pathetically grateful. It is a mistake to suppose that with "full employment" in Britain in 1946, life was a bowl of cherries for everyone who came out of the Services.

Two or three of us rallied round this man, ostensibly to form a sort of Question and Answer "Jam Session", to review the instruction and lectures we'd had during the day. After an hour or so of these, we were usually able to entice him into the bar for the odd half-pint. In this way we gradually eased him back into some semblance of normality, and I'm happy to say we kept him sane; he sailed through the final exam - might even have come out on top, but I can't recall. Whatever happened to him afterwards, I don't know.

And the Course was a "piece of cake". The Nav, Signals and Met were what I'd had at ITW. We knew all about airfields, signals squares and lighting. The R/T patter was second-nature to us. In fact, I can't remember much that was new on the Course, except possibly the operation of the new CR/DF wonder machine, and of course Crash Action, Crash Action, and still more Crash Action !

In those days nobody had radar in the Tower. You might have a Mobile GCA on your field if you were lucky, but there was a separate month's Course for aspiring "Talkdowns".

Goodnight again, all,

Danny 42C


Not to worry.

[smujsmith]

Danny,

Your latest brings memories of my Ground Engineer course on the C130 to mind. Being an Airframe Fitter by trade, the intricacies of the Omega navigation system left me somewhat nonplussed! The six of us on our course comprised, four airframe, an engine man and only one "fairy" (Avionics). At the end of one evening, studying the Omega Nav system (we needed to know what it had to do, how it did it and then the boxes involved) our "fairy" told us all to report to the line squadron that evening. He had booked an aircraft on the ground for 2 hours, gave us a one hour talk on the bits and bobs, and then had managed to "borrow" a Nav for a further hour to explain what he wanted from the kit. The next day we did the exam and the lowest score was recorded by our "fairy", 96 %. Another example of helping fellow course members through.

PS. We took the Nav to Lyneham Bowl (the only legal drinking place on base) and thanked him properly. Your story just brought all that back. Sorry to digress, from thread (yet again), its just that its funny how the RAF seems to have been "fixed in aspic" for years.

Keep it going Danny, its compulsive reading for my family.

Smudge

[Danny42C]

My first thought after settling in at Shawbury was to get the woeful Vauxhall sorted out. For some reason that I cannot remember, I entrusted the task to a machine shop in Wolverhampton. This is about 30 miles away. Why would I do that ? - there would be plenty of other places far nearer which could do the job. I must have had a very strong recommendation from a reliable source.

Subsidiary question: how do I get back after dropping it off (and go to collect it)? Cross-country rail travel in the pre-Beeching era was much easier than today, but you'd need half a day for that journey. I think Witold must have stepped into the breach. He'd saved up his pennies to some effect, and bought (ie made a down payment on) an MG TF1500.

This model was the last in the long line of T-class "midgets" which had been unattainable objects of desire for every young man in the land since they appeared just before the War. It cost then about £230 new, (about the same as my Vauxhall); Singer then tried to undercut it with their Nine "Le Mans" roadster at £209, but I don't think with much success.

Witold owed me one, anyway. Before going out to Ehrwald, I'd bought a sort of golfing jacket which incorporated a thin lining of pure rubber between outer and inner sides. This (I reasoned), must be 100% wind and waterproof. It should be perfect in driving snow. Idiot ! So it was, but it was also impermeable. You sweated like a pig after five minutes' exertion, and if you want to know what exertion is like, try herring-boning 200 yards up a moderate snow slope

First time wearing, I ended like a wet rag. Witold was a keen motorcyclist, he thought it could be useful to him, I was glad to get rid of it. Now he assured me that it had proved very useful on the bike when his full kit of leathers was too warm in summer. There was not much roistering at Shawbury during the Course (and I was saving every penny for July anyway), but Witold and I went out to the Long Mynd to watch the gliders some weekends, and there was a motorbike "hill climb" circuit not far away, where there was much fun to be had, watching the competitors tumble off their trials bikes into glutinous churned-up mud when there was no more "poke" to be had half way up some near-vertical section.

As to the Course itself, I can remember almost nothing about. The RAF didn't AFAIK, have any Area Control representation in the national airways complex yet, so they were only training Local (Airfield) and Approach Controllers. Out at Sleap (a few miles north) they had the GCA school, with Chipmunks provided (and flown by) Marshalls of Cambridge (the same people who had taken over from us at Valley in '51): these aircraft flew out of Shawbury, as Sleap was closed.

The policy then was to turn out budding Local (Officer and F/Sgt) and Approach (Officer only) Controllers. After six months on units which had GCA, and demonstrating their Tower competency, both could be selected for the month long GCA Course, the Officers as "Talkdowns", the F/Sgts as "Radar Directors". Back at their Stations, the officers would alternate between Approach and the Radar Truck, the F/Sgts (and M/Ps ?) between Local and Radar Director. Corporals would be instructed in the vital task of Runway Controller, to keep an eye on things from their little red-and-white vans.

At the same time, of course, Shawbury would be training our Control Assistants. Curiously, I don't think the Assistants got any training there at all in what was arguably the most responsible job any Assistant could do - to act as the "Tracker" in the old MPN-1 Bendix Truck (but only in that type: all subsequent GCA sets needed no "Tracker", as the boffins had figured out how to put two time bases on one tube; "Talkdown" could now handle azimuth and Glide Path all by himself (no herself yet, or for years to come).

I collected the old Vauxhall. Everything had been done - rebore, crank ground, new valves, reconditioned clutch, brakes, exchange carb, distributor, dynamo, starter - the lot. Strangely, the IFS (exchange recon) wasn't done then. Don't know why, for we had to have it done on our honeymoon, but that was no problem as it was only a straight swap and was done in a morning at a local garage. The whole lot cost another £100.

"You're an idiot", said my classmates, "you've put the best part of £200 into that thing, and it's only worth about £80 now". But I had the last laugh. I put another 50,000 onto it with no trouble that I can remember, it served us faithfully for the first five years of our married life, and when we went to Germany I got £50 for it from a Nav stude at Thorney Island. It owed us nothing.

Of course we all easily got through the final exam.

I had a very busy weekend: then Iris and I married on the Monday, (Bob Schroder, still at RAF Thornaby, was my Best Man), and started on the 59-year-and-counting adventure of our lives together.

Off for our Honeymoon,

Danny42 C.


At last !

[Chugalug2]

Danny, I might be pre-empting the plot in which case please excuse the impetuousness and just put me on hold. It has always been a mystery to me why military aviation then seemed to prefer verbally based procedures, ie ACR7, GCA, QGH, etc, while civil aviation opted early on for instrument based ones, ILS, VOR, etc. Now I know that the earlier aids, NDB, BABS, even Radio Range, etc were utilised, as were later TACAN and ILS when finally installed at military airfields, but the period that you now describe and which I subsequently joined was dominated by ATC controller provided services. Was it simply that there were plenty of controllers but a limited amount of infrastructure?
Having said all that, the confidence in military controllers felt by crews was immense as a result. I remember a Polish ATCO at Colerne who gave excellent PPI only talkdowns that, no matter how close to minima was cloud base or vis, nor how gusty the cross wind or fierce the rain, the final "look ahead now and land visually or carry out the missed approach procedure" would see you in exactly the right position, laterally and vertically, to pick up the lights and land on that hill top.
Lights of course are another issue, usually the Calvert Approach Cross Bar type, but never Strobes for the UK military AFAIK. When we reactivated Fairford (ostensibly for two Hercules Squadrons, but really for Concord), the Thames Valley fog that it inhabited made autumn early morning arrivals problematic. By moving all the still serviceable ex-USAF Strobes onto the instrument runway approach lighting and installed to flash in sequence, the SATCO ensured that we picked up the Calvert system that would otherwise evade us. Good man that man!

[Danny42C]

Chugalug,

It just so happens, that on one of my old Floppy Disks from my "Starwriter" "Jottings". I have a rather grandiloquent chapter entitled: "Some Interesting Air Accidents and Near Misses - not to be read by those of a nervous disposition who may be contemplating an Air Journey".

Among them I include "The Tale of the Heathrow Vulcan" (which you will well remember - about '56 ?). As this was written with a lay readership in mind, I put in a sort of "Idiot's Guide to ILS and GCA" to (hopefully) explain these.

With this in mind, I hope our readership will forgive the load of detail (much of which may be wrong anyway). I quote:

"What goes up, comes down. But what if it has to come down in bad weather ? There were three workable answers to that. One (our Grandfathers' solution) "No see, no fly" - stay on the ground ! Fair enough, our grandfathers were not daft. But if you have to fly, what then ? All sorts of ideas have been suggested, and many tried. But only two systems had stood the test of the times of which I write.

These were the Instrument Landing System (ILS) - which was a radio beam approach system and not a landing system at all, and the Ground Controlled Approach (GCA), which was a landing system (well, very nearly). This was radar based.

To start with, the ILS sent out radio signals from transmitters on the airfield. The pilot had a receiving instrument on his panel, and if he faithfully followed the indications on this, it led him to a point half a mile from the runway, pretty well lined up with it, and 150 ft up. It had to be a filthy day indeed not to be able to see enough airfield lights to get in from there.

Note the salient points. With ILS language was no problem, and the ground transmitter served one runway only. You couldn't move it around or take it away. GCA on the other hand needed nothing in the aircraft except a pair of ears, and (in the early days) its ground equipment was mobile. You could move it from airfield to airfield, and from one runway to another as needed. The ground operator ("Talkdown") watched the approaching aircraft on radar, and "talked him down" to a safe landing.

The "pros" and "cons" of the two systems dictated that civil airports would go for the ILS. People flew into them from the ends of the earth and, though in theory everyone in aviation should speak English, there was English and English. A GCA might not work too well with (say) a Nigerian pilot and a Chinese "talkdown". But with ILS, the instrument in the Flight Deck, and the procedures, were the same everywhere. It didn't matter what language you spoke. And who wanted to uproot the ground equipment and take it away, anyway ?

The military needs were the exact opposite. Squadrons in war are moving all over the place as battle dictates. Your system must move with them. GCA was really only safe with two people with the same (mother) tongue, and that was generally the case in military aviation. No extra radio was needed, and of course any aircraft could use GCA. It was the military system of choice.

But why would a civil pilot use it ? Using ILS all their lives, they were happy with it (possibly they had never used GCA since training, and maybe not even then). Why would a Captain in cloud, with several hundred lives in his charge, risk them on the say-so of some stranger with a radar set on the ground ? He'd sooner rely on himself. Stick with what you know !

That's really all I know about the business. I'm very pleased to hear of the excellent service you've had from my contemporaries, and particularly interested in the PPI approaches you mention. Linton '62 - '64 had a Cossor ACR-7C, a long-forgotten bit of kit, which only had a PPI tube. But (never having flown one myself) I can see how much an easier a procedure it would be for a pilot (paticularly the "step-down" method) than a full GCA - and no more dangerous if he could read an altimeter, and had QFE set on it !

'Ware incoming !

Danny

[ACW418]

Danny,

As someone who flew from Linton in 1964 I did many approaches using the ACR7 there - including my IRT. We went to Holme on Spalding Moor or Leconfield to do GCA's.

Doing an ACR7 approach in dirty weather was a satisfying business but hardly relaxing. GCA on the other hand was much more reassuring and needed a lot less brain work.

ACW

[26er]

Danny, I think that you may have forgotten SBA, later TBA (Tuneable Beam approach) with outer, middle and inner markers and Morse "A"s and "N"s in your earphones which was certainly in use at many RAF airfields until the mid fifties. I did my first instrument rating test in a Harvard at Ternhill flying an SBA. OK for relatively slow moving aircraft but not for jets. I have a vague recollection of seeing a TBA in a Meteor but knew nobody who used it. The follow on from that was the co-location of the ndb and outer marker still around until relatively recently for non precision approaches to the runway.

I believe that SBA was developed from the radio range with its dots and dashes which could confuse pilots as after listening to that signal for a while you could convince yourself that a dot was a dash, hence the change to Morse A .- or N -. . Read "Fate is the Hunter" by Ernest Gann in which though it is years since I read the book, if my memory is correct he describes the problem.

[Danny42C]

ACW418,

Our paths may have crossed (I left Linton about September of '64).

You are of course right - you were in the hot seat, and you know ! IIRC, we used two methods, the "Continous Descent" (with a height check every mile), and the "Step Down". This involved only two (?) steps down, from 1500 at 5 miles, to 900, he would hold you at that till you reached 3 miles, then tell you to descend to whatever MAA was in force. Or something like that, but memory fades. I can well imagine that the first method would be as hard work as hugging a glidepath in GCA, but I would have thought the second needed less brainwork.

The PPI was impressive. Of course it was a very narrow lobe radar, so you could be really accurate. It was the only gear wth which I've been able to see the runway lights ! And I still recall the lovely little square blip. The story was that it was first designed as an estuary radar, and of course all ships are (for practical purposes) in the same plane. The same thing went into towers as the ACR7D (Teesside Airport had one), but the 7C was a truck.

Please tell me, what a/c were Linton flying then ? (I've totally forgotten, although I can remember all the ones on my stations before and since !).......D.


26er,

I thought the SBA/TBA went out with the War ! It was as you describe it, I think the US was first in the field with their "Radio Range" (but we weren't equipped with it). It was the bane of our lives in the Link. Wasn't there a "Kicker" on the panel ? and what did it do ?......D.

Cheers to you both, Danny.

[BEagle]

Perhaps another reason why the military preferred ground controlled approaches rather than pilot interpreted approaches such as ILS is that the former do not need any special equipment to be fitted to aircraft.

Civvy trash haulers and people-tubes could more readily afford the weight of localiser and glideslope receivers, plus their antenna systems, than could something like a Chipmunk or Provost.

We had the primitive Rebecca DME fitted to the Jet Provost Mk 3 and Mk 5; however, when this was removed and replaced by VOR/DME/ILS in the JP3A and JP5A, the weight of the aircraft increased by about 150 lb.

When it was a decent size, the RAF operated hundreds more aircraft than is the case today. Fitting them all with ILS would have cost a lot of money, whereas all they needed to fly PAR / SRA was a radio.

Regarding ACR7, it was still around in the early 1970s as I recall flying an ACR7 approach into RAF Andover as part of my PIFG on the Chipmunk at the end of my second year on the UAS.

[Chugalug2]

Thanks for the detailed reply, Danny. A common language was of course a big military plus compared to the Babel of worldwide civil aviation, and GCA as you say was movable from site to site whereas ILS was not. So combined with Beagle's equally valid point of the weight and cost of onboard equipment in those days and you can see some very compelling reasons why their Airships thought as they did. Thanks everyone for the input.
As to the Heathrow Vulcan, that tragedy has been covered on PPRuNe before, so I'd only add that VSOs and aircraft and weather are a bad mix, whether they be British, Polish or whatever. Stay at your desks, Sirs!
As to JPs and Rebecca, I remember them well and the boost in sales that Messrs Fablon got as a result for the transparent version of their product. Concentric Range Circles in different colours for different ground stations drawn onto a standard topo and then "sheeted" allowed you to mark off the intersection of range readouts as a chinagraphed position. Compared to the magic CRTs that Navs had to interpret it seemed to me to be an excellent system, but I was young and very easily impressed then, you understand.

[Wander00]

What's that about all lighthouses being switched off - surely not along the South Coast - Needles, etc. Surely not. :*

[Fareastdriver]

Various methods of area and precision navigation aids lasted a surprisingly long time.

The oldest is sun and star shots. The world we know was explored and mapped on that system but try and get anybody to do it in a hurry now.


The original manmade one is the compass; that strange piece of magnetised material that points north all the time.

When one got close to the rocks in the dark then came the lighthouse. They are now predominately automatic but apparently all lighthouses in the world are scheduled to be switched off some time in the middle of this century.

Radio beacons or ADF. Still being used, will always be used though many are being removed from instrument procedures and airways.

SBA and TBA to my knowledge was in operation at Tern Hill in 1961 until it closed as an FTS.

Consol, a wartime aid invented by the Germans and improved on by the
Brits still had one station transmitting from Stavanger in the 80s.

Eureka/Rebecca. Certainly working on my Vampire in the early sixties and believe to have been working on JPs even later.

Decca. Many who did the factory visit would have travelled in the blacked out bus with a big map showing them which streets of London they were passing through. Then the plan of a pub car park would come into view; the bus would stop, out you would get and there you were. Used as a primary navaid in the North Sea helicopter industry until the nineties.

Omega. A long range version of Decca used in the less hospitable parts of the world so that you had an even bigger chance of getting lost than before. Dreadful piece of kit but poor people still use it.

VOR. This system won an unofficial competition with Decca to be selected as the standard aeronautical navigating system to try and stop civilian pilots from getting lost.

TACAN, A broadly similar system to try and stop military pilots from getting lost.

Area Radar approach (ACR 7) is still available at some civil airports but the controllers could be a bit rusty.

ILS. Easy to fly in good conditions but not easy, either manually or automatically, with a strong gusty crosswind. On a good day the ILS will guide you right on to the touchdown point on the runway. With the autopilot engage you could at one time sit back and watch the aircraft crash itself into the same point. Nowadays they have programs that go into automatic go-around or overshoot procedure which is what we more aged gentlemen used to call it.

I haven't cover Doppler or INAS as these are internal systems that will not tell you where you are unless you tell them where they are first.

Satellite Navigation. That is doing it all. I could sit back and do a position error check on my Satnav in China and the result would be inside the rotor disc. In Australia and the South Pacific I used it to navigate and carry out IFR approaches to some insignificant strip in the middle of the mountains. On one the base leg led you towards a wall of rock and turned you at less than a mile short. With the correct receiving capability it can be set up to navigate an aeroplane to any airfield in the world and land in on the runway completely automatically.

It would suggest that the advent of the completely automatic airliner is on the way and aircrew will be redundant on a pilotless aeroplane.

Then who do you blame if something goes wrong?

[Fareastdriver]

WanderOO. The post you were referring to was posted inadvertently before it was finished.
I was on a lighthouse visit a year or so back and the guide told us that because of the cost of maintaining lights and the universal use of Satnav lighthouses were going to be made redundant internationally.

All at the same time.

[Wander00]

Well blow me - won't be able to stand on Milford (Hants) beach and watch the Needles lighthouse shining out - what is the world coming to?

[Danny42C]

Fareastdriver,

Thank you for as comprehensive and far-reaching survey of the field as I've seen in many a long day ! Truly some of our kit lasted into a ripe old age, as you say. And my thanks to all the others who've added to my store of knowledge (out of which bits drop every day).

The Automatic Airliner idea was mooted about twenty years or more ago, as soon as Blind Landing became a possibility. An old joke of the time had it that the passengers on the first such (fictional) flight were greeted after take off with a recorded message over the PA. This laid extreme stress on the lengths to which systems had been duplicated and triplicated to remove any possibility ...possibility of failure ...possibility of failure ...possibility of failure...!
(Sorry if you've heard it before).

Racking my brains over Linton '62-'64, I now remember that as Fire Officer I had an old Vampire hulk to burn. Were they using those - or JPs ?


Chugalug,

There was a hidden ingredient in the Vulcan/LHR mix (or at least all Shawbury thought so). I intend to come to it later.

Cheers to all, Danny.

[Reader123]

Never having flown anything more than a paper aeroplane, I leave this link without making further comment but it tells you how anybody can land an Airbus:

James May interview and exclusive book extract - Telegraph (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/authorinterviews/7968075/James-May-interview-and-exclusive-book-extract.html)

[Fareastdriver]

Danny. I forgot about the BLEU. I should have remembered, I was with a group that had a poke around their Varsity at Thurleigh one day. Didn't get a trip, though.

I was on the last course to pass out at Oakington on Vampires. Several of the supporting flight were grim faced colleagues who had been on my Provost T1 course but had routed through Valley on the Vampire/Varsity route. The FTS there had moved en bloc to Oakington to make way for the Gnats so they were a month behind with their training. The back drop to the parade were two of our flight's Vampires. Unbeknown to us they had already had their engines removed and on the following Monday they were on the Fire Dump.

I went through RAF Regiment Catterick one day in the seventies. The practice fire dump there had a priceless collection of Sea Hawks with the Ace of Spades badge on the side. Six months later they were gone.

[Pom Pax]

Had a lovely chart/map once of the south-west approaches which depicted a landward view off all the lighthouses. Was definitely an air force publication, probably wartime or late forties date. Can't remember where I discovered it, either Thorney map room or my late cousin Jim's possessions.

[26er]

Fareastdriver, In the early seventies BEA Super 1-11s were fitted with a device based on Decca called Harco which could be coupled to the autopilot. It had a "roller blind" display on which various routes were plotted. Pre flight you could install your selected route, and after several minutes of "thinking" it would display your start point. When it worked it was a definite help but after a while it became more trouble than it was worth, and the flat panel in the centre of the instrument display where the roller blind had been became a useful spot to clip letdown charts. As much of the S 1-11s work was on the IGS (Internal German Services) with most routes out of Berlin along the corridors mainly all covered by the same Decca chain it was useful. However it couldn't cope easily with a transition from one chain to another such that a flight from London to Berlin had a period half way across the North Sea where it all went haywire and the autopilot if left connected would have you flying a pattern B or somesuch. And cbs drove it wild. You could select "Harco left" or "right" and it would follow an offset track of about a mile to the side of the airway centreline.

Slow aircraft, helicopters and ships were its forte.

[ACW418]

Danny,

Our paths must have crossed as I was at Linton from Jan to July in 1964 doing my AFT on 5 (Valley) Course using the Vampire T11. Callsign Victor 09.

The standard ACR7 procedure at the time was a radar lead in at 2000' and instructed to start descending at 6 1/2 miles. We let down at 300' per mile and the first check was at 6 miles and 1800' - I guess we let down too much for the first half mile!

Rebecca was fitted in JP3's, JP4's and Vampire T11's but was nearly useless as each ground station could only service 10 aircraft. You were supposed to get your distance and then revert to standby but if you were lucky enough to get in you hung on so you could use it again which blocked everyone else. The clear Fablon was great but I was caught out once at extreme range from a beacon. I had coloured the ring red and could not understand why this straight but slightly curved road did not appear. The perils of folding your map too small.

Wander00,

I shall be leading a group of dinghies from Keyhaven to Hordle Cliff tomorrow morning (subject to the wind not being as strong as forecast) and as such will be rounding the Hurst Lighthouse at about noon with the Needles Lighthouse in sight thereafter. We haven't heard anything about the lights being extinguished but who knows.

ACW

[Fareastdriver]

26er. Don't remind me of the Decca roller map and keys. Grotesquely distorted at the extremes of their coverage. Frantically remembering whether you were on E 30 or E31 when changing maps and more than occasionally a continuous clatter as the cassette ran away and deposited yards of map all over the radios and cockpit floor.

[Danny42C]

Reader123,

Thanks for the link. It sounds almost feasible, doesn't it ? (says he, only contact with Airbus as pax in steerage in a 320). What do other people think ? Wouldn't he need autoland ?


Fareastdriver,

My last month on RAF pay was at Catterick Garrison. In a boiler suit, on what was laughingly known as a Resettlement Course (House Maintenance).
Hilarious!

I was always sad to see what had been perfectly good aircraft put to the torch, but the firemen have to practise their skills. We tried merely to scorch ours to begin with, to keep the seat harness intact on the dummy, but of course, sooner or later a fire got away from us.

The wannabe rally drivers among the stude fraternity had designs on these harnesses: I had to threaten potential thieves with my firemen (they were big lads). I got my own back on them anyway, nearly got their Car Club hut condemned as a Fire Risk (well, it was, oil soaked wooden floor and Evidence of Smoking).


ACW418,

You remember far more of the ACR-7 than I do ! But I'm sure we did about 50% "stepdowns". And why would we ask you to lose 200 feet in half-a-mile (about 15 secs) to start with, when we could have you nicely settled at 1500 (like a GCA) and so not hot & bothered to begin with ? We must have been sadists.......(come to think of it).....

All those new-fangled things like Rebecca, Decca Navigator, TACAN (what was that ?), bits of Fablon (handy for patching rust holes in sills, quick spray, even quicker sale to unsuspecting stude - lad's got to learn sometime - only joking).

Never had any of 'em when I were a lad. Stick, rudder, throttle, fuel in the tank, wind in yer 'air, that's yer lot, chum.

Danny.

[Danny42C]

We had a glorious two weeks in the Lakes; a huge "high" was anchored over Cumberland; the sun shone every single day. The locals marvelled: such a thing had never been known in living memory (the first thing every visitor there has to buy is a plastic mac); a story goes that a dripping stranger once asked of a native: "Does it always rain here ?"....."Naw", came the reply, "sometimes it snaws".

I think we had been notified of our postings on leaving the School. I drew the (then) Empire Flying College at RAF Manby, to report there in the last week of the month. I packed my bride, together with all my worldly goods with which I'd just endowed her (not a lot) into the old car (would that I could do the same today !) and set out.

It was evening when we reached Louth, we got the AA Book out, and picked the cheapest of the two-stars at the bottom of the list (it was a Temperance Hotel, but clean and cosy). In the morning I marched into the Adjutant's office at Manby. There I learned that I would not be employed there, but at their flying satellite of Strubby, some 12 miles further on. One SATCO (S/Ldr Norcross, ex-war Nav) ran both places.

I was officially welcomed by the Commandant (Air Cdr."Gus" Walker - who, I think, was the only one-armed pilot in the RAF at the time), who insisted on greeting personally every one of his new officers immediately on arrival (this was a measure of the man). Then I completed the greater part of my arrival procedure at Manby, only going out to Strubby the following day, (IIRC).

There could hardly have been a greater contrast between the two places. Manby was a well-kept, properly built "expansion" Station from the Thirties, whereas Strubby was in exactly the same condition as it had been when carved out of farmland in the early war years. If you'd seen a file of Wellingtons or Halifaxes coming round the peri-track, fully loaded en route for the Ruhr, with tractors, bomb trollies, bowsers and crew buses running around, the scene would have seemed perfectly normal. Everything was "in period" for '42-45, it was as if the last ten years had never been.

The buildings were all Nissen, Seco and Laing huts. ATC was the usual cube, with a sort of draughty and leaky shack stuck on the roof (and probably an outside staircase, I would think it would be a hazardous business, taking the tea up on a wet and windy day). I know that they had airmens' barrack huts there (I was i/c of one), so there must have been an airmens' Mess. I remember there was a small officers' bar, so there must have been a Mess of sorts, though I think the single officers all lived at Manby in my time
(could be wrong).

Now the requirement was to get into Service (if possible) accommodation as soon as we could, for finances would only run to the Temperance Hotel for a limited time. Most people at Strubby lived out in Mablethorpe-by-the-Sea (or the surrounding villages, but it was full summer and the town was packed with visitors. We looked at some desperate places (one, as Mrs D. reminds me, not unlike that illustrated in BEagle's Post #3481, p.175, (and also stuck in the middle of a pond) at Theddlethorpe).

But before we were reduced to such straits, a hiring became vacant at 144, High Street in Mablethorpe. It would hardly have passed muster with me at Weston, but beggars can't be choosers. We hadn't been in the place for ten minutes before another train load came in at the nearby station, and they were knocking on the door to ask if we did Bed & Breakfasts !

That's about enough for the moment.

G'day, mates

Danny


"If yer can find a better 'ole, go to it !" (Old Bill)

[Fareastdriver]

You lucky chap!!! Moving into a semi-detached corner plot hiring opposite a supermarket (Lidl).

144 High Street, Mablethorpe LN12 1EJ

Semi-detached, Freehold , 3 Beds, 1 Baths, 2 Receps

Last sale: £109,000 Sale date: 30th Apr 2013

I never had that sort of luck and I don't know anybody in the same situation who had.

Edited to add
Looking at the post below I think that it been extended since Danny was in it.

[Reader123]

More than that, it's a nice looking house. Three bedrooms, bathroom etc. We're rather spoiling that RAF wallah...

3 bedroom semi-detached house for sale in 144 High Street, Mablethorpe, Lincolnshire. LN12, LN12 (http://www.rightmove.co.uk/property-for-sale/property-35392759.html)

Control Tower looks nice too - the internet tells me that it's a house these days.

Strubby - Page 2 (http://www.airfieldinformationexchange.org/community/showthread.php?327-Strubby/page2)

[Danny42C]

Fareastdriver and Reader123,

This is absolutely fascinating ! Thank you both ! Our first home !

It is 58 years ago, and a lot has changed. I cannot remember a "Kingsley Road" round the corner, and I think that in our time the house formed part of a much longer terrace running down the High Street (the gable end does looked "chopped off", as if it might once have been a party wall).

Houses seem to have been demolished in this terrace to enable "Kingsley" and other roads off (which I can't remember) to be built. Of course there was no supermarket opposite then (or anywhere else !)

It is certainly the same house, but it has been considerably extended at the back, and it's a palace now inside in comparison with what we had. The fireplaces may be original, but possibly modern replicas. All flooring is new.

I was dumbfounded when I saw the "new" ATC Tower. What a palace - that's been extended, too. The "balconies" were a typical WW2 feature

Believe you me, we didn't get that sort of luxury in '55 !

It's amazing what you can get for £115k even today, if you look in the right place.

Cheers,

Danny.

[Taphappy]

Danny,
Seems as not much had changed at Strubby since I was there in 1944, a most inhospitable spot especially in the dead of winter

[Danny42C]

I hadn't been on the approach desk for more than a week, when Boss Norcross came in rather crossly. "Your wife's on the phone in my office. Says it's urgent". I pictured some terrible disaster. There wasn't much on the tube, he took over from me, and I dashed out.

It appeared that she'd Seen a Mouse. And not Burns' "wee cowering sleekit timorous beastie". There was no panic at all "in its breastie". It was of huge size (she said) and made no response to "Shoo !" and "Go away", but sat back comfortably on its haunches, twitched its whiskers and dared her to come closer ("Come on if you're hard enough"). Skirting the creature, she fled out to the nearest phone box and rang Strubby.

It seemed that she wanted me to Come Home at Once and do battle with this monster. I explained as gently as I could that that was not really an option just then. I'd be off watch in an hour or so, anyway, and would then have all afternoon to sort the Mouse out. Meanwhile, as she was half way to town anyway, why not carry on to an ironmongers and buy a mousetrap ?

This sounded entirely reasonable to me, but did not go down at all well at the other end of the line. Mercifully the flow of invective was cut short as the pips went and Button A had had all the copper in her purse. Indignantly, she carried on to the shops and came home with a trap. Creeping fearfully back indoors, she was glad to find that the Mouse had disappeared.

There was a certain froideur in the air at lunch. There was no trace of the mouse, in fact I never did see it, but we certainly had mice: we could hear them tap-dancing behind the big skirting boards in the evenings. But now we looked out some pungent Cheddar, baited the trap and put it in a corner of the kitchen.

We were both in the lounge mid-afternoon, there was a sharp snap and then a howl of such volume and poignancy as to chill the blood. I hastily revised my ideas. If the Mouse could vocalise on this scale, I didn't really want to meet it. Seizing a poker (Grandad will tell you all about them), I cautiously sidled into the kitchen. It was empty, but the kitchen door was open. No, it isn't what you think. It was a hot day and Mrs D. had left it open to get a bit of air in. And now the howls were outside, I followed them and all became plain.

The next-door dog, "Tina" by name, a harmless and affectionate creature, already obese, had followed the scent of cheese to its source, now had the trap clamped on her muzzle, was not too happy about it and was making all Mablethorpe aware of the fact. For a portly and seemingly unathletic animal, she had quite a turn of speed. It took some time to chase and corner her in order to remove the encumbrance.

She wasn't at all grateful. Regarding me as the cause of her misfortune, she turned on me big, brown eyes of such reproach, disappointment and hurt from betrayed trust that I found myself apologising to the animal. She never did forgive me, shied away if I tried to pat her, and never put a paw over our threshold again.

A little time later S/Ldr Norcross was involved in a similar domestic emergency (or so he thought). This time the call didn't get through to him, but was fielded at an earlier stage and passed on to him. His wife had been knocked out - but there were no further details. In considerable alarm, he leapt upon his trusty "Cyclemaster", and covered the 5 miles to Sutton-on-Sea in record time, fearing the worst.

At home, he found his wife in good health, enjoying a coffee with the next-door neighbour. The message had been: "locked out" (she'd shut the front door with the keys inside, and wanted him home to let her in). But it so happened that a kitchen window was slightly open, the neighbour had a 12 yr old lad at home, the rest was easy.

A second call to Strubby came too late - he was well on his way by then. Simmering gently, he returned the 5 miles to duty. We permitted ourselves a little wry amusement.

After five months with the dancing mice, we were fortunate enough to find a better place.

Just another day,

Danny42C


We don't make much money, but we do see life.

[smujsmith]

Danny,

It's nice to know that it wasn't just "Herbert's" like myself who were afflicted with mice in MQs. A tale of derring do indeed. Didn't the wives have to put up with a lot in those days, I suspect modern wives might look for external assistance. But good on your good lady, at least she didn't jump on a stool and scream. Aahhh, the service life.

Iuguolo non vestri canis ut rid is of muris ;)

Smudge

[Blacksheep]

Then who do you blame if something goes wrong? Maintenance, as they are called these days.

But it would be down to "The Other Shift" of course. ;)

His wife had been knocked out "Send three and fourpence, we're going to a dance." :}



.

[Danny42C]

Smudge,

Iuguolo non vestri canis ut rid is of muris. Construe, Danny !

Now you've put me on my mettle (no Latin dictionary to hand). Never mind, have a go -

Iuguolo - Jugulo - Jugular - Throat?- Muzzle?

non vestri canis - (of) not your dog- (easy bit).

ut rid is of - (plain English) - muris - mus, muris - mouse.

(Laboravit mons, parturit ridiculus mus - The mountain has laboured, and brought forth a mouse) (A propos of nothing at all - just chucked it in as a makeweight !)

Come to think of it, we weren't much troubled by any more appearances of mice after that incident - although there was ample evidence of infestation.
Yet must beware of the Post Hoc fallacy (all this "Dog Latin" - sorry, could't resist that !)

Is there no end to the man's accomplishments ? (Mods will lower the boom on this as sure as God made little apples !)

Cheers, Danny.

[smujsmith]

Danny,

I doubt very much such treatment from the Mods :rolleyes:. Great work on the translation, it comes in English as "Muzzle not your dog for the sake of a mouse" I believe. No expert but enjoy a dabble at languages. Keep up the good work Danny.

Smudge

[BEagle]

Latin Translation Paper 1

TRANSLATE THE FOLLOWING:

These words having been said however, notwithstanding the having been positioned mouse destruction engine, because of these things the dog was by the object bitten.

On my time on 56(F), we had an outbreak of mousetrap mayhem. We'd spotted a couple of mice in their best field grey watching a parade - they were seen scurrying into the crewroom. So 'Traps, mouse....Qty several' were acquired....

Our USN Exchange Officer decided to hide the wretched things in unexpected places, such as under a tea towel casually placed on the coffee bar, or just inside a box of crisp bags. For several days, the sounds of "Thwack....Ow! You b£oody Yank!" were heard.

But slowly, I watched and made my plan. Noting his habit of reaching up to grab his USN bonedome from the rack without looking, I carefully placed the trap...and waited. Sure enough, he was soon hoist by his own petard..or rather, mousetrap.

Later on another squadron, we had a pompous Flt Cdr who liked to sprinkle his pithy memos with pseudo-legal Latin clauses such as 'inter alia' and 'sub rosa'. So I took much delight in replying with a few invented Latin clauses of my own such as 'his verbis dictis, autem' and 'ob has causas'. That kept him at bay - but no doubt delayed my promotion by quite a few years!

[Danny42C]

BEagle,

Crafty ! Serves him right ! Heaven save us from practical jokers !

Hibus rebus conditis, time to pack it in pro tem, I think. Exeunt omnes,

Cheers to all, Danny.

[smujsmith]

As a final blast from the past; "scio me nihil scire", Beags, love the mousetrap in the bonedome. A real trap, if I may be so bold. Danny, where are we going next ? I know so many people who joined the RAF as, a Rigger, spent 22 years being a rigger, and left. Is there anything left that The Royal Air Force can subject you to ? I'm sure there are some adventures to come. Don't hold back Danny, we can take it. Dare I say, Nil illegitimi carborundum. Oops, just a slip I assure you :rolleyes:

Smudge

[Ripline]

Ad prōpositum, one might (might one?) offer huzzas all round to celebrate the 200th page of this fabulous thread?

Ripline

Keep 'em coming, men.

[Danny42C]

Besides the dancing mice, we were troubled by a plague of beetles in the kitchen. Not cockroaches, I'm glad to say, but ordinary garden beetles ("black clocks" in Yorkshire speech). I disposed of them by the dozen, but they kept coming.

Through Church acquaintances, I learned that a town coal merchant, finding coal-heaving a little too much as the years mounted, intended to sell up and move to Nottingham (I thinK) in another, easier occupation for the last few years before retirement. But with that retirement in mind, he'd built himself a very nice house at the far end (No.133) of Victoria Road, with the intention of coming back there when his working life ended.

It had been completed only a year or two before the 1953 floods submerged it to a depth of about 4 feet, and had only just properly dried out, been redecorated, and newly furnished, when we came on the scene. Mr Dunn had been a pillar of the little (RC) Church about 100 yds round the corner; his house was opposite a fine big pub ("The Eagle"); now he wanted a no-trouble long term tenant.

Curiously, at that time, providing your Station was "below Establishment" in hirings, you could find another suitable one for yourself, even though you were in one already. I pounced on this, and we moved in in November. (144 High St. was taken by a W/Cdr on the Course, he was welcome to it). We now had the best hiring in town and were greatly envied.

Mr Dunn had voluntarily shouldered the task of stoking the church heating boiler on winter Saturday nights and Sunday mornings: I took his place in recognition of our good fortune. Coal and coke continued mysteriously to appear without effort on my part; the boilerman experience would be valuable to me later in our quarter in Germany.

Now you'll think it's time I got back to Strubby. We worked the standard "two-watch" system (an afternoon, a morning and a night - which might be nothing or all night, repeat ad lib). On the morning watch, you came in around 0715, checked state of all your aids, looked up all the new NOTAMs, Danger Areas, Important Visitors etc. and generally noted anything which might interest Bloggs and his (tor)mentors. The Local Controller (F/Sgt) came back from runway inspection with the tatty ATC Landrover and reported state of play on all the holes that Works & Bricks had been digging in the movements surfaces that week.

On most days the wind had chosen your runway direction for you, GCA had moved if required and were Running up the High Tension and Setting Up - leaving you in suspense till the very last moment before you had to Dash for Briefing, before pronouncing themselves Satisfied with the Picture.

0800 saw a mass assembly of throttle-benders in the Briefing Room, CFI, flanked by his three (IIRC: two Meteor and one Canberra) Squadron Commanders would be in pole position on the front row. We had an Overhead Projector; I think Met man was first up to say his piece and answer questions, then I was on my feet to add my two cents' worth, then CFI rounded it off with a few well-chosen veiled threats, and Bloggs quaked in his shoes, and of course: "It will be 0815 and Forty-Five Seconds......NOW". All would twiddle the expensive timepieces provided by the taxpayer (except Met Man and I, who had to buy our own). The game was on.

Back to the Tower for that first Cup of Tea without which no Controller can possibly function, then the welkin began to ring as engines fired-up en masse for the first sortie of the day. You put your headset on and sharpened your Chinagraph ready for action. About 0830 the flight lines would be bare but for a few stragglers. CFI finished his coffee and sallied forth to the Flight Offices: "Is that aircraft serviceable ?"...."Yes, Sir"...."Then why isn't it in the air ?"

What goes up, comes down. And as they'd all gone up together, all the Meteors would, of course....Around 0900 poor Approach Controller had to work like a one-armed paper-hanger till all were safely gathered in. Woe betide you if you couldn't handle at least four Controlled Descents at once ! After that a natural scatter effect spaced out the next wave a bit, and by lunchtime it was a nice smooth flow, and you were watching the clock for the magic 1245 when your relief (should) appear.

Attempts were made to persuade CFIs to "spread the first batch out a bit", but without success; they were in thrall to the "Hours For the Month" Graph on the office wall and therefore deaf to reason.

There's a lot more about the Tower to come ! EDIT: Smudge and Ripline, we'll make it 300 yet !

Goodnight, chaps,

Danny42C


Never mind.

[kookabat]

What goes up, comes down. And as they'd all gone up together, all the Meteors would, of course....Around 0900 poor Approach Controller had to work like a one-armed paper-hanger till all were safely gathered in
From a modern day civilian controller perspective I can assure you nothing's changed in that regard!

[Fareastdriver]

house was opposite a fine big pub ("The Eagle");

Now empty, boarded up and for sale like so many other fine big pubs.

[Danny42C]

kookabat,

I take it that you're in our honourable profession. How do you manage to keep track of all those blips ? Looks like herding cats to me !

"Three-dimensional high speed game of chess", we used to call it (all bull, of course !).....D.

Fareastdriver,

How sad ! Sign of the times, I fear. I had a look at 133 Victoria Road on Google Street View last year, looking a bit shabby as they'd knocked down the low wall between 133 and 135 to allow a drive-in to two add-on garages. It's curious to see that even as late as 1950 they didn't put a garage in as a matter of course. I did a deal with the gaffer of the "Eagle" for one of the pub wooden garages opposite at 5/- a week....D.

Getting near 4,000 Posts on this best of Threads. Hope Cliff, Reg, Fred and all (RIP) the others get a chance to see it.

Cheers, Danny.

[smujsmith]

Well said Danny,

I'm sure that if Cliffnemo, Reg and Fred are keeping an eye on "proceedings" they would be proud of the result of their original posts. All credit to yourself for keeping it going, and, a happy 4000th when it happens. I'm rather hoping you get number 4000. Stay well and best of luck with shifting the "nutty slack" :ok:

Smudge

[Chugalug2]

"It will be 0815 and Forty-Five Seconds......NOW".
Being a truckie, pre flight briefing was a far more sedate business, with each crew left to organise and brief itself, usually by each crewman giving a "departmental" account of frequencies and hence crystals required, oils and fly away kits, charts and en-route docs, role equipment etc etc. Zulu time was available in Flight Planning for individuals to set their own watches, having had the Met brief, checked Notams, filed a Flight Plan, and ordered the fuel required.

Perhaps I should have started by saying "Being a truckie based in the Far East" because on return to the UK I was posted to Colerne, just in time for the summer season of ever larger formation exercises heading towards various drop zones. The briefings for these were more like "Target for Tonight" with all the crews and the hierarchy that you recall, Danny, as audience to the various Stream Leaders, Met Men, Army Liaison, SATCOs, Sig Leaders, Nav Leaders, Eng Leaders, etc, doing their various turns. The climax, no doubt reserved to the end for its dramatic appeal, was the "Time Hack" that you described. It did not always go flawlessly. Any nervousness on the part of the "caller" would be cruelly responded to by an outbreak of "sorry, we didn't get that back here, could we have it again?", and so it would go on until the Groupie or similar would declare proceedings at an end.

A really memorable time check though was the one my nav requested at Gander Flight Planning, as the chronometer there had stopped. The clerk obliged with a "Won't be long" and disappeared into Gander Centre, which was next door. He soon re-appeared with a piece of paper on which was written "0847".