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Chugalug2
1st Nov 2013, 21:14
Danny:-
And yes, we were more popular in Holland !
Indeed, Danny, and hopefully that is still the case. I had the privilege to fly the annual commemorative para drop at the Arnhem DZ one year. The DZ of course was vast, but reduced to the size of a postage stamp by the masses of Dutch civilians who had turned out to witness it. Thankfully the nav got his CARP right and the half dozen or so stick of Paras that we dropped ensured that they all made the postage stamp.
For an Operation that essentially failed, ensuring that the population were thus condemned to a cruel winter of starvation before some relief was ensured by Bomber Command's Operation Manna airdrops (co-ordinated with the occupying Germans), it is perhaps surprising that the British are so highly rated, especially as Liberation had to wait until the war's end. They are though, and the hospitality that we were treated to by our hosts at Deelen testified to that.

smujsmith
1st Nov 2013, 21:40
Chug,

I remember being GE on one of those trips. The night stop was a serious wake up to the reverence that the Dutch people held the British serviceman in. The only time I went to any town, this was Deelen, and never had to buy a beer all night. The best part was all the locals were very welcoming, fluent in English, as usual we were not, and knew the history. Despite the free drinks, a sobering insight into our own countries modern day attitudes at times.

Smudge

clicker
1st Nov 2013, 23:30
Quite agree there Smudge.

I took part in a couple of the Nijmegen events back in the 80's. The welcome from the local's both during the walk and while in our own free time was something I have never forgotten. I walked with a team of ATC cadets who were treated like king's (no lasses in those days) when the locals found out why they were in the Netherlands.

Wonderful people who were grateful for what we did during WWII despite of some of the things that happened. That's a lot more than some nations show towards us.

Danny42C
3rd Nov 2013, 01:14
By now we were well settled-in in the Peugeot, and the more we saw of it, the more we liked it. The Coupleur did absolutely everything it said on the tin. On the steering column the arrangement
was:
..............#..(wheel, side on view)
R-2-4......#
+=+=+=#..(neutral)
1-3.........#
..............#

1 would climb up a wall. 4 was a geared-up (0.75, I think) overdrive. All your town driving was done in 2 and 3. Start in 2, it would easily take you to 40, then 3 went on to 75. On the open road/autobahn you'd "hook it up" into 4. This would take you very little faster (only to a true 80), but much more restfully, apart from a faint and not unpleasant whine.

The lever was spring-loaded to 2-3. Obviously you pushed away for R-1 (ideal for "shunting"). And the beauty of the whole thing was: you couldn't abuse it, whatever you did ! Start in 4 ? Certainly, Sir ! (it would be perfectly smooth, if you didn't mind being beaten from the lights by Steptoe's horse). Leave it in 3 in traffic, drift down to walking speed (or stop), pull away as slick as silk - no trouble.

As smooth as the best hydraulics, no slip, no creep, no penalty in power or consumption - and no clutch pedal. The little Coupleur handbook was not translated, but I was charmed by the requirements of maintien - pratiquement nul ! - although this was rather spoilt by the start of the next paragraph: "En cas de non-fonctionment", you were advised to consult "L'Agence Peugeot la plus prochain" - (there to be royally ripped-off, of course, but Peugeot was no worse than all the others in that respect).

The summer days passed by, we got to know the town centre shops, particularly the big department store "Vroom & Dreesman", from which you could get pretty well all you needed in the household line. Sometimes we went further afield to Geleen, but I don't think we did much shopping there. But we used to have dinner from time to time at a hotel, because we were always sure of a window table, directly under which we parked the car so that we could keep Mary, sleeping in her carricot on the back seat, in view all the time.

I shall never forget our first bottle of Sekt . (I don't recall what we were celebrating). I unwired the cork, the first impact left an indentation in the plaster on the wall, the lethal projectile went round the kitchen about three times before finally succumbing to gravity (reminding me of our cat Peter). The stuff (what was left of it) didn't taste at all bad, but our favourite was Moselle (not so far away on the map).

And the never-to-be-forgotten day when we had parked Mary's carricot normal to the settee back, so that the end stuck out over the carpet. She awoke and scrambled down to see what was afoot, The C.o.G came with her, carricot rotated 180º, and she landed on the carpet with carricot on top. The welkin rang with her indignant reproaches; we gathered her up and consoled her; and fortunately she proved to have incurred no damage.

Of course we paid the customary visit to Keukenhof to see the tulip gardens in all their glory. After we got back, we learned of the impending date of our move to the Volkspark, but before leaving Heerlen, we had a flying visit from my sister-in-law and nephew, who had been staying with our Dutch in-laws in Eindhoven. Iris's brother (in the RAF) had married a Dutch girl at the end of the war.

Together we went to Cologne, I had the address: Grossrotterweg 3 - (Big Red Lane), - off Hitzelerstraße (this always shocked the British ear; as they usually misheard, missing the all-important "ze"in the middle, and had to be reassured that no, we had not let the Germans name streets after their late unlamented Führer). "Hitzeler" means "Furnaceman", or "Stoker" (IIRC) - if you really want to know.

Armed with a good street map, it was not difficult to find, after we'd regained our composure from negotiating the Köln-Sud roundabout: this was almost as bad as the Paris Rond-Pointe, redeemed only by German lane discipline. As I don't think we had the keys yet, we could only marvel at this vast mansion that was soon to be our home. On the way back, we pulled in at GK; I remember showing Barry my room in the Mess: he was much taken with my Mess kit. Later "Isn't he a bit old to be a Flying Officer ?", he asked, after the individual had passed by: "Ex-Warrant Officer", I replied, rather surprised by the question, (for Barry had done his NS in the Army). Then back to Heerlen.

Bit late now. Goodnight, all,

Danny42C.


On our way again !

Chugalug2
3rd Nov 2013, 11:12
Danny your new home seems to be near the:
Bundeswehrfachschule, Kardorfer Straße, Cologne, Germany
which if copied and pasted into the search box of,
https://maps.google.co.uk/maps
does indeed reveal the Hitzelerstrasse, but no Big Red Lanes, numbered 3 or otherwise.
The satellite button does reveal the park though, but unfortunately the little yellow man gives no street view of Germany, or at least not this part of it anyway. Can you nonetheless spot your roof, as you did at Hayling Island, or has it been swept away since?
We never got to see your home at Heerlan, but here at least is some information about the town, and the Google Maps little yellow man at least strides helpfully throughout Holland.
https://www.google.co.uk/search?hl=en&authuser=0&q=heerlen+netherlands&cd=1&cad=src:ppiwlink&ei=HDV2Ur-jEIi-8QP2oICwBg&sig2=jEH2IElBVLPc787SN5sdcQ&dtab=2
Re your Peugeot 403, could the reason that the Smiths-Jaeger system did not last very long be that it was electrical in operation as well as being controlled? I'm sure that I am not alone in having been driven to near despair as I tried to trace and cure intermittent (as they invariably are) electrical faults on my various cars. Now all that is compounded by the ever increasing use of electronics, which effectively cuts DIY diagnosis out of the loop completely, and you are left to the tender mercies of the experts who perfect the age old habit of sucking the breath in through their teeth before pronouncing that, "Well, it won't be cheap, I'm afraid".

Danny42C
3rd Nov 2013, 21:48
:OChugalug,

Your: "or has it been swept away since ?" All too true, I'm afraid. (I'll go into much more detail in my next post). I've tried to pinpoint our "flat" in Heerlen, too, but my memory of an "Akenstraat" (of course, not "Akenstraße !) or any thing like it, seems to be false. But I've found a "Parallelweg" which twangs a faint memory as being nearby, but nothing more.

I've often wondered why the Smiths-Jaeger "Coupleur" was not a commercial success, although Peugeot used it in the 404, before going over to full auto on the 504. And Renault used it briefly, too. (I can't find anything to support my earlier tale of the Rootes supposed full-auto development of the magnetic clutch principle).

For the Coupleur had everything going for it. Although it cost me about 6% on top of the basic car (which would be around the price of a full autobox on a new car today), the mechanism was so simple really that, in quantity production, it should cost little more to manufacture than the friction clutch it replaced. And it should not be difficult to design it to the exact same size.

I take your point about electrical complications, but again, all it was was an interlocking system of on-off switches which even I could understand (and not a "chip" in sight, either !)

I think that the sad truth was, after the years when the "O-matics" had got such a bad name, that when a real solution appeared, nobody wanted to know any more. But we were "sold" on it. In the years since, I've run six cars, five of them full hydraulic autos, (EDIT) and I'd swap any one of the five without a moments' hesitation now for my old Coupleur back again !

Danny.

Chugalug2
3rd Nov 2013, 22:33
Danny, Google Maps offers Akerstraat, Heerlen, the Netherlands, could be that the one? You can find it at:-
https://maps.google.co.uk/maps?f=q&source=s_q&hl=en&geocode=&authuser=0&q=Akerstraat,+Heerlen,+The+Netherlands&aq=&vps=4&jsv=467b&sll=51.018938,6.012268&sspn=0.774903,2.113495&vpsrc=6&t=h&ie=UTF8&ct=clnk&cd=1&spell=1
If it is, the little yellow man can be dropped into it to view and wander as you please.
As to the Volkspark, sorry to yet again shoot your fox (must learn to be patient!). It is somewhat unsettling if a former home no longer exists, as though one's own life is being airbrushed from history.
From what you say, the Smith-Jaeger system deserved better than its brief spell in the limelight. It certainly deserves a better epitaph than the web affords it. Little or nothing there, and what is mainly in French. It would appear that Smiths saw it as just another product. Make the money, move on. A shame!

Danny42C
3rd Nov 2013, 23:30
Chugalug,

Thanks ! Of course ! - Akerstraat (why didn't I think of that ?). It's the place all right, but it's all been changed. IIRC, we were on the E side down the S end, and there was a school with a field opposite, but I can't get a fix.

There is a Parallelweg too, about 1 km NE. I wonder if I came in that way from GK ?

Danny

Reader123
4th Nov 2013, 12:04
Danny, what I mean is surely it's a lack of Dutch skills that's the problem, not German, as your wife is in the butcher in Heerlen?

I think I'm being very stupid here, somehow, but like a terrier with a rat I'm not going to let go!

Chugalug2
4th Nov 2013, 13:42
You've got me confused now Danny. The Parallelweg (to the railway?) seems to be to the NW of Akerstraat and south of the railway (or tram?) so I can't see how that would be a way home from GK. If you exited GK on the Bruunsem side, the present road system would seem to favour the Heerenweg to get home. From the Teveren side maybe the L42/ Heerlenerstrasse?
Similarly, the Akerstraat seems to run NW/SE, so were you at the East end of it, and on the South side? There are two schools showing on the map today (they show up as you zoom in), the Grotius College and the Bernardinuscollege, both on the north side of the road, the former being at its East end, the latter midway. Does any of that help?
Not surprised though if it doesn't. I grew up in Bournemouth, cycling all over it as a kid. I get lost now every time I try to drive around it, with so many new road systems and so much rebuilding. Akerstraat looks like its been "doubled" in its time for a start.

Danny42C
4th Nov 2013, 17:16
Reader123,

I admire your tenacity. ("But they can't build the Boys of the Bulldog Breed/That made Old England's Name").

None of our people (AFAIK) learned Dutch. Many Dutch spoke fluent German (particularly in the border country). But they didn't like it (could the events of the recent past have had anything to do with that ?)

But the poor Englander had only their own language (and some a smattering of French), never mind another, and a third was quite out of the question.

So we got along just fine over there with English and pidgin German !.....D.


Chugalug,

I've edited my #4494 and #4496 above (Senior Moments !). I only have a general recollection of being somewhere down the "bottom" of Akerstraat, and on the eastern side, but on the satellite map nothing is familiar. Fifty years have passed: I can't remember the house number, (that's it I'm afraid). But thanks for your help.

So the Parallelweg might have been some short-cut on the way to & from GK.... ..D.

Regards, Danny.

Danny42C
5th Nov 2013, 23:14
The day came in July or August. GK sent a "Maggie" (Magirus-Deutz) canvas-top truck to take our belongings to the Volkspark, having first collected our washing machine from Stores; we went in the car, and of course were waiting for the "Maggie" when it arrived. There we found that its normal task had been - coal delivery to the MQs!! Mary's beautiful pram was now well coated with coal dust (for they'd not covered it in any way), and it was ages before we could get it all out. We were not amused !

And then we started to explore the vast space (which seemed even bigger after the tiny Dutch "flat"). As far as we remember, we had five bedrooms. But the bathroom was small. We had the most enormous lounge, you could hold a Ball in it. As the house was far too big for us, we simply shut-off all the parts of the house which we did not use.

I immediately set out to investigate the heating arrangements (for das winter kommt bestimmt ). There was a large boiler room in the cellars, and it seemed that unlimited coal and coke would be supplied free on demand * - but no hitzeler. That task would fall to me (it was the same in OMQs). But I was skilled in the art: it would be no problem. And I'd radiators in the garage too !

* also free electricity and gas (?): courtesy of the German state.

And now I've been digging into little more detail about the post-war history of the Volkspark (with the aid of Google/Wiki), and have turned up far more about it than ever we knew while we were there. A website devoted to the Service schools on the place quoted the surprising total of no less than 3,000 Service MQs in the Park area. Clearly we'd built a sizable British military suburb in this enclave at the South end of Cologne, (similar to the military "cantonments" of British India). Naturally, there was a large NAAFI shop, and there must have been a Medical Centre (although we never needed it), and Cologne was just up the road for anything else we might want.

Now our house (and doubtless all the rest) were proper, solidly built places, good for a lifetime (I've mentioned before that ours was designed for easy conversion into two flats) at some future date when (I assume) they would revert to the municipality of Cologne. And Cologne (when Bomber Command had finished with it) would have a housing shortage that could well last twenty years !

When USAAC General "Hap" Arnold (the instigator of the eponymous Scheme (in which I learned to fly in '41-'42), toured the German cities in 1945, even he was shocked by what he saw. "One gets a feeling of horror," he wrote on seeing Cologne: "Nothing, nothing is left." (D.Tel. "Review" on 19.10.13.).

You would therefore expect that, when we finally pulled out, the local authority would welcome this windfall with open arms. But now a surprising thing: if you turn up the map now - it's all gone ! The whole Park has returned to open green space. Hitzelerstraße (runs N-S through Park) is still there, but Grossrotterweg ? Gone ! And there was a good 40-50 years of life left in these houses. Why ? - It's a very long shot, but if anyone can explain it to me, I'd be very grateful.

Goodnight again,

Danny42C.


Waste not, want not.

BEagle
6th Nov 2013, 07:10
So we got along just fine over there with English and pidgin German !.....D

'Mongo', the Nav Rad on my first Vulcan crew, had been in Wing Weapons at RAF Bruggen during the Cold War and didn't believe one needed to speak much German.... "Just shout at the bug.gers! They appreciate it and will click heels, answer with a "Zu Befehl!" and get on with it. Germans appreciate being given orders to follow!"

Quite the diplomat. Darn good Nav Rad though.

smujsmith
7th Nov 2013, 19:20
Danny,

Could it have anything to do with the "theoretical" re emergence of the German state after the wall came down, and their need to remove memories of Cold War occupation ? It would sound a likely, political, proposition to me, but lets face it few political propositions worry about public taxpayers costs or losses. I'm sure that, as you say, many of these house had life left in them, how sound were they politically though ?

Smudge:ok:

Danny42C
7th Nov 2013, 23:40
Smudge,

It's a moot point. I don't know at what date the Volkspark was handed back to the German State (or the Municipality of Cologne), but I never heard of it happening up to the time we left RAF(G) in Autumn '62.

By then, the original "Force of Occupation" idea was long out of the window; we were all pals in NATO now, facing the Tartar hordes together. I cannot think that the Germans were resolved to extinguish all traces of our sojourn in their green & pleasant land (even if we'd been uninvited guests in the first place).

And the fact that they had designed the big places like ours so that they could easily be converted into two smaller ones seemed to suggest that they intended to take the lot back at some future date (after all, they'd paid to build them !).

I don't think there could have been any politics involved. It might have been that a desire to get their former big park back outweighed the need for more housing (but that's just my guess).

Danny.

Warmtoast
8th Nov 2013, 16:34
Danny42C

got used to the Dutch shops and markets

I was at JHQ Rheindahlen from 1972 - 75 and my wife and I regularly did our Saturday shopping over the border in Roermond or Venlo.

Here's a couple of photos from my album taken in the market at Venlo - ahh! smoked eels - and mackerel!


http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/JHQ%20Rheindahlen/VenloMarket2_zps4bcb4757.jpg

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/JHQ%20Rheindahlen/VenloMarket1_zpsea8a9126.jpg

FWIW We had some German friends who complained that when they asked for directions in Holland, the Dutch usually replied: "links, links und dann geradeaus"

Danny42C
8th Nov 2013, 20:02
Warmtoast,

I like the Durch way of showing their visitors the door ! And we were never ones for the Aalen - too much like snakes - but smoked mackerel, now you're talking.

In the background is our next purchse, a Renault 16, which I'm still trying to forget.

Thanks for the nice pics - the second in particular (tulpen aus Amsterdam !)

Danny

Danny42C
9th Nov 2013, 00:00
Now we have ignored GK for quite long enough. There was, in fact, little to write about. There was very little "Approach" work, in the true sense of the word. Both the Canberra and the Javelin carried Navigators: I suppose these would consider any attempt by their pilots to seek outside help in finding their way home as a slur on their competence.

But with two squadrons of pilots, many wanting to upgrade their Instrument Ratings, the CPN-4 had a steady stream of business all the time, so that kept us in practice. But I've no more stirring tales to tell on a par with the Night of the Laarbruch Canberra.

So I must fall back on Funny Things which Happened. And these are sometimes Funny-Comic, and some Funny-Tragic. And in both cases there is a difficulty. Did I see this with my own eyes ? Or was I just told about it by a good witness ? Or was it something that happened Before My Time ? (always a good cop-out), and therefore more or less Legendary ? And what about the frailty of memories after 50 years ?

Bearing all this in mind, let's start with three Funny Things which Happened to Javelins. The first story is soon told: Chap comes in on 27 with P.N.s speed plus five knots for the wife and five for the pension. Brakes none too good, runway wet and slippery, goes off the end, punches through a wire chain-link fence and comes to rest a few yards further on (no arrester-barriers then). Crew climb out, become only case in recorded history of a crew to land in one country (Germany) and jump down in another (Holland).

Next (rather more interesting) one. Javelin over N. German plain one dark night. Very loud bang, all engine dials on one side drop to zero. But ship still answers helm, and other engine running smoothly. So they bring it back and park on the line. W/Cdr (Tech) and his Adj standing by with two stepladders and torches. Each climbs up one end and peers in. They find themselves looking at one another - everything has disappeared. "Dr Livingstone, I presume", said the Adj (and was roundly rebuked for levity). The Sapphire was, of course, in bits over a square mile or so of territory, but no casualty was reported of man or beast.

The third story is so improbable that I can only describe it as an enduring legend in RAF(G). This is as it was told to me (and I take no responsibility for any of it). Again a Javelin was airborne one dark night. There was a massive electrical failure which put all the cockpit lighting out, and disabled all the electrical instruments. Apparently this scatterbrained crew had not thought to include any torches in their kit, so they could not read the E2 compass, either.

To make a bad situation worse, the radios failed as well (now credulity is really being strained). They had been heading South (more or less) before the disasters struck, and in the original turmoil had not being paying much heed to what the aircraft was doing. What it had been doing was to turn onto East(ish).

They had a faint horizon, but high cloud cover, and could not see any stars. In this condition, they crossed into the no-man's land (I forget what it was called) which served as a buffer between the two opposing Zones. And out of the far side into the Russian Zone !

End of Javelin, end of crew, and end of story (you might suppose). But now a suspicion that all might not be well arose in the Nav. He cast his mind back to his Scouting days and advised his pilot to climb up to clear sky on top, and there Ursa Major and Polaris shone for all to see - out to the left ! They did a Rate-4 turn and "poured the coal on".

Our sector radars had been watching this drama unfold with horror, and I can only suppose that their Russian counterparts had concluded that they had a defector coming over, and stayed their hand. But when it turned tail, they reacted. The Russian Battle Flight was just ten miles behind our pair as they fled over the border back into the Western Zone.

Now the curious reader will be wondering: how did they get down at all ? (otherwise there would be no story). I don't know. Did they fly the triangles ? (Was that system even in operation then ?) I have no idea of the date of all this, could have been any time the Javelins had been out there. Perhaps they got a "shepherd" on to them. Perhaps they stumbled on a lit airfield and took a chance. Perhaps they banged-out. Who knows ?

And that's the story. Believe it or not as you wish

Chugalug2
9th Nov 2013, 12:15
There seems to have been something peculiar to the Javelin that attracted larger than life stories. The classic FEAF one was of the one that supposedly was scrambled to intercept an Indonesian C130 incursion of Malaysian Airspace during Confrontation, and reportedly returned to Tengah minus a Firestreak missile. Those present at the time are adamant that no such incident occurred, and yet the legend persists.
Not casting any doubt on your stories, Danny, though I see you do that somewhat for yourself. Your Cold War tale of the testing of the ADIZ that bordered East Germany reminds me of one that occurred over West Berlin. Evidently the Control Zone was thrown into confusion by the entry into it from the East of an unidentified aircraft with which no radio contact could be made. It plodded on well into the Western Sector until, as though tired of the game, it turned East and plodded out again. Telephone lines buzzed, the Russian staff at the ASC were as confused as everyone else, but they finally received an explanation from their superiors and passed it on in turn to their Western counterparts. It was a transport aircraft bound for Schonefeld that for whatever reason went right past it until discovering its mistake.
The Russians were very anxious that it was understood that the incident was completely unintentional, as against many others, in the corridors and in the zone, that were very intentional! "We are very sorry, and you may be assured that those involved will be severely punished". There was no good reason to disbelieve them...

Danny42C
10th Nov 2013, 01:13
Chugalug,

Yes, you have to take "with a pinch of salt" any stories which haven't taken place in front of your eyes (old Irish proverb: "Believe nothing that you hear - and only half of what you see !")

But my next Javelin story (they do seem to hog the limelight, don't they) was all too real.

It is nice to hear of our Russian friends (?) being so apologetic about the incursion - perhaps they weren't ready for Armageddon just then !

Danny.

mmitch
10th Nov 2013, 09:21
I am raising a glass to you Danny and all the veterans as that number under your name clicks round another year. :)
mmitch.

Union Jack
10th Nov 2013, 13:56
Hear, hear, MMitch, with very best wishes for a happy New Year, Danny, and grateful thanks for your wonderful contributions over the past year! :ok:

Keep them coming .... I'm still chuckling about the Dr Livingstone incident.:)

Jack

Chugalug2
10th Nov 2013, 14:05
I've just returned, as I'm sure many others here have, from my town's annual Remembrance. I know that there is a dedicated thread here for that purpose, but it occurs to me that this thread has its own very special cause to pay tribute and give thanks for the freedoms won for us at such great cost.

Danny is only the latest of a noble brotherhood who have described those dangerous years of WW2, and sadly some of them are no longer with us. So we remember them now, as well as those who fell, especially in those bleak times that led up to the "end of the beginning". Dunkirk, Gazala, the Fall of Singapore and of Burma. That was when true character was needed and was found. The British as ever were unprepared for war, so disaster followed disaster, but they held firm until they and their allies were ready to prevail. It was that standing firm at the Darkest Hour that we thank a remarkable generation for. Your generation, Danny, thank you for telling us of it and of so much more. I hope you had a very Happy Birthday!

MPN11
10th Nov 2013, 16:25
My feet are slightly sore for unaccustomed standing on parade in smart (and shiny) leather shoes. :uhoh:

We have paid our respects to the many (too many) who have gone before. I now raise a glass to those who are still here, especially Danny if that's not too embarrassing, and hope we will all be here next year to mark the occasion with due ceremony, respect, sorrow and thanks.

Have a good day/week/year, folks. :ok:

Danny42C
10th Nov 2013, 17:47
mmitch, Union Jack, Chugalug, and MPN11,

Thank you for the birthday greetings, even though the occasion has sombre overtones when it reaches this stage. Never mind: "Carpe Diem", as Iris and I say, and "Ad multos annos !"

I'm resolved to hang on till I get my Telegram (although I suppose it'll be an E-mail or a Text, or something else [thought tranference ?] by then) - and beyond, when I shall be the Grand Old Man of the "Brevet" thread (well, I can dream, can't I ?).

And I accept on its behalf all the kind things said of my generation, but I must reiterate what I've often said: we were simply the people on deck when the trumpet sounded.

I raise my glass of Guiness in acknowledgement to you all,

Danny.

smujsmith
10th Nov 2013, 22:53
Danny,

Belated best wishes, and like others, the glass was duly raised today. I suspect that in eight years time you might be getting a message on your wrist implant, or whatever they choose as the preferred device. I do hope the PPruners can do a better job of it, I quite fancy a pint in your local, put me in the invite list please. Keep it going sir, this is a duty now, no longer a hobby.

Ego veneratio vestri usus

Smudge:ok:

Danny42C
10th Nov 2013, 23:52
Smudge,

Once again, thank you for the kind words ! (I read: "I admire your work" or words to that effect).

I'm afraid my days of "going down to the local" are a distant memory now, but you are welcome to a coffee any time in my virtual crewroom in cyberspace (don't forget to put your 3d in the jar and wash your mug up !). No, an I.O.U is not acceptable !

My tale has developed its own momentum now, I think I'd find it difficult to stop if I wanted to.

Next instalment is treading on the heels of this.

Danny.

Danny42C
11th Nov 2013, 00:24
The next tale is not funny at all. All was quiet in the Truck; it was just after lunchtime. A mech put his head round the door: "Something's just happened, sir". I looked out, the Crash Crew were in full cry along the South taxiway, going East. I looked in that direction, but no pillar of black smoke. A lone Javelin was swinging round on finals for 09, but that was all. I went back in.

I clicked on the Local box: "Is this a practice ?"...." 'Fraid not"... I shut up and clicked off. Local Controller has his hands full now, the last thing he needs is a garrulous goofer distracting him in the course of (arguably) the most important duty of his trade - "Crash Action".

It seemed that Mission ## had been coming back. The circuit was clear. ...."Permission for run-in and break ? .... "Affirmative". They ran-in and broke. At least Alpha did. So did Bravo - but literally ! The Javelin disintegrated in mid-air (both killed). That was bad, but it could have been far, far worse. The pieces of structure fluttered down. But the two heavy items (the engines) obeyed Newton's First Law. They travelled in a direct line - straight towards the Camp Primary School, which was full of children.

In the Farnborough Air Show of '52, John Derry's DH 110 broke up, killing him and his observer. In exactly the same way, the engines carried on: one landed on a small hillock outside the camp packed with spectators for the (free) show: the result was 28 dead, 63 injured. (Wiki)

The Sapphires weighed 1.3 tons apiece. Travelling at (say) 300mph, they could easily have reduced the school to rubble: it didn't bear thinking about. Mercifully, they came to rest some 200 yards short. Two seconds later on the "break", and...........

There were witnesses galore for the BOI. We'd moved into MQs by then. Mrs D. was in the garden with Mary: she thought that they had collided and both crashed (so did many others). But it depended on the line-of-sight: Alpha was searched inch by inch, there wasn't a dent or scratch on it. The combination of rapid rate of roll with excessive "G" had overstressed the second aircraft.

Still in sombre mood, there was a Canberra case. This one was on the ground (where you might think it might be safe). Even more, it was in a hangar. There was an electrical fault on one of the wing tanks, a young electrical mech was working on top of the wing. It had been necessary to drain the tank - and, as we all know, an empty tank is far more dangerous than a full one.

It was absolutely essential that the aircraft be fully earthed: it seems that it cannot have been. There was a spark, the explosion opened the wing skin as you might peel a banana. He was blown hard up against the trusses of the hangar roof before falling back on the floor. He'd sustained severe thoracic damage: the heart had stopped.

The medics were there in a minute or two, the M.O. worked desperately, in the end opening the chest and attempting to restart the heart with manual massage. It was no good, the boy died.

That's quite enough for tonight,

Danny42C.


Requiescant in pace.

Chugalug2
11th Nov 2013, 09:55
A sombre post indeed, Danny, and by awful coincidence I am reading it as the time approaches the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month.

We Will Remember Them!

DHfan
11th Nov 2013, 13:05
I can't find anything to support my earlier tale of the Rootes supposed full-auto development of the magnetic clutch principle.

Despite having no RAF connection I follow this thread avidly.

My reason for posting is to assure Danny that he's not cracking up - Rootes did indeed have an electrically operated automatic called the Easidrive which was (news to me) made by Smith's and used magnetic clutches and electro-mechanical relays. They persevered with it for three years before switching to a proper Borg Warner automatic. Survivors are probably in single figures and I suspect they wish they'd never bothered. It wasn't entirely successful...

Regards to all.

Danny42C
11th Nov 2013, 19:21
Chugalug,

Amen to that. It is not always appreciated how large a part war and peace accidents played in the Casualty Lists. I believe the terrible figure of Bomber Command (55,000+) included 8,000+ in training. And even in the days of peace (?) of the early '50s, there was great execution done wth the introduction of the Meteor and Vampire: there was a figure (in a Thread here) of some 900+ aircraft lost and 400+ pilots killed in accidents (many as a result of the asymmetric handling qualities - or lack of them - of the Meteor).

I was pleased to hear the BBC2 commentator make reference to this in last Friday's film.....D.


DHfan,

Aren't we all ? (De Haviland never made a bad aircraft yet - the Comet was just unlucky in that nobody then knew enough about Metal Fatigue caused by repeated compression/decompression).

Now welcome to our happy (mostly geriatric) family. All contributions are gratefully received, all's grist that comes to the mill, RAF connection or not. Don't let this be your last visit !

Thanks for the confirmation about the Rootes/Smith-Jaeger connection. It was obvious from the word go (with the benefit of hindsight !), and with the success of the single clutch, that all you had to do was to double or treble-up, organise the cogs in some way so that each clutch brought in a different ratio, and you'd have a full autobox with no messing about with hydraulic oil or Torque Converters any more. And it should be much cheaper. What's not to like ?

What went wrong on the Austrian autobahn I don't know. The current that excited the iron filings (I beg its pardon - stainless steel powder) had naturally to be fed in through slip-rings.* Our multi-clutch idea would have to have a separate ring for each, and a common earth.

Somehow the rings were bridged. All ratios (incuding Reverse ?) clutched-in together; the whole box exploded; "Easi-Drive" became "No-drive-at-all", and the Minx covertible (IIRC) coasted to a standstill at the end of a long trail of bits (they were coming back from their holiday, anyway, so it didn't matter all that much).

* If you look-up "Coupleur Jaeger" on Google. Wiki gives you a nice cutaway diagram, zoom-in and get out your old school French dictionary, and all is made plain (the slip rings are at the back).......D.

Cheers to both, Danny.

MPN11
11th Nov 2013, 19:28
And even in the days of peace (?) of the early '50s, there was great execution done wth the introduction of the Meteor and Vampire: there was a figure (in a Thread here) of some 900+ aircraft lost and 400+ pilots killed in accidents (many as a result of the asymmetric handling qualities - or lack of them - of the Meteor).

I remember a flt lt 'elder brother' on 20 Sqn in Singapore, who recalled the Meteor days. He reckoned there was a Wing funeral every week on average. Exaggeration? Bar talk? You guys who were there know what it was like.

We will also remember them ... the OH and I certainly have over the last week or so, formally, and at other times as a passing thought of 'bugggahhh' as a name comes to mind.

Union Jack
11th Nov 2013, 20:04
Now welcome to our happy (mostly geriatric) family.

Oi! I resemble that remark .....:D

Jack

Danny42C
11th Nov 2013, 21:28
MPN11,

I remember those days well: it was around the time I managed to get back in. We old-timers (me, all of 28!) knew all about the casualties, but comforted ourselves with the fact that we'd developed a strong sense of self-preservation over the years (which is why we were still there).

But the "new boys" (some of them the NS pilots), had, as their introduction to the Meteor, (the Tornado of its day, remember), the Oxford - of all things. I'd thought that incredible then, now I deem it almost criminal. Why not Harvard - Spitfire (or better, Mossie), and then a Meteor ?

That would have given the poor little devils some sort of a chance ....D.

Union Jack,

Never mind, Jack - time is the cure for youth !.....D.

Regards to you both, Danny.

OffshoreSLF
12th Nov 2013, 08:29
A friend of mine sent me this link, and although it may be slightly off topic, I think it fits in well with the spirit of this wonderful thread.
Hope you enjoy.

SPITFIRE 944 - YouTube (http://www.youtube.com/watch_popup?v=ie3SrjLlcUY&sns=em)

Danny42C
12th Nov 2013, 15:51
OffshoreSLF,

Thanks for the link ! (It has, in fact, been on one of the Threads here very recently). But no matter: it's well worth seeing many times, and Col. Baynes is a splendid narrator, a real American gentleman of the old school.

I was very interested in his mishap with the CO² bottle. Ours were wired-up to prevent just such an incident, but of course you could, if necessary, untie/bust the wire to (as a last resort) get an u/c down if the hydraulics failed (never heard of one being "blown" in anger, myself). I had no idea that accidental use could jam the up-locks (as seems to have happened).

Just shows, I flew my last Spit in autumn '51 - and I can still learn more about them !

The wheels-up was very nicely done, I thought, but he seemed very fast. But then again, that may be simply a mismatch between the home-movie film speed and the medium to which it was later transferred.

Cheers, Danny.

Reader123
13th Nov 2013, 16:10
8000 bomber crew in training, and one dreads to think how many unnecessary deaths on bombing raids otherwise than as a result of enemy action.

Interesting to contemplate in the context of today's health-and-safety culture, and to wonder what the end result would have been of imposition of an element of that culture onto the 1940s. And certainly on those Meteors.

For all that this culture is popularly decried, workmen don't die on construction sites these days.

We'd probably have lost the war though, so it would be a moot point...


Your own prang, Danny, of your Vengeance, was - we learned many pages ago - the result of inadequate training; for all that your receiving this 'training' was 70 years too late.

Edit: Offshore, thanks for that. They've other bits on YouTube including this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=etmnFrZYJG4

Chugalug2
13th Nov 2013, 19:52
Reader123:-one dreads to think how many unnecessary deaths on bombing raids otherwise than as a result of enemy action.

Not quite sure of the point you are making there, unless it is that all deaths on bombing raids were unnecessary because the bombing raids themselves were? I only say that because it is what modern perceived wisdom seems to say these days.

I don't think the wartime accident rate was something that could be changed much, given the dangers inherent in training for, and conducting of, such a massive enterprise as the War in the Air comprised, but Danny will no doubt take me to task if I am wrong in that.

The problem was that wartime philosophy carried on into the peacetime airforce when the imperatives to carry on in that way no longer really pertained. OK the Cold War soon set in and the switch from Pistons to Jets (especially those primitive first generation ones) produced a steep and often unscalable learning curve, but in retrospect a lot of those deaths were both unnecessary and avoidable. It was after all on the back of them that RAF Flight Safety was launched.

Given the urgency of the task, the lack of time in which to properly learn one's craft, the very limited aids available and their tendency to become swiftly unavailable, and the measures that had to be taken to ensure concentration of force and defence against enemy interception, those +8000 training losses be they down to CFIT, mid-air collisions, or plain lack of airmanship were as much the price of victory as those suffered by direct enemy action. All 55573 BC deaths were a part of the waste that is war. Would that they were all unnecessary and avoidable.

Danny42C
14th Nov 2013, 00:28
Reader123 and Chugalug,

It must be very difficult for this generation to comprehend the altered perception of the risks and dangers which were routinely accepted seventy years ago. Particularly was this noticeable in the world of military and civil aviation.

As I've mentioned before, Flight Safety as a concept did not yet exist - it would be considered an oxymoron then. Flying was dangerous, everybody knew that. People got killed flying. It was on a par with big-game hunting, and its exponents were ipso facto "heroes" in the same way.

And the generation before mine was accustomed to the hideous casualty lists of 1914-18. It is a sad thing to say, but they'd become almost blasé in the face of the huge numbers involved. Perhaps "numb" or "desensitised" are better words. Of course this mindset carried into the fighting Services. In the RAF, we had plenty of P/O Prunes, and plenty more where they'd come from. You can't make omelettes without breaking eggs. You must push your Prunes through the training system at a rate commensurate with your operational losses, or the whole thing comes to a stop.

I suppose most of our people would reach their squadrons with 250 hours, give or take. If they'd had 500 hours, and the training had been less intensive, and Flight Safety ruled the roost, would the training losses have been fewer ?... Certainly!... Would the subsequent accident loss-rate on the squadons have been less ?...Certainly!... Could we have afforded to do it ?...No! Time is the currency of war. Needs must when the devil drives. (No, Chugalug, you are not wrong).

The sad thing is that this attitude ("Press on Regardless") continued into the peace (if you count the Cold War as "peace"). Prune morphed into Bloggs, but the system didn't change. It was not until public unease at the level of peacetime casualties built up in the mid-'50s that the RAF had to take Flight Safety seriously.

As to my crash, my training played no part in it. Reg Levy (RIP) said that his training (like mine, in the American "Arnold" Scheme) was the finest flying training in the world, and I wouldn't argue with that. What I did was to make a wrong assumption that my oil pressure gauge was faulty - and it wasn't ! (You can't win 'em all).

Danny.

Danny42C
14th Nov 2013, 17:14
Before launching into the main story, I want to put one thing on record. Although our two nations had been at each other's throats a mere fifteen years before, in the whole of our 2½ years in Germany we never met any resentment or hostility from any German; we were always warmly welcomed in any shop, restaurant or hotel. And although we were at first unfamiliar with the currency, we were (AFAIK) never short-changed in any shop.

We liked the country, we liked the people. It was a tragedy that they had allowed themselves to fall under the spell (and I use the word advisedly) of a malignant madman.

The Cologne tram line ran out as far as the Volkspark (did it go on to Bonn ?), but we always took the car into town. In the Hohestraße there was a multi-storey carpark of a type we'd never seen before and would never see again. You put your Dm 1.50 (say 2/6 then, or £2.50 now) into a machine, this issued a receipt and opened a gate into a one-car lift. You drove in, the gate closed behind you (I suppose you had to press a button). Then it rose to the first floor which had vacant slots, the inside gate opened, you drove out and found one. There were stairs (but no passenger lift) down to the street. Getting out was the reverse of getting in.

Now the beauty of the arrangement: the receipt was good against any purchase in the Kaufhof across the street. This was a large department store - I suppose they owned the carpark, too. Obviouly everybody who used it would go into the shop, if only for a coffee in the coffee-shop, to get their money back. And every retailer knows, once the customer comes into the shop, you're half way to a sale.

We spent a lot of time in the Kaufhof, and in the rest of the more important shops up and down the street. Somewhere there we bought Mary's cot, a massive solid beechwood construction, and an equally unbreakable play-pen (for which there was ample room in our lounge). In this, one day when we were still in Cologne, Mary would hoist herself up and, spontaneously, take her first steps.

The speed with which the Germans had rebuilt their towns and cities was truly impressive. As we recall, there was little or no trace now of the total destruction which Gen. Arnold had found in '45. Particularly remarkable was the way that, in the smaller, medieval towns, they had replaced the lost 14th and 15th century buildings with modern backs behind a faithful pastiche front, so carefully and accurately done that many visitors (even today) cannot believe that they are seeing a '50s construct, and not something 4-500 years old.

In view of the state that the Allied bombing had left the towns and cities in, you had to wonder how the German race had survived at all. The answer is in one word - "unterkellert !"

Before the war, nearly all buildings in Britain seemed to have cellars (and very useful they were, too). Both the Volkspark and MQs in GK had cellars, down there you had a laundry room, a boiler room, coke store and plenty of storage space.

In war, they were the salvation of the German public. They were ready-made air raid shelters. Admittedly, it was hard luck if the house above came down on top of you, but you were no worse off than if you'd stayed upstairs. And in many cases they served a grimmer (but merciful) purpose.

In the great firestorms such as that in Hamburg, the fires up above (and often the street surfaces were burning) were taking all the oxygen from the air; many died painlessly in their cellars from anoxia before the fires got to them (and CO² is heavier than air, and the cellar is the lowest point).

The next one is more cheerful.

Good afternoon, folk,

Danny42C.


You can always find someone worse off than yourself.

ancientaviator62
15th Nov 2013, 07:48
Danny,
your tale of the rebuilding of German cities after WW2 reminds me that someone once said that the UK town planners post WW2 did far more damage than ever the Luftwaffe did. Having seen both the sensitive German reconstructions and some of our 'Maginot Line' school of architecture concrete monstrosities I find it difficult to disagree.

MPN11
15th Nov 2013, 08:17
I have long been looking for a meaningful book on the rebuilding of Germany. I have often wondered how those acres/sq miles of rubble were converted back to a functional city again. I've seen film clips of the women of Berlin collecting useable bricks from the debris, but there's much more to it than that. Clearing the roads, repairing/replacing all the mains services and re-establishing foundations before you can even contemplate erecting a building ... who did it? How was it done? Where did the plant and materials come from? What priorities? *

As a child I remember, as many here will do, the various "holes" in London's streets post-War, and the great wooden supports that help up the adjacent buildings. At least, in the main, we had 'adjacent' to start from. But what do you do when the starting point is a complete 'Zero"?


* Same applies to Japan, of course.

Yamagata ken
15th Nov 2013, 09:28
* Same applies to Japan, of course.

In Japan, houses were traditionally built of wood, paper and straw. Wealthy people would have tiles, rather than a thatched roof. The 70% of Japan which is uninhabitable mountains is covered in forest. So no shortage of forest products, all it took was a lot of effort. The culture was/is one of constant replacement. A house would last 2-3 generations and then be replaced with something new.

No-one builds with masonry here. With the earthquakes, that would be suicide. The post-war buildings were of very poor quality, and many of those are being replaced now. Modern building regulations are very strict. Everything (including my garage) has reinforced concrete footings, an inverted "T" buried a metre down. You can go up two stories with timber frame, anything taller needs to be steel frame. Frames are bolted to the footings (earthquakes) and roofs are bolted to the walls (typhoons).

Danny

I was interested of your description of the car park with a lift. That is very common here. The simplest hold about 40 cars in two columns and comprise an endless loop with cages. You drive in to an empty cage and park and that's it. When you retrieve the car, hand over the ticket, and they go round and round until yours gets to the bottom. Reverse out, they spin you round on a turntable and Bob's your uncle. The more complex systems, you drive into a "garage", park on a pallet, the doors close and your car gets whisked away and stuffed into a rack. Somewhere. You hope :ooh:

John Purdey
15th Nov 2013, 10:33
Danny. The German use of cellars as air raid shelters was fine until the authorities in cities such as Dresden came up with the bright idea of knocking down the walls between cellars so that the occupants would not be trapped if the house above collapsed. Unfortunately, the tunnels thus created also made it possible for the fumes from fires above to travel along from cellar to cellar, causing very many more deaths from suffocationi

Danny42C
15th Nov 2013, 20:07
ancientaviator62,

Amen to that ! When I think of some of the concrete egg-boxes we put up in the '60s, I can only hope that my old gunner "Stew" (who became an architect post-war) had no part it....D

MPN11,

I wondered that, too. But I remember that when I first went out for a couple of weeks in '54, construction was going on furiously day and (under arc lights) by night. Arbeit might not necessarily macht frei, but it certainly produces results when there's enough of it. And this at a time when the rose willow herb would flourish on many of our bomb sites for years yet.

As for Berlin, not only were they recovering what bricks and masonry they could for re-use, but (so I'm told) the Berliner Omas collected much of the rest and built an artificial "park" (in the form of a small hill) with it. (More information on this would be welcome)....D.

Yamagata Ken,

Has come in on your point, MPN11, (never got to Japan, myself, so IK), but their version of an automated car-park system seems rather frightening. The only "Paternoster" system I ever came across was in the ICI building in Billingham, but that was just a snug passenger cabin (2 pax max), and that was a bit scary for the newcomer, as you had to hop and off the moving lift (it didn't stop at all - except perhaps in emergency if a slow passenger got trapped between it and the gateway ?) But I never heard of anyone getting squashed in that way...D.


John Purdey, Welcome aboard - to this Best of Threads !

The Law of Unintended Consequences strikes again! But seriously, if the houses were in a terrace (as they must have been), wouldn't the party wall in the cellar be a load-bearing structure ? (Yes, I suppose they could have put in a RSJ - and all they'd need would be a small door, anyway). But even so, it was a construction job they could well do without, having to build the West Wall and patch up a Dam or two while they were at it.....D.

Regards to you all, Danny.

Fareastdriver
15th Nov 2013, 20:11
I was told that during the rebuilding of Germany in the 40s and 50s all overtime was tax free.

HAS59
15th Nov 2013, 20:45
I hope it's okay to ask this here.

I'm trying to work out what some entries relate to in an old mate's Log Book from his time on 78 OTU at Ein Shemer, Palestine in 1944. I've got a bit stuck as to what ‘Loop Shad' was. Is there anyone who can help?
Thank you.

:confused:

DHfan
15th Nov 2013, 22:39
Danny

"Small hill..."

Not exactly - just short of 400' high.

Teufelsberg - Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Teufelsberg)

It sounds very meaningful but as wiki points out, there was no way out of West Berlin for multiple lorry loads so the rubble had to go somewhere.

Danny42C
15th Nov 2013, 23:13
DHfan,

Thanks ! Wiki tells the whole story. It looks a bit beyond the capability of any number of OMAs - however energetic !

Danny.

Danny42C
16th Nov 2013, 23:29
Things being relatively quiet in the Truck, I helped to pass the time by continuing to work on the "Hugo" German Grammars which I'd bought at Thorney Island, and now another opportunity came up. On the northern end of Cologne there was RAF Butzweilerhof, and there the RAF Education Branch had set up a German language school for us.

I suppose they must have offered full-time Courses for those who were required to know the language for official RAF purposes, but they also had informal "as opportunity offers" day and evening short courses for those who, like myself, were merely interested in it. I don't think there were any fees.

(Curiously, Wiki does not seem to know about this, and I suppose I ought to tell them, but as I have no start/stop dates for the Courses, and nothing to back-up my story, and I don't know how anyway, have decided to let that sleeping dog lie).

Of course, on a four-watch system, there was ample free time at home in the Volkspark, and I had no difficulty in organising myself into a class of "intermediates". I can't remember how much time per week I put in, or how long the Course lasted, but it must have been enough to be useful. At the end, they put me in for a GCE "O" level, I scraped through (can't remember what Grade - honestly !) and still remember the oral.

The system was this, they had a stack of old 78s (which played for 3-4 minutes a side). Each of these told a simple story in German. They played a record to you twice (I think), and then you were questioned (in German, of course) to test your understanding of the story, and your ability to discuss it with your examiner (btw, did they use the same idea then in our schools at home ? - certainly wasn't in French in my time - '38).

I remember mine well. A pudel had stolen a string of wurst from a fleischerei and galloped off with it; the rest of the tale detailed the pursuit of the thief and the eventual recovery of the wurst. (I suppose the butcher ran it under a tap, repacked it and put it back on sale).

But the real interest in all this lies in a side-story. We students took (facetiously) to greeting each other, after lunch, with "Guten Nachmittag" - which no German ever says. "Guten Morgan/Tag/Abend" and "Gute Nacht" - yes. But not "Guten Nachmittag" !

And then a strange thing happened. The German civilian staff on the station (drivers, cleaners clerks, cooks, gardeners etc) heard us addressing each other in this way, and reasoned thus:

"These Englander are being instructed in the German tongue by their Herr Professor . This must, therefore, be korrect. Indeed, have we not seen an open copy of "Duden" * on his desk ? That clinches it - if it's in "Duden" it Must be Right ". Accordingly they started saying it among themselves; the practice spread; and in the end we were well on the way to having created a sub-species of German going around saying "Guten Nachmittag" ! I often wonder if it caught on to any extent.

* (Wiki will tell you all about it)

Gute Nacht, Kameraden, Schlafen Sie Wohl,

Danny42C.


(You gotta speaka da lingo !)

BEagle
17th Nov 2013, 07:58
Gruß Gott, Danny!

They played a record to you twice (I think), and then you were questioned (in German, of course) to test your understanding of the story, and your ability to discuss it with your examiner (btw, did they use the same idea then in our schools at home ? - certainly wasn't in French in my time - '38).

Well, we had a similar system in 1965 when I did my 'O' levels! Except that the story required for the Nacherzählung was read by the supervisor, rather than having been recorded. For the Oxford and Cambridge Schools Examination Board, it formed part of Paper III, Composition and Story. It was the same for French (obviously a different story though!). The other part of Paper III was English into German (or French, as appropriate).

I see that on Monday 12 July 1965, the day started with French III for 2 hours, then French II (Dictation) for ½ hour. After lunch we had German II, then finally German III. The previous week I had French I (Unprepared Translation into English of 2 passages in French) on Wednesday 7 July for 1¾ hours - and the last of the 21 individual exams that I did that Summer was German I on Saturday 17 July, for another joyous 1¾ hours.

Earlier, we'd also had both French and German oral exams - an external examiner would chat with you, then show you a picture on a card, about which he'd ask you various questions.

So yes, a total of 4 exams for French and the same for German. Yet nowadays my foreign language skills are such that I can just about get by in restaurants and that's about it!

I wonder whether 14 year olds are subjected to such torture these days?

Auf Wiederschauen!

smujsmith
17th Nov 2013, 19:59
Beags,

I would doubt modern children are leaned on to that extent. There's probably an EU regulation that prevents it and protects the little " burgers" from such stress. French was fun when I did it though, our teach was a bit of a "Mariannne Faithful" and just wowed all the lads in our class.

Quels jours heureux

Smudge:ok:

BEagle
17th Nov 2013, 20:19
French was fun when I did it though, our teach was a bit of a "Mariannne Faithful" and just wowed all the lads in our class.

I hope that your teacher had a happier life than poor Marianne Faithfull has had....:sad:

smujsmith
17th Nov 2013, 20:30
To my knowledge Beags, our French teacher married a fellow pupil and to this day teaches her native language. As for Marianne Faithfull;

"Faithfull has recently recorded a cover version of a Stevie Nicks track from the Fleetwood Mac album Tusk as part of a Fleetwood Mac tribute project. The track "Angel" will be released on 14 August 2012 as part of the tribute album Just Tell Me That You Want Me.
On 22 June 2013 she made a sell-out concert appearance at the Queen Elizabeth Hall, with jazz musician Bill Frisell playing guitar, as a part of Meltdown Festival curated by Yoko Ono.[34]
Marianne is currently recording an album of new material, but work has stalled due to a back injury in July 2013." Courtesy of Wikipedia.

It sounds like she is doing OK part from the back injury.

Smudge :ok:

Danny42C
18th Nov 2013, 00:14
BEagle,

Willkommen !

I'm aghast at the work-load imposed on you in your formative years (you poor lttle sod !)

But what should not go unnoticed is your age when you had the "sudden death" "O" Level GCE exams to contend with - 14.

When, in the intervening years, did 14 become 16, and why ? I got my "Matric" at 14 and a HSC at 16, and that was the norm in those days. Now it's 16 and 18 for the equivalents (and I'm not at all sure about that, judging by results). Where did the two years go ?

I fully agree with your recollection of the utterly impractical way in which languages were taught in our schools in my - and your - times. I could then discourse learnedly on Molière, Racine and Corneille. But ask my way to the Post Office ? - No chance !

Auf wiederhören !... Danny.

Pom Pax
18th Nov 2013, 01:23
1953 Danny, in a rebranding process GCE was introduced with single subject passes. No longer requiring 5 passes to qualify and the minimum age abolished. The guidelines were that a school could enter any pupil they considered would achieve a pass regardless off age.
My school followed this advise very conservatively and I was only entered in 5 subjects all of which I passed. However they made us sit the full quota of 10 for practice. The other 5 papers being marked in house of which I "passed" at least a couple. Now comes the hard bit the school maintained a standard of 6 passes to enter the sixth form so I was obliged to repeat the 5th form.

CoffmanStarter
18th Nov 2013, 07:33
I see that on Monday 12 July 1965, the day started with French III for 2 hours, then French II (Dictation) for ½ hour. After lunch we had German II, then finally German III. The previous week I had French I (Unprepared Translation into English of 2 passages in French) on Wednesday 7 July for 1¾ hours - and the last of the 21 individual exams that I did that Summer was German I on Saturday 17 July, for another joyous 1¾ hours.

BEagle old chap ... with "recall" of that calibre your autobiography is a sure fired winner ... :ok:

Marianne Faithfull ...

My old GP, when I was in short trousers, was Marianne's Uncle ... he was also a F/O Aircrew Observer on Beaufighters during WII ... I recall the appointment made to sign-off my medical chit for glider training lasted longer than expected as he had quite a few stories to tell ... a very nice chap.

Best regards ...

Coff.

Danny42C
18th Nov 2013, 23:05
Pom Pax,

I may have got BEagle wrong. When he said that: "I wonder whether 14 year olds are subjected to such torture these days?", I took it that his "O" level exams were taken in July '65 at that age.

But you tell me that the change was effected in '53. I'm a bit confused (happens a lot these days !) Does it mean that, 12 years after the change was introduced, BEagle's school was still putting boys in for the exam at 14 ?

Clearly, I've got hold of the wrong end of the stick, somehow. Can you lighten my darkness ?

Cheers, Danny

BEagle
19th Nov 2013, 07:04
I didn't understand that post either, Danny.

I took Elementary Mathematics (2 papers) in Dec 1964 (either at 13 or just 14, I can't remember), then the following Summer:


Additional Mathematics (2 papers)
English Language (2 papers)
French (oral plus 3 papers)
German (oral plus 3 papers)
Latin (2 papers)
Chemistry (practical plus 1 paper)
Physics (practical plus 2 papers)

and the 2 subjects which I failed:


English Literature (2 papers - Shakespeare and Chaucer)
Scripture Knowledge (2 papers - St. Mark and Acts of the Apostles)

So, a total of 2 orals and 21 papers that Summer. Apart from Elementary Mathematics, I still have all the papers!

Union Jack
19th Nov 2013, 11:10
These recent posts all remind me of when I was sitting my Admiralty Interpreter's examinations, the sole naval candidate in an examination room full of candidates from the other Services.

We had reached the section which involved transcribing the invigilator's spoken word from French to English and, sitting in directly in front of the invigilator, I was feverishly scribbling down my best guess at translation, trying hard to keep up with his brisk pace. Pausing to consider the idiomatic translation of a certain turn of phrase, I suddenly realised that he was watching me intently, without saying anything.

Hastily writing down my choice of words, I looked up and he then started reading again, at which point I clicked that he was taking his timing from me. Curiously enough, I slowed down thereafter, and even more curiously, I qualified as a French "interrupter" - and was then promptly went off to take up my next appointment - in Australia!:ok:

Jack

thegypsy
19th Nov 2013, 12:43
When I took the Common Entrance because I was so bright I went straight into the Fourth Form, others who were just average went into the Third Form and took GCE after 3 years whilst those who started in the Fourth Form took GCE after just two years:{

BEAGLE

As you failed two subjects I guess you went straight into the Third Form:confused:

PS As you say you took the exam in Dec 1964 How come you do not know how old you were?:=

BEagle
19th Nov 2013, 17:42
No, I was a scholar (we didn't stoop to the oikish 'CE' :( ) and went straight into the 'A' stream - 2 years to O level rather than 3.

Since my birthday is in December and I cannot remember the precise date of the 1964 Elementary Mathematics exams, I might have been 13 or 14 at the time....:rolleyes:

I failed English Lit. and God-bothering because I couldn't be ar$ed to read Twelfth Night, The Nun's Priest's Tale, The Pardoner's Tale, The Gospel according to St.Mark and the Acts of the Apostles 1-XV. I far preferred Aeromodeller, Model Aircraft, Flight and Ian Fleming....:ok:

Danny42C
19th Nov 2013, 18:28
BEagle, Union Jack and thegypsy,

All I've read so far has left "confusion worse confounded !", with a distinct feeling of "Hunt the Lady" or the Three Card Trick (now you see it, now you don't !)

As I recall, in medieval times, when the Julian calendar was replaced by the Gregorian, the plebs went around bleating: "Give us back our eleven days !" What happened in the educational world in the '50s during the transition phase ?: "Give us back our two years ?"

BEagle,

Your: "I still have all the papers". Some years after the war I came across my Pure Maths HSC papers. I looked at them in utter bewilderment. Not only could I not attempt the answers - I couldn't even understand the questions. It was all Greek to me ! (and still is).

Cheers, all. Danny.

thegypsy
19th Nov 2013, 18:37
BEagle

Didn't have to stoop to try for a scholarship myself as we were rich. Did not want to deprive a less fortunate person such as yourself. :D

As you said you had all the papers still ( anally retentive? ) cannot understand why the date confounds you as to your age:}

BEagle
19th Nov 2013, 19:21
As you said you had all the papers still ( anally retentive? ) cannot understand why the date confounds you as to your age :}

Which part of Apart from Elementary Mathematics, I still have all the papers! were you unable to comprehend?

Didn't have to stoop to try for a scholarship myself as we were rich.
Awfully lower order to flaunt wealth in such a manner.

Danny42C
19th Nov 2013, 20:43
Gentlemen, Gentlemen - we're all friends here, aren't we ?

The great disadvantage of life in the Volkspark was the distance (about 50 miles) from GK. And at that time the extension of the autobahn from Aachen to Cologne was still under construction, only sections at a time. IIRC, the journey Westbound was split up into five parts of roughly 10 miles. First you had Landstraße , then Autobahn, then Landstraße, then Autobahn, then a last stretch of Landstraße when you peeled off north-west to "cut the corner" cross-country to GK.

There was little of note on the route, except for about halfway, where there was a huge opencast coal mine (name forgotten), and on it what was supposed to be the biggest drag-line excavator in Europe (jestingly, the old Hoover advt. was applied to it: "It Beats as it Sweeps as it Cleans !"). I'm pretty sure that this opencast pit was the scene, a year or two later, of an unforunate accident, but will let this fox live for the time being.

The Watch system meant three round trips (two five-hour shifts plus one fourteen hour plus three hours' driving per shift) in each four-day cycle, and each trip chalked up a 100 mile commute. So you piled up the miles quickly (the joke was: "You can always tell the Volkspark people - they're the ones with the worn-out cars !")

And at this point you may be interested to know the financial aspect of running a car in RAF(G). There was no "Road Tax", apart for an insignificant (17/6 ?) sum for BFG registation (and I think that lasted your full tour). For this you got a black (white lettered) plastic number plate (ours was LP 97 B), which I screwed on top of the pink & silver French job. (I think you had a month's grace with that after bringing your car into Germany).

So far, so jolly good, you might think. But there's always a snag - Insurance ! Generally no Insurance company would touch a BFG car with a bargepole (not Comprehensive, anyway). As I remember, only General Accident, Fire and Life in the UK, and a Dutch firm (name escapes me), which some years later went bust, were in the market.

The reason was that, on average, every BFG-regd car had one serious crash per tour. The ones who'd bought bright new cars naturally looked after them. But many of our airmen (and officers too) bought old German cars just for the tour, and as (I think) the German taxation system weighed heavy on large-capacity ones, these could be bought 2/h for a song (and, of course, BFG registered).

So now you have the picture, young erk buys (say) old Opel Kapitän with 3 litres and bags of oomph (but dodgy tyres and brakes - no MOT in those days), goes out with a load of pals to a local kneipe, tanks-up on local (very good) bier . And there you have it.

So it all got loaded onto your Insurance premiums. We reckoned that Insurance alone cost more than Tax plus Insurance had cost back home. But there was a silver lining.

You were issued (from Accounts ?) with a very liberal free ration of Petrol "Coupons". And extra ones were ridiculously cheap. These could be exchanged for petrol - but only at the tankstellen of a particular petrol company which had got the contract for that year (?) I remember that, for the better part of our time, it was BP, and we always had to look out for the green-and-yellow livery to pull in for fuel.

The question was: who was paying for this magnificent perk ? It seemed to be the Bundesrepublic, in another form of post-war Reparations. They must have been paying through the nose, too, for the fuel companies had to bid for the contracts (who got the money ? - don't know), so it was profitable for them, too).

And now, best of all, you got extra free coupons to cover duty, home/duty, and leave travel, besides travel allowance for this (and leaves, too, in lieu of a rail warrant). It was said (and I'm sure it was right), that you couldn't afford not to go on leave, as even with the holiday expenses you still ended up in profit.

Till next time, then,

Goodnight, all,

Danny42C.


It is better to travel hopefully than to arrive.

Unclejames
20th Nov 2013, 14:55
I appreciate that this a very late reply (5 years to be precise!)
But I have been trying to trace my Uncle James' Service records with Coastal Command.
Having read several books I came to a dead end.
I know he served from 1939-45 and flew Liberators, he never talked about it much, but did say that he a spell in the Bahama's/West Indies?

He passed away about the time you indicated, surely there cannot have been that many James Markham's in CC that flew Liberators?

I have certainly not been aware of any books, if so I would be honoured to find a copy.
I am sure he was posted at St Eval, Cornwall at some stage, but cannot clarify.
Any information you may have would be greatly appreciated.

Kind Regards
Jeremy Markham

smujsmith
21st Nov 2013, 20:03
Danny,

If you look at your "petrol stamps" situation compared to the modern day costs of fuel for road vehicles, you were on a nice little earner there. I never did a tour in Germany, a few night stops when transitting with Herks, so your current dialogue is fascinating, for me at least. Keep it up Danny, there must be loads of interesting stuff still to come.

Smudge :ok:

Danny42C
21st Nov 2013, 23:38
So we settled down in the Volkspark - but only for a short time. As I've mentioned before, Mary took her first steps in the playpen there. There must have been still a good deal of the former park left, for we well remember a stroll with the pram one afternoon. A riderless horse trotted past us, about twenty yards away, obviously homeward bound. A quarter-mile further on we met the disconsolate rider, plodding along after his horse, having given up the hopeless attempt to catch it. We could only sympathise, point, and say "thataways" (or whatever the equivalent might be - geradeaus ?).

Of course, we went to have a look at the Cathedral, which is just off the top end of the Hohestraße. I read that this is the largest Gothic cathedral in N.Europe, with the second-highest spires (515 ft) in the world. Although it was hit many times by bombs, those spires were, amazingly, still standing defiantly at the end - the only thing in all Cologne which had not been flattened by Bomber Command and the Mighty Eighth.

This says a lot about the medieval builders, but unfortunately they shared many of the characterstics of their modern descendents. Starting in the 13th Century, they beavered away for 200 years, then went off on a tea-break in the 15th. They were not seen again for 400 years (obviously having found a better contract) until the 19th (when that ran out ?), then they came back and finished the job.

I don't think we heard a single Mass in the Cathedral. So where did we go on Sundays ? If the Volkspark Service enclave was as large as I read (3,000 MQs), then a fair guess would be 300 RC families, but we don't remember an RC chapel on site. But of course, any RC church would do.

For those were the days of the old "Tridentine" (Latin) Mass. It didn't matter whether you were in Cologne or Casablanca, or Calcutta or Canton, or Lima or Liverpool: the moment when the priest swung on through the altar gates, handed his biretta * to the server, and launched into "Introibo ad altare Dei", you were back at home in your old parish church. In Latin, the Mass was exactly the same everywhere in the world on that particular Sunday of the year. Of course, the Sermon would be in German (or whatever).

* (No, not beretta - side arms were (usually) not worn).

And every one would have their own "Missal", which had parallel paragraphs of Latin and English for you to follow. Not that that was needed by "cradle" Catholics, who had grown up with the Old Mass from childhood - especially ex-altarboys, who had had to be aware of everything going on all the time, so that they could come in on cue. (Even today, I can rattle off the "Confiteor" with the best of them, and get all my case-endings right !)

And then in mid-September, my wife's mother fell gravely ill: she and Mary had to go back to Yorkshire. They flew Düsseldorf - Newcastle. I was left on my own in the Volkspark. At this time, our MQ came up at GK. I must have been a very busy little bee, for I packed up at the Volkspark . I must have done some sort of a march-out, made sure that the "Maggie" that took our stuff wasn't the coal-truck this time (and covered the pram properly), and said farewell to Cologne.

I marched-in at Bruton St, RAF, GK. My memory of this whole period is hazy, but I must have lived in the house (for of course, I had to give up my room in the Mess), but took my "casual meals" there.

I got to grips with the CH boiler (it was starting to get chilly now), sorted our stuff out, tidied the garden and generally had a good look at would be our home for the next two years.

Goodnight, all,

Danny42C.


Home, sweet Home !

Taphappy
22nd Nov 2013, 20:51
Yes Danny, there was a lot to be said for the old Latin Mass, you felt at home in any Catholic Church wherever in the world. The continuual changes in the liturgy these days make it so confusing for we old chaps.
I have enjoyed reading about yout ATC experiences especially those concerning all these
new fangled landing aids. All my last station had was QDMs and SBA.

Warmtoast
22nd Nov 2013, 22:35
Taphappy

All my last station had was QDMs and SBA.

Wot - no QGH's?

Danny42C
23rd Nov 2013, 00:27
Warmtoast,

Although Taphappy doesn't mention it, any airfield able to give you QDMs must ipso facto be able to use its D/F equipment to set up a QGH procedure. It would simply be a question of selecting a suitable "Safety Lane" for the descent.

Cheers, Danny.

thegypsy
23rd Nov 2013, 18:17
BEagle

You quite clearly stated that you took Elementary Maths in Dec 1964 so it is irrelevant whether you have the papers or not.:confused:

You then say you cannot remember whether you were 13 or 14!!

I think that you are now trying to say but lack comprehension of written English that you think you took the Elementary Maths in Dec 1964? Hence your confusion as to whether you were 13 or 14 at the time I presume.

If this is the best a so called " Scholar " can come up with I assume the competition was not great at your no doubt minor Public School?:{

Never flaunted my wealthy background just merely pointing out to you why I never took one :E

BEagle
23rd Nov 2013, 19:34
thegypsy, I'm not sure why you're being quite so dim-witted and rude?

If the exam was before my birthday in December, I would have been 13. If it was after my birthday, I would have been 14. I don't recall the specific date of the exam (which would have been printed on the papers, if I still had them).....so I don't know whether I was 13 or whether I was 14 at the time. Now do you understand?

Now give it a rest, for heaven's sake.....:rolleyes:

glojo
23rd Nov 2013, 19:48
This to me is without doubt the most popular fred :uhoh: on Prrune and it does no one any credit to squabble in this manner. I personally do not care how old anyone is, or their standard of edukayshun....

Can you folks please call it quits? ;)

Chugalug2
23rd Nov 2013, 19:49
Right, I'm really really cross now! This thread is a banter (in the modern nasty sense of the word) free area and the exception to the usual PPRuNe mores. So can you two gentlemen please take it somewhere else? If one of you, or both of you, consider yourself to be the "innocent" party then don't feed the troll (ie the other party).

I don't ask on behalf of Danny, because he is quite capable of doing any remonstrating of his own, I do it on behalf of the next raconteur waiting patiently in the wings to tell the story of gaining his wings (if you see what I mean). He or she is unlikely to be encouraged to do so confronted by this unedifying display of petulance. So please pack it in or go away.

No, I am not a moderator, and no I have no right to tell anyone what to do. I just ask that this best of all PPRuNe threads remains just that and exudes the tolerance that marks it out as being so special.
Thank you!
Chug

MPN11
23rd Nov 2013, 19:53
My first pathetic collection of O-Levels was acquired in the Summer of 1960 ... that's all the University of Oxford says on my Certificate. Although it gives my date of birth in exact detail. So that's ... mmmm ... 1960-1944 is ... 16, but ... it was exam time before my birthday, so that's ... 15, right? :cool:

I scraped the other 2 the following year, so I guess that would be ... 16? I went OTT - I only needed 5 for a commission ;)

I'd be very glad if the Mods would apply a feather duster to this thread, we can get back on track.

BEagle
23rd Nov 2013, 20:13
I concur.

Back to the thread - we were still practising QGH to PAR during my AFTS course on the Gnat. Assuming the ATCO didn't peep at his surveillance picture, the trick was to home to the overhead, then descend you (hopefully) on the outbound track for a calculated time, then turn you inbound and hope that you'd paint on precision....:ooh:

Of course you'd be in a poor situation to have to do it for real as you would have had to have lost TACAN and ILS and the aerodrome would have had to have lost its surveillance radar...:uhoh: If you had TACAN, self-navigating to 'Point Echo' (10 nm on the centreline of the RW in use) for a GCA pick up was a much better option.

Some of the weird and wonderful approach aids of the 70s were less fun - such as the DME approach in the JP. At Wittering they even had an NDB to DME approach for the Hunter Wing; one problem being that, because of interference, you had to switch off the DME until inbound on the NDB final track, then turn on the DME and hope that it would work!

Having not had to bother with a Turn and Slip standby instrument approach on the Gnat, with its back-up artificial horizon, flying a QGH to SRA in the Hunter came as a rude shock. One poor QFI, having had to wrest control from 2 consecutive students in spiral descents with the turn needle pinned full-scale, decided that our course was clearly out to kill him!

Remember the maxim "One peep is worth a thousand scans!".

Warmtoast
24th Nov 2013, 15:30
For those unfamiliar with QGHs as they were last century, herewith a piece I posted earlier about QGHs in the 1950s.

As a RAF VHF/DF Operator for over eight years in the 1950’s I provided the bearings for many “QGH’s”. As described these were procedures as used with Harvards and Chipmunks at 5 FTS RAF Thornhill (S. Rhodesia).

In the 1950’s in the RAF a ‘QGH’ was a request made by a pilot for a ‘Controlled Descent Through Cloud’ and the procedure was to home the aircraft to overhead the airfield with ‘Magnetic Bearings to Steer’ (QDMs) and having reached the overhead the controller would decend the aircraft through a "controlled decent through cloud" to line it up with the runway on finals for a successful landing.

QGHs would be controlled by the air traffic controller, but on a couple of occasions I did it myself, which was probably against all the rules and regulations, but they worked.

QGHs
Here is what I wrote earlier about this approach procedure:

Procedure: The pilot would give a ten-second transmission on the RT which would allow the DF operator to swing the DF aerial to find the ‘null’ on the transmission and by depressing the ‘sense’ plate (which put the aerials out of phase) determine that what was being shown on the DF wheel against the cursor was the correct bearing to the aircraft and it was not a reciprocal. When the sense plate was depressed the signal either when up or down, if it went up the bearing was wrong and the reciprocal was indicated, it was then a matter of swinging the aerial 180-degrees to find the ‘null’ again, go ten degrees either side of the ‘null’ point and depress the sense plate again, this time the signal should go down and if it did one had the correct bearing.

The circumference of the DF wheel was marked with two scales. Top scale showed true bearings from the VHF/DF station (QTE’s) whilst the lower scale was marked in red and showed the magnetic course to steer to the airfield (QDMs). To home the aircraft to the airfield overhead for a QGH one read off the bearing shown on the bottom scale, passed it to the controller who in turn passed the magnetic course to steer to the airfield to the aircraft. Aircraft RT transmissions were given every minute or so (or less) with the DF operator taking bearings on the aircraft's transmissions. When the aircraft reached the overhead the aircraft’s transmissions sounded all mushy; confirmation that the aircraft was overhead was established by depressing the sense plate and if there was no increase or decrease in signal the aircraft was in fact overhead.

Having informed the controller that the aircraft had reached the overhead, the controller then asked the aircraft to steer an outbound course about fifteen or twenty degrees to the right of the reciprocal of the inbound runway heading and to descend to an agreed height, possibly 800-1000ft. The outbound track was flown for about two minutes.

At the end of the two minutes the aircraft was asked to do a rate one turn onto the inbound runway heading, which if all had gone well placed him very near the extended runway centre line at 800-1000ft. On the inbound leg DF bearings were taken which allowed the controller to check that the aircraft was steering the right course inbound. The controller also gave heights to descend to, so perhaps with one minute to fly to the airfield the aircraft would be at about 500ft and descending to the minimal obstacle height. Unless flying in exceptionally poor visibility the aircraft would see the approach lights and land.

This is all culled from methods last practiced by me over fifty-five years ago, so if there are any inaccuracies, blame it on age, but the principles are as I remember them and as practised with piston-engine aircraft.

Photos below show the 5 FTS VHF/DF Station, the radio layout and taking a bearing.

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Thornhill/VHF-DF%20Homer/ThornhillVHF-DF-Before2_zps3b08c315.jpg

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Thornhill/VHF-DF%20Homer/RAFThornhillVHF-DFHomerAdjusted_zps6a86e11d.jpg

Two R.1392 Crystal controlled VHF receivers, wheel to rotate the aerial, "squawk box" to talk direct to the controller in the tower and a mic to talk to aircraft.

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Thornhill/VHF-DF%20Homer/ThornhillVHF-DF-Atthewheel_zpse9625e61.jpg

Depressing the "sense" wheel to get the correct bearing.

To minimize bearing errors VHF/DF Homers were placed as near as possible to the runway, which on most occasions worked well, until some clot doesn't correct for drift on take-off and manages to ruin the VHF/DF as seen below.

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Thornhill/VHF-DF%20Homer/ThornhillVHF-DF-After-adjusted_zps7b450dd2.jpg

The collision was caused by a pupil pilot in a Harvard. Despite a severe dent in his wing following the collision he managed to do a circuit and land safely. Thankfully the duty VHF/DF operator was shocked but unhurt - if the aircraft had been a couple of feet lower when it hit, a major tragedy would have been the outcome.

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Thornhill/VHF-DF%20Homer/ThornhillVHF-DF-TemporaryHomer_zpsf89fe695.jpg

In those days the RAF catered for every eventuality and a temporary "homer" in a tent was despatched promptly from an MU at Fayid in the Canal Zone and quickly installed as seen here.

The RAF Thornhill VHF/DF homer was an essential nav-aid for budding pilots who were forced to do their navigation training over relatively wild and not particularly well marked terrain.

So much so that in 1952 the total number of bearings passed by the RAF Thornhill VHF/DF Homer was 35,903 - and an RAF record of 2,810 bearings in ten days was set up - this fact was made known by a congratulatory letter from the Chief Signals Officer at HQ RATG notifying the Thornhill DF operators of their fine work in achieving this standard. We all felt quite proud of this.

MPN11
24th Nov 2013, 15:49
As a side-note to QGH procedures, a dimly-lit memory cell tells me that having sent the aircraft outbound descending from the overhead, the inbound turn was initiated at "Half overhead height + 2,000 ft". The r/t phraseology, another memory cell tells me, went along the lines of:

"Indicating overhead, turn (L/R) outbound heading (***), set QFE (****) and stand by for descent."
When the DF trace showed the aircraft was indeed in the outbound sector, "Commence descent to (insert height here), report turning (L/R) inbound at **** feet" (= overhead plus 2)
When steady inbound, continue giving steers and clear descent to either GCA pattern height or to MBOH (Minimum Break Off Height).


ISTR the Strubby Varsities homed at FL50 or above, and Canberras and other fast noisy things at FL180 or above. So the "Half + 2" catered for the significantly longer outbound run needed for high level ac, as well as catering for those at the lower levels.

BEagle
24th Nov 2013, 17:22
'Half height plus two' is quite correct!

Here's the CRDF chart for RAF Valley in 1954:

http://i14.photobucket.com/albums/a341/nw969/CRDFValley1954_zps0ecd0849.jpg (http://s14.photobucket.com/user/nw969/media/CRDFValley1954_zps0ecd0849.jpg.html)

Note the Mag Var - and the weird VHF frequencies of the day!

Fareastdriver
24th Nov 2013, 19:30
All this modern rubbish. A few ears ago Cliffnemo and myself were extolling the virtues of the SBA approach; the audio ILS.

Danny42C
24th Nov 2013, 21:24
BEagle, Warmtoast and MPN11,

You three, between you, have told us everything anybody would ever reasonably want to know about QDM/QTE/QGHs ! As an old practitioner in the Tower end of the game (must have done several hundreds of them over the years), I can only add a few general remarks culled from experience:

Beagle, Your Airfield Approach Card shows it perfectly. But why was no official notice taken of Amber 3 (was it?), which ran straight across (L'pool - Dublin) a few miles N. of Anglesey ? In my time there ('51) there were only two DC3 transits a day, nobody bothered about them anyway, but by '54 there'd be more traffic. I note "check ht. 2000" - were your chaps just told to keep an eye out for crossing aircraft ? Or were we still treating these newfangled Airways things with the contempt (as we thought) they deserved ?

The old VHF frequencies had one "recognition" feature: if you added the digits together, they always came to 9, or some multiple of 9....D.

Warmtoast, Thank you for the complete description of QGHs in the old "manual" years. Takes me back ! And for the lovely pics of your "yurt" out on the field. Didn't know they had these "expendable" things, but I see the point: tents are cheaper than aircraft and there are plenty more D/F Ops where you came from (only joking !) The only ones I knew were brick-built outhouses put further away out on the grass. For the object of the exercise was to bring the pilot into sight of the airfield, after which he could make his own arrangements.

MPN11, The universal R/T call for turning inbound was "Harpic" (obvious); "Half plus two" was the general rule, you might drop it a thousand to space-out No.2 in the queue - or to put him further out for radar pick-up, but had to be careful that Bloggs could still get S&L inbound before check-ht, otherwise you'd have one more statistic....D.

Two minor points: it is not a Good Idea to supply a CFI with QTEs in the mistaken belief that you are giving him QDMs; and there was once a Voice Rotating Beacon that automated the D/F Op. - least said about that, the better.

Regards to all, Danny.

Chugalug2
25th Nov 2013, 09:12
and there was once a Voice Rotating Beacon that automated the D/F Op. - least said about that, the better.


Come, come, Danny. This thread didn't get where it is today by saying the least about anything! Despite your obvious aversion to this aid, VRB had pride of place in Sect2 (Pilot Interpreted Radio Aids), of Part3 (Radio Aids), of AP129 Vol1 (Aircraft and Equipment).

A diagram has it enunciating "Zero Nine Able" to an inbound FJ (Hunter?), having just received weakly "Zero Eight Able" and finally "One Zero Able" also weakly. For the rest of its rotation the beacon is received as a "Continuous Monotone" (I'm sure that we've all experienced that often enough!).

So our granite jawed hero now knows that the magnetic track to the beacon "Alpha" is 090 (+/- 5 degrees). All he has to do is determine the reciprocal and apply variation to obtain the true bearing, and repeat as above for beacons "Bravo" and "Charlie" (say), draw in all three bearings and Voila! a cocked hat, of admittedly liberal dimensions, in which he is, or rather some time ago was. All this while flying said Hunter.

What could possibly be found wanting in such a splendid idea? Can't think why the country was not awash with them, though perhaps it was in Apr '57 when AL8 to AP129 Vol1 came out. I had by then only just sat my GCE's. Did I tell you about my GCE's? It must have been in '56, or was it after all in '57? It's all so long ago, but the subjects included....

BEagle
25th Nov 2013, 12:40
but the subjects included....

Judging by your apostrophic abuse, probably not English language? :p

The VRB sounds to have been a less-than-useful system for fast jet pilots! Whereas a couple of QTEs (easy to remember - "Have you seen the new WRAF in ATC - a real cutie!") from the plethora of stations we had in those days at least enabled a reasonably quick fix.

In the JP we used to leave 243.0 on the 'manual' setting of the ARC 52 and normally flew on a pre-set stud from Cranwell. So if you were above 8/8 anywhere north east-ish from Cranwell and couldn't see any landmarks, a quick True Bearing from Cranwell, then setting one click higher on each of the manual selectors to 354.0 to get a cross-bearing from Finningley was a quick way to get a reasonably othogonal fix, if the Rebecca wasn't picking up Cranwell's C4 Eur7 signal.

VOR/DME from Ottringham in the 'A' model JP made things a lot easier! But it was back to UDF and Rebecca in the Hunter at Brawdy...:uhoh:

Fareastdriver
25th Nov 2013, 14:01
In the mid eighties when flogging northwards in the North Sea I would do groundspeed checks with Stavanger Consol. I used to think that I was listening to the last active memorial of the Battle of the Atlantic.

Warmtoast
25th Nov 2013, 16:15
Those 1950's pre UHF VHF frequencies brought back memories as to others implanted in my memory cells so long ago
e.g.

R.A.F. Common: 117.9 MHz
Fighter Command Common: 107.28 MHz
Transport Command Common: 135.9 MHz
Fighter Command Metropolitan Sector: 112.86 MHz, 135.18 and 153.9 MHz

...and ISTR that Bomber Command Common was around 101.xx MHz now the haunt of Classic FM.

Danny42C
25th Nov 2013, 16:17
Beagle,

Now, now ! := Play nicely, boys, or you'll all go to bed without any supper ! ('57 is a lifetime ago, we all grow old - and even Homer nods. But then it was tongue-in-cheek, after all, wasn't it ?).....D.

More when I've recovered from my amazement at the feats of pilot navigation just modestly related. Who needs Navs ? (don't answer that !)

'Ware incoming.

Danny.

CoffmanStarter
25th Nov 2013, 16:26
Danny ...

On the topic of frequency recognition ... 121.5 Mhz x 2 = 243.0 Mhz V\UHF Distress :ok:

PS. I was born in '57 :eek:

teeteringhead
25th Nov 2013, 17:35
Did a "for real in actual" QGH in the early 70s. Bringing a Wessex changeover back from Norn Iron to a Secret Hampshire Helicopter Base. Sh!tty weather and the only (alleged) NavAids (Decca and coffee-grinder ADF) were u/s.

Weather not too bad as far as Lyneham (stopped for a refuel just in case). Telephoned base, as weather ahead looked sh!ttier - and getting dark. Hoped they'd say "Stay at Lyneham", but they needed the cab. Actual and forecast wx OK, nothing below 2000' and anyway radar was serviceable.....

..... well, it was until just after I'd got airborne and pulled up into t'clag. No matter thinks I - it's not very far and there's a 2000' base at least. If I don't see the ground before I get there - I'll do a QGH. Which I did.

Halfway outbound, call from ATC:

"From OC Night, did you notice the actual cloudbase as you came through it?"

"I'm still in it!!"

"B%gger! Best we cancel Night Flying!"

Popped out below 1000' :eek: but with a welcoming well-lit airfield in front of me!

Edited to add: Just checked the logbook. Total of 6.40 that day (there and back), finishing with .25 mins Night Actual ..... and 1 x QGH! :ok:

clicker
25th Nov 2013, 18:43
Seeing BEagles comments about the Ottringham VOR/DME reminds me of a little Air Cadets course I did at Finningley back in the 70's as an adult instructor.

As you can imagine in a week you only get the basics and at the end of the week there was a spell in the Dominie simulator.

Quite simple really, basic nav plotting exercise departing Finningley and so we head off to the position given by the instructor. Each of us are in our own little cubby hole so we can't see what the others are doing, or not in a couple of cases.

Few hints to work out wind drift etc and a few more legs and then we are told to head for a location out in the north sea. Not bad so we are told to RTB.

Back in the classroom later and we get a few printouts and and in a couple of cases, myself included a puzzled question. Our course instructor, a very funny Irish Flt Lt, who name I've forgotten, was a little puzzled how some of us got a "little adrift" but managed to correct our errors for the RTB. In my case I got my times slightly screwed up and overshoot a waypoint by 4 mins. That meant I was off each of the other turn points accordingly and should have been in a field a little shy of Doncaster's finest runway.

The RTB leg was not part of the planned exercise but given to most of us while some of the other studes sorted themselves out of their deep holes (one was over the Irish Sea, whoops).

We then admitted to using a tacan to assist with our navigation and in reply to the "You should not have used that" we replied "You didn't tell us not too."

One of the best courses I did with the cadets, wish I had kept the print outs to plot onto my modern day computer to see how I really did.

clicker
25th Nov 2013, 18:48
Read that and first silly though was of Danny being a replacement for the rotating aerial on the DF wigwam shouting at the top of his voice. "Left a bit, stop. Right a bit, stop" while his assistant turned the contraption round and round. :p

Danny42C
25th Nov 2013, 21:00
clicker,

You're not far off ! Subsitute an endless loop tape for Danny as the cherry on the cake, and you've just about got it. (Chugalug gives some official detail of the patter the machine put out [where did "Able" come from - that's really going back a bit, isn't it ?], and a long time back, when I was at Driffield, I described it as fully as I could remember in a Post on this Thread).

The Achilles heel of the VRB was the built-in collision risk; but if you made each user "book in" on Approach and be allocated an altitude before going over to the VRB frequency, there's no reason why it could not have been developed into a DIY QGH (there's a thing !) - or merely to take over the initial homing bit, which often takes up most of the time.

All water under the bridge, it fell by the wayside, as did so many good (and bad) ideas over the years.

Danny.

Danny42C
26th Nov 2013, 00:57
I think my wife and baby were back in England for only about two months, for we were certainly all together again in GK at Christmas. In the middle of this period, I took a fortnight's leave and went over to see them. It was essential to do this in the most economical way. Of course, I couldn't take the car back across the Channel, for it had only done 6 months of the two years required to bring it in tax-free. And the air fares Düsseldorf-Newcastle were not cheap (no Ryanair or Easyjet at that time).-

But there was a neat and much cheaper way. I took the car to Ostend (Coxyde), somehow braving the manic Brussels traffic unscathed en route. From that airfield in those days Silver City Airways and Sabena ran a car ferry to Southend, with a pair of Bristol Freighters. From memory, I think they could take two large or three small cars up a ramp in through a clam-shell front. And behind was a small passenger compartment for 10-12 plus a steward. And, when they had empty seats (which in off-season, was most of the time), these were sold off very cheaply to any "foot-passengers" who turned up on the off-chance.

I reckoned GK - Ostend at 150 miles, so 300 miles round trip. Brimmed to the top (11 galls ?) the car should just about manage it on cheap coupon German fuel. (Can anyone remind me what the coupons cost per litre / gallon ?). In fact, I had to top up with a couple of gallons in Heerlen on the way back, but even so the fuel cost was negligible. And I'd get leave mileage (I think you got it from GK to anywhere in mainland Europe and back), which would more than cover it.

I'd about 30 minutes to wait for my plane (it was a scheduled service). There were no carpark charges (no carpark !). You simply dumped your car anywhere you liked (within reason), locked it and strolled off. My flight was called. I climbed aboard and strapped-in.

Insofar as a passenger can judge, the Freighter flew much the same as it looked. Mine was empty, but I suppose they wanted it at Southend for booked return cars and pax. So the steward and I chatted. Seeing me puffing my pipe (for of course you could smoke on board in those benighted days), * he made a half-hearted attempt to sell me some duty-free tobacco. I gently pointed out to him that I could buy the same stuff in the NAAFI in GK at half his price, which cut short that line of conversation.

* (I've read somewhere that the engineers were sorry when smoking in the cabins was banned, as when the aircraft were pressurised, minute amounts of cigarette smoke were forced out through any microscopic fatigue crack in the cabin wall, resulting in a nicotine stain on the outside surface, and so warning of an incipient failure - don't know if it's true).

"We're being flown by the youngest Captain on the Line, y'know", said my informant, "he's done very well for himself". I feigned interest: "How long's he been with the Company ?" "Eleven years", came the reply. "Poor devil", I thought: "Ostend-Southend (40 mins), O-S-O-S-... ad infinitum , all the livelong day". And in summer they flew dawn/dusk !" For eleven years he'd sat in the RH seat of this treadmill before moving across to the pinnacle of his career, with the prospect of another twenty years of the same. I wished him luck. Sooner him than me.

Forty minutes isn't long. They flew quite low (not more than 3-4,000 ft), but then I suppose there was no sense in going any higher. There wasn't much sea traffic over the North Sea. The Freighter was rather noisy, but comfortable enough. He rustled up a carton of coffee, we covered all the news of the day, then it was time to put my pipe out and belt-up before the Youngest Captain plonked it down on Southend.

It was perfectly straightforward from then on. Very keen Customs and Immigration, then train to Liverpool Street (?), across to King's Cross, and up North to God's own County of Yorkshire, to see my Darling Family . The only cost had been the airfare, I don't know how much, but it must have been quite small. For when the doors are ready to close, almost anything is better than nothing. (The Three Most Useless Things in Aviation are supposed to be: "Runway behind You, Fuel in the Bowser - and an Empty Seat in a Passenger Aircraft !"

The two weeks passed in a flash. I was able to describe our new home in minute detail - and certainly felt the difference that German central heating had made over there in the past few months ! Iris's mother was making a slow recovery, and we hoped that we might be able to be all together again in GK for Christmas (and so it was to prove).

Then it was time to go back. The Air Bridge must have been on a restricted winter schedule, for I took the "business" train down in the morning and still was in time to grab a seat on the first service out of Southend (Sabena this time, as they shared the route). It had got very cold now, there was frost on the spinners and engine cowlings.

The cabin was half full this time; they'd loaded a couple of cars. The Sabena crew fired-up, and I expected a lengthy wait on the line while they let the engines warm up. Not a bit of it ! They waved the chocks away and pulled out onto the taxiway without batting an eye (to my considerable disquiet !)

"Never mind", I consoled myself, "the oil'll warm up a bit by the time he gets round to marshalling point, he'll stop and do his run-up and mag checks there". Marshalling point was coming up: to my horror I realised that he wasn't going to stop at all, but swung nonchalently onto the runway and opened up full boost !

How the engines tolerated this brutal treatment (which presumably they got all the time) I'll never know. (Chugalug, is there something about sleeve valves that lets them put up with this sort of thing ? - Lord knows, my Wright Cyclone would have something to say about it). But with a hundred miles of very cold North Sea ahead, it was not an auspicious start.

This time, the Purser was busy (with some success) selling his grossly overpriced "Duty-Frees" to one or two poor innocents;

I got chatting with my opposite number. He was a law student at Louvain university, but was now returning to his home in Brussels from a visit to the UK. I expressed my opinion of Brussels city-centre traffic at some length. He sympathised. Then we "arrived". Our Belgian pilot dumped it on the runway like a sack of coal. The 403 was waiting patiently where I'd left it.

Back to the grind at GK, but looking forward to Christmas when we would be together again.

Goodnight, all.

Danny42C.


The more we are together, the happier we shall be.

Union Jack
26th Nov 2013, 11:15
They waved the chocks away and pulled out onto the taxiway without batting an eye (to my considerable disquiet !)

Great story as ever - Now, if only you'd known then what you know now, you could have dobbed them in to Regle of blessed memory!

Jack

Warmtoast
26th Nov 2013, 16:40
Danny

You may remember the Brussels - Ostende Autosnelweg as it was when you travelled, if only for the racket of the tyres as they went over the joins in the concrete -- thump -thump .....thump - thump .....for seventy odd miles between Brussels and the coast.

I took the Dover - Ostend ferry almost yearly from 1964 onwards in my Austin A.35 for family trips to the continent and still remember the thump - thump of the tyres on that stretch of road. The Belgians built this motorway in the late 1950s by laying slabs of concrete and filling the joints with tar hence the almighty racket!

Rather poor photo of the motorway under construction, but the slabs can be seen. Thankfully by the 1970s they'd seen the error of their ways and re-laid the surface to an acceptable modern motorway standard.

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/Brussels-Ostend-A10Autosnelweg1950s_zps7b5f181b.jpg
1950s - Belgian Autosnelweg under construction.

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/BrusselsOstendMotorway-Today_zps42edae2a.jpg

A modern view

Fareastdriver
26th Nov 2013, 18:14
Just had a butchers at my Halifax notes and they are saying a minimum takeoff oil temperature of 5 degrees C. That's not a lot. It is probably there after all the smoke from starting it has cleared.

Danny42C
26th Nov 2013, 19:28
Warmtoast,

Thanks for the pic of the Ostend/Brussels autoroute, which I must have used, but can't remember. What I do recall was that "Atomium" thing on approaching Brussels - and the dreaded pavé in the little towns and villages!

My old friend Niel Ker came out to see us out in GK - and arrived with the middle pipe and back box tied to his roofrack. The Belgian Pavé had struck again (same happened to me on the way to Boulogne on the way home - Agence Peugeot luckily to hand, fixed it, but only just caught our ferry.)

Your little wigwam looked very cosy, but I suppose it must have been very hot in summer and cold in winter.

Danny

PS Hurrah ! (pinched from Wiki) : ATOMIUM (102 m high)....D.


http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/en/thumb/c/c6/Atomium_FlickR_ctsnow.jpg/230px-Atomium_FlickR_ctsnow.jpg (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Atomium_FlickR_ctsnow.jpg)

Warmtoast
26th Nov 2013, 19:43
Danny

Your little wigwam looked very cosy, but I suppose it must have been very hot in summer and cold in winter.


Indeed it was, although the summer temperature was tempered somewhat by the airfield height at 4,700ft ASL, which in turn made the Rhodesian winter nights pretty cold, but in retrospect I recall the Rhodesian climate as one of the most satisfying in which to live - neither too hot or too cold.

Remember passing the Atomium in Brussels, but never stopped to visit it. However a similar structure in Holland, the Evoluon in Eindhoven was visited whist based at Rheindahlen. Managed to convince the kids that we were going into a space ship, big let down when they found the inside full of laudatory exhibits from Philips and with no sign of "Little Green Men"; but from an adult's point of view it was a fascinating place.

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/EindhovenEvoluon_zpsd2913ee1.jpg

Chugalug2
26th Nov 2013, 20:08
Danny regarding the limitations on Hercules engines, as fitted to the Bristol Freighter, Vickers Varsity, and Handley Page Hastings, I cannot speak for the former but those fitted to the latter two most definitely had limitations regarding RPM and Oil Temperature after starting. In both, 1200 RPM was set after start up in order to get the generator on line, but a minimum of 15 centigrade oil temp was necessary, and a dead and alive mag check, before increasing it to 1400 RPM. An engine run up then meant going up to static boost in pairs, exercising the RPM levers over the constant speed range to ensure correct operation of the CSUs, and a further mag check to check the ignition system. Then you could taxy out (with the inboards at 800 RPM).

In answer to your question, the Hercules engine was very reliable indeed but not if abused of course. Operating it in the way you describe I would put under that heading and suggest that their youngest Captain was unlikely to grow much older at that rate, together with his pax and crew. I'm sure that Reg would have had something pithy to say, I'll just say, "Tut, tut!".

Danny42C
26th Nov 2013, 22:28
Union Jack,

Thanks for the kind words !.....D.

Fareastdriver,

Yes, 5ºC does seem to be a chilly (or was it a rise of 5º they wanted ?)...D.

Chugalug,

Even at that, the Hercules seems to be pretty tolerant. Our Double Cyclones had to have a rise of 15ºC before taking any serious power out of them (and on early winter mornings it sometimes went as low as 5ºC outside), but with a day temperature of 30ºC+, you didn't have to bother much after that.

I think our Youngest Captain was with Silver City (and he had warm engines, anyway). The Belgians were reputed to fly like they drove their cars !....D.

Cheers to all, Danny.

Gulfstreamaviator
27th Nov 2013, 05:29
R.A.F. Common: 117.9 MHz
Fighter Command Common: 107.28 MHz
Transport Command Common: 135.9 MHz
Fighter Command Metropolitan Sector: 112.86 MHz, 135.18 and 153.9 MHz

...and ISTR that Bomber Command Common was around 101.xx MHz now the haunt of Classic FM.

I can not understand the use of non 50k spaced frequencies, if I remember correctly in civil we only had 50, and 100k was the most common.

This spacing was due mostly to the inability of keeping stable crystals.

Comments from them what know...... Glf

BEagle
27th Nov 2013, 07:21
I recently found the following on the Airfield Information Exchange web forum:

At the end of WWII the military air VHF band was 100-156MHz. Transmit frequencies were derived from crystal oscillators working in the range of 5.560MHz to 8.665MHz which were electronically multiplied by 18 to give the transmitter output freq.

The oscillator crystals were manufactured at 5KHz spacing, which when multiplied by 18 gave an output channel spacing of 90KHz. Thus there were some 622 channels available from 100.08MHz to 155.97MHz at the end of WWII.

Thus frequencies such as 142.29 Mc/s would have been created by a 7.905 oscillator with an 18 fold multiplier.

Our UAS Chipmunks were still equipped with many of these obsolete frequencies (e.g. 117.9 and 142.29) well into the 1970s!

CoffmanStarter
27th Nov 2013, 08:15
That would be the 10 channel VHF 1985/6/7/8/9 series of Tx/Rx Radios fitted in just about every RAF aircraft flying after WWII (pre UHF). The 1985 set covering (100 to 125 Mhz), the 1986 (125 to 145 Mhz) and the 1987/8/9 (100 to 156Mhz) ... the 1988/9 sets were the standard VHF rig for the Chipmunk. The later sets could just about cope with 25khz spacing.

The crystals (Xtl's) mentioned by BEagle can be seen in the pic below located just above the main pre-set turning controls.

http://i1004.photobucket.com/albums/af162/CoffmanStarter/1986-04.jpg

Historic Context : VHF Civilian Channel Spacing ...


Channel spacing for voice communication on the VHF airband was originally 200 kHz until 1947, providing 70 channels from 118 to 132 MHz. Some radios of that time provided receive-only coverage below 118 MHz for a total of 90 channels.

From 1947–1958 the spacing became 100 kHz; from 1954 split once again to 50 kHz and the upper limit extended to 135.95 MHz (360 channels), and then to 25 kHz in 1972 to provide 720 usable channels. On 1 January 1990 the frequencies between 136.000 and 136.975 MHz were added, resulting in 760 channels.

Increasing air traffic congestion then led to further subdivision into narrow-band 8.33 kHz channels (2,280 channels) in the ICAO European region for use by aircraft flying above 19,500 feet

Best ...

Coff.

BEagle
27th Nov 2013, 09:34
You may remember the Brussels - Ostende Autosnelweg as it was when you travelled, if only for the racket of the tyres as they went over the joins in the concrete -- thump -thump .....thump - thump .....for seventy odd miles between Brussels and the coast.

I think that we must have been one of the first cars to use the road. We'd had a 2 week holiday 'on the continent' and had stopped off at the Expo58 fair to see the Atomium etc. I remember the Sputnik 1 model in the Russian pavilion - and my first ever sigh of 'color' TV in the American pavilion. We didn't have time to do the Atomium, so then it was back into the Zephyr convertible and off to Oostende on what seemed to be a private road - nothing at all in front or behind us! In fact my father wasn't even sure whether it had been fully opened. But we didn't take long to get to Oostende, then an overnight crossing in those awful 'couchette' things - basically a 3 tier padded shelf system on which you were supposed to try and sleep.

Quite an adventure for a 7 year old!

Molemot
27th Nov 2013, 11:53
Coff....thanks for the photo! Lurking down in my workshop I have a rather more modern NARCO radio...but still using valves and components soldered across tagstrips. One forgets what electronics used to be like....but at least you could mend 'em!!

CoffmanStarter
27th Nov 2013, 12:47
Molemot ... Plus the noisy/hot 24v DC Rotary Transformer to generate the HT :ok:

Wander00
27th Nov 2013, 13:59
I was at the brilliant Pegasus Bridge museum yesterday and was amazed to learn that airborne forces were issued with steam engine driven generators to power radios etc. Had the great advantage of silent running.

Pom Pax
27th Nov 2013, 17:10
Thursday, 17-4-1958.
As trainee navs we were entrusted to take ATC/CCF cadets for an overseas camp using the trip as a navex using airways procedures.
Route Thorney Island - North Foreland (enter Blue 1?) - Brussels - Brüggen drop off passengers. Brüggen- Geilenkirchen. Lunch pick up return passengers return route Brussels (Blue1!) - North Foreland - Tangmere (for Customs) - Thorney.
Outbound every thing went very smoothly. As we taxied in at Brüggen there was a shout of "Did you see that", I had. The preceding Varsity had swerved violently to port on lift off, there was speculation on what had happened. Unloaded our passengers and got airborne again....."Contact Geilenkirchen approach .......". Immediately we heard "Juliet *** can you taxi?" we all fell about laughing *** had probably extended lunch to dinner and breakfast!
Off to lunch and purchase our goodies 1 Johnny Walker black label 10/6 & 200 Players No3 12/-. Out back to the aircraft with our new passengers, *** has been worked on over lunch and he is out doing a taxi test, he turns and comes back. I've never heard brakes scream so loudly. (A complete brake assembly came out from TI next morning).
Now for the homeward leg at the Belgium border Brussels tells us to maintain 3000' and report at the next waypoint. Next time they said "Call Coxyde military on XXX". Why were we being given the cold shoulder when all was rosy in the morning? When we arrived overhead Coxyde and requested North Foreland this was refused, wrong airway, one way. A new airway had just appeared Blue 29? but nobody appeared at 2 ANS to have realised its purpose.(It was a one way system Blue 1 South bound Blue 29 North bound)
Oh well direct Tangmere then.
15 minutes later "All Thorney aircraft divert Manston" (Oh s**t!).
Now the customs concession then was 1/2 a bottle of spirits, 1 bottle of wine & 200 fags for Joe Bloggs returning from his 2 weeks vacation but if you had only ventured out for lunch it was just 25 ciggies. However Thorney had an understanding with H.M Customs Tangmere for a full bottle of spirits & 200 ciggies provided nobody went out more than once a month.
On arrival we asked to remain in the aircraft for customs so we waited expecting to be hit for about 4 quid. The previous course had returned through Waddington and some had been charged. Enter a cheerful gentleman "Show me what you have got" a quick glance "that's ok on your way."
Never did discover why the diversion but must assume Tangmere had a temporary runway blockage. But the evening news on tele showed the opening of the Brussels World Fair with a flypast and air display hence don't bother us we are busy!

glojo
27th Nov 2013, 20:11
Danny,
Your tale about that flight from Ostende to Southend bought back some very happy memories as this was my very first time in any type of aircraft.

WQhen I was a young child my father had booked a summer holiday for the family at Blankenberge, Belgium. To get there we were going to fly from Southend to Ostende and yes, this was going to be in a car tansporter even though we were not travelling by car.

On our arrival at Southend my parents were told there had been a mistake regarding the number of passengers allocated to the aircraft. There were only three available seats!!!! My father suggested they could strap me out on the roof but the Sabena staff stated that if my parents did not object I could sit in the spare seat on the flight deck!!! :D:ok:

What a result, there I was strapped into what I believe was the navigator's seat, water dripping into my lap from the leaking plastic like astro dome and me holding the seat belts together as I could not figure out how to fasten them!!

Once we were airborne, I was really looking forward to watching my pilots carry out their acts of daring do as we headed off toward Ostende, but what a disappointment!!! They engaged the autopilot and got stuck into a crossword and that was it until we got close to our destination, but what an experience for a young schoolchild. :)

Thank you for fetching back those happy days.

Best wishes
John

Danny42C
27th Nov 2013, 22:17
We seem to have got our Virtual Crewroom firing on all cylinders now, and no mistake ! (this is what it's all about, IMHO). So now:

Gulfstreamaviator ,

Bomber Command Common ? From some dark recess in my memory 103.86 popped up unbidden. But why ? The only time I had anything to do with Bomber Command was in the six months after I came back in in '49, when I was an odd bod being kicked around from Command to 1 Group to Binbrook.
All the rest of my ATC time (apart from one tour in RAFG) was in Flying Training Command.

All right, then, what was their Common Freq. ? (Can't remember !).....D.

BEagle, Coffman starter and Molemot,

As one whose radio knowledge goes no further than the on/off button (or the row of little red studs in the box on the RH side of the cockpit), I can only stand in awe of the technical expertise on display (and CS's picure was nice, too, even though I've no idea of what I'm looking at - and please don't try to tell me !)...(Zephyr convertible - all right for some !)....D.

Wander00,

A steam driven radio set ? You simply can't leave us like that (all agog). Tell us more !....D.

Union Jack,

Penny has dropped - you meant I should've come in much earlier, rather than watch from the sidelines for six months. Perhaps....D.

Warmtoast,

Have had more time to study your "Evoluon". Strikes me that, in anything more than a gentle breeze, Bernoulli might come into play, and generate sufficient lift to get this giant frisbee into the air to the consternation of the bystanders (remember the Bouncy Castle which went flyabout in these parts last year). But then I note the massive concrete supports anchoring it down to a deep concrete raft, so I suppose it was safe enough (but wouldn't that have been a story !)

Reverting to "hot & cold", what I really meant was your permanent cabin (the thing I rudely called your yurt). What heat did you have in that ? (obviously no aircon)...D.

Pom Pax,

You seem to have had quite an interesting day. But pleased that you got a nice kind Customs Officer at the end (possibly ex-RAF himself, there were a lot of ex-Forces in HMC&E when I joined). Any form of airshow was a nightmare for the ATC involved.......D.

Regards to all, Danny.

Danny42C
27th Nov 2013, 22:43
glojo,

John,

What an unexpected delight for a small boy ! And why didn't they give you a stick of chewing gum so that you could make yourself useful, plugging the leaks round the astrodome with it !

And one of them could have got out, put you in the seat (on a cushion if they had one), taken out the autopilot, and let you play with the Freighter for a bit). Naturally the other Belgian would keep hold of the yoke to restrain your youthful exuberence, and they could pass the word back that it was only a bit of turbulence, anyway !

Danny.

Chugalug2
27th Nov 2013, 22:56
I'm afraid that this thread isn't exactly what you'd call good PR for Sabena in the '50s. Having imperilled our beloved Danny, they then do the same to a young and impressionable Glojo! Whatever seat you were in on the Flight Deck, it was the crew's responsibility to check that you were at least properly strapped in, and for that matter told how to unstrap yourself and what to do in an emergency.
Dripping/leaking F/D roofs and appendages are another matter, and distribute their largess without fear or favour. The auto pilot was invented of course for the purpose of crossword solving (presumably our suitably qualified operatives were giving half an eye to the instruments and listening out to ATC) so no great issues there.

Coffman Starter, many thanks for the explanation of those seemingly arbitrary VHF frequencies that were allocated back then. All such matters were of course the province of the Air Signallers, who guarded their secrets as surely as the Black Arts. I remember the issuing of crystals prior to departure on a Hastings route trip of perhaps some 2 weeks was a matter of careful briefing and preparation. Once on board they were stowed in a dedicated drawer under the Sig's desk, other than those (10?) required for the first leg which would be channelled up immediately in the VHF T/Rs 1985/6 or 7, just as you illustrated with their cover removed.

ricardian
27th Nov 2013, 23:59
Steam driven generator in WW2

clicker
28th Nov 2013, 02:28
Here's three shots from my slide collection. Sorry if they are a shade larger than your screens, had problems getting them down in size as it was.

Not quite the one that Danny flew in but a Bristol 170 freighter that dropped in Gatwick in Oct 1981.

http://www.atomic-album.com/showPic.php/58091/B170.jpg

Taken at Southend these Carvairs were the replacements for the B170. The white one was shot from the neighbouring golf course. The silver one was not so much repainted but "chipped clean". After this update she was reported as going 15 kts faster than before after 8 layers of paint came off. Both taken in the 70's.

http://www.atomic-album.com/showPic.php/58091/Carvair 1.jpg

http://www.atomic-album.com/showPic.php/58091/Carvair 2.jpg

MPN11
28th Nov 2013, 13:25
Resize to 800 px wide and you will be everyone's friend!!

Nice nostalgia, though.

Pom Pax
28th Nov 2013, 14:36
Danny when you are 20 every day is interesting.
Our coarse No.5 at 2 ANS contained most of the last National Service navs and we were a majority. Further over half had used up all the exemptions they could get and were highly qualified in their civilian careers. Now these elders could out debate Brian H our young astro lecturer.
So at the end of an astro introduction in the Valetta Brain H requests us to perform a practice ditching drill during the approach. All goes by the book until we mount the step to the astrodomes when Brian S starts to recite the instructions to release the astrodome and grabs the handle.
"S------s don't do that!"
"Why not its part of the drill?"
"Just skip that bit"
Sidekick: "How can we practice a drill if a critical action is omitted?"
Sidekick 2:"A drill must be realistic!"
After further dissent Brain H visualising landing with at least 4 out 6 astrodomes popped "Ok lets finish sit down"

CoffmanStarter
28th Nov 2013, 14:38
Danny ...

I believe Bomber Command did in fact have a "common" on 103.86 Mhz

Best ...

Coff.

DFCP
28th Nov 2013, 16:39
Danny 42c
MEMORIES.
Wasnt the Brussels -Ostend autoroute used by Jaguar for some speed record?
Arriving in Brussels in 1962 I was surprised to find that to get phone service in the house we had to pay a "provision"This was a deposit that rose each time your monthly bill exceeded the previous.Apparently this system was because during the World Fair overseas visitors had run up big bills and then disappeared
At that time I often flew Brussels-Hamburg on a Sabena Convair--- Sunday evening,cold aircraft and a cold meal.On the way to the airport i had to drive over a bridge and then a sharp left turn.As you turned you faced a funeral home with several coffins hanging in the window!
UK Customs On arrival at LHR from Brussels I declared a bottle of Grand Marnier .The nasty little man told me that there was no duy free allowance as I was a Belgian resident. By paying 2/6 I was able to have the bottle put into the Queens Warehouse and pick it up a week later when I went out of Dover. Another time at Dover I met a similar nlm who apparently thought I was British Forces coming home His attitude changed when he saw my US passport.
D

Pom Pax
28th Nov 2013, 17:40
Yes it was also by Triumph and Sunbeam.
On May 30 1949, on the empty Ostend-Jabbeke motorway in Belgium, a prototype XK120 timed by the officials of the Royal Automobile Club of Belgium achieved an average of runs in opposing directions of 132.6 mph (ref Wiki).
Note:- Ostend-Jabbeke motorway this was the first section built. As Beagle has posted it took another 9 years to connect to Brussels.

Danny42C
28th Nov 2013, 18:11
Coffman Starter,

Thanks for the confirmation (old grey cells still functioning, then). Now does anyone remember Flying Training Common (was it 156. something ?).....D.

ricardian,

Marvellous ! - but how was the steam generated by the airborne chaps ?? - did they carry water, or trust to find it ?? And it takes a while to raise steam !..D.

The mind boggles ! Cheers both, Danny.

Warmtoast
28th Nov 2013, 21:00
Danny

Reverting to "hot & cold", what I really meant was your permanent cabin (the thing I rudely called your yurt). What heat did you have in that ? (obviously no aircon)...

ISTR it we had a couple of tube-like electric heaters screwed to the wall. Not particularely powerful (100-200W I'd say), but they kept the chill off. In the hot and sweaty rainy-season summer we kept the door open as well as the only window (a wooden flap), but that led to other problems, especially at night when we were devoured by voracious mosquitoes. Long sleeves and long trousers helped to some degree.

No aicon. That luxury had to wait a few years until I arrived in the Far East in 1956.

The other problem, being a long way from civilisation so to speak on the far side of the airfield, was that at night we were often visited by any number of small antelopes like duiker, but occasionally we would be worried when very much larger and menacing Kudu came sniffing around the door - one didn't want to argue with them!

Poisonous snakes, particularly Puff-Adders, were very common and a serious hazard around the Homer. We were ordered to always wear the long-legged issue "mossie" boots at night and if we ventured outside the homer to shine a torch on the ground to make sure we didn't tread on anything nasty.

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Thornhill/VHF-DF%20Homer/PuffAdder_zpsf53632c7.jpg

Rhodesian Puff-Adder - keep clear - they bite if provoked!

BEagle
28th Nov 2013, 21:21
For those interested in the era, the 1957 film The Man in the Sky featuring Jack Hawkins as a test pilot flying the Bristol 170 Freighter from Wolverhampton (Pendeford) airport is now available on DVD.

Great period details - not just the flying sequences, but a snapshot of life in the 1950s.

(In actual fact the aircraft used belonged to Silver City and much of the filming was done elsewhere!)

Danny - our Zephyr convertible was VYB 173, finished in cream and maroon. It could be a bit of a battle to get the hood up and down, involving bad language from Dad and tut-tutting from Mum, but didn't the sun always shine back then anyway? Luggage capacity wasn't spectacular, so Dad had a little boot rack fitted to augment the moderate boot space.

Some of the Allied destruction of German cities was still in evidence and the odd policeman wasn't too friendly....:(

Unfortunately all the photos we had of that trip were sadly lost some years later....:{

smujsmith
28th Nov 2013, 21:30
Beagle,

Thanks for the info on "The man in the Sky" ordered and eagerly awaited from the Amazon machine.

Smudge :ok:

clicker
28th Nov 2013, 23:56
Strange but the only Bristol 170 I remember is the one in the photograph above although from trips to Heathrow when I was only just in double figures I do recall aircraft like the Airspeed Ambassador, Bristol Britannia, DC4, DC6, Vanguard, Viscount, and the L-188.

I'm quite a fan of piston aircraft but it wasn't until a trip to the US in 1982 when I got a trip around Miami that I saw my first Constellation's, Curtiss Commando's, Martin 404's with a few Convair's

Also remember the the early jet's including the smoky CV880's and 990's.

One silly fact. The KLM L-188's did the Heathrow - Amsterdam run in the mid 60's and some 25 years later I was flying in one of the same aircraft for a run between Phoenix and O'hare. Transamerica had bought a few of them for freight work and I was working for them at the time and grabbed a ride in one. Very enjoyable run.

Fareastdriver
29th Nov 2013, 09:35
The RNZAF operated Bristol Frighteners in the Far East. In fact they were still there when we folded 110 Sqn in 1971. All our ground equipment was going to be dumped in the sea because the Singaporeans did not want Singapore saddled with scrap and surplus equipment from the British and American kit from Viet Nam. To this end we passed it on to the Kiwis who, having a defence budjet considerably smaller than the UK, were more than happy to accept it.

In the metropolis of Changi ther were large squadrons with Shacks and Hercs plus a massive ground organisation. To even the numbers at (in)formal occasions the two helicopter squadrons, 103 and 110, would gang up with 41 Kiwi squadron.

I was invited for a ride in one from Changi to Songkla and return. We got airborne but a few miles from Trengannu the starboard engine exhibited signs of 'gulping'. The was a discussion among the crew and I as to whether to carry on to Songkla and declare it unservicable there. That would enable us to have a few nights on the tiles at HM's expense. Unfortunately the navigators wife's birthday was the next day so we had to return.

MPN11
29th Nov 2013, 09:49
http://i319.photobucket.com/albums/mm468/atco5473/PPRuNe%20ATC/scan.jpeg (http://s319.photobucket.com/user/atco5473/media/PPRuNe%20ATC/scan.jpeg.html)

Apologies for cr*p photo ... my little pocket 8mm Minolta wasn't designed for this sort of work! Date would be 1968/69, I guess, when some of us from Tengah went across to Changi to help get their controllers checked out on their new PAR.

Warmtoast
29th Nov 2013, 15:25
The RNZAF operated Bristol Frighteners in the Far East

As photo'd by me at Gan in 1958.

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/GAN/Gan1958.jpg

NZ 5909 being welcomed by Sgt Henry Moon, the SNCO i/c ASF in full Gan working dress. Greasy rag in his belt with matching spanner in his back pocket.

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/GAN/NZ5906-3.jpg

NZ 5906 - also at Gan. Signs of leaking more oil than an Iraqi oil-well after Gulf War 2

pzu
29th Nov 2013, 16:43
Danny - Not Quite an Xmas Card!!!

After your time but fairly close to your present abode?

608 Squadron in Seaton Carew | Picture Stockton Archive (http://picturestocktonarchive.wordpress.com/2013/11/29/608-squadron-in-seaton-carew/)

PZU - Out of Africa (Retired)

Danny42C
29th Nov 2013, 16:59
clicker,

Your: "Also remember the the early jet's including the smoky CV880's and 990's."

Apocryphal story from the '50s: 707 takes off from LHR, trailing black cloud. Comet behind, lined up & holding, calls "Permission for Instrument Take-off". Voice from the cloud: "Never mind, sonny - you'll be able to smoke when you grow up !"

(Apologies to nearly everybody, who must have heard it before)....D.

BEagle,

Hood struggle or not, a Zephyr Convertible was an Unattainable Object of Desire in those days - and it would have a bench front seat ! Happy Days....D.

MPN11,

Looks like the business end of a CPN-4 (couldn't they afford the other half ?). The little box thing on the end must be a generator or rotary converter, I suppose....D.

Warmtoast,

Fine pics - a couple of weeks in Gan would go down well just now. And that's what I call an oil leaK ! Sgt Moon is glaring at it ominously (Volunteers reqd. for a cleaning party - you, you and you). Don't like the look of your puff adder much. Only saw Kudu horns mounted on a wall. If there was a powerful animal behind them, I'd rather not be in the way....D.

pzu

Bit puzzled by this. The date would be three years after my time, but by the preponderence of ladies, guess they mean 3608 ? But then, many are of mature age. Of course, they are at Seaton Carew (not RAF Seaton Snook). Can't recognise anyone. (Could they be 608 families ?)...D.

Thanks to all. Danny.

MPN11
29th Nov 2013, 18:36
Danny42C ... I suspect that was the old kit ... I guess the SLA-3B or whatever was sited somewhere else.

What a dismal and strange tower they had at Changi. And morale was a high as an elephant's toenail. Sam Pa**in and I were glad to escape after a couple of weeks there!!

Warmtoast ... posh camera, you rich haircrew hofficer! ;) I ran my pocket Minolta on 8mm Hunter gun-camera film, courtesy of mates on 20 :O

Danny42C
29th Nov 2013, 23:14
It would still be five or six weeks before things improved sufficiently to allow my family to return to GK. And now I recall some "flash-backs" of our time in Cologne.

We visited the "4711" Eau-de-Cologne factory on the opposite bank of the Rhine (it seems they've moved production to somewhere near Aachen since our time). But then the whole riverside was perfumed by the stuff. And we went on a half-day boat trip up the Rhine from Cologne; all we remember were the fairytale castles perched on the top of many of the crags along the river.

And now I considered the position we were in as the centre of action if the Cold War should turn hot. I think I've mentioned in previous Posts the strange way in which in WW2 we all (I suppose the younger generation more quickly) came to regard wartime life as the "norm" of our existence, looking back upon "before the war" almost as a time long out of memory.

The families in Germany (and for that matter the whole of Western Europe) during the Cold War period (which actually lasted from'45 to'90) were living with a fearsome "Sword of Damocles" over our heads all the time. Looking back, we dealt with it in the same way in which we'd accepted WW2 - by ignoring it.

So what would most likely happen if the balloon went up (probably as a result of some mistake). I saw three possible scenarios:

One: "Mutual Assured Destruction" still inhibiting any form of Nuclear Exchange, simply a continuation of WW2; with the Soviets relying on their massive numerical superiority to smash their way through to the Channel ports (we reckoned it would take them 48 hours). This might allow enough time to allow our families to get to the coast and (hopefully) back to Britain, before the "Clutch" airfields were overrun. Some families kept a couple of suitcases ready packed in the hall for this very eventuality.

Two: we neutralise their numerical advantage with a "tactical" nuclear exchange; we would put our Canberras into the air to "take out" the airfields, Command Posts and military hardware of our Warsaw Pact adversaries (while, of course, GK and the other three airfields would in turn become radioactive charnel-houses in half an hour). But the hope would be that by this means, the conflict could be somehow "contained" in Europe, and not necessarily lead to Three.

Three: a "Strategic" nuclear exchange, the much feared "Armageddon" ("an end to civilisation as we know it"), with an outcome no man could foresee.

I thought Scenario One the most probable. The risk of Two turning into Three was really too great to take. And I took comfort from the following reflection: Suppose, in 1945, the Allies had known that Japan had developed a workable Atomic Bomb, and had a credible means of delivering it to the W.Coast cities of the US, would Truman have sanctioned the nuclear strikes on Hiroshima and Nagasaki ? I think not.

And another factor which might have make Khrushchev hesitate: in '60 our V-force was effectively invulnerable, whereas he had no such advantage over us. (It would not be till '62 that a SAM went up and Gary Powers came down, and the day of the "Vs" was over - for: "What Hand has Done, Hand can Do").

(all this is my musing, and is not informed by any knowledge of official policy).

Meanwhile we carried on with our daily lives as if all was completely normal.

Goodnight, all,

Danny42C.


Regardless of their doom, the little victims play. (Kipling).

Warmtoast
30th Nov 2013, 10:13
MPN11

Warmtoast ... posh camera, you rich haircrew hofficer! http://images.ibsrv.net/ibsrv/res/src:www.pprune.org/get/images/smilies/wink2.gif I ran my pocket Minolta on 8mm Hunter gun-camera film, courtesy of mates on 20 http://images.ibsrv.net/ibsrv/res/src:www.pprune.org/get/images/smilies/embarass.gif

What's the saying about a bad photographer blaming his camera - or words to that effect!

So there you were in Changi and couldn't pop down to the village and buy a decent camera at Changi village ridiculous micky-mouse prices - shame on you!

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Changi%20%20and%20Seletar/Changi-Village.jpg

MPN11
30th Nov 2013, 10:19
Ahhh ...

I bought my Seiko watch (still working fine) in Changi, but I think the camera came from down-town Singers. We Tengah chaps were about out in the sticks, and the village had very little apart from a tailor and, of course, "Tengah Hong Motor" (in the middle of the approach lights for 36. :hmm:

Chugalug2
30th Nov 2013, 16:25
Danny, your musings as to a possible change from Cold to Hot War are interesting. I rather suspect that you are right about scenario One being the most likely, with the proviso that the Force de Frappe would be a bit of a wild card once it was on the scene.
We can only give thanks that none of your scenarios occurred, but by the same token the world could be said to have become more rather than less dangerous following the Cold War. MAD worked it seems, but has since given way to just plain old mad! :(

Warmtoast, your 'high definition' picture of Messrs Changi Foto brings back so many memories of that bastion of free market economics, aka Changi Village. If there were to be an image of what we were defending in the Cold War, then that would be as good as any. :ok:

Wander00
30th Nov 2013, 16:43
The steam generator (to power radios) at Pegasus Bridge Museum

Steam generator power source to generate 12v for communications (http://www.geolocation.ws/v/I/5639734058924323409-5639734447024047138/steam-generator-power-source-to-generate/en)

Warmtoast
30th Nov 2013, 16:51
Chugalug2

Not so hi def as it's a screen grab from my 8mm cine film shot at the time c.1960.
Another memory is this of the Changi - Singapore bus service at Changi village. Again an 8mm cine film screen grab.

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Changi%20%20and%20Seletar/ChangiVillage-Buses.jpg

Danny42C
30th Nov 2013, 22:44
Warmtoast,

Ref your #4616 (2nd picture):

What on earth is that thing sticking out of the hub of the Freighter port wheel ? (I feel I ought to know, but I don't).

Danny.

Warmtoast
30th Nov 2013, 23:23
Danny

What on earth is that thing sticking out of the hub of the Freighter port wheel ?

Something to hold the wheel steady perhaps. There's some photos of similar Freighter wheels here:
Bristol Freighter | Wings Over New Zealand (http://rnzaf.proboards.com/thread/11951)

Danny42C
1st Dec 2013, 02:08
Warmtoast ,

Now you really have me interested. To start with, all the pics were of parked aircraft; the "clamp" things were always exactly at the back of the wheel, and all I could think of was an anti-theft device of some sort (stupid as the idea seems).

Then on the excellent "Wings over NZ Aviation Forum" you gave me (Page 3) second pic from last, ZK AYH is in the air with the things still on ! What are they ?
Someone must know the answer to this.

Danny.

Bushfiva
1st Dec 2013, 02:32
Might they be gravel deflectors or similar?

Fareastdriver
1st Dec 2013, 08:45
In Warmtoast's NZ pictures there are examples of them without the brace. They are also deficient it what look like hubcaps. As a guess it could be part of the old 'Maxrate' anti skid braking system that used flywheels and springs to control the brake pressure.

Would be useful on a Frightener. It would prevent it from nosing over and delivering its load some distance short of the desired location.

Danny42C
1st Dec 2013, 18:39
http://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/thumb/1/12/Absbrakes.jpg/220px-Absbrakes.jpg (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Absbrakes.jpg) http://bits.wikimedia.org/static-1.23wmf4/skins/common/images/magnify-clip.png (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Absbrakes.jpg)
ABS brakes on a BMW motorcycle


Fareastdriver,

Found above - lifted from Wiki ("Anti lock Braking Systems"). Looks as if you're on the right lines. Wiki also has "Maxaret", but of course they were all tucked inside the wheel.

Having flown in primitive times when we did not enjoy such luxuries, I cannot pontificate upon them, but can well see that putting a car freighter on its nose with a couple of new Rollers aboard might be expensive.

Cheers, Danny.

smujsmith
1st Dec 2013, 18:52
Fareastdriver,

From my training, and memory, as an A Fitt A in the late 69/70s I believe that the "Maxaret" anti skid system was based around a flywheel driven hydraulic valve in the brake system, which had its own track around the inside hub of the main wheels. That being the case I suspect that the "D" lugs shown on the photographs do not relate to anti skid. I wonder if, as an aircraft that might land on grass strips etc, this might be some form of mud scraper/remover, designed to prevent an excessive build up, possibly causing ground control problems ? I'm not sure, I do know someone on PPRUNE will though.

All the best

Smudge:ok:

Blacksheep
2nd Dec 2013, 07:03
Speaking of Sgt Moon's oil leak, it recalls the oil pressure switch I was testing after an in-flight shutdown on a 205 Sqn. Shackleton. On the Form 1022 [The RAF Air Safety Report form] that accompanied it the beam lookout's report said "Starboard Inner leaking more oil than usual".

Chugalug2
2nd Dec 2013, 08:53
Warmtoast, your picture of the STC (?) buses in Changi village brought back even more memories. Having never travelled in them, given the alternative of travelling in a Mercedes Pickup Taxi to Singapore City for a mere 50c (albeit sharing it with other travellers, their chickens, etc), I only ever stepped foot in one once.
I was RAF Changi Duty Defence Commander, a grandiose title which merely meant spending the night inside a room together with another unfortunate (Duty Defence Sergeant, or some such) armed with telephones and lists of people to ring. Late one night the telephone rings. A suspect device has been found on a bus in Changi village and the O i/c FEAF Bomb Disposal is on his way.
When he turns up I am disturbed to see that he is in full Mess Kit, having been called away from a Fairy Point Guest Night. I am even further disturbed when he invites me to go with him to the scene to assist him in the 'disposal'. So we jump in his car and make the brief journey into the village where sure enough an empty bus is parked untidily across the road, surrounded by curious onlookers at a not very respectful distance.
We get on the bus and search under the seats to find a package containing wires, batteries, and some cylindrical objects. My mentor snorts, reaches in and pulls the wires free. I am further disturbed, until it dawns on me that we have not both been blown to smithereens. He says something about it being a hoax designed to make the British look foolish. I am inclined to say that it succeeded, but hold my tongue. I am delivered back safely to the sanctuary of the Duty Defence Room and write a brief report. Normal service resumes...

Warmtoast
2nd Dec 2013, 12:06
Chugalug2

your picture of the STC (?) buses in Changi village brought back even more memories. Having never travelled in them

My experience of the Changi - Singapore bus service was very positive. Clean and comfortable (for the time c. 1960), they were frequented by the locals who on the whole were well turned out as seen here - again from some screen grabs.

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Changi%20%20and%20Seletar/Bus3_zpscc0c9a4f.jpg

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Changi%20%20and%20Seletar/Bus1_zpsd01d6a1e.jpg

And once in Singapore the Chinese ladies were daring with their outfits as compared with the girls I was going out with at home. A Singapore street view of a Cheongsam - the wearer would probably be arrested if it was worn in London!

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Changi%20%20and%20Seletar/Changsam1_zpse8f5bcb8.jpg

Danny42C
4th Dec 2013, 00:08
So far, the events in my story could be tied to a simple time frame: at Heerlen or at Cologne. But now, and for the next two years all would be at GK, and with the exception of a few major occurrences, it is now difficult to pinpoint dates even approximately. With that in mind, the next important thing would be the return of my family. This would be about the end of November '60.

The date was fixed: they would be flying back to Düsseldorf, arriving about midday. This should cause no problem. I knew the way there well enough, and I knew exactly how long the journey should take. I laid in a stock of food from the NAAFI, asked our batwoman (a refugee who'd crept overnight out of East Berlin) to make a nourishing stew to be left gently simmering in the oven for us when we got back, and took off.

The trip was completely routine: I'd planned it with half-an-hour in hand, and there were no holdups. But as I was leaving the outskirts of Düsseldorf for the airfield (five or six miles out), I saw to my horror a DC-3 approaching from the North, and knew instinctively that it was our plane. (You must remember that back in those days there were comparatively few civil air movements, all well spaced out).

And, now I come to think of it, there had been quite a strong north wind buffeting the car on the way, up at height it must have been a veritable jetstream up the DC-3's tail. It had landed nearly half an hour early. Then came an ecstatic reunion. When we got home, the stew was very welcome indeed.

We soon settled in. Christmas was upon us right away. I'd found a little supermarket in GK town which had a very nice Moselle at Dm 2 bottle, (with 10 pfennig back on the bottle). We cooled this on the outside ledge of the kitchen window (to save room in the fridge). The first snows had come now, and we towed Mary around on her sledge. We got her first Crib from Vroom & Dreesman (Heerlen): we have it still.

Goodnight, everybody,

Danny42C.


The more we are together, the happier we shall be.

camlobe
4th Dec 2013, 09:37
Ten minutes here, half an hour there. It has taken me around three months to finally arrive at this page. It has been the most absorbing and rewarding experience. So much of it is familiar, yet different, due to the period, the chosen route of profession in the RAF, and the times of conflict.

Lancaster, Boing 707(ish), Spitfire, C130 Hercules, Tiger Moth, VC10, DC3, gliders, Canada, Belgium, Holland, Germany, France, Sabena, Master Pilots, Eindhoven, Valley, Girl-across-the-room, GCA's, etc, etc.

From the bottom of my appreciative heart, thank you cliff memo, reg, tap happy, smuge, Fred, Danny42, and all the other contributors. It was the attitude and actions of my predecessors in Light Blue that steered me onto my chosen route when I signed up in 1978. For me it was the right choice, and as an ambassador for the service, I proudly wore the RAF uniform for the next 18 years.

But, I was only an Erk, so please accept my apologies for overstepping the mark and posting on this shrine of a thread. Danny, shall I report to the guardroom now?

Thank you all, those with us, and those at rest. I salute you all.

Camlobe

MPN11
4th Dec 2013, 10:34
But, I was only an Erk, so please accept my apologies for overstepping the mark and posting on this shrine of a thread. Danny, shall I report to the guardroom now?

And how, pray, did anything get off the ground [or indeed function on the ground] without an Erk or two? :p

You have as much right to be here as anyone, you great wet thing! ;)

(Now stick the kettle on, there's a good chap :cool: )

Chugalug2
4th Dec 2013, 12:40
camlobe, well done! A formidable achievement indeed to have read through the entire thread, for it is now one of the longest on the Military Forum. As MPN11 rightly says, it is a thread for all, young or old, serving or retired, civilian or military, and all ranks included.
So now you're here at last you can post as well as read, for Danny is a font of information and forever raising new topics, from motoring to moving home. Jump in and join the fun.


Danny, we truckies were always pleased to deliver our pax early if possible, but that could raise fresh problems as you describe. Nowadays of course a half hour early would be more than soaked up in the endless walking, queuing for immigration checks, waiting for bags, clearing customs, before emerging into the Arrivals Area, but such pleasures were mere dreams in the 50's with their far lower numbers of flights and passengers.


Talking of the 50's, BBC4 has just rerun the excellent BAOR programme that illustrates the time and place of Danny's tale. It can be seen still on iPlayer here:-
BBC iPlayer - Timeshift: Series 12: The British Army of the Rhine (http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b01nj3xx/Timeshift_Series_12_The_British_Army_of_the_Rhine/)

Fareastdriver
4th Dec 2013, 18:31
Danny, we truckies were always pleased to deliver our pax early if possible, but that could raise fresh problems as you describe.

There was a fatal accident at Great Yarmouth with a Wessex. As a result the Wessai were grounded and I, with my shiny new Sikorsky S76A was detached from Aberdeen to do the business. A large part of the workforce who looked after the gas rigs in the Southern North Sea were known as 'day trippers' inasmuch that they would fly out in the morning and return in the evening. Over the years with the Wessex this would break down to a reliable schedule.
The Wessex at full chat could just about make 100knots or so. The S76A was 145knots without thinking so over a shuttle trip it would pick up at leasts 30 minutes in a sector.

Sometimes somebody would get home to realise that they were not expected.

Danny42C
4th Dec 2013, 20:50
camlobe,

Thank you for your kind words of appreciation for this Best of All Threads in "Military Aircrew", which in my capacity as Resident Old Man in the Corner, I accept on behalf of all my illustrious predecessors in title (many of them sadly no longer with us; RIP) and myself.

I can only welcome you to our Crewroom in Cyberspace into which all who have the remotest connection with, or interest in, aviation in general and the RAF in particular, are more than welcome. As MPN11 said, put the kettle on, make a cuppa (don't forget to put two pence in the jar).

This Crewroom is without distinction of rank or anything else, save only that no harsh word be said.

Now let's hear more of you and your story !

Cheers, Danny.

Danny42C
5th Dec 2013, 00:31
Chugalug,

Picking up Fareastdriver's quote from you:

"Danny, we truckies were always pleased to deliver our pax early if possible, but that could raise fresh problems as you describe."

It is true: the Air Passenger was treated very well in those early days (but then there were very few of them). "Cattle Class" was still far in the future, arrivals half an hour early (or late) could easily be fitted into the system. And with airspeeds around 150 mph, a strong head or tail wind could make quite a difference; the schedules went to pot.

"Danny is a font of information" ? Wee-el, perhaps - just so's you don't rely on it too much !....D.

Fareastdriver,

Your quote: "Sometimes somebody would get home to realise that they were not expected"

Reminds me of a funny German story which I hope I've not told on Thread before - but as I tie my Posts to places, and I've only just got to Germany, it is unlikely. But will ckeck all my previous RAFG Posts....

....Can't find it, so here goes: concrete delivery driver goes off to work, picks up full load of wet concrete, finds he has forgotten wallet/driving licence/something, comes back home to get it. Outside his house is parked the Insurance man's car (locked, but with sunshine roof open, for it is a warm day).

But the lounge curtains are drawn - Funny, that... Driver peeps through a crack and sees wife and insurance man in flagrante delicto on the couch. The Sunshine Roof beckons...and in goes a load of wet concrete.

(This is a True Story, I read it in Der Spiegel. Driver was had up for wilful damage (hope he got off - but what an insurance claim on the car !)....D.

Goodnight to you both, Danny.

Pom Pax
5th Dec 2013, 10:47
The vehicle was a VW.
Cuckhold husband waits to gloat over his dastardly deed. The insurance man comes out of the front door and walks down the garden path. Turns right, retrieves a bicycle out of neighbour's hedge, gets on and cycles off.

camlobe
5th Dec 2013, 16:54
MPN 11, Chugalug 2 and Danny,
Thank you for your considerate and welcoming words. I have put my two-bob (inflation, don't you know) into the tea bar swindle, and have just sat with my fresh brew beside me while I type.

Gentlemen, I am flattered that you would request input from me on this Prince of threads, for I have no great claims to fame, no notable rewards for efforts done, and have continually avoided risk, danger and attention. I sit here humble, having been surrounded by great men, and was honoured to be in the company of these Knights while we kept the Realm safe.

Perhaps you should all reconsider your invite. As Danny has said, be careful what you wish for...

Camlobe

MPN11
5th Dec 2013, 17:06
Gentlemen, I am flattered that you would request input from me on this Prince of threads, for I have no great claims to fame, no notable rewards for efforts done, and have continually avoided risk, danger and attention. I sit here humble, having been surrounded by great men, and was honoured to be in the company of these Knights while we kept the Realm safe.
Input? Who said anything about input? :)

Most of us, I suspect, have tried to avoid "risk, danger and attention" with varying degrees of success. But that's not the point. Somewhere in the varied discussions/tales here will be an opportunity for you to contribute something of relevance. And the two bob in the swindle entitles you to speak!!

smujsmith
5th Dec 2013, 17:16
Camlobe,

I have to suspect that somewhere in there is a story waiting to be told. That will set off a chain of memories with all of us, young and equally young (in Danny's case). I suspect that the main attraction of this thread is that despite its formidable title (a challenge few can claim to have achieved these days), we all have a bit of a "sand bag" to pull up, a bit of banter and a little diversion here and there. It never gets too serious and rarely strays far from the intent, if I can understand the English language, of ensuring that we all recognise what has gone before, respect it and add to it. The moderators seem to have allowed a modicum of thread deviation here, and it's amazing how even a modern event can trigger memories. So, as a mere "whippersnapper" I suggest that if you have a story, "fess up" as they say. Or Danny may be enquiring as to your reticence. I've thrown a couple of "loose bangers" in over the past couple of years, and been delighted to learn of similar experiences from nineteen canteen to breakfast. Worry not, and "publish and be damned" as they say.

Smudge :ok:

Danny42C
5th Dec 2013, 19:35
Pom Pax,

Priceless ! Many a keyboard round the world is being mopped-up as I write !....D.

Camlobe,

Now none of this Dickens' "Uriah Heep" stuff ! ("I am a 'umble person") Everybody's opinion is of equal value here; you are free to add to it, correct it or contradict it as you wish (but all in that spirit of friendly banter which has always characterised the RAF, and always will). And also to put in your two cents' worth as well !

(The Moderators have been extremely tolerant with us).

[I]"No notable rewards for efforts done" , forsooth ! Who ever did ? Press on rewardless ! (as once Chugalug advised me).

"Be careful what you wish for - for you may get it" We'll take our chances...D.

MPN11, Chugalug and Smudge,

I concur...D.

Cheers to you all, Danny.

Warmtoast
5th Dec 2013, 21:29
Danny 42
Air Passenger was treated very well in those early days (but then there were very few of them).

I agree - very few pax in the early days as this screen grab from my 8mm cine film I shot of the Gatwick departure hall as it appeared around lunch-time on 19th April 1960 shows.
I’m precise about the time and date as my log book records we (a 99 Sqn Britannia)arrived at Gatwick 13.05 and departed at 15.00. The occasion was when we were tasked at very short notice to fly Julian Amery, the then Colonial Under-Secretary of State, to Nicosia for talks with Archbishop Makarios and Mr Kutchuk. These talks led to the creation of the Sovereign Base Areas.

Note the ‘busy’ departure check-in desks on the left. With what appears to be just two pax checking in!

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/RAF%20Lyneham/Gatwick-April1960-Cropped.jpg

camlobe
5th Dec 2013, 23:37
Following the encouragement above, I'll give it a go. If any of you gentlemen consider my 'contributions' to be of little merit, or even irrelevant, please be so bold as to say so, and I shall desist without complaint. And if the fine team of Moderators allow me to step foot into this 'all-ranks crewroom' and sip my cuppa with you, I will consider myself privileged.

The young camlobe steps off the train in, I think, Newark. There are many others of a similar age doing the same. Most, like myself, have short hair. Some have even less, probably a #2 crew cut. We all stand out as being similar to each other, but different from the masses. It is February 1978, and long hair was the popular norm.

The 'welcoming committee' are anything but. Discip Corporals and Sergeants make us feel at home at once...but not the homes we know. For the next few minutes, we rapidly find out who is boss, and it is not us. We are escorted onto those wonderful, old Bedford buses the RAF had, distinctive due to the lack of any comfort, and the deafening suck of the Zenith carburettor feeding the asthmatic six-cylinder petrol engine and crash gearbox. Before leaving the train station, the Sergeant on 'my' transport introduces himself, and then turns into a complete physco. Profanity in an unbelievably loud, non-stop stream intermingled with racist comments towards the one or two chaps who were of an ethnic origin. A couple of red-heads aren't left out either. I am sat stunned by this.

To try and put things into a perspective, this was at a time before films such as 'Full Metal Jacket' with the US Marine Gunnery Sergeant (Gunny) R. Lee Almey doing his number. For those of us who had led a pleasant and somewhat sheltered life up to this point, this was our first real culture shock.

Quickly, we all realise this is the most effective way to harden those who may be 'soft', or weed out those who will react either in a reclusive defense, or hostile offense.

Then, I become the next target of opportunity. Not because of the tone of my skin, the colour of my hair, my height, or any other visible feature. No, it is my name. "WHICH ONE OF YOU #%+$€\s is XXXXXX?" Not knowing any better, I answer in a firm and confident squeak "me, Sir". Camlobe's first lesson. Never insult the Sergeant. "DON'T CALL ME Sir. I (+¥}$#*€ WORK FOR A LIVING" from somewhere near the floor, I hear a meek "yes Sergeant". Strangely, it sounded awfully like my voice. "DO YOU HAVE ANY FRIENDS IN THE RAF?" "I don't think so Sergeant". "WELL, YOU #%^€¥>+ DON'T NOW". My throat went dry while I tried and failed to blend into the bland interior of our Charabang.

Shouldn't have joined if you can't take a joke!

Camlobe

Dave Wilson
6th Dec 2013, 00:01
Cam, sounds very much like when I stepped off the train at Newark in '74! My father was ex RAF so gave me an inkling as to what to expect and he wasn't wrong. I made the mistake of calling NCO's sir as well.

I still live near Swinderby and indeed it's one of the prefered 'exit and entry' points when flying into Waddington so I spend many a minute orbiting the site of my virgin six weeks in the RAF. The runways are still there although there's little left of anything else. The old OMQ's still exist although obviously in private hands now and the rest of the what was the domestic site is now the quaintly named Witham St Hughs; another offshoot of Lincoln.

Danny42C
6th Dec 2013, 16:32
Camlobe,

What can I say ? For seven years we've had this "mute inglorious Milton" among us, and he's hardly uttered a cheep ! You, Sir, I make bold to guess, must be of Irish ancestry to some extent, for you've the "gift of the gab" - you or an ancestor has "kissed the Blarney Stone" - and no mistake !

"Toe in the water" ? You've dived in from the 5-metre board ! Now swim on, we're all going to enjoy this (and I can perhaps "rest on my oar" for a while) ....D.

Dave Wilson,

Welcome aboard ! Yes, the first few days of military service are burned into the lifelong memory of anyone who ever took "the King's Shilling". All the same characters turn up, generation after generation, the Sergeant with his lurid vocabulary which was never equalled - is, I'm sure, at one with a Centurion of Caesar's day. I find abandoned wartime airfields rather sad, there are too many ghosts hanging about...D

With a renewed welcome to you both,

Danny.

camlobe
7th Dec 2013, 00:41
Dave Wilson,
No doubt, you and I weren't the first to arouse an NCO's better nature, and we will not be the last. My father, and his father before him, were infantry, but both were of commissioned rank, so I didn't get the pre-joviality briefing. My father did, however, give me a couple of bits of advice on the eve of my fateful train journey: firstly, get to know the cooks, the MT drivers, and the MP's. A friendly cook will look after your stomach; you never know when you need a lift; and never trust an MP even in civvies. Secondly, volunteer for everything; sometimes it works against you, but you usually come out on top in the end. My experiences proved my father's advice completely accurate.

Danny,
You extend far too much credit my way, sir. Before this thread, I have never written about my past. Actually, I haven't written a great deal at all. Occasional posts on aviation forums, normally extending advice, but no great literary works. I am merely writing my thoughts as best as I can remember them...

And now is probably the time to put in my disclaimer.

My apologies to any and all if my memories are not the same as yours regarding a common event. And please accept my apologies for inaccuracies, as my memory isn't what it used to be (more of this later). I am in awe of the retention and sharply accurate recollection displayed by our senior crew room members, especially as I am a mere 55 years young.

Apparently, my maternal grandfather had Irish roots.

Swinderby
The Bedford bus wheezed to a halt, it's vitally important task for the day complete. The lambs are led off to..."STAND STILL, I SAID STAND STILL. THAT MEANS YOU!!!" We are then formed up into two (or was it three) ranks with our bags by our feet, and then subjected to another helpful dose of profanity. No 'Welcome to RAF Swinderby, the centre of RAF recruit basic training, and your home for the next six weeks IF you don't mess up or fail". Although I am sure this was what was meant, what we actually heard was "YOU LOT ARE THE WORST PILE OF $#|¥ I HAVE EVER SET EYES ON". Nothing like a nice rousing supportive statement. And this was nothing like a ....
We were introduced to our 18-man rooms, told to leave our bags, and form up outside. Moulding time began, as we were introduced to 'Marching'. Problem was, most of us couldn't. I am sure you all have noticed that Discip NCO's turn a strange and effervescent shade of purple when confronted by a gaggle of uncoordinated all-sorts, especially when dressed in various degrees of 'civviness'. Later, we were introduced to 'Bedpacks', that ever so military method of stacking your bedding. Clothing stores to be measured came a little while later, and the experience was quite comical. Elderly men dressed in brown dustcoats took one quick glance at us as we were rushed passed, and before we had moved two steps, we were in possession of trousers, shirts, jumpers, shoes, socks, tie, gym shorts, gym shirts, plimsoles, and I can't remember what other items. With the exception of the wonderful RAF kitbag, complete with unburstable brass zipper (unlike the later ones with a pathetic plastic zip). More attempts to teach us to march interspersed with lots of physical torture...sorry, my apologies, assault course in the gym, and the RAF's version of cross country???in flat Lincolnshire?

By the end of Week 2, the numbers have thinned out. Some have just left, others have been removed. The RAF reckoned that if people would make it past Week 2, they would probably make it all the way. Apparently. So, one bright and beautiful morning, a PT instructer has us galloping around the 'cross country' course for a mile or two, and then leads us not to the gym, but a back door of the SMC. Strange. Wonder what is going to happen now? We are queuing single file down a narrow corridor and I am near the back of the line. Word is passed down, "hold both arms out, knuckles down and palms up". Ahh, jab parade. For the next couple of minutes, all we have is a bunch of heavy breathing and panting guys trying to get their breath back after the pleasant exertions. But the mood changes. Some from the front of the queue are coming back to bring up the rear. Others, are breaking out in a fresh sweat. Then the fainting starts. Grown young and healthy men are dropping at the thought of a little pin or two stuck into their arms. I steel myself to overcome this feeling I have of wanting to sit down before I fall down. Somehow, I stay upright, get to the action, and subject myself to the hundreds of jabs (well, it seemed like hundreds to me, OK?) for everything from yellow fever to halitosis. Then, just to make sure this cocktail gets to all the parts of our bodies, we are invited to join the PT instructor for a little jog. Felt a little weird for the next couple of days.

Now, all dressed the same in our splendid new uniforms, we form up, ready to offend and upset out Discip Corporal once again. Only, it didn't actually happen that way. As one, we all moved off together...and in step. I don't know about the Corporal, but we couldn't believe it. Smiles started to spread as our arms came up just that bit sharper. Our heels dug in with just a little bit more firmness. Our backs straightened as we collectively took pride in OUR accomplishment.

Camlobe

It's a case of mind over matter...I don't mind and you don't matter.

Chugalug2
7th Dec 2013, 13:18
Excellent start to what I hope will be yet another long lasting journey, Camlobe. As others have said, it starts as all the others start, whether in WW2, or no doubt today. In other words a friendly and reassuring reception together with some bespoke tailored outfitting;-)


I must say though that the very personal and even racial abuse that your official welcome encompassed came as a surprise. My recollections of the routine (albeit at Sleaford Tech in 1959) were certainly personal but not abusive in the way you describe.


However, the correct way of addressing DIs and even WO's were usually the subject of a one sided conversation. The Cadet Wing Warrant Officer had a little routine for dealing with such matters when Cadet Wing was paraded. Having received a "No, Flight Sergeant" or some such from some unfortunate wretch two Squadrons down the line he responded with a volume and enunciation clearly heard from one end of the parade to the other. "SIR! You call me SIR! I call you Sir and you call me Sir, the only difference is you mean it!". All delivered without drawing breath and at an ever increasing pitch.


In other words there was humour in the process so that even when being charged, there was usually something to smile at. As in society as a whole it seems that humour has become the missing ingredient...or has it?

smujsmith
7th Dec 2013, 18:32
Ahh Camlobe,

I was fortunate enough to have struggled through a similar experience as yours when joining as an apprentice in January 1969. Arriving from a farming community in the midlands (not much TV, and my only knowledge of the RAF was rumour that some of them had bombed some dams, and the belief that Crossroads was a real Hotel !!!!), from my point of view, I was a blank canvas and amenable to the "suggestions" of our drill instructors. As a result, I suspect for me at least, the drill etc was not particularly oppressive. I believe that your story, is relevant to this thread because it shows how, even separated from Danny, Cliff, Reg and all of the other contributors, by the years, we can all see a bit of what we all "enjoyed" as our welcoming committee on arriving at our various training establishments. I have a sneaky feeling that when Cliff set this thread running he "had an inkling" that it might lead to a "generational" thing. I'm sure the moderators are compliant with that principle. Lets have some more young fellah, I'm sure there's loads of mischief forthcoming.

Smudge :ok:

Danny42C
7th Dec 2013, 22:52
Chugalug,

I fear that the privilege of being addressed in a polite and gentlemany manner was resticted to the "Lord's Anointed" who entered via the impressive portals of the RAF College, Cranwell.

We "brutal and licentious soldiery", on the other hand, had to be addressed in the manner in which (it was assumed) we had been accustomed. It was par for the course: we let it go over our heads.

As for Warrant Officers, it was amazing the amount of venom and pure contempt that they could pack into a simple "Sir". We tried to return it with interest as Mister Smith, but it was a feeble rejoinder in most cases. (As a matter of interest, we, when we were training in the U.S. Arnold Scheme, although only LACs, were addressed by all U.S.Enlisted Men as "Mister" in view of our pretended status of "Aviation Cadet". The Master Sergeant was, however, every bit as skilled in conveying the maximum of derision into the words).

But, as you say, there was always an undercurrent of humour in the RAF - may it ever remain so....D.

Smudge,

I think we're all expecting "loads of mischief forthcoming" from camlobe. Like you, I was, after nine years at boarding school, "amenable to discipline" from our Drill Instructors (I still tremble at the memory of our "Good Shepherd" at Newquay)....D.

camlobe,

I knew it ! - you have Hibernian blood in your veins. Now let me ask (if it's not intrusive) a further question: from your #4649 I note: "train station", "offense" and "defense". Could there possibly be a transatlantic influence ? Now off you go back to your keyboard - (I'm glad to see the way in which you're carrying on the good old tradition (started by Cliff) of the "tag-line" at the end)....D.

My regards to all,

Danny.

camlobe
7th Dec 2013, 23:40
From the first day at Swinderby, there were linguistic difficulties. Not from the Discip NCO's, as we could clearly understand everything they shouted and screamed at us. No, the issue was amongst ourselves. Of the 18 of us, there were probably 18 different dialects, all supposedly speaking the Queen's English. We had Liverpudlians, Tynesiders, East Enders, Scots, Northern Irish, Devonions, Yorkshiremen, and little me from North Wales. And, of course, I spoke properly, it was the rest of them who couldn't. Eventually, we did what many generations of men before us did. We learned to speak Royal Air Force, that national language that absorbs bits from all corners, mixes it with Light Blue, and is easily understood by anyone who wears the RAF uniform. For those of a particularly broad tongue (not me, of course), it would take a day or so to meld back after a period of leave at home.

The indoctrination continued with films on a number of wide ranging subjects. These included security and the Official Secrets Act, safety near aircraft, as previously mentioned the Plod mushroom plucker, and how to survive a nuclear explosion! We can all remember "Flash, Heat, Blast, Radiation. As soon as you see the flash, drop to the ground with your hands under your body...". "The charcoal impregnated NBC suit would protect you from the heat". "Once the blast wave has passed, get under cover to protect you from radiation". Having seen the various bits of film footage of the effects of nuclear explosions, I'm afraid I wasn't convinced that this suit supplied by the lowest bidding contractor, was going to save me from Armageddon. Then films about chemical weapons. And we all remember "blot, bang, rub" with the worlds most expensive Fullers Earth (I was rapidly becoming a cinic with regard to MOD (PE).). Nerve Agents, atrophine, and NAPS tablets that were the size of desert plates...and you had to swallow all four at the same time. Somehow, I suspect that the attrition rate of Her Majesty's Armed Forces would have been far higher due to chocking than enemy nerve agent poisoning. This training was actually taken very seriously by a number of people I knew in the early '90's.

We are shown the various rank badges for the Army, Royal Navy and RAF, specific attention drawn to those signifying the award of the Queen's Commission. We are taught how to correctly acknowledge that commission "HUP, TWO, THREE, DOWN". Tolerant Officers were seen to smirk slightly when young trainees would approach on their way to the mess/SHQ/SMC etc. At the designated distance (four paces I think) right hands would be brought smartly up, palm open and facing forward...all to the tune of "HUP, two, three, down".

Morning inspection of the room by the Discip Sergeant, so all our bed packs are aligned, the floor gleaming, windows paper thin because they have been polished hard. Boots at the base of the bed, so smooth you could see your eyes in the toe caps. We are ready. Since the Sergeant had first shown me favouritism on the Bedford Bus, I had tried to melt into the background and remain non-conspicuous. So far, it seemed to have worked well.

The Sergeant walks in to the room, stops, in front of me. I am frozen to attention, so frozen he won't recognise or remember me. He picks up one of my immaculately polished boots...and turns it over. Like the slow-motion part of a horror film, I with eyes WIDE open see the spot of mud stuck in the tread, and silently scream. The Sergeant disposes with such niceties. The boot is flung at high speed towards one of my luckless room mates, who follows orders to the letter and doesn't flinch from Attention. We don't hear his pain because the sweet Sergeant is now questioning my hygiene and parentage, all at a volume none of us have heard before. Camlobe is on a charge.

Camlobe

Tomorrow is another day.

camlobe
7th Dec 2013, 23:52
Chugalug,
Having just seen Danny's post after posting my latest drivel, my own thoughts are that Danny has explained it far more eloquently than I could have, and I am sure he is completely correct.

Smudge,
I can relate easily to your comments, having joined from a little village in North Wales, more of which later. And I think you are probably on the right track with your "generational" thought. When the Mods kick me out, then we both know we were wrong.

Danny,
You are indeed a sharp one, sir. It will become clear as mud later. And with regard to the tag lines, they seem most appropriate on this thread, and rank as equally important in my small mind as the main content of the posts.

Camlobe

ancientaviator62
8th Dec 2013, 08:40
camlobe,
what a Pandora's Box of memories you have opened ! The one thing we 'plebs' have in common is our initial reception by those master psychologists, the Drill Instructors. My memories on joining the RAF as a B/E u/t Air Radar Mech in 1958 (could not get into the Apps to do radio, but was offered Armament or Admin) at Cosford have flooded back. I came from Sunderland, father a shipyard labourer and I have no idea where my interest in aircraft came from.
Ah yes the confusing Babel of voices of my fellow innocents , and like camlobe I was the only one speaking 'proper'. A very steep learning curve in all respects for us all. But not one I ever regretted.

Chugalug2
8th Dec 2013, 10:45
I can only join in the general acclaim and approbation that has marked young camlobe's inaugural. It has already triggered that fine tradition of this thread, firing up a civilised discussion. We seem to have unearthed a dichotomy with the treatment of other ranks and officer cadets upon induction into the Royal Air Force. The first is characterised as abusive and malevolent, the latter by implication refined and gentle. My interpretation of course and please take me to task if I have it wrong.


Having only experienced the Officer Cadet training, I would say that it was robust and strict, but not abusive in the nasty sense. That even includes the treatment by the Senior Entry of we 'Crows'. As I said earlier, you needed a sense of humour to see it through as well as a certain amount of stubbornness, both essential qualities for a military life I would suggest.


We were after all volunteers rather than pressed men. The experiences of National Service were no doubt brutal and deeply resented, and I suspect that few here would care to see its reintroduction to cure Society's ills for the very real ills that it would bring to the Services. However, from Cliff through to Camlobe we chose this path, and in return it gave us a life, a career, an experience, that for most if not all would have been unobtainable. That is certainly true for me, raised post war by a one parent family, my father having died in the war (as a Lance Bombardier, not that it should be relevant), I lucked out and passed the eleven plus and so made Grammar School. I thus got the O levels that I knew were required to do what I longed for, to fly in the RAF. I lucked out again by getting a scholarship for an Officer Cadetship in the RAF to stay in the 6th Form and so get the equally necessary A levels. That is why I ended up at Cranwell amidst my Entry colleagues, one of whom by the way was ex Halton. The chop rate was ferocious, and I lucked out yet again by making it through somehow to graduation after three long years, to emerge with those treasured wings and that oh so thin PO's braid.


So what is the point of this rambling post? Merely to say that like many others, the Royal Air Force gave me an opportunity to do what I really wanted to do, without which my life would have been some boring civilian routine. That it was worth being shouted at, charged, made to do endless drill in the frozen wastes of Lincolnshire, scrape the paint off shower stalls with a pen knife to then repaint them, make up bed packs so that they might be pulled to pieces again on inspection, and all the other sundry delights of basic training, I have no doubt, and a small price to pay to gain such an opportunity. I would suggest to a man that all those here would say the same thing.

MPN11
8th Dec 2013, 11:13
Putting a slightly different slant on this subject ….

It was a cool grey day in September 1963 when I got off the train at Kingswear. And then boarded the Ferry across the River Dart, to Dartmouth, where we assembled/milled/shambled around until a nice Petty Officer Gunner (i.e. Drill Instructor, of the RN's Gunnery Branch) called us to order. Our luggage was loaded (by us, of course) into the back of a dark blue 3-tonner, and we were directed to stand in straight lines in groups of 3. Sort of organised into three ranks, if you will. I took this process in my stride - I had enjoyed several years in the CCF and ATC, and had indeed attended a weekend Cadets' Drill Course with the Irish Guards at Caterham Barracks. No problem.

The nice PO (who was apparently always called “Chief”, even though he wasn’t a Chief PO), invited us to march in those nice tidy 3 ranks up the steep hill from Dartmouth itself to … Britannia Royal Naval College (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Britannia_Royal_Naval_College). “Is this commissioned service?” I asked myself? Are there no cars to convey us up that steep incline, which I would get to know only too well in the coming months? It was a long climb, during which we were generally encouraged to try to keep in straight lines, and in step, before we eventually arrived somewhat breathless on the parade ground in front of the magnificence of BRNC.

At that point, we were subdivided into smaller groups as we were assigned to our different Divisions. As I was a Fleet Air Arm Officer Cadet, I and my aviation-minded compatriots were assigned to Hawke Division. In the past, FAA cadets were randomly distributed amongst the Divisions, but at this point in BRNC’s history it had been decided to keep all the FAA cadets together and separated from the nasty, crude sailors. And thus we formed up again, and marched even further uphill to our new home - Temeraire Block. And there, inevitably, we entered culture shock territory and linguistic challenges. We slept in a Mess Deck (the more senior cadets had cabins), we bathed and performed bodily functions in the heads, we put our rubbish in gash bins and polished the deck. You get the idea, I’m sure - we were now in the Royal Navy.

26er
8th Dec 2013, 12:35
Initiation seems to be much of a muchness no matter where the RAF invited us to attend for initial training. In my case, having started at Padgate on 28/11/49 and expressed my wish to be a National Service pilot, having been asked if I had been in the ATC and said "yes" (as far as I know this was never checked) and as a result was given a service number which began with 312****, different from the others who replied "no", we were issued with uniforms, hustled off to Hornchurch for aptitude assessment, back to Padgate for a couple of days, then off to Driffield for a few more days ( our initiation into "skiving") doing nothing but sewing our aircrew cadet laurel wreath insignia on our sleeves, then being sent on Christmas leave where Mums did a proper job of re-attaching our handiwork before reporting to No 1 ITS Wittering on 28/12/49. And then it all began. Learning how to march, make up bedspaces, bumper floors, salute, much to the amusement of warrant officers who suffered the indignity of squads of cadets "eyes righting" as we passed them.

Three things from that period stick in my memory - Wednesday afternoons travelling in an old Fordson bus to Northampton baths for dinghy drill, red polony (!!) sausages for tea in the airmen's mess, and an introduction into the foolish ways of military life. At this time, although we were months away from an aeroplane, we were issued with leather flying helmets with earphones and a long lead. Every Saturday morning there was a Station Parade of which the cadets formed one wing. Some bright spark had remarked that when cadets got to a real aeroplane they were unused to these helmets so it was decreed we would parade wearing them, the long lead being tucked into the greatcoat pocket. The inevitable result was an utter shambles as it was impossible to hear words of command so we all did our own thing. Unbelievably, this fiasco was repeated the following week too. But it was all taken in its stride. Pete Shoen never could march with his arms swinging correctly i.e. his right arm and right leg moved forward at the same time. How was this lack of co-ordination not picked up at Hornchurch?

The next twenty years were fun too and we met great friends.

Fareastdriver
8th Dec 2013, 13:57
we bathed and performed bodily functions in the heads, we put our rubbish in gash bins and polished the deck. You get the idea, I’m sure - we were now in the Royal Navy.

Don't remind me.

I took a Puma up to Lossiemouth in the early seventies when it was an FAA station. One morning I was not required until the afternoon so after breakfast in the 'wardroom' I sat down to read the paper. At 10.00hrs a mess rating came round and opened all the windows.

It was early February; just about freezing, the central heating going full chat with a 30 knot gale blowing outside.

As I hung on to my paper I asked the rating why the hell he had opened the windows.

"Air the Ship,Sir".

Union Jack
8th Dec 2013, 14:16
I sat down to read the paper. At 10.00hrs a mess rating came round and opened all the windows.

For a moment I envisaged that you had sat down to read the paper in the heads, which could have explained everything - well, nearly everything .....:D

Jack

MPN11
8th Dec 2013, 14:56
Fareastdriver ... I never fully adapted, as you may see if I'm inspired to continue nautical dribbling (before I transferred to a nice shade of blue) :)

I found so much of it both anachronistic and amusing, which possibly did not endear me to the staff. However ... for another day. I have a compare and contrast thought running in my head, and I don't want to spoil it!

However, for now a "Small World" story ... my Divisional Officer, or Flt Cdr in normal speak, was a Lt (RN) with an aviation background. That may have explained his distinctive twitch - clenching and unclenching his hands when speaking. He was of the Sea Vixen persuasion, which may explain much. Anywaaaaay ... almost exactly 20 years later, I was on a small pile of rubble in the South Atlantic when the Stn Execs of RAF Stanley were invited aboard HMS Broadsword for drinky-poos. How nice!

After a tugboat ride from the jetty, we embarked. I remembered all about saluting the Quarterdeck. I then descended to the Wardroom Flat (aka some large space with a posh title) to be greeted across the crowd with "Hello MPN11 - long time no see" from the Captain (Captain) - my former DO.

Sadly we had little time to reminisce, as a bit of blow was coming up and, ever conscious of the risks of facing a lee shore in those southern latitudes, the Captain determined it was safest to ride the storm at sea. So, up hook and away ... the party ended prematurely, and I was offered overnight accommodation on the floor of some small compartment full of electrical stuff with a green worm for my creature comforts. After tossing around all night (the ship, not me) we returned to harbour at Post Stanley and disembarked. Never saw Cap'n Bob again, sadly.

"It's a MAN's life in the Royal Navy" ... stuff that, I'll take the creature comforts of an RAF Station any day :cool:

ancientaviator62
8th Dec 2013, 15:12
MPN11,
ref 'the creature comforts'. One of my first lessons as a B/E was that 'any fool can be uncomfortable' . I spent the next 40 yrs trying not to be a fool.

pulse1
8th Dec 2013, 15:27
Learning how to march, make up bedspaces, bumper floors, salute, ......

As an ATC cadet in the 50's, we used to pay a shilling a day for a week doing that, and maybe a bit of flying as well, if you were lucky.

Pom Pax
8th Dec 2013, 15:51
Eventually an official letter arrives. You are required to report to No 1 Initial Training School, R.A.F. Kirton-in-Lindsay. Enclosed is travel warrant, travel by train to Doncaster and change for a train to Gainsborough which leaves from platform X. At Gainsborough you will be meet by transport. If there is no transport ring Kirton xxx ext xxx. (Where are these places.....look in Dad's RAC book.) The due day arrives and Dad drives me to Ely station and warns me to look out for "Nancy Boys". (What are they?)
Journey completed we are met by a corporal and escorted to a 3/4 tonner?, the truck with three loose gym benches in the back. The truck stops outside a wooden hut and the corporal leads us in. "This is the transit hut, I am Cpl. XXX and in charge of it. Choose a bed, put your gear away and be outside in 10 minutes." Outside all five of us are "Marched"? off on a tour of the camp. Back at the hut instructed how to lay out bedding, there is a picture on the board of how to lay out the rest of your kit when you get it. Now off to tea and report back to me. Report back....You are responsible for cleanliness of this hut and all you will need is in that cupboard. Tell me when you have finished.
Where to start? The place is spotless! After a few experiments with the bumper we decide it's ok. Now the floor is filthy, dust and mould have appeared in places we never knew existed. You will NOT go to bed until I am satisfied this has been cleaned properly. Fifteen minutes before lights out he is satisfied! But by the next evening it will be just as dirty!
The week progresses , our numbers increase, we get kit a bit at a time, practice drill and perform all manner of menial tasks Cpl xxx demands. Come Friday afternoon we get our jabs and advised to not let our arms get stiff. Next morning Cpl xxx has us on our hands and knees scrubbing and polishing for 3 hours to exercise our sore arms and then tells us to stop and to be quiet and not to bother him until Monday morning. Retires into his room and locks it.
Having neither heard or seen Cpl xxx again about Sunday teatime the penny drops, on his door it says Cpl xxx Plymouth Brethren. So although we have been verbally abused with sarcasm never was a profanity used and of course cleanness is next to godliness.

Union Jack
8th Dec 2013, 17:45
MPN11

May I very sadly draw your attention to

Capt Bob McQueen - Telegraph (http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/obituaries/9439356/Capt-Bob-McQueen.html)

I believe that you would also be interested in

http://www.pprune.org/military-aircrew/488213-ascension-island-falkands-war-book.html

I'm sure he would have forgiven you for turning light blue ....

Jack

Union Jack
8th Dec 2013, 18:18
So although we have been verbally abused with sarcasm never was a profanity used and of course cleanness is next to godliness.

Or, as we say in the dark blue, "A clean ship is a tidy ship, is a happy ship. Leave is cancelled until morale improves!":ok:

Jack

MPN11
8th Dec 2013, 18:36
Union Jack ... yes, I was aware. I raised a glass to the cantankerous and utterly professional gentleman when I saw that.
Tempus Fugit.

And I doubt he would have forgiven me ... just glad to be rid of me, I suspect. He was RN to the core. I shall return to him later, if the Forum permits?

One of our Div Sub Lts (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/John_Tolhurst)(doing extra studies after sea time, whilst kicking us into shape) did quite well. :cool:

MPN11
8th Dec 2013, 18:59
“Everything will be tiddily.” Que?

It means all our issued kit will be folded perfectly to fit the width of the locker, and arranged alternately dark blue and white (winter and summer ‘rig’). This is critical, as in the event of the ship springing a leak, or being in peril of being sunk by military action, this neat arrangement will somehow prevent the salvage pumps from being blocked and thus save the ship. Huzzzah. So, in addition to bed-packs, recruits for the annoying of, our lockers are full of perfectly folded garments. Until things go adrift, as they are wont to say.

Inspection time … the deck is polished to extinction, the heads are cleaner than a Burger Joint (in fact, infinitely better), gash cans emptied, deck-head cleared of spiders, assorted rig/kit laid out in the correct manner on the bed (mattress exposed in case you are a nocturnal urinator, which is why bed-packs were invented). OMG … a defect!! A dirty spoon? Studs on sole of boot not polished? It matters not. As everyone else is preparing to retire to their ‘bunks’ (2-tier bedsteads) you are told “Report to the Divisional Office in 5 minutes in Winter River Rig … GO!!” And demigod departs.

Rummage immaculate locker for correct rig, change and double down the corridor (eek - passageway) to the Office. “Shoes not clean enough, shorts not ironed, Expedition Rig in 5 minutes … GO!!). If lucky, there would only be 2 or 3 cycles of suppressed desire to kill an officer of Her Majesty’s Royal Navy before the process was complete … “Locker Inspection in 5 minutes … GO!!”

Rush to barrack room (eeek, Mess Deck) gather up debris from Rig Changes, fold neatly to fit width of locker in case BRNC should be torpedoed during the night, stand by bed/bunk/hammock/WTF. “Acceptable. Lights out in 5 minutes”.

Would Her Majesty miss an occasional Sub Lt?

smujsmith
8th Dec 2013, 19:43
Heh heh, the more I read the more I realise that whatever way we entered, whatever of our services, we all had one thing in common at the start of our careers. The bumper, an object I will never forget, and which in these modern times is probably just another "old blokes" diversion. It really never occurred to me that our "fishead" comrades would be familiar with our block Sergeants favourite torture machine from Halton. I wonder if Danny had experience of this "stiffener of the British Military backbone". Or did they do something different in the USA in those days. I suspect learning to fly should have had priority. Come on Danny, have you ever swung a bumper ?

As a secondary input, I've just finished reading Peter Cargills Phantom from the Cockpit. There's a passage in it where he explains the difference between an Air Traffic Controller and a GCI controller. Perhaps age has affected the synaptic capability, but it should have been obvious shouldn't it ? One stops aircraft colliding, the other engineers a meeting. I suspect Danny, you have already divulged that point, for some reason I missed it.

Onwards and upwards as they say.

Smudge:ok:

MPN11
8th Dec 2013, 19:49
The Esteemed OH was on a commissioning board, and asked the aspiring airman the difference between an Air Traffic Controller and a Fighter Controller.

"Basically the same, Ma'am, but Fighter Controllers do it faster".

He did not progress to the next stage.

(NODUF) :)

CharlieJuliet
8th Dec 2013, 20:03
Early 60s.
Signed up at Eastliegh, Nairobi, and flew to Lynham as AC2. Arrived there at night and put up in transit mess. Next day given travel warrant to somewhere near South Cerney (never heard of it!!). Arrived at wrong camp gates, and had to cart large suitcase across base to barrack blocks which were to be home for the next 2 months. Rest of course arrived over the next few days. First month messing in the combined mess then in a separate cadets' mess. All visits to local area had to wear hats so could salute any officers we met by doffing our hats, but this marked us out to the locals and led to some fights! Our DI was the legendary Flt Sgt Maunder 'the voice of South Cerney' who initially intimidated us, but as the course went on we came to appreciate his great qualities. Memory:
Mr x how tall are you?
6' 2" Flt Sgt
I didn't know that they could pile it that high!
Cerney passed in marching, ground school, leadership exercises (maybe more later) etc. We spent more time in No 1 Mess than usual as we has foreign students with us. This led to a requirement to bull our rooms - which had never had such attention paid to them before ,and this caused us much agro as behind pipes had never been cleaned before! Still the 16 weeks seemed to pass OK and then off to BFTS.

Warmtoast
8th Dec 2013, 20:14
Bumpers! I remember them well.

http://i145.photobucket.com/albums/r231/thawes/BarrackRoomBumpers_zpsa00257c2.jpg
IWM photo.

camlobe
8th Dec 2013, 21:09
Camlobe is charged. Dirty boots on parade. I have brought great shame on my family, my home, my fellow sufferers in Basic Training, the pet dog. I feel close to tears for having let the side down. All My room mates are superficially sympathetic in that "glad it wasn't me" way...well, all except for the recipient of my boot who is nursing sore nether regions.

The following morning, one of my room mates acts as my escort. The Cpl DI advises me that I have rights, and read this pamphlet. 'Request trial by Court Martial' etc, etc. LEFT, RIGHT, LEFT, RIGHT, MARK TIME, HALT. The charge is read out. The reviewing Officer listens with concentration, so much so that I am convinced that the only result will be "Transportation". Do I accept his punishment? I have made the conscious decision that although this is the most important happening in my life at this moment, the Senior Officers will be busy ensuring our aircraft are keeping our airspace sovereign and I best not trouble them with my issues. Plenty of time for that in my advanced career...if this charge doesn't shorten it. I am Awarded three (or may have been five) days punishment. Relief. I am not being kicked out of the RAF, well, not yet anyway. The punishment entailed reporting to the recruits mess at 1800 hours to assist the cooks, and report to the guardroom at 2200 hours for inspection, without the smell of alcohol on my breath. Following thy days square-bashing and films, I report to the mess. The cook asks me in a pleasant manner if I could clean the days trays. These trays are the huge aluminium serving trays that hold bacon, sausages and all other staples of the recruits diet. And they are encrusted. Some time later, and with tired arms, he asks me to mop the floor and that is it for the night. And then he offers me a snack. I advise him of my gratefulness for his generosity and attitude. He smiles while he tells me that I am not the only one to be on Jankers in their first couple of weeks of basic training, and how do I think he keeps the kitchen so clean? Certainly not by doing it himself. Some of my self esteem returns as I walk back to the block exhausted, and I did eat rather well for the next couple of evenings. Unfortunately, no rest for the poor, weary camlobe because we are subjected to a Bull Night. Although we have been practicing what the Discip Sergeant and Corporal have taught us about keeping the room spotless, a Bull Night is an order of magnitude greater. Like the rest of my room mates, I have been given a list of things I am responsible for, and they are waiting for me. A little bit of juggling has been done, and I have just two tasks. Clean one of the "traps", and bump the corridor. I finish the trap in time to change and report to the guardroom! then back to the corridor.

For those who may not know, I will try and describe to the best of my memory, that joyous device of torture, the Bumper. (If I get it wrong, I feel sure Smudge and others will correct me).

The Bumper is a fairly simple item of few moving parts. It has incredible inertia, and utilises the muscular structure of recruits, Royal Navy, Army and Royal Air Force, to operate at peak efficiency. The block of the bumper is a lump of cast iron, weighing around 20 pounds initially, and around 100 after half an hour. Pivoting off the top of the block is a long and thick handle similar to that of a broom, but much longer and thicker. Below the block is placed a piece of cloth. The luckless operator then pulls the handle in one direction to get the block moving. It's motion is restrained by the operator pulling back on the handle the other way. The distance covered on each pass is around 12 feet. Continual operation will ensure the operator suffers back ache, blisters, and the Discip NCO's wrath every time the Bumper careens into door frames/skirting boards, and other items. The bumper is capable of causing considerable damage in angry, tired and frustrated hands. Bed was collapsed into around 1 o'clock.

We are marched to a new area, secure, dark and foreboding. This is where the RAF's own guard force live, the RAF Regiment. These fine stalwarts are employed to defend the airfields of the RAF in times of conflict. But we are at peace (sort of) in 1978, and the Regiment are gainfully employed in introducing raw recruits like ourselves to the standard issue weapon for the three services, the SLR. This high-velocity assault rifle has been the mainstay for a number of years, replacing the 303 almost completely (more later). The SLR, or Self Loading Rifle is the Belgian FN, and uses a 7.62 mm magnum type round, standard magazines holding 20 rounds. We are advised of the damage this rifle can do. Graphically. We respect the SLR. The Regiment instructors make us completely familiar with the rifle, to the point where we can strip and reassemble the weapon and load an empty magazine blindfolded. When we are not dismantling the SLR, we are learning rifle drill continually. But we don't get a chance to shoot it yet.
One day, we are marching along with our rifles slung over our shoulder. The senior man is on the outside. Along comes a Discip Sergeant and a Junior Officer. Now, we can't see everything because we are marching eyes forward trying to be invisible. The Sergeant screams HALT. What have we done? No one was "tick-tocking", no one was out of step. What have we done? "WHY ARE YOU CARRYING YOUR RIFLE IN YOUR LEFT HAND, SENIOR MAN? We less-responsible recruits immediately breath a sigh of relief because it is not us. But why IS he carrying the rifle in his left hand? This is gong to be a good one.

"It's so I can salute an Officer with my right hand, Sergeant.

We got a severe shouting at for spontaneous laughing.

Camlobe

Edit: I see warm toast has presented us with a brace of torturous items.

"CALL THAT CLEAN?"

smujsmith
8th Dec 2013, 23:09
Camlobe,

Happy Daze then :rolleyes:

Warmtoast,

The paper under the feet of the beds was practised at Halton when I went through. Clean the bed feet, the floor under and remove the paper just before inspection. The inspecting staff always went for the fluff from the bumper pads stuck under the feet of the bed.

Smashing memories for me chaps, now Danny, have you been acquainted with Her Majesties Bumper ?

Smudge :ok:

ricardian
8th Dec 2013, 23:33
38th entry of Boy Entrants (u/t Telegraphist II) October 1959 at 2 School of Technical training Cosford. I was lucky and after 12 weeks of ITS (Initial Training Squadron) my flight moved to Fulton Block. Other flights were not so lucky and moved to wooden huts. Imagine 30 sixteen year old lads in a wooden hut with a linoleum floor which was being cleaned with paraffin whilst a coke stove glowed in the middle of the hut...

Danny42C
9th Dec 2013, 00:02
Camlobe,

What have we done ?.... We've opened a window into the past: the reminiscences have come crowding in here from all sides! This is (I'm sure) exactly what Cliff (RIP) had in mind five years ago when he kicked-off this best of all Threads, and now we've got the snowball rolling again. Let's keep it up !

So you've blotted your Conduct Sheet (never mind, it was sure to happen sooner or later). Now, if you'd been really on the ball, you'd have polished the instep under the boot - and then you'd have seen the lump of mud in the cleats (when did they come in, by the way ? - we had plain leather (?) soles).

Pleased to hear that my hunch has come up !...D.

ancientaviator62,

Plebs of the world, rejoice ! "Plebs" is an honourable word, it really means the Hard Working common people whom politicians are always going on about; plebiscites were what we had before calling them referenda. Now if Andrew Mitchell had (or had not, as the case seems to be) used the word "vulgus", it would be quite different.....D.


Chugalug,

We on the "lower deck" have always affected to doubt the abilities of those "set over us" (and whose orders we'd sworn to obey), and to credit them with a lifestyle of idleness, luxury and special treatment. But nobody really believed that for a moment, it was just an all-purpose grumble we could indulge it if nothing else was on offer.

And "blue blood" was never an issue: I was the son of a regular R.Q.M.S. of the King's (Liverpool) Regt., the grandson of a Sergeant of that Regt., and (we believe) the great grandson of a soldier (rank and Regt. unknown). And that would take us back to the Irish Famine Years; the trail grows cold there.

I quote from you:

"we chose this path, and in return it gave us a life, a career, an experience, that for most if not all would have been unobtainable".

This was true, We were all volunteers: all of us would agree with you. Of course, it was heavy going in the early stages, but there was "no gain without pain". As for the profanity, it was so much a part of the normal speech of those uttering it, that it was of no significance to the hearer - you simply ignored it....D.

MPN11,

Never knew that you started in the True Blue. But now that we do , let's have the rest of the (hopefully not sad) story of how you came to finish up with us !....D.

NOTE:
THESE REMARKS COVER POSTS ONLY UP TO # 4660, (AS THE THREAD HAS BEEN SWAMPED BY LATER POSTS [WONDERFUL !] WHICH I WILL NOW HAVE A LOOK AT... D.)

Cheers to all, Danny.

airborne_artist
9th Dec 2013, 06:48
One of my favorite sayings is from the PO GI who single-handedly took 87 Flight BRNC from a bunch of useless civilians to a still quite useless (militarily) Middies and Sub Lts who could on some very fine days march in time.

"Fall in three deep. That's one behind the other, twice."

HTB
9th Dec 2013, 08:29
MPN11

I seem to have followed a similar career path - maybe we even encountered some of the same protagonists.

During the laughable 1 month sea phase of the aviation cadets' stay at BRNC (HMS Repton) I ran foul of the Number 1, who was also a twitching Sea Vixen chap (observer) with a hyphenated surname, but known universally as "Snave". I'm too embarrsed to reveal the details right now, even though it happened in 1969 (40 Air Entry/aka "Flight"):O.

Aah, the PO GIs - all gas and gaiters - how did they manage to raise their voices to such a high pitch? And never, ever address the RM Colour Sergeant as "Colours", for the inevitable tirade would start with "I'm not a firkin rainbow...Mr HTB..."

Did we know the same Sub Lt who had a penchant for seeing cadets from the junior (Jellicoe in my case) division in a variety of rig? What a performance, thankfully aided by my messmates preparing the the appropriate items, as I shouted the required rig on high speed recovery from front of college to cabin at rear. This as punishment for entering the dining hall in dy rig, having been delyed at Sandquay with no time to change (it usually took me about 20 minutes to tie the sodding bow tie). As I recall, he was a plump, bespectacled Pusser, imbued with latent sadism. I must admit, a degree of physical retribution crossed my mind, but fortunately it was never realised (pity he was too lardy to play rugby...).

We'll gloss over my subsequent move to light blue (Sea King proved a bit too much for my tiny brain, along with full discovery of the delights of wimmin, wine and song - and all before my 21st birthday...).

I did have an encounter with my former Dartmouth Divisional Officer - a Lt Cdr young enough to be destined for higher things. Well he did rise in rank, but when I met him over 20 years later, he was a Cdr on the staff of JWC at RM Poole - blotted copybook somewhere along the line?

But all in all, it was pleasant while it lasted.:ok:

Mister B

Fareastdriver
9th Dec 2013, 08:51
Chatlie Juliet

Joining up in Nairobi in the early sixties means, if I am correct, then your service number must start with 50***** or 52*****.

MPN11
9th Dec 2013, 09:15
HTB ... ahoy, matey :ok:

In between writing Christmas Cards I'm composing a couple more dits. Well, I think it will be 3 under current plans. Domestic bliss demands that this will be a lowish priority for the moment, thus allowing assorted other "early days" tales to be told.

Danny42C ... Wilco, Skipper ;)

I thought a differently-coloured perspective might be interesting to some people around here. Perhaps it will? Only time, and a slab of typing, will tell!

HTB
9th Dec 2013, 10:29
Of course, it wasn't all academic studies, marching with swords or rifles and picnic outings to Dartmoor involving the novel use of large poles (wooden, not ethnic) and ropes. Post graduation there was the real business of learning how to be an aviator, part of which was an even bigger picnic in the New Forest; a whole week this time...with a cute little bunny (no, not your survival buddy, but one of the fluffy kind for eating).

I can remember the names of all but 2 or 3 of this motley bunch, comprising a mix of mainly SL, some GL and a couple of Crabs; pilots/observers and navigators. Play a game of recognition; I might post the names if anyone gets close to naming more that half a dozen. Timeframe? Week after the Isle of Wight Rock Festival in 1969 (the one with Bob Dylan and many others). Needless to say, the picture is at the end of the survival course...

I had attended said Festival, during which I stood on a broken bottle and nicked an artery in my instep. Having managed to hobble back to the IoW ferry, then another ferry across Portsmouth Harbour, taxi to Seafield park, I was faced with a sympathetic reception...and sent off to Haslar for some probing of the wound (glass fragment removal) and very large hypodermic anti-tetanus in the buttock.

This served to save me from the swim out to the rubber dinghy on a New Forest pond; however, the DS kindly brought my vessel to shore, loaded me and pushed it out again, so most of the object of the exercise was fulfilled.

The rest of the course was fun,fun,fun - shelters made of fern (no para teepee as we wouldn't be having such silken luxury in a helicopter), lots of trudging through the forest by day and by night to fulfil some useless task; raiding of refuse bins by camping sites and beauty spots for scraps of food.

As I said, by and large it was pleasant while it lasted...

Mister B


http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab239/MisterB2/scan0012_zpsc4860c1b.jpg

mikehallam
9th Dec 2013, 11:08
I thought at only 76 & well post War (II) that I should only read the wisdom & experiences of my elders whose efforts (& sacrifice) one way & another have made my own post War existence better.
I.e. freedom, a proper post war Health Service & much better education opportunities.

However now I see young whipper snappers stories are just as interesting and recall a common streak we all seemed to experience, and now long after realise it was part of the 'making' of us.

In my case HNC studies and an Apprenticeship meant a deferred call up for National Service till over 21. At RAF Bridgenorth we too experienced the terrors of Square Bashing, before a select bunch of men mostly of my age, with a scattering of brainy 18 year olds, spent the best part of 1959 at RAF Locking. There we were compelled to a mix of unwelcome marching like morons & classes whereafter we were expected to learn to perform like geniuses on esoteric electronic subjects, even venturing to mention such new fangled things of the future called 'transistors'.
I was then posted off to Cyprus to practise my trade with the elevated rank of Junior Technician - one upside down stripe. Accomodation was a tent on a concrete floor !

By chance this morning, I came across this March 1959 picture of we conscripts.

mike hallam. [EDIT but it doesn't come through I see] --GOT ITat last**
http://i712.photobucket.com/albums/ww121/mikehallam/RAFBridgenorthMarch1959.jpg

MPN11
9th Dec 2013, 11:14
Either loud message could be applied at random intervals, although not usually simultaneously. Whichever, life involved a certain about of moving around the expanses of the College. And in the cruel, harsh world of the 1960s the greater proportion of that was done at the double. I think Reveille was piped at 0630 (or was it 0615?). From then, until 1900 (or was it 1830?) cadets moved at the double everywhere unless actually marching as a formed body of men (or flotilla, possibly, as this was the RN). Indoors or out, between those hours, you ran - and if you ever considered slowing to a walk you could guarantee a disembodied voice from somewhere would bellow those familiar words that haunted your existence … “Double Up, Cadet!”

In common with everyone else at this stage of training, many hours were spent doing drill on the expansive parade ground in front of the main College building, with its sweeping carriage ramps at each side that led up to the main entrance. There are also elaborate steps going up in the centre, below which lurked a couple of small offices. It was here that the GIs lurked. No, not American soldiers … our Gunnery Instructors, who taught us the old familiar drill movements. As noted previously, these were mainly Petty Officers (always called “Chief”) and, as noted by HTB above, a Royal Marine Colour Sergeant (always called “Colour”). Woe betide the cadet who in a moment of stress, whilst receiving one of those imaginative verbal lashings, called Colour Chief, of Chief Colour, or the ultimate sin … Sir. As we were commission on entry to the College, and wore officers’ uniforms, we were “Mister” … a reminder that we weren’t really officers, perhaps, other than a mark of respect!

http://i319.photobucket.com/albums/mm468/atco5473/PPRuNe%20ATC/2bdcd1e5783a44f2b1312417dec8c857-576x324.jpg (http://s319.photobucket.com/user/atco5473/media/PPRuNe%20ATC/2bdcd1e5783a44f2b1312417dec8c857-576x324.jpg.html)

So, marching around we merrily go. Significant failures in carrying out the required evolutions result in the offending party being required to fall out (properly) and, pursued by a barrage of invective, double around the ramps a couple of times. What was the lap distance? 440 yards seems familiar? And, of course, failure to fall back in properly (or indeed out in the first place) resulted in further lonely laps around the ramps.

And eventually, when there is a degree of competence and a prospect of us all heading in the same direction at the same time, we are allowed to drill with weapons. No, neither “Lee Enfield No 4” nor “SLR” entered our lexicon. We are to be Naval Officers, and thus are taught sword drill. Here enters another little nuance in the context of retribution - errors during sword drill required the culprit to run around the ramps with the sword in the position at which the error occurred. Some of these can be quite inconvenient, especially with the scabbard thrashing your left leg as you run.

But we are not supposed to be a decorative addition to parades. We are supposed to conduct them, and thus further hours are spent taking charge and drilling our colleagues in the approved manner. Commanding halt on the wrong foot, or indeed failing to command halt in time to prevent the flotilla running aground/hitting the wall had their inevitable circulatory consequences. Mercifully my previous experience with drill in the CCF/ATC stood me in good stead … I generally avoided taking any extra exercise. And of course my boots were ultra-shiny.

MPN11 moves to the right in ones, and doubles away smartly to write about boats. :cool:

airborne_artist
9th Dec 2013, 11:24
HTB - by 1979 87 Flight by now ex BRNC also attended Seafield Park for the Aircrew Medical Course followed by the Survival Course.

No New Forest pool for us though - the six man liferafts (which are really built for four, I'm sure) were moored in Poole Harbour and reached via RMB Poole (Hamworthy).

February is cold, and Feb 1979 followed the trend. We had a frost most nights, except the night of the 24 hour liferaft adventure, which blew a gale. We were taken off the liferafts at about 22.00. The boat sent to fetch the other raft was swamped as it approached the slipway, so they all swam for it. The rest of the night was spent in the luxury of the changing rooms, sleeping on the wooden benches.

HTB
9th Dec 2013, 11:56
Thanks for that MPN11. I remember well the pain of doubling around the parade ground, rifle at the high port (yes we did drill with rifles, bayonets too, and if I recall correctly carried them at the passing out parade). However, we weren't commissioned on entry, all were humble cadets, so being addressed as "Mister" by the GIs was probably appropriate (at least in their eyes). On graduation, one was commissioned as a sub lt, or if under the age of 21, that strange nether world of Midshipman; not quite an officer, but also not quite anything else.

Here's a frontal view of the main entrance stairway to the college that you mentioned , with the whole division, including academic tutors, arrayed in a mix of rig. That's me, five rows back, third from left, with the lanyard - it goes very nicely with the hairy blue battledress uniform, don't you think?

From the ramp immediately above the stairs, we would a couple of times a week have "flashing" session; sounds sort of navy... But it was actually reading morse code from a flashing lamp atop the mainmast/flagpole. This could be problematic early in the morning during the first 3 months of the year, when the sun was low and rising (yes, I think you were right about the 0630 wake up call): retinal damage, anyone?

I can't for the life of me remember the name of old gent, front row second from left; I think he was, or had been, Mayor of Dartmouth, and was also a cobbler (snobs).

Mister B



http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab239/MisterB2/scan0017_zps7765e916.jpg

MPN11
9th Dec 2013, 12:18
You are right ... we did do rifle drill!! i remember the bayonet bit now (we didn't have those in the CCF/ATC, or course). t guess it didn't register as strongly as the sword drill. :oh:

Here's us, in a fine variety of mixed rig! Me arrowed, several old faces I can still put names to, and I think I'm right in saying:
1. Lt Bob McQueen (later Capt)
2. Lt Cdr Andrew Richmond ("Owing to a shortage of Fleet Air Arm pilots in the 1950s, four supply officers qualified as fixed-wing pilots; both Brian Brown and Andrew Richmond rose to flag rank in the 1980s")
3. Possibly Sub Lt John Tolhurst (later VAdm)

Back to drafting my boats input :cool:

http://i319.photobucket.com/albums/mm468/atco5473/PPRuNe%20ATC/scan1-1.jpeg (http://s319.photobucket.com/user/atco5473/media/PPRuNe%20ATC/scan1-1.jpeg.html)

CharlieJuliet
9th Dec 2013, 12:36
Fareastdriver yes - 5200xxx. As soon as I'd taken the Queen's shilling (I think we were given one) my Dad took me to the Eastleigh NAFFI to utilise my ration of alcohol and cigarettes before I flew off to England!

Wander00
9th Dec 2013, 12:39
What year were the photos?


John Winton wrote a series of humorous novels, at least one focussing on Officer Training at Dartmouth. Not far removed from training at Sandhurst and Cranwell I guess. Gave me a good laught years ago.

MPN11
9th Dec 2013, 12:41
... let your gimbals swing free whilst I luff up to the trots :p

Where would the Royal Navy be without boats. No, not ships … boats. Small boats, pi$$ing around on the water for the use of. BRNC had loads of them, a veritable armada of instruments of variable degrees of torture during a cold winter. They littered the River Dart at a place called Sandquay, just below the College. And “just below” is an apt description, as Sandquay was reached by a flight of semi-vertical steps which started near the Chapel and descended in a vertiginous manner to the ‘docks’. There were, if memory serves correctly, about 2,378 steps going down and approximately 4,712 going up - the difference in number being attributed to the fact that Cadets doubled everywhere (as noted earlier) and that going up generally took place whilst being both wet and bloody cold.

The boats ranged from little blue rowing skiffs and RNSA sailing dinghies through assorted larger things with oars and sails (Cutters and Whalers, or the other way round) to motorised craft (Motor Cutter and KR) and really good big stuff (Fast Motor Boat, aka FMB, and the 20-ton Picket Boat, aka PB). Some were drawn up on the tiny beach, others were moored to buoys in the trots, others moored to pontoons or tied up alongside the small jetty. On all these jolly items one was required to acquire a degree of competence as the driver (oops, sorry, Coxswain) to be allowed to go solo (with the requisite number of crew, of course). My Boatwork Logbook tells the tale …

http://i319.photobucket.com/albums/mm468/atco5473/PPRuNe%20ATC/scan-1.jpeg (http://s319.photobucket.com/user/atco5473/media/PPRuNe%20ATC/scan-1.jpeg.html)

In this priceless historic document are also recorded my daily activities during the afternoon periods designated for “activity”. The weekly summary would, for example, read:
River
Shooting
River
Practical Leadership Exercise
Shooting
River
River

This was then scrutinised weekly by one’s Divisional Officer, who would make pertinent comments such as “With no tests to your credit, you can afford to spend two days a week shooting”. “Sorry, Sir, but target shooting is my chosen sport, not freezing my nuts off in small boats in the pouring rain.” I didn’t say that, of course!

Working your way through the various tests wasn’t just a simple ‘boat work skill process’ … you also needed to be able to get access to the type of boat you needed (with associated crewmen) and a suitable personage to actually conduct the test. That, combined with other distractions, deviations and hesitations (like being nominated as “Duty Crew” ferrying other cadets about the water to their boats) tended to make this a slight PITA. As my regular adverse comments from my DO mounted, so did the other diversions that prevented me from acceding to his wishes. As you can see, it took me nearly 4 months to finally tick off the last test, on the FMB … not helped by the fact that there were only a couple of them, and were thus in high demand by everyone!


I really don’t think I was cut out for the RN … I joined because they took helicopter pilots with a lower eyesight standard than any fixed wing military, and it was thus the only piloting career option open to me. Perhaps I should now shut up for a while, stow my Boatwork Log Book and peruse the memories contained in my RN Form S.1175, aka Pilots Flying Log. That won’t take too long, as you will see.

(Edit ... Wander00, my Logbook say 1963, so my Course/Division/Flotilla photo must have been then ;) )

MPN11
9th Dec 2013, 12:52
From the ramp immediately above the stairs, we would a couple of times a week have "flashing" session; sounds sort of navy... But it was actually reading morse code from a flashing lamp atop the mainmast/flagpole. This could be problematic early in the morning during the first 3 months of the year, when the sun was low and rising (yes, I think you were right about the 0630 wake up call): retinal damage, anyone?
Ahh, those early morning signalling exercises. I remember them well, and they were bloody cold too!!

To my surprise I became quite competent at Morse, and could manage something intelligible at around 8wpm on both send and receive. Up in Temeraire Block, we had keys and lamps in a couple of the passageways, so we could practice in our own time. Not sure it would work there days ... can you imagine say to a colleague "Fancy coming up to the rear gallery so I can practice my flashing with you?"

teeteringhead
9th Dec 2013, 13:33
Ah - morse on the Aldis Lamp!

When young APO Teeters was starting flying training post AOTS (a briefly lifed son of ITS), the Powers That Be were tinkering with flying syllabi.

One plan - to save cash of course - was to do more Chipmunk flying followed by less JP flying. The chosen model for the trial extra Chippy flying was the RN/FAA pre-helicopter course (60 or 75 hours instead of the 30 the RAF got). So 10 of us were dispatched to Linton (then mostly RN) to fly. (Although I was the only one to finish up rotary).

"But," said our wise masters, "the RN do lots of morse, so you must keep up."

"Instead of your post graduating leave, you can all go to Topcliffe (Siggy School) to do 2 weeks intensive morse. You will need 12s (words per minute) on the key and 6s on the Lamp (:eek:)".

Which we more or less achieved, and proudly declared our ability on arrival at Linton.

"Oh morse?" said the staff "How quaint - the FAA gave all that up a couple of years ago!"

:ugh::ugh:

ricardian
9th Dec 2013, 13:58
In my time in the Civil Service (after 12 years RAF service) I met an old chap who had been in the Royal Navy in 1944. After his initial training as a Telegraphist at HMS Mercury (Hampshire) he was posted to a ship in Scapa Flow (Orkney). The journey north took 3 days in crowded trains and a very rough crossing of the Pentland Firth. On arrival at his ship he was told that he had to attend a specialist course commencing in 7 days time - at HMS Mercury.

HTB
9th Dec 2013, 14:30
Wander00

My first photo post (New Forest) was Summer of 1969 - as I said, the week after IoW pop/rock Festival; the second, on the steps at BRNC was between January/June 1969 (2 Flying intakes per annum of 6 months duration), I entered the college on 6 January 1969.

Here's a handsome bunch - the BRNC athletics team for the annual inter-college competition. I do recall that the Cranwell team was rather large (in numbers, that is), but also very sociable. They plied us, on our home ground, with much drink, food and joviality, indulging in equal measure themselves. So all should be equilibrium the next day, the day of competition. Not so; the devious Crabs had sent effecively two teams - one to socialise us into a parlous physical condition, the other to do the actual jock strapping, little good it did them when faced with this sort of performer...

http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab239/MisterB2/scan0008_zps89b54f26.jpg

There are two or three RAN sub lts in our team; only remember the name of one - Ramsey (tall guy, front row 6 from left).

Which reminds me of some name plates on flying kit lockers on 706 Sqn at Culdrose. There were two Aus exchange instructors: one big, bearded and gregarious by name of Max Speedy - on his locker "Lt Speedy RAN"; the other, somewhat less colourful, Bruce Crawford - on his locker, next to Max's - "Lt Crawford also RAN".

Mister B



http://i867.photobucket.com/albums/ab239/MisterB2/scan0013_zps2e8edc2c.jpg

clicker
9th Dec 2013, 14:52
Smudge,

Re ATC controllers keeping aircraft apart.

Of course before the days of ATC it should be remembered that aircraft flew whatever way they wished to go.

Then ATC came along to bring them altogether to fly down narrow corridors called airways, which is rather like putting all the scattered eggs into one basket.

clicker

ricardian
9th Dec 2013, 15:05
rather like putting all the scattered eggs into one basket.
My befuddled brain read that as rather like putting all the scattered egos into one basket.

HTB
9th Dec 2013, 15:06
AA

That sounds a bit too much like a real survival exercise - I assume that there was also the land survival element (still in the NF?)

teeters

When I did the Chipmunk HSP course (second half of '69) it was at Chuch Fenton; without my logbook to hand (we're in different countries) I seem to remember the hours allocated were 85. We also had a few sessions while at BRNC, flying from Robourough aerodrome, grass runways (which became Plymouth Airport - now closed); about 9 hours allocated, culminating in first solo.

I don't count the odd Wasp flight from the sports field at Norton, just above the college


MPN11

My memories of boating from Sandquay et al are frighteningly similar to yours. The Kitchen Rudder particularly could be a bitch to drive, especially if you were over-enthisiastic with the control wheel at the extremes of its travel - it could very easily become jammed in full ahead or full astern. As Jock Barclay found out when making a dashing approach to the quay, intending to go from full fast forward to full stop - except he was jammed stuck in full ff. Two bowmen with now redundant boathooks found themselves holding two short splintered staves after attempting to overcome the laws of physics by arresting forward motion with said boathooks:eek:.

The PB provided a different challenge, with two throttles, two large brass gear levers (forward or reverse) and a steering wheel as well. You needed an extra hand or two if a complex manoeuvre was involved; just was not on to ask another crew memebr to help out (ah, the pride of being the coxswain):cool:.

Anyway, what's all this got to do with earning a pilot's brevet: remember my thrusting young lt cdr DO from a previous post? Well, during one of my frequent one-sided talks about lack of interest (and proficency) in boating, he came out with the observation that flying and sailing were very much alike, and so I must have an interest in both. I suppose so, wind does play a factor in both activities, and a sail is aerodynamic, sometimes. But like MPN, I couldn't 'fess up that it was the bloody mountaineering trek to the river and back that was the greatest discouragement. And the wetness and cold that January to March bring to the party

Mister B

Wander00
9th Dec 2013, 15:11
From my school year (1962) we put one into each of the Service colleges - I went to Cranwell, Blondy Pearson (whom I still see) to BRNC Dartmouth and Mike Jiggens to Sandhurst

MPN11
9th Dec 2013, 15:55
The PB provided a different challenge, with two throttles, two large brass gear levers (forward or reverse) and a steering wheel as well. You needed an extra hand or two if a complex manoeuvre was involved; just was not on to ask another crew memebr to help out (ah, the pride of being the coxswain).

Wimp. :cool:

The PB was a doodle to drive!!! As you say, two bloody great gear levers sticking out of the floor (oops, deck) of the bridge (a good 3 ft long, IIRC), two man-sized throttles and a wheel. The trick you clearly never discovered or were told is that you hook your leg round a gear level to pull it back, or use your plimsol shod foot to push it/them forward. Bit painful, I will admit, but I had that dear boat well sorted ... sporting approaches to the pontoon, hard turn upwind/tide, slam both into reverse, then into neutral, "Make fast forward, make fast aft" and ... Bob's your DO :D

It was my absolute favourite boat. Like the day we FAA guys took 3 of them "outside" and did some "formation boating" off Slapton Sands using signal flags and Aldis lamp signals. Did you have the wooden boards with the signal messages pasted on them, under a coat of marine varnish? "Sea flat calm, no wind, river flood tide" is says here.

"Line astern ... GO", with the execute as the flag/s were hauled down. I recall we finished off our display with a high-speed run (well, PB high speed) straight at the beach in line abreast, followed by a nifty "Turnabout Starboard ... GO". I'm sure the gulls were impressed - sadly, on 26 Jan 64 I doubt the beach was full of adoring tottie just begging for us to drop hook and swim ashore!

(PS. Looking at the BRNC website, it seems the PBs now have an enclosed bridge. Wimps.)

HTB
9th Dec 2013, 16:32
MPN (can we drop the 11 now that we're corresponding...?)

Yes, I used the same leg techniques, and had the bruises as witness. However, I had in mind something like a "man overboard" drill, where the punchy approach was one in forward, the other in reverse then juggle the trottles and wheel (remembering to cancel all that once upwind of the overboard, lest you minced him into fish bait).

The other boats you mentioned were probably the Boston Whaler and the 3 in 1 Whaler; I think both could be propelled by oars and sailed by stepping a mast. The latter, I have faint recollection, might have had an inboard diesel donk. By the way, I was pretty useless at the engine thing as well, requiring remedial instruction from the ever patient Mr Love.

The one that NO cadets were ever allowed near was the Captain's barge - I think it was a Fairey Huntress, or some such name; lovely looking boat.

Mister B

MPN11
9th Dec 2013, 16:40
Hehe ... Two sorts of whaler in my time, one with oars and sails, HM ships for the use of, and the diesel engined ones that provided the taxi service to the trots in addition to basic powerboat training.

Am I dreaming, or did the coxswain communicate with the engineer (haha) by whistle blasts, as the poor sod under the coaming next to the engine couldn't hear anything? One for go, 2 for atop, 3 for astern and 4 for I have hiccups?

And I hated the KR as well :p

(Started on the flying draft ... Won't take long!! Then others, especially Danny42C, can wade in undisturbed by my meandering. I think I'm getting close to joining Danny on his wing as he approaches Shawbury :)

Wander00
9th Dec 2013, 16:51
Had a trip from Lymington to Portsmouth in the Southampton University P2000 - was amazed that even in a ship that size, helm orders were passed from skipper to helmsman, as we see on TV in much larger ships.

Fareastdriver
9th Dec 2013, 17:44
This happened to us in Cyprus.

There was a UNICYP cricket contest and we, the RAF UN detachment at Nicosia went off into the sticks to DANECON to play the Danes.

They met us, twelve blokes with white shirts and slacks and we retired tp the mess tent for lunch. That consisted of copius amouts of real Carlsberg lager.

We strolled out to the area of ground that looked like a cricket pitch and eleven different blokes turned up.

Gloating amonst the spectators was their Brit Army liasion officer, an RE captain who had coached the team, and to his delight we got duffed up.

Exrigger
9th Dec 2013, 18:28
The charge given out to camlobes when he joined up reminded me of my first start in the RAF at the tender age of 15 ½ in 1968 as a craft apprentice, airframes. I had to go to RAF Halton 6 months earlier than most, as my school achievements were ok but needed a top up so to speak.
Firstly my choices for joining were;
1. Aircraft Electrician (always liked messing about with electrics as a kid)
2. MT Fitter (always liked messing about with car engines etc)
3. Airframe Fitter (suggested 3rd choice)
First choice was out as my mathematics skills were apparently not good enough, cannot for the likes of me know why I was not deemed suitable for MT Fitter (although once I left training I then started to find out that it is not so much what you would like to be, it was what trade needed people), so I started in my 3rd choice, which after 30 years I had the right choice made for me.
So first things first the arrival and splitting up into alphabetic groups to be allocated block/room, introduced to a discip staff, cannot remember too much shouting at this stage, although my memory of small details like this are not as good as others on this fine thread, some of that came later.

Bed packs, the use of the bumper etc and all those other turning men into boys stuff described previously all bring back the memories of a time gone by. My first ‘run in’ with the management was at a briefing, which included form filling and taking the life insurance with the company that went bust, they introduced us to the term ‘re-mustering’ with the explanation that one could change trades within the same trade group, which just happened to mean that I could change to Aircraft Electrician.

Silly me decided to pose the question that if my maths was not good enough to be an Aircraft Electrician when I applied, and I had done no more maths and improved what I left school with, then how come I could now change to the trade I wanted to be, don’t you just know that when there is a total silence in the room that you begin to think (sorry I know that does not bode well for a young erk to start thinking at this stage) that maybe you are not supposed to question the management.

Anyway the brief continued after the pregnant pause as if I had not said anything, after those 30 years, I never did get an answer to that question. Next time I fell foul was on a Saturday when we were given the task of cleaning up the surrounds of the block which I duly joined the rest of the room and id our bit, having demonstrated the keenness I was carrying out this onerous task by showing the amount of rubbish I had picked up to the discip sergeant, put it in a bin and went to my pit.

The discip Cpl then ordered me to go outside and pick up rubbish to which I politely replied that I had just finished doing that and that the other blokes were finishing off, again funny how I did not learn from my previous sortie into expressing an opinion, this ended up with him charging me for disobeying a direct order, which for those in the know is an automatic Courts Marshall offense.

It turns out that you cannot Courts Marshall an apprentice so it was dropped to the lesser charge of non-compliance with an order, which got me 7 days jankers and a £12 fine, and yes I also found the delights of working in the mess hall kitchen (without the bonus of food and not so nice staff), blancoing belts, bags and harness, best blue inspection by the orderly officer.

I know for my first post on this great thread it is a bit long, as I don't know whether to add anything further as I am still trying to keep with all the other memories. By the way I was told that all disciplinary actions taken at training did not end up on your proper RAF files, funny how you also believe everything you are told while in training.

clicker
9th Dec 2013, 19:14
ricardian,

I think you would agree that we don't have any scattered egos on this thread, but in real life we've all found one or two of them. :-)

smujsmith
9th Dec 2013, 20:07
Exrigger,

Just for the sake of my Memory, 210/211/212 ? I was 214. And re the moniker, you can absolutely never, ever be an ex rigger, you just stop practising as much :rolleyes:

Smudge:ok:

Exrigger
9th Dec 2013, 20:23
Smujsmith 213, the largest entry for years and you must of been there when a bumper was used during a block raid against the first non apprentice entry :)

Danny42C
9th Dec 2013, 21:14
Now we are all settled in at Bruton St. GK, and don't care if it snows (which it did, nicely in time for Christmas). Life in the ATC "Tower" (ie a nondescript section of a terraced single story office and workshop buildings facing onto the South Taxiway) continued its leisurely way. Indeed, I can remember very little about what we actually did , except for the fact that there wasn't much of it, I can never remember being busy there.

We would have a CA/DF, of course, and so I must have handed out a few QTEs, but I cannot recall doing any QGHs. In fact, now I come to think of it, I don't think they even had a Safety Lane. (There was no other aid on the field).

They didn't need it, of course. All their "Missions" would be under Sector Control, they went over to that as soon as the wheels were up, and we wouldn't hear a cheep out of them until Sector handed them back to Approach. Mostly the navs knew exactly where they were, and disdained any assistance from us to arrive visually. If the weather were really duff,or the pilot wanted some GCA practice, we'd give a bearing to the CPN-4 and let them get on with it.

We spent a lot of Watch time companiably nattering, and as we were nearly all ex-war (or early post-war) aircrew, Approach developed into the sort of the crewroom that I now nostalically envisage in Cyberspace. Folk from other sections along the line would drift in for a cuppa and a chat.

It would be blue with cigarette smoke, and the ashtrays piled high, as was the case everywhere in those days. I was never a cigarette smoker, but had started with a pipe early in my wartime service. When, how, and why I can't remember. I suppose it was the Thing to Do at the time (if you go back to wartime RAF photos and films, look out for the pipes). Chugalug may remember my description of a typical crewroom of the period in a Post long ago, and how we agreed that anyone smoking the exotic "Balkan Sobranies" was naturally under suspicion. But now I must make it absolutely clear that this does not apply to their pipe tobacco. This was (I stopped smoking when I retired in '72) most excellent stuff, rich and fruity and well worth the money.

I can see the tins now, black and white with a Balkan country scene on the lid. It wasn't cheap, but as it was duty-free in the NAAFI shop, that took the sting out of it. (I had gently to tell my old Mother not to send it out to me as a gift, as I could get it at half the price she'd have to pay).

An even less expensive source was the unit of USAC (?) we had with us on the station. (One of their officers lived a couple of doors down from us in Bruton St). They were, of course, the custodians of the Great Deterrant, which lived in its kennel in the woods off the North taxiway. I don't think they actually had a PX on the station, but they obviously had access to one, and I could get "Robin Hood" pipe tobacco (in a big round red and black pound tin) from them for Dm4 (£6 today, or 37½p/oz.) - where would you get that today ! The stuff was more like rough-cut cigarette tobacco, with not much taste, but when "cut" 50/50 with the B.S., the blend was very satisfying indeed.

Apart from a few newcomers, all of us were ex-Volkspark or still in it, and the commute was a lively source of stories. Our relations with the Polizei were generally good - provided you stuck to the letter of the law. They were hot on speeding - the limits in the towns and villages was 50 kph (31 mph), and on the Landstraße 80 kph (50). They had quite sophisticated kit.

It was always an unmarked VW Combi van, it could be any colour. It would be parked on the grass on the nearside with backdoors open. The radar was in there. In the front was the flash camera. The radar took the reading, the thing waited a second or so for you to pass, then the flash fired.

You were "done to rights". The picture you got showed clearly the back registration number (I don't thing we had any front plates), superimposed were date/time/place and speed. There was no point arguing, you paid up (it wasn't cheap). All this I was told, you understand (I was never caught myself - but I've seen the photographs (they're good). You soon developed a sixth sense for parked Combis !

The system had an Achilles Heel. If two cars were passing at the same time (one overtaking the other), it was possible for the radar to get the faster, but the camera the slower. There was a celebrated case which reduced all Germany to tears of mirth. A dear old granny from some farm was plugging along on a tractor just as a Porche came howling past. Granny was booked at 120 kph, the Press exulted over the "Turbo-OMA" all week!

Goodnight, all, (from the Sorcerer's Apprentice )

Danny42C.


Àpres moi, le déluge !

smujsmith
9th Dec 2013, 22:04
Danny,

Epic, and I'm still laughing at the thought of the tractor bound grandmother. I knew some of those German ladies were a bit on the "fast" side :=. I do though recognise the posting type. I once did a tour of two and a half years as SNCO i/c Visiting Aircraft Servicing Flight, RAF Machrihanish. The day after I walked my arrival card around the unit, they closed the runway for resurfacing. Along with my fellow aircraft tradesmen, the ATC in its entirety and all their support staff I spent the next two years learning to play golf. On re opening, the new runway gave me my next signature, that of Paul McCartney on arriving on holiday. Because of a pre employment course, I departed shortly afterwards. I can't remember actually doing a lot with visiting aircraft, we did supply the station with great bacon, egg, sausage (or any combination) of freshly cooked rolls, which paid handsomely our weekly bar bill as a section.

Exrigger,

213, as fine a bunch as I ever played for on a passing out parade (trombone in the brass (Gash) band). Not too sure about the bumper incident, non apprentice 401 by any chance ?

Smudge:ok:

camlobe
9th Dec 2013, 22:33
MPN11,
Begging your forgiveness, but as a mere crab (sorry, ex-crab) could you please describe a "kitchen rudder"?

It is notable that although the contributors on this thread cover many ranges of time and chosen branch of service, there continues to be great similarity in the "indoctrination process" we all were subject to, albeit with slight variances. I guess the system got it pretty right in the 1930's, and stuck with it through the rest of the 20th Century.

Probably like most here, I am totally enthralled by everyone else's posts. I am continually entertained and educated, and my growing respect for my peers and predecessors knows no limit. Once again, I thank you all for putting your memories down here allowing those like myself (and those completely different) to enjoy your reminisces, humour, and pain.

Just popped another Florin in the pot and have poured myself a nice cuppa out of the Baby Burco. Anyone else for a cup o' char?

Bedknobs and Bangsticks.

After considerable effort and concentration, we merry men have now progressed to the Practical and Oral SLR rifle test. Cpl Gibson of the RAF Regiment is the judge, jury and career stopper if we fail. One at a time each recruit enters the room and closes the door behind him. The rest of us cram our ears to the door to get an idea what to expect. We didn't need to get quite so close as Cpl Gibson could be clearly heard down the corridor, but we didn't want to miss anything. The victim was briefed on what was required. There was the strip and reassemble of the SLR, the unload and reload the magazine of 20 rounds in three nanoseconds, and the requirement to answer ALL the questions accurately. For the first couple of guys, things didn't go well. Cpl Gibson's voice would have challenged any DI for volume any vehemence. Then we heard "100%, WELL DONE. NEXT". So, now we knew that it could be done. The initial widespread depression was exchanged for forlorn hope. And then my turn came. Surprisingly, to me at any rate, I didn't lose any skin on the block or the slide. I managed to unload and load the magazine faster than in any practice session. I was starting to feel almost confident. And then I answered one question wrong. As soon as the answer came out of my lips, I cringed. Cpl Gibson obviously noticed this and asked the question again (an unheard of practice). Stunned, I gave what I knew to be the correct answer. "100%, WELL DONE, NEXT". I passed, and with flying colours. To me this was a major victory, and my disbelieving but beaming smile conveyed to my brethren my newfound superiority with weaponry. But, of course, we had yet to fire this mighty Bangstick.

Eventually, everyone passed that day, and we soon found ourselves on the 25 yard range (don't think Britannia had succumbed to SI units quite yet). Heavily briefed and supervised, we lay down beside our weapons six abreast. Our magazines, now loaded with ten LIVE rounds were laid beside us. On the command we loaded, cocked, and then "FIRE". Even with ear defenders, it was deafening. And if you didn't grip the rifle tightly as you had been briefed, you could be cut above the eye by the rear sight (as happened to a couple of chaps) or you could end up with a whopping great swelling on your jaw (as happened to me). At the end of our many rounds fired, scores were totted up. Surprise number two. "Congratulations camlobe, you are a marksman". ME? I had only fired shotguns before, and although I tended to hit what I aimed at, I was still stunned at this news. Well, thought I, hopefully it will balance out the black mark on my record with the dirty boots. Ahh, the nievity of youth.

One of the first things that we had the pleasure of when be arrived at Swinderby was the taking down and recording our personal details, and the form filling that this entailed. It was here that we agreed to our donations to the RAFBF and, I think SSAFA ( I need a bit of help with this as I am not sure). Next of kin details, Religious bent, and Bank details. I was surprised to find I was one of only a few out of 50 or so who actually held a Bank Account. And I had paid tax previously. Although I had held an account since the age of 14, I was 19 when I joined up, and had worked elsewhere while waiting for my join up letter. Many of my fellow recruits were 16 and straight from school.

We did have a chuckle at one of these younger lads. On the first day, the Discip Sergeant had ordered everyone to wet shave every morning. This particular lad, although 16, looked about 12, and said "but Sergeant, I don't shave". "WELL, YOU #%$+¥<# DO NOW". The following morning, our young recruit appeared on parade with his jawline covered in red blotched pieces of toilet paper.

At the end of the second week (IIRC), Pay Parade. Everyone briefed on the simple actions required. Hats on (I think) stand to attention in front of the junior Officer, full number, rank, and name, SIR. Get it wrong, back of the queue and wait your turn again. We compare our incomes. It is a small fortune. And my fortune is bigger than most. I work out it must be due to my age and perhaps because I have paid tax before, but I don't really know. I even sent some home. And because I was over 18, I was able to consume alcohol in the NAAFI. As Smudge says, happy Daze.

One night, I felt tired ( more tired than normal while in training) and decided to retire to my bunk early, probably around 2100 hours. I walked into the 18 man room and stood shocked still. Two of our Yorkshire lads were dong something that really didn't seem right. They were bunked at opposite ends of the room, and had decided that after the previous couple of weeks in captivity, they would self pleasure themselves, but to make it manly acceptable, they would make it a competition. I about turned and went and got drunk.

Camlobe

Nawt queer as folk.

Dave Wilson
9th Dec 2013, 22:33
Mmmm, I'll give my initial training a go, 39 years ago now!

I'd always wanted to join the RAF, being brought up on Sunday afternoon b/w war films of the Angels 15 ilk. I am of that generation where my father and his brothers (and his sister) fought in WWII and my grandfather and his brothers fought in WW1. You could say I heard a war story or two and tales of derring do while growing up...

My father and I used to make a different Airfix model each week and visited anything aviation related, particularly the Finningley BofB days which gave me my greatest (and still greatest) aviation memory. Not of aircraft but of the smell of freshly mown grass and burnt avtur. I only have to smell that now and I'm watching white Vulcans at Finningley. The whole raison d'etre of the RAF was appealing, a bunch of guys with a common purpose and aircraft to play with. Those airmen were like Gods to me, a breed apart, men of courage and integrity. What more could a young man want? The seed was sown and I knew one way or another I would finish up in the RAF.

Being of an academic bent I sailed through the 11 plus, went off to Grammar, did well in my 'O's and was half way through my 'A's when two Vulcans flew over my school very low and very loud. I could stand it no longer, I had to join up. I convinced mater and pater that I wasn't going to university no matter what and the RAF was for me. I've had mixed feelings about the Vulcan ever since...They knew that their pleading had fallen on deaf ears so off I went to Doncaster CIO and was told the the very highest aspiration of any young man was to be a Nav Inst Mech.

'Does that mean I'll be in the proximity of or even on aircraft?' I asked. 'Oh yes' said the smiling officer. That'll do for me then chum I thought. I went home and the blue letter arrived on very thin paper saying 'Dear Mr Wilson, arrangements have now been made for you to enter the Royal Air Force.' How nice I thought, arrangements have been made, all very laid back.

On the 14th of May 1974 I attested at Sheffield CIO. I was now Aircraftman DJ Wilson with a blue travel warrant and a big smile. I also had hair half way down my back, flares and a tie die t-shirt. Probably didn't look the part looking back. Two days later I had my little brown suitcase clutched tightly waiting for the No 14 bus to Doncaster outside Ardsley Crematorium. I proudly passed the driver my warrant, he took one look at me and shook his head slowly, gave me my ticket and the journey began...

I caught the train from Doncaster to Newark, having had the sense to have my hair cut to about bottom of neck level and not wear my Che Guavera t-shirt, looking out for any other suitcase hogging bright eyed souls. I met up with a couple and of course we said we would look out for each other and almost signed the deal in blood. We decamped at Newark and there was a big blue bus and a man with stripes. I thought I would cover all bases and just call everyone I saw in RAF uniform 'Sir'. Couldn't go wrong I thought. I of course thought wrongly as the chap with the stripes educated me as to who and what he was in a friendly manner although I'm sure he had hearing difficulties. Too many hours spent near jets obviously poor chap.

We arrived at Swinderby in a disorderly fashion and I well remember spending the first few days marching around in civvies as there was a hold up with the uniform. The one event that everyone was looking forward to was The Flight. A transport a/c dropped in each week to take the trainees on an air experience flight. Ours was cancelled due to a fuel shortage...the good old 70's. Eventually we were issued with what were called 'Hairy Marys'. These were course cloth uniforms that itched like buggery. Having sensitive skin I hated them. We were also one of the first intakes to be issued with the new jumper, the crew neck one that you will all remember. That was a bit smarter. We were measured for our number ones, the shapeless bags that were issued at the time. Who the hell designed those I know not but they weren't a patch on the old style number one.

Training continued with wooden full size toy rifles for drill. I have to say that I was enjoying every minute of it, I was light years away from the louch young man who held forth on politics and literature only a couple of weeks before. Of course I was an expert being a teenager. There was drill and more drill, I took to it like a duck to water, feeling bereft one day when I got something wrong and was bawled at by my drill corporal. I addressed him as 'Sir' as well to compound the issue...

After a whole week we were given a week's leave. I didn't have a clue as to leave entitlement at this time so thought that this was really living in the land of the lotus eaters, plus I was getting £33 a week, a not insubstantial sum at that time. Just before we went on leave we had our No 1's issued. Of course I didn't take the thing off the whole week I was on leave, visiting various family members who looked at me with what I now know to be 'But you were a long haired hippie a fortnight ago' look but which I thought was 'My what a glamorous young man' look. I also found out that the ladies liked a chap in uniform, albeit one that still smelled of new cloth.

On returning from leave we were introduced to RAF law and customs and it was during one of these lectures that I was called out and told I had to go for an x-ray as there was an abnormality in my heart. I was shattered, not because of fears for my own health but for the fact that I might have to leave the RAF. My drill sergeant who was an absolute top bloke called Sgt Jacks (hello Sgt Jacks if you are still with us) told me and he did his best to allay my fears. It turned out that my heart is a bit lopsided and only beats at rest at around 40bpm. It had never caused me any problems and never has, the RAF said I was good for a trip so I returned to Swinders walking on air.

The lecture rooms were next to the airfield and on occassion we would hear a Chipmunk taxi past. Everything stopped as a room full of would be airmen pressed their noses to the window to see a real live RAF aeroplane that was part of the same organisation as them. Good feeling.

We were eventually let loose with real rifles, the good old SLR. I thought over the years that it was a tremendous rifle, very simple and easy to maintain with a hell of a punch. I became a good shot and enjoyed shooting. Later I joined the station shooting teams at various units I was at if possible and became handy with weapons. It was about this time that one or two people started to disappear, one of them a young lad from Sheffield that I had become good friends with. One day he had gone, I asked what had happened to him but no one would tell me. That was the end of him. A new determination took hold as I realised that this wasn't the boy scouts. Magazines had to be filled in a minimum time, I was the fastest. Running down the main runway and back I always won. I wasn't going to be someone who disappeared overnight.

Eventually we went on camp, which as I remember was a few days in the Sherwood Forest area (correct me if I'm wrong) under canvas. I enjoyed this but found out a flaw that I've carried with me since although I think I can hide it to some extent now. If I think someone is going about something the wrong way I tell them, then I tell then the way I would do it which is of course the right way...This Is Not The Way The RAF Operates...

I digress a second but many years later as a techy corporal I was listening to a senior officer discussing a technical matter. He made a mistake in what he was saying and I said words to the effect of 'Hang on sir, if you do that blah will happen and you need to do this' etc. He took me to one side later and said 'Corporal, I know you are right but don't ever tell me I'm wrong again.'

There was an inscrutable logic there that I'm still searching for. I think it was the 'Your career is over' sort of logic.

Anyway, back to Aircraftman Wilson. The six weeks, which incidentally was conducted in the most gorgeous weather, it never rained once, was coming to an end. All preparation was for the passing out parade. We marched this way and that, slow marched, presented arms. Loved it all. We did do a 'wet' rehearsal although looking at the blue skys of the last 6 weeks we paid it little heed.

Come the day and it hammered down, rained for Noah. Anyway we got polished up, shoes bulled, belts blancoed, adrenalin rushing. We did the event in the hanger, my parents were there and it was one of the proudest moments of my life.

I have to say that Swinders was one of the best six weeks I had in the RAF, I loved every second. It was challenging and intense but that's the sort of stuff I enjoy.


Retrospect:

Some years later I had my pilot's license and flew over Finningley, now Robin Hood Airport or something equally as daft. (When you speak to Doncaster Approach when crossing the class D it's always referred to as Finningley, the NDB is still FNY) It was a very moving moment for me, all of my life had been directed by attending those airshows and watching those heroes of mine flying their impossibly fast silver jets through the blue. Now here I was, looking down and I wondered what if that kid would have known that forty years later I would by sailing across that blue.

Union Jack
10th Dec 2013, 00:07
For some unfathomable reason that splendid expression Danny used some while back, revenons à nos moutons, comes to mind.:rolleyes: Bearing in mind the title of this amazing thread, these pseudo-nautical reminiscences must be some of the best example of thread-drift of all time, although I do have to say that I have been greatly amused by the reflections of those who had the pleasure of spending a short while in dark blue.:D

Sandhurst or Aldershot, anyone?;)

Jack

PS Camlobe - Much enjoying your light blue tale:ok: and there's quite an interesting discussion on the Kitchen (never Kitchener, despite the thread title!) Rudder at The Kitchener Rudder - Ships Nostalgia (http://www.shipsnostalgia.com/showthread.php?t=26848&highlight=kitchen+rudder)

Danny42C
10th Dec 2013, 02:16
Smudgsmith,

Smudge,

Re bumpers, yes indeed ! I don't think any recruit in any service doesn't treasure that healthy indoor exercise in his memory. And I can still recall the smell of polish (Ronuk? in a big tin) on the linoleum. One Poster describes the things as cast iron, I think small blocks of concrete were also used, and we always had pieces of scrap blanket underneath - it gave a better finish. The paper under the bed feet is a new one on me, though.

I was a bit surprised by that picture of the two chaps bumping bare pine boards. Floorboards are for scrubbing , and I'm well versed in that art, too. Bumping is for linoleum (or parquet - and whoever saw that in the RAF ?)

Shooting my own fox: one evening at Linton a chip pan fire started in an AMQ. This was ratherr embarrassing, as it was the F/Sgt Fire Section Chief's house. But there was a fire alarm close by, the glass was bust (always use your elbow ), the button pressed. And they waited...and waited.

All these alarms are wired to the Guardroom, they call out the Fire Section or (if flying is in progress) the civil Brigade. But the Guardroom did not react in this case until a panting messenger staggered in from the Patch. By the time the Professionals arrived on the scene, the fire was going very well indeed.

At the subsequent Enquiry the cause came to light. The Alarm connection was plugged into a socket on the Guardroom skirting boards. There had recently been a "blitz" on the Guardroom lino - the plug had been knocked half out.

Red faces all round. Moral: leave the lino alone. Danny

Yamagata ken
10th Dec 2013, 06:26
Floorboards are for scrubbing , and I'm well versed in that art, too. Bumping is for linoleum (or parquet - and whoever saw that in the RAF ?) Not so Danny. We had a bumper at home, and the CSM (aka Mum) made us roll back the carpets (not fitted, natch) and use the bumper to polish the exposed boards between the carpet edge, and the walls.

MPN11
10th Dec 2013, 08:34
Union Jack - Thanks for the KR links :ok:

And thanks to all the other recent contributors. Oh, what jolly fun we had in those early days of our careers ;)

On the subject of bumpers I am surprised that nobody has mentioned the pile of squares of carpet underlay or old blankets stacked by the door, on which one slid around on the gleaming linoleum like an inept skater. Nobody EVER walked on the lino, except the staff of course. Oh, except when we moved on, at which stage we would all contentedly scrunch around in our hobnailed boots to ensure there was a well-scratched surface for the next course to get to work on :E

camlobe
10th Dec 2013, 08:53
Dave Wilson,
I chuckled a few times reading your post as so much of it is familiar. Not just the joyous Basic Training, but the lead up to career choice and the CIO, but more of that later.

Union Jack,
Thank you for your 'steer' regarding the not unfamiliar principles of the Kitchen Rudder. One-armed wallpaper hangar images come to mind.

With regard to the Senior Service, my dealings with them have been confined to an issue with one of Her Majesty's submarines, (but more of that later), and I find myself totally engrossed in, and respectful of, the Dark Blue's way of things. Some stories from my past included being advised by a Light Blue colleague of mine visiting a friend at an RN shore base. Thou shalt not walk, but wait for the Liberty Boat aka bus. And being knocked out by a life buoy following a shout of "MAN OVERBOARD"...the perils of walking on Navy grass. And watching two ratings regularly walking along the block corridors with torches looking closely at the floor, ceilings, and doorways (passageways and bulkheads?). When asked why, the matter-of-fact reply of "leak checks" left him amused. Practice on land puts you in the correct frame of mind at sea, I would guess.

And thank you for your feedback. The last few evenings, I have been anxious in case my transfer of mental ramblings into type would be considered out of place here. You have helped ease my mind.

Speaking of out of place, back in the '80's, a still drunken camlobe is awoken by a chap who quietly knocked at the door and brought me a most welcome coffee, apparently ordered on my behalf. I arose out of the slumber to take in rather unfamiliar but obviously military surroundings. Opening the curtains, I had to blink a number of times before I realised that the view was very well known to me, but most certainly NOT from this angle. The coffee downed, the stealthy and discrete camlobe snuck out the back and managed to avoid the many familiar faces who would have questioned why Cpl camlobe was exiting the OM Annex.

Tony MP, where are you now?

MPN 11,
You brought another smile to my face. I had completely forgotten about the 'carpet skating' antics on the freshly bumped floors.

It is the continual comments of the little things which have helped me compile my drivel, as I made no written notes whatsoever of my career. I have relied entirely on my rather fallible memory. And I think we all chuckle at the 'little things' as much as the major faux pas.

Camlobe

Pull back, houses get smaller. Keep pulling back, houses get bigger...QUICKLY.

BEagle
10th Dec 2013, 09:01
All these tales of the treatment meted out to raw recruits makes me so glad that I was one of the chosen 'cream of British youth' types selected for RAFC Cranwell and a General List commission, rather than that wretched Secondary Modern place in Bedfordshire.

I recall travelling down to Grantham from King's Cross in 1968 with another chap who was also joining that day. HM had given us warrants and the journey passed quite amiably.

Upon arrival at Grantham, a kindly SNCO introduced us to our batmen, who took our luggage off to Cranwell while we were driven to College Hall in staff cars. We were greeted at the steps by a delightful chap termed the 'Cadet Wing Warrant Officer', who told us that we should make our way to the bar for pre-dinner drinks and that dinner would be served at 1900. A pleasant evening chatting to our instructors, then a 3 course meal served by the mess staff, with some very palatable wine. After coffee and port, our cars arrived to take us to our rooms next to the aerodrome, where our batmen had unpacked our luggage and turned down our beds. We were told that, as it had been a long day, breakfast would be at 0900 after which we would receive a formal welcome from the Commandant......








OK, OK - it was nothing like that! After Grantham, we were herded into a fleet of those wheezing old 32-seat coaches and driven direct to the South Brick Lines. A few minutes allowed to drop our kit in our 5 man rooms and report to 'Slasher' to be shorn like convicts, then we were fallen in and marched up to the College in our civvy clothes (jacket and tie)...plus wretched civilian hat. A few introductory words, then march back to the SBLs and get to know your room mates.

We were left alone for 24 hours apart from the usual marching, saluting and being politely yelled at by the squadron Sgt - dear old 'Uncle' Les Rodda (RIP) in my case. But then we were introduced to the delights of 'crowing'. Each night after a hurried dinner, we had to don those pale blue track suits before cleaning and polishing everything in the hut and our own RAF kit. Boots were spooned, windows polished with allegedly 'streak-free' Windowlene (it wasn't) and the floor polished with that yellow gunk and a bumper. But in our bat cave, we discovered an electric floor polisher! Thinking this would save us time, it was plugged in and switched on - only to disgorge clouds of dust and to score the bumpered floor. Ba$tard thing! Another polishing was required...:(

Then entered members of the Senior Entry. We had to call the hut to attention and freeze wherever we happened to be. As well as demanding answers to 'general service knowledge' and requiring us to recite 'The role of the RAF College is to provide the Service with Officers of character and ability...etc...etc', we also had to answer daft question such as:
How often does 'Winking Willie' (the inland lighthouse on top of the college) flash?
How many railings are there in front of College Hall?
Why is there a weathercock on top of College Hall?


The answers to which were:

It doesn't flash, Sir - it rotates at 3.47 rpm.
2. ?
3. Because if there was a weather**** (rude name for a specific part of a female..), the rain would get in and the Senior Entry carpet would get wet!


If you answered "I don't know, Sir" to question 2, you were told to double off and find out. Some people actually did count the blasted things, but actually it was an excuse to disappear for 30 minutes and come back with the 'Entry answer'.

We also had to answer several other silly questions. The Senior Entry pilots looked down on the Senior Entry navigators, so we were instructed to answer "They eat dung and live in caves", when asked what navigators did in the RAF. Which was a bit tricky if your interrogator happened to be a navigator!

After a week or so of this, one night I was asked the stupid question about the weathercock. I looked the non-aircrew SFC in the eyes and answered "To indicate the direction of the wind I suppose, Sir!". He was too chicken to contradict, so then asked "And what do navigators do?" - knowing full well that a navigator was listening, as was a pilot and they clearly wanted to find an excuse to yell at me. "They tell pilots where to go, Sir!", I replied. To my amazement, pilot and nav fell about and the SFC muttered "Hmm....good answer" and went to find an easier target.

The purpose of all this would have been termed 'team building' today. But it was also a cheap and easy way of weeding out those who couldn't stand any pressure. Which included my train journey partner, who left after the first day!

Crowing lasted about 5-6 weeks; when we were considered worthy, we were awarded 'privilege', which meant that we could use the bar and TV rooms, rather than just the ante room - and could even leave the college once per week for the first term. But only if wearing jacket, tie...and that wretched hat if in Lincoln, Sleaford or Grantham.

I remember thinking "If blokes did 3 years in Colditz 25 years ago, I can put up with a few weeks of this" when things were getting too much - and the ever present sound of Jet Provosts kept us going as we knew that one day we'd be doing that too!

After 6 months in the SBLs, we moved to the blocks which abutted the Junior Mess Parade Ground - the JMPG was well known to us as we marched back and forth upon it many, many times. In the second year, cadets moved to College Hall; however, I was one of the many who went up to university for a much better paid, more comfortable life of lechery, Chipmunkery and the occasional lecture. I didn't return to RAFC until 1973 - by which time cadet training had ended and the Graduate Entry scheme was underway. It seemed rather alien - the SBLs had been demolished, the JMPG was now a car park, we lived in comfortable single man rooms in College Hall (now known as College Hall Officers Mess), we wore No 1 uniform for working instead of hairy blues - but the instructors seemed generally a nastier breed of officer than those we'd known in cadet days. We arrived as Plt Offs from university with varying levels of backdated seniority. Ex-Flt Cdts had a year, those with honours degrees a little more and ex-apprentices even more. But we all did 6 months after leaving university as Plt Offs - which meant that some people who arrived in the final entry of the year did so as Flt Lts without having completed Officer Training - one chap arrived actually outranking his acting Flt Lt Admin(Supply) Flt Cdr, for example! Another ex-app went from Plt Off to Flt Lt overnight during the groundschool part of our course.

With the RAF being so small nowadays, it might make sense if a modified version of the cadet system was reintroduced - including training to Wings standard on proper aeroplanes.

It certainly didn't do me any harm!

Pom Pax
10th Dec 2013, 10:52
From Cardington to El Adem (http://www.ventnorradar.co.uk/Subsindex.htm) An interesting read which took all of yesterday evening. Skipped the more technical bits.

MPN11
10th Dec 2013, 11:35
... or, more accurately, MPN11 joins the 9h 55m community. However, at least he has the air beneath his wings!

Prequel. It was in July 1962 that MPN11 first staggered into the air as a student. Not a virgin, exactly - he had already acquired a Gliding B Licence, and several hours Air Experience, with the cadets. But this was the start of his PPL course, on an ATC Flying Scholarship at Oxford/Kidlington. In a Piper Colt … a non-punchy little American armchair flying machine, with a nose wheel undercarriage, two seats and the ability to bimble around fairly safely. My early instructors, Messrs Johnson and Murphy, showed me which end was up (the Colt is non-aerobatic, so that was easy) and after 5h 35m, I was deemed fit to perform my first solo C&L. :cool:

Blah, blah, blah … usual stuff, which included one 30m sortie in a Chipmunk to do Stalling, Spinning and Aerobatics properly, instead of managing the Colt’s general inclination to mush in a downwards direction if you got things badly wrong. Eventually, on 15 Aug 62, I passed my FHT and that was effectively that. I were a Pie Lot. With 30h 15m under my belt! :eek: :) :rolleyes: :cool:
_____

Anyway, reality arrived on 20 Nov 63, when our BRNC course started the Flying Grading phase at Roborough. Was I bovvered? Did I look bovvered??

http://i319.photobucket.com/albums/mm468/atco5473/PPRuNe%20ATC/BRNC-Tiger.jpeg (http://s319.photobucket.com/user/atco5473/media/PPRuNe%20ATC/BRNC-Tiger.jpeg.html)

We were introduced to our steeds, aka the De Havilland D.H.82A Tiger Moth. At the time, they were fairly new. BB694 and BB814 were ex-civil registrations, impressed into service in 1940, whereas T8191was part of a batch of 2,000 built by Morris Motors in the same timescale. Oh, come on, they were only 23 years old … look at some of the stuff the RAF is still flying!! This one was “mine’ for most of the time (link to avoid copyright issues) with three stripes of Dayglo on the cowling … De Havilland DH.82A Tiger Moth, T8191, Royal Navy (http://www.abpic.co.uk/photo/1355916/)

And, so equipped, we set off to perform Serials 6,7,8,9,10 of the syllabus (I assume 1-5 involved things like reading Pilots Notes?), which was the usual stuff … effect of controls, climb, descend, balanced turns, stalling and spinning. Then an Interim Test with the Senior QFI, and then Serials 11 and 12 which were repeated endlessly - I’m guessing that was Circuits and Landings. Round and round, like moths around a candle, we buzzed our way round the Roborough circuit with the brief respite of Serial 14 (whatever that was, with a different QFI - more spinning?) and a Final Test before yet more 11 & 12. “Summary for Course 9h 55m”, and on 6 Dec 63 that was that, the end of the Flying Grading Phase. Nothing was said - it was just another step on the road. And we returned to boat work, studies, running everywhere and generally being ‘victims’.
_____

Sadly, despite my previous massive experience, I discovered that the Tiger Moth displayed an irritating reluctance to land properly. Above 50ft agl, everything was fine … reasonably accurate, balanced and generally “OK” from my POV. But could I land this dainty, tail-dragging, bouncing flying machine? Awful - simply awful. My time on a docile tricycle gear Colt didn’t help at all - the Tiger just kept bloody flying!

Now I don’t know what ‘training strategy’ was being employed (if any) but after the third trip I was given to a new instructor (they were all civilians). Mr L**** P was the son of the Boss (Mr L**** L) of the grading outfit. And he was a shouter. He bellowed at you to “Get in the bloody aircraft, we haven’t got all day!”, “Get the bloody straps done up, we’re supposed to be flying!”. You get the drift? So, Mr L**** P and I thrashed around in “his” T8191 doing the usual stuff … ‘Upper Air’ work, Stalling and Spinning, C&L. Well, not a lot of “L” to be honest, as that usually resulted in a bellowed “I have control. Christ, they’re sending me bloody tram drivers these days.”

You will easily envisage that, by this stage, all my confidence in the ability to fly an aircraft (or at least land one) was becoming a distant pinprick on the horizon. I don’t recall much in the way of ‘teaching’ either, just a case of “Do it again and get it right this time.” The couple of check-rides with his father (Mr L**** L) In BB694 were less stressful in one sense, in that he didn’t shout and scream, and more so in the obvious other.
_____

And so, some 3 months later, to the end of course Exams. I did fairly well, it seemed, out of our little band of 21 … 1st in Science, Navigation, Torpedo/Anti-Submarine, 2nd in Supply, 4th in Communications, Naval History, Seamanship … a disappointing 9th in Maths, Mechanics & Theory of Flight (I used to teach that stuff as a CCF/ATC cadet!) and a dismal 15th (but a pass) in Gunnery. However, the roof fell in. Without an “Admiralty Warning” or two, which was apparently the norm, and with just 3 days to go to Graduation parade, I was binned. Period. Pack bag and go (one bag and a pillow-case, actually - how sweet). Goodbye … and I see that my Course Summary in my FORM S.1175 Pilots Flying Log was dated 26 Mar 64 - and left unsigned by Lt Cdr Air. Thanks for that, Andrew :(

The only bright moment was during clearing with the GIs, when PO McCurragh observed “I assume you will no be needing those boots of yours, Mr MPN11? I wonder if I might have them?” I have this vision, still, of my immaculately bulled boots, shining like glass (even along the welts and on the sole) being held up as a example to terrify future intakes into achieving a better standard :)

Subsequent correspondence with the RN, involving our MP (ex-Guards and SAS), led to an apology from Dartmouth and an admission that they hadn’t handled my case very well. Apparently I should at least have been offered a further 3 months to provide an opportunity for ‘further development’. I was subsequently offered 3 months at sea with the Dartmouth Training Squadron, with the prospect of becoming a ship-driver - but no further attempt at Flying Grading, as they he'd decided my flying was not up to the required standard. Stuff that - I wanted to be a pilot (flying) and not a driver (ships). And so I declined their less-than-generous offer, and became theoretically RN (Retd). However, it appeared that Mr L**** P also spun in, and was not further employed in the “Flaying Grinding” role, so I guess that was 15-15 … and I now needed another career.

Bitter? No.
Pi$$ed off? Yes!
Did it get better? YES!! I went into the RAF!!

Wander00
10th Dec 2013, 11:39
Beags - that brought back some memories - the factual version, that is!

camlobe
10th Dec 2013, 14:00
BEagle,
How dare you, sir. Your intro is responsible for my soaking wet iPad. Had me in stitches. The non-fiction version was still eye opening.

Camlobe

goudie
10th Dec 2013, 14:42
Yes BEagle had me going there for a moment with his intro. (Alright for some, mutter, mutter:()
Probably what he thought it would be like, before reality kicked in.
The shock when getting off the coach, at my squarebashing camp, to the sight and sound of screaming DI's was quite a frightening experience:eek:

Danny42C
10th Dec 2013, 14:52
MPN11,

I couldn't read your #4721 without a pang. The USAAC "washed out" 40% of the British cadets they took in on the Arnold Scheme. I am absolutely sure that on a RAF EFTS almost all of these people would have gone on to become successful Squadron pilots - and how we needed them at that stage of the war !

So you bounced around a bit in a TM. Who didn't ? (I recall my lamentable performance in one, flying it for the first time, having just been converted onto the Meteor).

Across the years, you must still feel it. I can only commiserate, sir.

Danny.

P.S. Fine Pic: (The Ace of the Base)

Union Jack
10th Dec 2013, 15:05
'Cadet Wing Warrant Officer', who told us that we should make our way to the bar for pre-dinner drinks and that dinner would be served at 1900 - BEagle

Appreciating that the opening part was a wind-up, 1900 sounds more like high tea!:D

Jack

camlobe
11th Dec 2013, 00:00
MPN 11,
What a dashing figure you cut, with Mk 1 bonedome, complete with cloth inner. Must have been an excellent piece of good quality, high value, great performance equipment as we were still using these operationally almost 30 years later!!

I think it was very accommodating and decent of the Dark Blue to give you some free flying before you moved on to better things.

The Piper PA 20 Colt. A very popular machine these days for many grass strip Private Pilots. I have a great liking for its big brother, the PA 22 Tri-Pacer. Four seats, flaps, three choices of larger engines, 135 hp, 150 hp and 160 hp (as opposed to the Colts 108), but all manufactured in the 1950's. The Tripacer is a true short-strip, load-lugging delight to fly.

Ahh, Chipmunks...a bit later.

Goudie,
It worked on me. It was the first time in my pleasant and refined upbringing that someone was shouting AND swearing at me all day, or so it seemed.

Back on track.

Around the fourth week of our fully paid for holiday camp, the Discip Sergeant and Corporal smiled in the same way I am sure a vulture lets it's next meal know its future. We are advised just how fortunate we are in having the Annual AOC's inspection soon, and how we will make sure that everything will be ready for his visit. The pathetic standards we had employed up to know regarding our block would no longer be acceptable, and we would have to pull out all the stops to make everything perfect. The only thing we were pulling out was our hair. How could we possibly better the immaculate standard we had reached through blood, toil, tears and sweat? The answer, of course, was "Practice". And on top of this wonderous news, we were gong to be carrying out our new found skills in Drill for the AOC's Parade, but only after...you have guessed it...Practice. My memory of this next week or so is a blur of Bull, Drill, Bull, Drill...you get the picture. We are advised that the AOC is only just below the Almighty, and therefore a very busy person, and as such, if approached by said AOC, our answers are "Yes, Sir". No smiling, no engaging in long diatribes, and "MAKE #$<*+? SURE YOU ARE STOOD AT ATTENTION". And then, we are advised, if anyone of us would like to speak directly to the AOC about anything at all, apply in writing in triplicate, be interviewed by the whole chain of command, and if then approved, you can ask the AOC your question. Strangely enough, everyone declined the offer.

Come the day of the AOC's annual Inspection of RAF Swinderby. AVM Peter Bairsto, like one or two members of out crew room, started his service in the Royal Navy, and then saw sense two years later (camlobe seeking cover now), although he did initially join the RAF Regiment, he later went GD (wiki is your friend). The weather was dry, so our parade was outside, and I think there may have been a flypast, but I don't remember. Strangely, I have no recollection of anything flying at Swinderby, but I believe Chipmunks were based there at the time, and indeed were many years later. Perhaps I was too busy with Bull, Drill etc to remember. My only recollections of my first AOC's inspection were, I'm sure he never saw our block, let alone inspected it; and in the mess for lunch, I can remember a few eager recruits running into the mess...well, actually, into the AOC. The first recruit looked up with absolute and abject horror, froze, and then gave the fastest salute in history. Pity the moment was spoilt by his lack of headgear.

Some time probably nearer the beginning of our introduction to the RAF, we piled onto those wonderful and asthmatic Bedford Buses, and headed off camp, along the Lincoln Road, and passed one of the most awe inspiring sights of my aviation career. Acres of mighty AVRO Vulcan bombers spread over, I think, RAF Waddington. I couldn't count how many there were, it must have been at least ten thousand, must be. What a eyeful. Britain's airborne nuclear deterrent, laid out for me to gape at. Then I heard a "WOW". I wasn't the only one gobsmacked by this majestic view. And then we turned into the main gate. We were going to get even closer. The faithful old bus took us to VASF where we had our next shock. There, parked in its spotless and gleaming glory was a Vickers VC10. It was huge, and ginormous, and just...big. And WE were going flying in it. US. Wow indeed. The rearward facing seats were a surprise (but genuinely far safer than the norm), but we didn't care. Don't ask me how long the flight was, or where we went. Don't remember. But I do remember the thrown forward against the seat belts on initial acceleration, and the thrown against the seat back on reverse thrust. Our first introduction to a small (in those days) part of the RAf's fleet had left a deep impression.

All of a sudden, it's our turn to be passing out. Rain, so we are inside. The echo ruins any chance of the flight at the front being in step with those further back, especially with the bands inputs. But we march in perfect time like a graceful machine because we know that we are the ones in step. The Reviewing Officer takes the salute, mingles and enquires. No memories of a flypast. Then meeting mother and father, who came to watch, hopefully with pride.

We made it. We are in the RAF now. For me, it is the first part of a lifelong dream. The journey has been long and there were some incredibly difficult hurdles to overcome. But, I MADE it.

Camlobe

Come in number 9, your time is up. Boss, we only have 8 boats. Number 6, have you any difficulties?

ancientaviator62
11th Dec 2013, 07:16
I well remember us taking the Hastings and later the Hercules to Waddo for recruit flying. I suspect the hour down the back of the Herc did not exactly have the effect their airships hoped !

Dave Wilson
11th Dec 2013, 08:43
Ancient were you on 1066? I was at Coningsby when 1066 disbanded and they came around to see if anyone wanted a trip before the Hastings went out of service. I'm glad I took the opportunity as it's the first and last time I flew in a 4xpiston engine aircraft. The noise on take off was unforgettable.

Camlobe: I know a guy at Breighton with a Tripacer, I'm sure last time I saw him he said he was selling it.

ancientaviator62
11th Dec 2013, 09:59
Dave,
not 1066 alas but 36/24 Hastings and 47/48/30 on the Hercules. The air experience flights were a regular task then. No doubt it was all binned years ago.

Chugalug2
11th Dec 2013, 10:58
As others have noted, these many reminiscences of those first hectic and turbulent weeks of joining the Services though differing in detail have more in common than not. In my case long forgotten details have re-emerged thanks to the prompting received here.
I had forgotten that we did indeed have batmen allocated from the word go at Cranwell (or more specifically they came one to the hut to which we were allocated). None though ever carried my baggage, Beagle. Obviously things had changed somewhat, though I am glad that the CWO and his team of DI's turned out so well. They could in truth only change for the better. http://images.ibsrv.net/ibsrv/res/src:www.pprune.org/get/images/smilies/evil.gif
I went back to a 25th anniversary Entry reunion and was astounded that the three years of our tenure was now shrunk to three months! The changes that you describe though must have been all the more striking, given that you experienced both the before and the after. I'm surprised that Crowing was still around as having experienced it ourselves, the word came down that there was to be no more of it, and certainly we as a Senior Entry only carried out the formal side (ie taking defaulters parades etc) of such duties. Someone obviously decided to give it one more try it seems.


Special thanks to our nautical brethren. Your mystic ways have always been a mystery wrapped in an enigma to we crabs. I particularly like the way that the steering thingy that you describe is variously ascribed to Lord Kitchener, or Admiral Kitchen, or a Kitchen who was not an Admiral. Excellent stuff! The more humdrum the device the more obscure its origins, rule #1 in the Boys Bumper Book of Spiffing Yarns. More please!


Danny, your steady yet precise progress seems to have been temporarily impaired by this sudden bottleneck of Ronald Shiner style Reminisces of a Recruit tales. Hopefully the traffic jam will ease as quickly as it formed in the way of such things, and we can enjoy yet more of your story. It is after all that of someone who did indeed Gain an RAF Pilots Brevet in WWII! http://images.ibsrv.net/ibsrv/res/src:www.pprune.org/get/images/smilies/thumbs.gif


Edited to add that the above comment was merely a personal and selfish desire to hear more from Danny. It is in no way meant to be critical of those whose many interesting stories have filled out our understanding of the process of Joining HM Forces. If this thread isn't preserved for posterity as a unique historical document because of its many contributors and their varied tales then history will be the worse for it.
So an unreserved thanks to one and all for their 'dits' (as MPN11 has it) and keep them coming. I just felt that Danny might be waiting his turn somewhat, and I suspect that all here agree that it is always his turn and is rather for us to wait ours.
Clumsily put and I hope not out of order. Apologies to one and all if so.

MPN11
11th Dec 2013, 11:04
I've done my dit, as I had the impression Danny42C was "absent muse" and wanted a break :)

I'll do a "contrast and compare" at some stage, between BRNC (63/4) and OCTU (65) ... sorry, I was previously 62?) rejected as "unsuitable" for a Cranwell Cadetship, so I were a common hofficer :ugh:

ancientaviator62
11th Dec 2013, 12:23
Looks like which ever way we joined up we were all in the same initial training boat. So we will wait for Danny to steer us back to shore before the Mods pull the plug and we are all shipwrecked. All the nautical allusions out of respect for the Senior Service from a 'crab' .

camlobe
11th Dec 2013, 12:49
Chugalug wrote:

I just felt that Danny might be waiting his turn somewhat, and I suspect that all here agree that it is always his turn and is rather for us to wait ours.

Wholeheartedly agree, and am waiting impatiently for Danny's next bit.

Camlobe

P.S.
Chug, no offence taken, so no apology needed.

MPN11
11th Dec 2013, 13:08
Looks like which ever way we joined up we were all in the same initial training boat. So we will wait for Danny to steer us back to shore before the Mods pull the plug and we are all shipwrecked. All the nautical allusions out of respect for the Senior Service from a 'crab' .

Respectful nod, Sir, and a dip of the Ensign as I am passing abeam a senior ship :cool:

Thanks for your nautical indulgence, folks. I have nothing of significance to tell now, except the odd side moments. I won't mention Happy Hour. I poured a glass of wine an hour ago ;)

I just felt that Danny might be waiting his turn somewhat, and I suspect that all here agree that it is always his turn and is rather for us to wait ours.

I feel really bad and dirty now :uhoh:

"Thread calling Danny-Boy" :)

BEagle
11th Dec 2013, 13:31
One of the many lectures we had during early days at RAFC Cranwell was from the RAF Paying Agents, who explained how our mighty 16/3d per day would be paid into our accounts.

If I recall correctly, there were 2 agents in those days. One was Cox & Kings and the other (I think) was Glyn Mills. The lecture was being given by some smarmy banker, who advised us that it would be 'easier' for all concerned if we opened accounts at Cox & Kings.

This went completely against the advice I'd had from my own bank - "Don't move your account as you'd just be a number with them, whereas we know you personally". I casually mentioned this to my fellow cadets and others agreed.

Anyway, in the afternoon we were studying Service Writing or something equally exciting, when in came one of the 'D' Sqn Flt Cdrs. A weasely looking engineering officer (I think?), with something of the Reinhard Heydrich about his manner - and expression.

"Did one of you advise people not to open a bank account with Cox & Kings?", he demanded to know. Well, fortunately the blank stare technique had become well-practised by then, thanks to 'crowing' - so I wisely kept schtum. In fact I wasn't being in the least bit dishonest as I hadn't actually said "Don't open an account with Cox & Kings", I'd said "I've been advised not to move my existing account".

This 'D' Sqn Reichsprotektor's eyes swept the room looking for signs of guilt; finding none, he turned on his heel and left the room.

When to keep quiet was rapidly becoming second nature!

MPN11
11th Dec 2013, 14:23
Another blast from the past ... Yes, at OCTU we were 'assigned' to either C&K or Glyns alphabetically if we didn't have an extant account. I think A-N went to C&K, with whom I retain a financial relationship to this day. CBA to change - never had a problem with them. Had to use HSBC in Singapore, though, and then shuffle funds between SIN and UK, which was a right PITA.

Doubloons are a Gentleman's way of banking, although Guineas, Pandas and Eagles are also acceptable. :)

Dave Wilson
11th Dec 2013, 16:14
Re Danny, I suppose the thread is called 'Earning a brevet in WW11' and I of course have read Danny's exploits with great interest and look forward to more. I wonder if the mods could split the thread and collate all of the initial training memories et al somewhere else as they too have been fascinating. Perhaps 'Forgotten voices of Cranwell and Swinderby' or such like.