The sun sets on a generation.
I read these posts with interest and sadness knowing that living history is turning the pages. Personnel memory is becoming dusty paper work in the archives, with no feeling for the times merely hard type on paper. In my brief service of her Majesty during my final months as a gash PO awaiting my release date after being chopped from the JP course in Linton on Ouse I was assigned to a station visit detail. So me and my fellow choppie arrived at the guard room to meet the coach. On board was a motley group of RAFA gentlemen, so off we proceed for the standard station visit. On about the third stop, this being the tower, where my colleague is rattling off his standard spiel I note that we are not really holding the attention of the group. So I politely enquire of one of the group as to what is wrong, "Oh your doing fine its just this is our third visit", "Third visit! why come again?". Well says the RAFA man " We only really come for happy hour". "Would you rather go straight to the bar?", I leave you to guess the answer. So a quick phone call to the mess Sergeant and a brief explanation of the situation I was told the shutters will be up in 5 minutes.
Well what an evening. Apart from being the standard Happy Hour, we had a Hawk pair divert in with a senior with a big fat stripe who was very much of the old school when it comes to beer. However my abiding memory of the evening, tinged with an excess of beer, was chatting to a Lancaster tail gunner who was the only surviving member of his crew which had attempted to crash land after getting to low to bail out after flack damage and engine failure and the oldest member of the group who I did not talk to until the end of the evening, a WWI Sopwith Camel pilot.. I look back and think how privileged I was to be able to talk to these gentlemen and how much more I would like to have done.
Clear skies and good beer to all you fine aviators.