Originally Posted by
Geriaviator
Congratulations, LB, on doing the impossible -- ie following in the footsteps of our immortal Danny42C with your fascinating tales interspersed by many anecdotes and those of your contemporaries. My father (RAF 1936-1962) was responsible for having the 202 Sqn Hastings ready for the 0800 Bismuth ex Aldergrove, for its eight-hour flight on one of four different routes depending on your Met requirements. We sometimes wondered what you did with all the info so painstakingly gathered -- now we know!
Thank you, and keep it coming.
Thank you but my contribution was and is trivial compared with proper warriors like Danny. Let's leave it as a peripheral view of interesting times please.
Here follow some asides on marches in and out.
Marching In/ Out.
My first march out [no wives allowed to be present] was from Comet Crescent Nicosia soon after Bloody Christmas 1963/4. The little family had already been flown out to Lyneham, so the fine detail stuff was not performed by me……. I was either working, sleeping or eating. Fortunately the Board was overworked, so no dental mirror and no white gloves. I was charged for a broken light fitting but they missed the broken bog seat mended with Araldite. I feel a little guilty: could the seat take the strain? Has some poor blighter been damaged down below?
The departure from Gutersloh was leisurely and our German batter helped a great deal……….. Joyce had four children under 10 to contend with. Anyone with an old German coke stove in the cellar will remember the rituals of delivery down the chute, with black dust everywhere. As an aside, I once delivered myself down the hole after a pleasant formal evening thrash. In the small hours I took a dram with my boss and staggered home to discover that I had no keys. Being dressed almost entirely in black, entry through the coke hole seemed the obvious solution, but the white shirt was something else.
Rumours of stressful march-outs involving cellars prompted me to attack the Gutersloh boiler fittings and copper pipes with Brasso. The man who took over the house was told that, when his turn came to leave, the cellar was to be like an operating theatre. All this is pantomime seen in hindsight, but deadly serious at the time.
Leaving Rheindahlen One was a doddle because families were allowed a few nights in Cassels House. Somehow the removers packed the hideous orange lounge seating covers, so we were charged for the loss by the Board and then had the dreadful stuff turn up in Beckingham.
Rheindahlen Two march-in was interesting because the Inventory showed that the early incumbents had been air commodores. C Met O was carefully seated above all the wing commanders and below all the group captains in my time, and air commodores had wallpaper!
Six good years later we left for ever, with rather more impedimenta than the Queen would pay to ship home: white goods and a lot of German and Dutch furniture. The packers would indeed like a few bottles of this and that, and the furniture shrunk to fill the allotted space.
One last thing. Several of my outstation staff behaved disgracefully on march-out, such that “bloody civilians” or “sodding Met. men” left quarters like a pig stye. This despite very clear advice about conforming to service norms in exchange for great good experiences. Beyond apologising, all I could do was ensure that the cards were marked DO NOT POST ABROAD AGAIN.