Empire Flying School
I went down to Hullavington late November 1946 and very quickly found us rooms in a farm cottage at Halt which was , literally, a train halt on the line between Calne (Sausages !) and Chippenham. The cottage was owned by a larger than life like Margaret Rutherford character called ".Mrs.Bod". She was a widow who lived in the cottage and let out her farmland to a local farmer.
The flying part of the job was very interesting. It was my job to accompany my two or three "Students" through an advanced Instrument Flying course and get them thoroughly proficient in both the flying and theoretical side of Instrument flying which, with Civil Aviation finding it's ante bellum wings, was becoming an absolute neccessity for the new generation of pilots. And we had to train the people who were going to be responsible for the introduction of All Weather, Instrument flying, RAF and Civil pilots. One of my first students was the Grandson or Great Grandson of the famous Australian pre war pioneer, Charles Kingsford-Smith. Our Chief Flying Instructor was a tough South African Air Force Lt.Col. called after his famous Boer pioneer Voortrekker Grandfather, Piet Retief, the leader of the Great Trek to the Traansvaal.
On arrival at Hullavington , the Station was abuzz with a sensational police case that had briefly involved the Officer's "Dining In" night which had become a monthly ritual in the peacetime RAF.
One of the School's Senior Officers had met a charming RAF Group Captain in a Hotel, the "Tollard Royal" in Bournemouth. They had some drinks together and then the Group Capain whose name was Rupert Brook was invited to the next "Dining In" night by the Officer from Hullavington.
As it happened he didn't turn up and did not send any message of regret. He had been very busy with other matters. His real name was Neville Heath and he was a Captain in the S.A.A.F. He had been arrested for the murder of a Doreen Marshall who was staying at the "Norfolk Hotel" , in Bournemouth. She had dinner with Heath at his Hotel and rang for a taxi to take her back to her Hotel but Heath persuaded her to cancel it and offered to walk her back. She was never seen alive again.
Heath was also suspected of the murder of a Margery Gardner at a Notting Hill Gate Hotel, "The Pembridge Court ". This had been a savage, brutal affair and Heath's fate was sealed when a railway cloak room ticket found on Heath produced a brief case, inside which was a horsewhip with the identical pattern of the seventeen slash marks found on Margery's body. He was tried in November 1946 and found guilty and executed. He was reputed to have asked Albert Pierrepoint, the Executioner for a whisky and said " Better make it a double". I seem to remember the words "Branksome Chine " and think that the poor Doreen Marshall's body was found there but I am not certain. As you can imagine "Group Captain Rupert Brook" was discussed for a long time afterwards.
To get back to Hullavington; one of the "perks" of the job was that you had the chance and right to fly any aircraft that was on the RAF's list. The Station had it's own Spitfire and I very quickly availed myself of the wonderful opportunity to fly it and what a magnificent aeroplane it was. Mrs Bod and Dora had plenty of visits from a very low flying "Spit" for quite a while.
There was a story going around, probably apocryphal, of one of the students on a previous course , a Group captain X, who had the desire to fly in a Sunderland. This was arranged for him and he was flown down to Calshot in the Station Tiger Moth by his tutor. He was duly installed in the Sunderland and allowed to take the controls once he was airborne. He said that he was Station Commander at Tangmere and would like to fly over there. He duly made a mild "beat up" of the Station and then suggested to the amused tutor and Sunderland pilot that they land and have lunch. The faces of the crew made his gaffe very clear and it was a rather chastened Groupie that went back and landed at Calshot. When they were taxying to the pier he turned to the crew and thanked them for the trip and apologised for his stupid mistake "Please don't say anything" he begged them "I would never hear the last of it " They promised to keep quiet about it, "Thanks a lot " he said and stepped out into the water .
We had acquired a nice little Austin Ruby saloon and I was ,foolishly, teaching Dora to drive. We used to take our little dog over the level crossing (no gates, just a wooden platform with "Halt" on the signboard). and then I would get out and take "James" as Peter had named the dog, for a walk. One day Dora , gaining in confidence drove off and left me, fuming, to walk back with the dog. When I got back to find Dora sitting, smugly smiling, in the car I said "You know I always leave it facing the other way". She reversed, put her foot on the accelerator, instead of the brake, and shot backwards into the henhouse in a cloud of feathers and squawking chickens. Mrs. Bod rushed out, looked at the devastation then said "You know; if it wasn't so funny, I should be very angry. ".
It was now January 1947 and the snow started coming down late in the month and it never stopped until late March. We were completely cut off from anywhere for over a month. The only telephone was a little way down the river, which ran behind the cottage ,and was completely frozen over. The telephone was in the cottage owned by an elderly man who was a recluse. I skated up the frozen river to try and phone Hullavington and let them know that we were still alive. He couldn't find the phone which was buried under dozens of books and smothered in thick layers of dust. He was a decent old chap and invited me to go shooting pigeons with him. He would stand there, shaking like an aspen tree in a high wind, fire his old musket and down would drop half a dozen pigeons . I would be lucky to get one all morning. Mrs. Bod would go out each morning and blow a hunting horn and when he answered , with a toot on his, she would know that he was alright. Country Life in the snow .!