All this takes me back to the early sixties when I was a humble pilot on 90 Valiant tanker squadron at Honington.
At about four in the morning there would be this God-awful noise from the mess tannoys as they went on bleating about an Exercise Mick or Micky Finn. This would be followed by the sound of doors slamming and feet running as all my compatriots on 55 and 57 Victor squadrons rushed around and went off to work.
After half and hour or so the noise would die down and I could turn over and get back to sleep.