Danny finds that the Old Order Changeth, Giving Place to New.
The first half of '53 saw the changing of the Old Guard. The first to go was W/Cdr Sewell in March, who must have been short-toured, as he'd arrived not long before me. His fate was to be the next Stn Cmdr. of Machrihanish (I don't know if this involved promotion: it's a place of which I knew little and had no desire to learn more). Unfeelingly, in the weeks before his departure, "The Road to the Isles" suddenly became popular, and was much hummed and whistled around the Station.
He was succeeded by a S/Ldr F.G.Daw (according to a history of RAF Thornaby, which has proved correct in those details I do remember) As for Daw himself (who was, I suppose, soon put up to W/Cdr), my recollection of him is totally blank (even though it must have been he who carpeted me on occasion). It was one of my "Carlstrom Field" amnesias (Chugalug will remember the reference).
In May, I flew the Harvard to Manby to pick up S/Ldr John Newboult, so he had his feet on the first rung of the ladder: I don't remember who succeeded him as Squadron Adj. And on 31st July Mike Beavis appears as certifying officer in my log book for the last time: he must then have started on the meteoric rise which would lead him to the pinnacle of an RAF career.
In March I'd gone to CMB for the first of my quartely check-ups. My routine was unvarying. I went down on the afternoon train (1st Class in mufti - as the warrant pad was in my safe, and I signed them!) King's Cross to Sloane Square, round Peter Jones to the Officers' Malcolm Club in Cadogan Gardens, where they did dinner, bed and breakfast for 18/6 (good value). In the morning, a toss-up between Warren Street and Goodge Street, to be on the Kelvin House doorstep as soon as they opened up. Then round the production line of medics, blow the mercury up again, "no change" said the President, "carry on, come back in June".
Pub lunch somewhere, King's Cross again, send a telegram to my Unit to meet the next train on arrival at Thornaby, and that was that for the day. And I had another quarterly duty to do as well - the TAAFA Unit Report and Meeting at the County Hall in Northallerton. Generally, only one or two of the T.A. battalion commanders and auxiliary C.O.s would attend: all the rest sent their adjutants to represent them. (I don't think Dave Brown ever put in an appearance).
I'd been going to these boring affairs for the past year now, and my determination to recruit for quality rather than quantity, and to cut out the dead wood, was paying off. The morale of the remainder went up; word-of-mouth has ever been the best Recruiting Sergeant; I could report that my numbers were rising satisfactorily. TAAFA, which had looked at me askance last year (and tried to unseat me, but was foiled by "Batchy"), reluctantly decided that I might just be a Good Chap after all.
Now the next Summer Camp was on the horizon. This year we would be going to RAF Wartling (East Sussex, near Bexhill) another ROTOR station on the South coast. I decided to take the pool Staff Car, a rather well worn Hillman "Minx" with a known prodigious appetite for oil. Having armed myself with two gallon cans of the stuff from M.T., I thought I should be all right, but in fact used the whole lot getting the "Minx" down there. Again the two weeks passed off without any trouble that I can remember.
We got a pat on the back that year from O.C. Wartling. I think we were the last FCU of the year for them, and they told us we'd been the best and most efficient of the lot (I suppose they say that to all the FCUs !) This time, besides oil, the Minx was carrying two nine-gallon kegs of "Chalk Farm" still Cider, a local product which we had discovered and which had made quite an impression. This cargo was bar stock. We retailed it at 3d as a "short" (it was the cheapest drink in the Mess, but still gave us a handsome profit), and it tasted very nice, but it was a stealthy, slow anaesthetic which had to be approached with caution. We used it as a basis for a fruit punch at the Mess Garden Party and most people thought we had used vodka.
Almost as soon as I got back, my first Annual Refresher came up - 7 FTS at Cottesmore, on Boulton Paul "Balliols". I'd only heard of these things, but never seen one. Five minutes after I got into the air, I knew it of old - it was just a big Miles Master in all respects. Comfortable, safe, easy - a real "old gentleman's aeroplane". Side by side seating, so you had someone to talk to, and a huge rear compartment (for what ?), which would hold any amount of kit if you were taking it for a weekend. And a great wide undercarriage like a Master, so no trouble on the ground. I can't recall what Cottesmore had as well as these things, but we had an RLG (Woolfox Lodge ?) so they may have wanted us out of the way for something more important.
My abiding memory is of the Night Flying Session. I'd not flown at night since Finningley in '49. It was a farce. Cottesmore then had a white concrete runway, and it was full moon in a cloudless sky. You could read a newspaper at midnight. It was day flying for all practical purposes, and almost dead calm. The Balliol settled down contentedly on each roller, I was almost sorry when I had to stay down for good.
And that was the last night flying of my "career" !
Bit more day flying next time.
Cheers, everybody,
Danny.
Never mind.