Danny Puts his Foot in It - again !
I particularly remember the departure of the first party on the Saturday. It was a lovely calm spring morning, the troops had been marched down and were standing at ease in the space between the hangars, their kit piled ready for loading. Self-importantly, I'd written out a sort of amateur Operation Order for everybody, including a planned time table. In it, I'd scheduled the ETA (Thornaby) of our aircraft at 0900 (sticking my neck out a bit there !) All was quiet, for 608 were yet to start work.
We heard the drone of the approaching Hercules in the first aircraft. As it straightened up on finals, a distant radio in one of the hangar offices started the Time Signal. Precisely on the last "pip", the tyres squealed on the tarmac. We all thought it marvellous (so it was - never happened again, though!)
Dave flew out on the first party, I would follow on the Sunday. As I recall, the aircraft fit was just a row of shallow metal bucket seats down each side, same as all the Daks I ever flew in. I was in the last aircraft off, never caught sight of the leader until we joined Gütersloh circuit, where we saw that the circus was in town, and the other Valetta was on short finals.
We were bussed over to Sundern and formed up as a unit again. I met a very irate Dave. I'm very hazy about the payment of our troops, for the Accountant Officer looked after all that during the year. I think that they were paid monthly in arrear, but on the occasion of Summer Camp the plan was to pay the last month's pay immediately on arrival there.
But of course the Accountant Officer at Sundern wanted The Cheque from his opposite number in Thornaby before anything could happen. Certainly we'd picked it up from him on the Friday, and it ought to have gone out with the first party on Saturday. There's always some cock-up on these occasions, this was it, the cheque travelled out with me on Sunday.
Consequently the early arrivals, who'd been looking forward to painting the town red that evening, found themselves confined to camp, skint. On arrival, I was as popular as a pork-pie in one of Geriaviator's pal Graham's "sinn-a-gogs" in Khormaksar, for I'd to admit that it was All My Fault. It would be some time before another happy accident would redeem me in the eyes of the troops.
My impression of Sundern was that it was built to last the lifetime of a thousand-year Reich. After years of "temporary" wartime RAF structures, I was amazed at the solidity of the buildings and all the fittings, and the granite-setts camp roads. We were told that the place had been Goering's signallers' training School (a sort of Luftwaffe "Yatesbury") during the war, but Wiki says that it had been a Gestapo HQ. Could've been both, I suppose.
I can't remember now where our people were employed. Of course it would be at some Radar station or another. I dont think Sundern had a "hole" for them to go down, and I don't remember any Radar aerials, but it must have been somewhere in the vicinity. I believe we were the closest station to the W.German border; our fighter Squadrons must have had Fighter Control from somewhere and this was a likely place to put it. (Wiki is not much help, either). There must be many readers with memories of a tour in RAF(G) who could help me out here.
In the weekend in the middle of the Camp we officers went off to Winterberg, which I don't think was very far away. (My wife and I, with our small daughter, were to spend some time there in '60). The big hotel there had been built as part of Hitler's Strength Through Joy organisation, and we had requisitioned it as a Forces R & R facility.
We came back in early May: again there had been no disasters apart from the unfortunate business with the pay on arrival. It was inexcusable of me, for the year before I'd been caught in a very similar way. For some reason I'd been charged with collecting the Station's pay from the bank in Stockton. I went down and walked in. "Where's our money ?" I said. "Where's the cheque ?" they said. By the time I'd got back, picked the cheque up from the seething Accountant officer, gone down to Stockton again and back, Pay Parade was an hour late. Ah, well.
On the Saturday evening after we got back, I went down in the Bond with Mike Tew, a NS officer, to the Saltburn "Spa" (which was the "in" place of our day). Across the ballroom a raven-haired beauty caught my eye. I made a bee-line for her. It was the "once-in-a-lifetime"; she is at my side now and has been for 59 years. We were engaged by the autumn and married in the following July.
1954 was to be a momentous year for me, as will presently appear.
Goodnight once more,
Danny42C
What's well begun is half done.