Danny reflects on the Good Old Days.
You might be excused for believing that ATC/GCA was a life of unremitting toil interspersed with catastrophes great and small, but it was not always like that. You have to take the smooth with the rough. Although there were times when they were coming at you down the QGH pattern, and/or the glidepath, nose to tail like circus elephants, and your mug of tea went cold by your side, yet there were the halcyon days when the sun shone and nobody wanted much (or any) ATC assistance.
Approach could relax and have a good old natter with SATCO, Duty Instructor and anyone else who came in, but it was the Bendix that really had it made. You might do a whole watch without a single run. Now the deck chairs (and the Lloyd Loom) came into their own. Of course, you were as discreet as possible. You pitched your chair(s) on the side furthest away from the Tower and F/Wing HQ, away from prying eyes. Nor could you be surprised by a chance visitor, for no one can set tyre or foot on the Aircraft Movement Area except by permission from Local Controller and as he spent half his time as Radar Director, so you were certain of maximum warning from him.
Accordingly, when O.C.(Flg) decided to bring visitors out to show off the wonders of the new-fangled radar thing, and Local had been advised, his squawk-box would immediately betray the plan to us, and it was the work of a moment to strike camp and get mugs, deck chairs, magazines and newspapers back into the Rest Caravan, and the operators back in the Truck, headsets on and intent on their tubes, giving such an impression of concentration and industry that the much impressed visitors would often apologise for interrupting such obviously vital and important work.
And of course the gloom of the truck, the roar of the generator, the thudding beat of the waveguides, the grinding of the search aerial and the hypnotic weave of the strobes all added to the illusion of mysterious, frantic activity, whereas in fact nothing at all was going on.
Director could always find a few blips crawling about on the PPI; the little "tadpole" tails (when heading towards us) always fascinated them. In fine weather, there would be a lot of circuit traffic and I could usually pick up someone coming round on finals and they could watch him go between the "goalposts" of the Touchdown markers. Wonderful ! And for the last ten seconds I would switch in Fast Scan to add a little drama, for it made them jump (us,too), as it sounded and felt as if the truck were about to fly apart.
They staggered back along the sloping floor and out into the sunshine, having thanked us profusely, and went off, reassured that the safety of the realm was in such good hands. We watched the car out of sight, then fetched the chairs out and put the kettle on. Normal service was resumed. (Now of course you see the advantage of the old, dun green canvas. It blended in, whereas bright candy-striped deck chairs might attract notice from the air).
And the Night Flying suppers between the two phases of a Night Flying programme ! The airmen would draw night-flying rations for all of us from the cookhouse: eggs, bacon, bread, butter, milk, sugar and tea. To this we might add a few tomatoes, and "in the season of the year", lush fresh picked mushrooms from the airfield. Two of our mechs were excellent cooks, get the old frying pan out and light-up the calor gas ring. We had some glorious fry-ups on those nights, eaten at our seats in the truck, for it would be too much of a squeeze for all six or seven of us to feed together in the Caravan, and cook in there at the same time.
Mushrooming on the airfield is worth a post all on its own, so it may get one later.
All the old Truck Radar people go all misty-eyed when they think back on those times, for from the early '60s the AR1/PAR radars (which are built into the Towers) came in, the mobiles were phased out, and our cheerful gypsy life became just a distant memory.
Goodnight, all.
Danny42C .
Those were the days !