Danny Exercises the Troops and has Food for Thought
While flying is in progress, it would be unreasonably onerous to require Crash 1,2 and 3 crews to spend the whole shift sitting in their vehicles, and the Crash Bays incorporate a Crew room where they can relax while waiting for the callout from ATC (the same is true of Civil Brigades, hence the "Fireman's pole" to speed a turn-out).
And of course, if a dangerous situation should develop, they will be ordered to "Standby", kit-up, man the trucks, move forward a few feet and remain with engines running ready for whatever may befall. Standby vehicles in the Station Fire Section will meanwhile be warned to come to readiness to move up to the Tower to replace the "First Team" if needed (which they cannot do if they are away putting out a garden fire in MQs).
As a general rule, it would be foolhardy in the extreme to lay on a practice "crash" for Crash 1,2 and 3 in flying hours: the crews know this and never expect such a thing to happen. I wondered: "what if ?..." SATCO assented, I had a word with Commander (A), we brought the Sqn. Commanders in on it, and picked a day. They subtly manipulated their sortie times so that for 20 minutes or so just before a lunchtime, there would be a gap when we had nothing in the air at all. Of course, as few people as were absolutely necessary were let into the plan and all sworn to secrecy.
We achieved complete surprise: "Practice Crash on airfield Area Delta Four - Vampire - two aboard - Go !" barked Local; a stopwatch clicked and they were away (I think we lit a flare at the spot, or something of the sort). Meanwhile the Sergeant and I stood guard on the Crewroom, for of course they'd had no time to secure jackets, wallets and other valuables in the rush to get out. Footwear of all descriptions littered the floor as they'd pulled on their Fireman's Boots. On almost ever chair and bunk was a paperback of some sort. The expected mix of Westerns, Whodunits, War stories, mysteries, lurid romances and bonkbusters. Except for one.
On this bunk lay a Penguin of Plato's "The Republic".
It put me in mind of Pte "T.E.Ross's" - or was it A/c "T.E.Shaw's" (?) tale, dimly in my memory from reading "The Mint" (?) as a boy many years before. In this Lawrence had recounted how he'd set out one weekend on his beloved Brough "Superior" (the bike on which he would one day be killed), to take some brass rubbings at an old country church (naturally with the prior permission of the incumbent).
The good old parson was somewhat nonplussed by the mismatch between his visitor's Oxford accent and the scratchy blue serge of the simple airman in front of him, and Lawrence relates how they were soon in companionable discussion over the comparative merits of Thucidides and Herodotus. I don't remember the exact quotation, but Lawrence rather waspishly remarks how he'd: "made a cockshy of the old man's assurance that the rough garb of the ranks concealed nothing but the baser instincts" (someone may be able to correct me on this).
Oh, by the way, we were rolling in 57secs. Not bad, considering there'd been no warning. (Crash 1 and 2 were told to "hold their fire" as soon as they reached the spot: they were back on the line in 5 minutes). We were in business again.
Goodnight, all.
Danny42C
You never know.