When we had first arrived at Cerney the form was that we would spend eight weeks in the block and then, having proved we could use a knife and fork, move into the Officers’ Mess. The plot had now changed owing to the refurbishment of a group of buildings that were to be known as the Cadets’/No.2 Officers’ Mess. Four weeks in the block then four weeks there and then into No.! Officers’ Mess. All of my fellow students, apart from my fellow recoursee, departed to the said Mess leaving we two to await the new course. For a weekend, if we had been there, we would have had the whole building to ourselves. What it did mean was the only one of the barrack block rooms would be used in the future so we stayed put downstairs. On the Monday we introduced ourselves to our new directing staff. The boss was a lot better than the old one and for both of us we regained our confidence.
The new course arrived on a bus and then it looked as if we two had been recoursed to make up the numbers. There were less than a dozen of them. We sat through the preamble with them and in the evening it came apparent that several recruits that they were expecting had pulled out, undoubtedly because of the end of National Service. The next morning the barrack room was rearranged to suit the occupancy so we had stacks of room each.
I had some spare time in the next couple of weeks because I was not wanted for things that I had done already. Central Flying School (Helicopters) occupied one of the hangers and they were quite cooperative if a cadet wanted a ride. To this end I found myself in the back of a Sycamore for an instructor’s instructional sortie. It was noisy, because you had an Alvis Leonides at apparently continuous full song just behind you. The two pilots were talking about some incomprehensible flying characteristics and then one of them turned around to warn me that they were going to stop the engine.
Either the bottom of the aircraft dropped out or the blades fell of but we suddenly started hurtling towards the ground. The two heros up front were quite blasé about it, it obviously happened all the time. They hadn’t stopped the engine because I could hear it quietly idling away behind me but it allowed us to hear the whoosh of the rotor blades as we went down. As we got lower there was a sudden farting sound behind me as the engine stopped! There was now silence as we plummeted towards the ground and then with certain disaster inevitable a pilot hauled the nose up, the blades flapped even faster, followed by a levelling and a massive sink towards the grass. At the last moment before impact the pilot hauled on a lever in the centre that arrested its descent and we rolled gently forward on the turf. There were then hands flashing around the cockpit and the sound of the starter motor and the engine bursting into life restored some form of normality. I hadn’t a clue of what was going on even when they explained that it was a practice Engine Off Landing. Not that I was worried. I had joined the Air Force to go camel hunting in a Hunter, not flutter around in helicopters.
A picture of a picture
This picture I got back after my mother died.
I went through the course as before with no trouble and then we came to the ‘Off to the Welsh hills’ bit. Surprise No.1. No hitch hiking to the campsite. It had been decided that servicemen hitching hiking as a matter of policy was verboten so we would be taken by coach. Not all the way; the last ten miles would be an escape & evasion exercise to make sure we got wet and muddy; then we would be in tents. There then came the decision as to who was going to run the camp. Guess who was the only one who had any experience in running around the sticks and living under canvas; so I was now Camp Commandant. All sympathy felt for me for getting lumbered with this job evaporated when it was disclosed that I would be going direct to the campsite with the truck to do the initial site planning. Missing the exercise didn’t worry me. I had done my bit running around in the dark chasing or being chased. The bewitching hour came, I sat in the truck, the rest in a bus and off to Brecon we went.