Having been enthralled by the tales of Fairey Battles I went on my mid term two weeks leave in Singapore. I stayed in Temple Hill Officer’s Mess at Changi which was convenient to Changi Villiage. There I availed myself of an Akai M8 reel-to-reel tape recorder plus two enormous speakers that came with it. I had only just learned how to set it up and I was recalled to Labuan. A panic to get it on the Valetta and then I was back on the Squadron.
The plan was for me to go to Tawau and stay there until that part was wrapped up. It was going to be at least six weeks so that meant it was a full personal pack to take with me. Sepulot had missed a couple of fuel drops so I was taking full en-route fuel so this plus my kit and spares for Tawau almost filled up my aircraft. There was some desperate reason for carrying some freight from a unit in Brunei and after picking that up I started on a lonely flight along the border to Tawau.
I flew past Long Pasir, the strip still showing the large patch of different coloured earth where the first, and only, Air Portable Grader, had met its end when the parachutes failed. Keeping the border ridge well to starboard a trio of hills pointing northwards, one with a large catapult shaped tree which identified it as the entrance to the Kabu valley where I had lunched on monkey and rice. Pensiangan passed on my left and then I plunged into unknown territory off the normal routes from Sepulot. The compass was my only guide but after a time the scenery wore a familiar face and then I passed over one of our forward clearings from a completely different than normal direction.
The tree covered saddle halfway between Sepulot and Tawau came into view and I was on familiar ground. Over the clearing where we had done the night trial and there was Wallace Bay glistening in the distance. The maps went away as I tracked along the river and arrived in Tawau, my backside sore after two-and-half hours in the most uncomfortable seat in the RAF.
I followed the normal routine; a flight every other day, daily sizzling steaks and stud poker. After three weeks or so came the news that the squadron was being recalled to the UK.
Both 225 and 230 Squadrons belonged to 38 Group, Air Transport Command, and they were detached to FEAF for the duration. 225 had been disbanded and absorbed into 103/110 Sqns FEAF so the rumour was that 38 Group wanted to get their hands back on 230 Sqn before they lost it. The Harrier Force was just coming into being and the plan was that there would be a helicopter squadron in direct support and 230 was the only UK Whirlwind squadron available.
Other bells were ringing. The Navy had moved from Bario in Sarawak to Sepulot. Our squadron had left Sepulot and was now holding the fort at Bario until the Singapore squadrons took over in Labuan. They already operated from Kuching up to Nanga Ghat so that would mean that the whole of Sarawak would be supported by Singapore Whirlwinds and the Navy would only look after Sepulot.
The British Army units in our area had started wrapping up and handing over to the Malaysian Army. The RMAF would be their helicopter support so eventually came the final farewells and I took another fully loaded Whirlwind off towards Sepulot to refuel en-route to Labuan.
Arriving at Sepulot I landed on the end of the strip to see what had changed. Two Wessexs took up the entire dispersal area and they had positioned the fuel drums on the other side of the airstrip. They should have known I was coming and eventually a matelot in shorts waved his hands furiously to direct me to the refuelling point. Two others joined him and there was a shouting match for a time as one who was not familiar with the Whirlwind tried to undo the engine reduction gearbox tank filler cap to shove the fuel in. He was corrected and the fuelling progressed. Shortly afterwards somebody with some rings on their shoulder climbed up the side and started shouting the odds about me not talking to some bloke called Flyco. I ignored that and when I had enough fuel I waved them off and punched off to Labuan.
Confrontation was coming to an end and apart from some diehards crossing the border and being chased by Ghurkhas there was little else happening. The first of 103 and 110 Squadrons had arrived including some who had been on my helicopter course at Tern Hill. I was not required to go to Bario so I spent my time doing local tasking and training for the UK environment, e.g. underslung loads and winching.
I already had a date for going back; 14th September 1966 and on the 26th August I was told that I was going to Sepulot for two weeks!
Next: Rescuing the Navy