The Dishforth Caravan
The sleepy hollow of the Vale of York. Early '80's.
Never was an airfield manned by so few and used by so few.
Two Controllers and two RWC's.
The two RWC's split the day, one worked the pre lunch shift, t'other slept the post Molly from the Feeder lunch.
The heady day's of a Dishforth summer, Radio 4 tuned to the test match special, the caravan armchair positioned outside the caravan to allow sunbathing. The clag from Teesside guaranteeing no horizons therefore minimal traffic.
Enter our hero. Luncheon taken, check. Sunshine, check. Armchair outside, check. Local frequency monitor volume to Max, check. Zed's time, double check.
Within minutes, out hero is in the land of nod.
However, due to the crappy weather, the DI at Leeming decides that Dishforth is surplus to requirements and can be stood down.
So MSig Butch W, the ATCO i/c gets the call to stack. OK he says Lets go home.
Buzz Buzz on the Hadley box to the caravan to tell him to up sticks. No reply. Buzz Buzz again, still no reply. A quick look the the binoculars to the 16 threshold shows our hero RWC fast asleep in the armchair slowly going pink in the hazy sunshine.
Bugger him, says Butch. And so the 3 awake guys go home.
Six hours later, our hero slowly awakens from the arms of Morpheus and re-mans the Caravan.
An hour later, Hmm it's getting gloomy he thinks and checks his wristwatch. BARSTEWARDS he cries. It's almost 2100 and he's due at the Leeming Bar Motel pumping fuel from midnight until 6am as his unofficial 'secondary duty'.
As an aside, this same guy, on his discharge, hired the PSI minibus (sans seating) to move his furniture from his AMQ to his new civvy abode. After his return, a week later, subsequent PSI minibus renters complained out the crappy performance of the said Sherpa minibus. Investigations revealed a different engine number however nothing could be proved.......................
Dishforth Tales continued
The Dishforth Caravan lived in 3 hangar and toddled to the thresholds of whichever runway was agreed on for that particular day. So the milometer hardly moved. OK the Carrier Bantam struggled to Boroughbridge garage for refuelling once a blue moon, but the milometer was barely exercised.
Then one day a telephone call. Leeming MT wanted the Caravan for a service. Would the Corporals deliver it to MT at Leeming on Friday cease flying and swap over to the Command Spare?
Come Friday stack time our two (different) hero's man the van and set off to drive the whatever miles up the A1 to Leeming.
Bearing in mind that the Caravan, at best, gained a mile per day and usually travelled at 15 mph, to give it the open road was asking a lot.
But onwards and upwards, and it was a Friday and bars were beginning to open, so best accelerator foot forward and slowly, slowly the old Carrier Bantam gained speed. After 5 miles or so the T's and P's were just reaching normal operating limits. We were just about to hit V1 (30mph) when all of a sudden we were enveloped in smoke and steam. A rapid abort on to Baldersby Services (convenient) was initiated, and abandonment commenced successfully.
It was decided that No 1 RWC would find a telephone to declare a Pan to Leeming MT whilst No 2 RWC would stand guard over this vital piece of UK Defence Equipment.
However, No 1 RWC returned, post haste, being chased by a rather large dog. No 1 RWC having opened the wrong gate.
No 2 RWC, in the meantime, safely ensconced in the cockpit of the Caravan, laughing like a drain at the predicament of RWC1 until RWC 1 opens the cockpit door allowing the dog unprecedented access to RWC2.
After much hand to paw fighting, RWC1 and RWC2 gain the upper hand (paw) and regain control of the cockpit of the Carrier Bantam and attempt a hot relight.
Thankfully, the only operational spark plug does it's thing and we manage to creep further northwards. Then a remarkable thing, all the plugs and cylinders got there act together and after much backfiring and smoke rings causing zero vis on the A1, we fare whizzed to Leeming.
On arriving in the MT yard, the duty gadge opened the door and moaned about the amount of dog hairs!
How we laughed.
Bob O'n**** where are you?
Last edited by taxydual; 23rd Mar 2017 at 22:24.
Reason: d on Comman