Gaining An R.A.F Pilots Brevet In WW II
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You are right ... we did do rifle drill!! i remember the bayonet bit now (we didn't have those in the CCF/ATC, or course). t guess it didn't register as strongly as the sword drill. 
Here's us, in a fine variety of mixed rig! Me arrowed, several old faces I can still put names to, and I think I'm right in saying:
1. Lt Bob McQueen (later Capt)
2. Lt Cdr Andrew Richmond ("Owing to a shortage of Fleet Air Arm pilots in the 1950s, four supply officers qualified as fixed-wing pilots; both Brian Brown and Andrew Richmond rose to flag rank in the 1980s")
3. Possibly Sub Lt John Tolhurst (later VAdm)
Back to drafting my boats input
Here's us, in a fine variety of mixed rig! Me arrowed, several old faces I can still put names to, and I think I'm right in saying:
1. Lt Bob McQueen (later Capt)
2. Lt Cdr Andrew Richmond ("Owing to a shortage of Fleet Air Arm pilots in the 1950s, four supply officers qualified as fixed-wing pilots; both Brian Brown and Andrew Richmond rose to flag rank in the 1980s")
3. Possibly Sub Lt John Tolhurst (later VAdm)
Back to drafting my boats input
Fareastdriver yes - 5200xxx. As soon as I'd taken the Queen's shilling (I think we were given one) my Dad took me to the Eastleigh NAFFI to utilise my ration of alcohol and cigarettes before I flew off to England!
What year were the photos?
John Winton wrote a series of humorous novels, at least one focussing on Officer Training at Dartmouth. Not far removed from training at Sandhurst and Cranwell I guess. Gave me a good laught years ago.
John Winton wrote a series of humorous novels, at least one focussing on Officer Training at Dartmouth. Not far removed from training at Sandhurst and Cranwell I guess. Gave me a good laught years ago.
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Ahoy, matey, and pull up a bollard ...
... let your gimbals swing free whilst I luff up to the trots 
Where would the Royal Navy be without boats. No, not ships … boats. Small boats, pi$$ing around on the water for the use of. BRNC had loads of them, a veritable armada of instruments of variable degrees of torture during a cold winter. They littered the River Dart at a place called Sandquay, just below the College. And “just below” is an apt description, as Sandquay was reached by a flight of semi-vertical steps which started near the Chapel and descended in a vertiginous manner to the ‘docks’. There were, if memory serves correctly, about 2,378 steps going down and approximately 4,712 going up - the difference in number being attributed to the fact that Cadets doubled everywhere (as noted earlier) and that going up generally took place whilst being both wet and bloody cold.
The boats ranged from little blue rowing skiffs and RNSA sailing dinghies through assorted larger things with oars and sails (Cutters and Whalers, or the other way round) to motorised craft (Motor Cutter and KR) and really good big stuff (Fast Motor Boat, aka FMB, and the 20-ton Picket Boat, aka PB). Some were drawn up on the tiny beach, others were moored to buoys in the trots, others moored to pontoons or tied up alongside the small jetty. On all these jolly items one was required to acquire a degree of competence as the driver (oops, sorry, Coxswain) to be allowed to go solo (with the requisite number of crew, of course). My Boatwork Logbook tells the tale …
In this priceless historic document are also recorded my daily activities during the afternoon periods designated for “activity”. The weekly summary would, for example, read:
River
Shooting
River
Practical Leadership Exercise
Shooting
River
River
This was then scrutinised weekly by one’s Divisional Officer, who would make pertinent comments such as “With no tests to your credit, you can afford to spend two days a week shooting”. “Sorry, Sir, but target shooting is my chosen sport, not freezing my nuts off in small boats in the pouring rain.” I didn’t say that, of course!
Working your way through the various tests wasn’t just a simple ‘boat work skill process’ … you also needed to be able to get access to the type of boat you needed (with associated crewmen) and a suitable personage to actually conduct the test. That, combined with other distractions, deviations and hesitations (like being nominated as “Duty Crew” ferrying other cadets about the water to their boats) tended to make this a slight PITA. As my regular adverse comments from my DO mounted, so did the other diversions that prevented me from acceding to his wishes. As you can see, it took me nearly 4 months to finally tick off the last test, on the FMB … not helped by the fact that there were only a couple of them, and were thus in high demand by everyone!
I really don’t think I was cut out for the RN … I joined because they took helicopter pilots with a lower eyesight standard than any fixed wing military, and it was thus the only piloting career option open to me. Perhaps I should now shut up for a while, stow my Boatwork Log Book and peruse the memories contained in my RN Form S.1175, aka Pilots Flying Log. That won’t take too long, as you will see.
(Edit ... Wander00, my Logbook say 1963, so my Course/Division/Flotilla photo must have been then
)
Where would the Royal Navy be without boats. No, not ships … boats. Small boats, pi$$ing around on the water for the use of. BRNC had loads of them, a veritable armada of instruments of variable degrees of torture during a cold winter. They littered the River Dart at a place called Sandquay, just below the College. And “just below” is an apt description, as Sandquay was reached by a flight of semi-vertical steps which started near the Chapel and descended in a vertiginous manner to the ‘docks’. There were, if memory serves correctly, about 2,378 steps going down and approximately 4,712 going up - the difference in number being attributed to the fact that Cadets doubled everywhere (as noted earlier) and that going up generally took place whilst being both wet and bloody cold.
The boats ranged from little blue rowing skiffs and RNSA sailing dinghies through assorted larger things with oars and sails (Cutters and Whalers, or the other way round) to motorised craft (Motor Cutter and KR) and really good big stuff (Fast Motor Boat, aka FMB, and the 20-ton Picket Boat, aka PB). Some were drawn up on the tiny beach, others were moored to buoys in the trots, others moored to pontoons or tied up alongside the small jetty. On all these jolly items one was required to acquire a degree of competence as the driver (oops, sorry, Coxswain) to be allowed to go solo (with the requisite number of crew, of course). My Boatwork Logbook tells the tale …
In this priceless historic document are also recorded my daily activities during the afternoon periods designated for “activity”. The weekly summary would, for example, read:
River
Shooting
River
Practical Leadership Exercise
Shooting
River
River
This was then scrutinised weekly by one’s Divisional Officer, who would make pertinent comments such as “With no tests to your credit, you can afford to spend two days a week shooting”. “Sorry, Sir, but target shooting is my chosen sport, not freezing my nuts off in small boats in the pouring rain.” I didn’t say that, of course!
Working your way through the various tests wasn’t just a simple ‘boat work skill process’ … you also needed to be able to get access to the type of boat you needed (with associated crewmen) and a suitable personage to actually conduct the test. That, combined with other distractions, deviations and hesitations (like being nominated as “Duty Crew” ferrying other cadets about the water to their boats) tended to make this a slight PITA. As my regular adverse comments from my DO mounted, so did the other diversions that prevented me from acceding to his wishes. As you can see, it took me nearly 4 months to finally tick off the last test, on the FMB … not helped by the fact that there were only a couple of them, and were thus in high demand by everyone!
I really don’t think I was cut out for the RN … I joined because they took helicopter pilots with a lower eyesight standard than any fixed wing military, and it was thus the only piloting career option open to me. Perhaps I should now shut up for a while, stow my Boatwork Log Book and peruse the memories contained in my RN Form S.1175, aka Pilots Flying Log. That won’t take too long, as you will see.
(Edit ... Wander00, my Logbook say 1963, so my Course/Division/Flotilla photo must have been then
)
Last edited by MPN11; 9th Dec 2013 at 13:16.
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Originally Posted by HTB
From the ramp immediately above the stairs, we would a couple of times a week have "flashing" session; sounds sort of navy... But it was actually reading morse code from a flashing lamp atop the mainmast/flagpole. This could be problematic early in the morning during the first 3 months of the year, when the sun was low and rising (yes, I think you were right about the 0630 wake up call): retinal damage, anyone?
To my surprise I became quite competent at Morse, and could manage something intelligible at around 8wpm on both send and receive. Up in Temeraire Block, we had keys and lamps in a couple of the passageways, so we could practice in our own time. Not sure it would work there days ... can you imagine say to a colleague "Fancy coming up to the rear gallery so I can practice my flashing with you?"
Gentleman Aviator
Ah - morse on the Aldis Lamp!
When young APO Teeters was starting flying training post AOTS (a briefly lifed son of ITS), the Powers That Be were tinkering with flying syllabi.
One plan - to save cash of course - was to do more Chipmunk flying followed by less JP flying. The chosen model for the trial extra Chippy flying was the RN/FAA pre-helicopter course (60 or 75 hours instead of the 30 the RAF got). So 10 of us were dispatched to Linton (then mostly RN) to fly. (Although I was the only one to finish up rotary).
"But," said our wise masters, "the RN do lots of morse, so you must keep up."
"Instead of your post graduating leave, you can all go to Topcliffe (Siggy School) to do 2 weeks intensive morse. You will need 12s (words per minute) on the key and 6s on the Lamp (
)".
Which we more or less achieved, and proudly declared our ability on arrival at Linton.
"Oh morse?" said the staff "How quaint - the FAA gave all that up a couple of years ago!"
When young APO Teeters was starting flying training post AOTS (a briefly lifed son of ITS), the Powers That Be were tinkering with flying syllabi.
One plan - to save cash of course - was to do more Chipmunk flying followed by less JP flying. The chosen model for the trial extra Chippy flying was the RN/FAA pre-helicopter course (60 or 75 hours instead of the 30 the RAF got). So 10 of us were dispatched to Linton (then mostly RN) to fly. (Although I was the only one to finish up rotary).
"But," said our wise masters, "the RN do lots of morse, so you must keep up."
"Instead of your post graduating leave, you can all go to Topcliffe (Siggy School) to do 2 weeks intensive morse. You will need 12s (words per minute) on the key and 6s on the Lamp (
)".Which we more or less achieved, and proudly declared our ability on arrival at Linton.
"Oh morse?" said the staff "How quaint - the FAA gave all that up a couple of years ago!"
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In my time in the Civil Service (after 12 years RAF service) I met an old chap who had been in the Royal Navy in 1944. After his initial training as a Telegraphist at HMS Mercury (Hampshire) he was posted to a ship in Scapa Flow (Orkney). The journey north took 3 days in crowded trains and a very rough crossing of the Pentland Firth. On arrival at his ship he was told that he had to attend a specialist course commencing in 7 days time - at HMS Mercury.
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Wander00
My first photo post (New Forest) was Summer of 1969 - as I said, the week after IoW pop/rock Festival; the second, on the steps at BRNC was between January/June 1969 (2 Flying intakes per annum of 6 months duration), I entered the college on 6 January 1969.
Here's a handsome bunch - the BRNC athletics team for the annual inter-college competition. I do recall that the Cranwell team was rather large (in numbers, that is), but also very sociable. They plied us, on our home ground, with much drink, food and joviality, indulging in equal measure themselves. So all should be equilibrium the next day, the day of competition. Not so; the devious Crabs had sent effecively two teams - one to socialise us into a parlous physical condition, the other to do the actual jock strapping, little good it did them when faced with this sort of performer...
There are two or three RAN sub lts in our team; only remember the name of one - Ramsey (tall guy, front row 6 from left).
Which reminds me of some name plates on flying kit lockers on 706 Sqn at Culdrose. There were two Aus exchange instructors: one big, bearded and gregarious by name of Max Speedy - on his locker "Lt Speedy RAN"; the other, somewhat less colourful, Bruce Crawford - on his locker, next to Max's - "Lt Crawford also RAN".
Mister B
My first photo post (New Forest) was Summer of 1969 - as I said, the week after IoW pop/rock Festival; the second, on the steps at BRNC was between January/June 1969 (2 Flying intakes per annum of 6 months duration), I entered the college on 6 January 1969.
Here's a handsome bunch - the BRNC athletics team for the annual inter-college competition. I do recall that the Cranwell team was rather large (in numbers, that is), but also very sociable. They plied us, on our home ground, with much drink, food and joviality, indulging in equal measure themselves. So all should be equilibrium the next day, the day of competition. Not so; the devious Crabs had sent effecively two teams - one to socialise us into a parlous physical condition, the other to do the actual jock strapping, little good it did them when faced with this sort of performer...
There are two or three RAN sub lts in our team; only remember the name of one - Ramsey (tall guy, front row 6 from left).
Which reminds me of some name plates on flying kit lockers on 706 Sqn at Culdrose. There were two Aus exchange instructors: one big, bearded and gregarious by name of Max Speedy - on his locker "Lt Speedy RAN"; the other, somewhat less colourful, Bruce Crawford - on his locker, next to Max's - "Lt Crawford also RAN".
Mister B
Last edited by HTB; 9th Dec 2013 at 14:32. Reason: correcting qoutation marks
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Smudge,
Re ATC controllers keeping aircraft apart.
Of course before the days of ATC it should be remembered that aircraft flew whatever way they wished to go.
Then ATC came along to bring them altogether to fly down narrow corridors called airways, which is rather like putting all the scattered eggs into one basket.
clicker
Re ATC controllers keeping aircraft apart.
Of course before the days of ATC it should be remembered that aircraft flew whatever way they wished to go.
Then ATC came along to bring them altogether to fly down narrow corridors called airways, which is rather like putting all the scattered eggs into one basket.
clicker
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rather like putting all the scattered eggs into one basket.
rather like putting all the scattered egos into one basket.
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AA
That sounds a bit too much like a real survival exercise - I assume that there was also the land survival element (still in the NF?)
teeters
When I did the Chipmunk HSP course (second half of '69) it was at Chuch Fenton; without my logbook to hand (we're in different countries) I seem to remember the hours allocated were 85. We also had a few sessions while at BRNC, flying from Robourough aerodrome, grass runways (which became Plymouth Airport - now closed); about 9 hours allocated, culminating in first solo.
I don't count the odd Wasp flight from the sports field at Norton, just above the college
MPN11
My memories of boating from Sandquay et al are frighteningly similar to yours. The Kitchen Rudder particularly could be a bitch to drive, especially if you were over-enthisiastic with the control wheel at the extremes of its travel - it could very easily become jammed in full ahead or full astern. As Jock Barclay found out when making a dashing approach to the quay, intending to go from full fast forward to full stop - except he was jammed stuck in full ff. Two bowmen with now redundant boathooks found themselves holding two short splintered staves after attempting to overcome the laws of physics by arresting forward motion with said boathooks.
The PB provided a different challenge, with two throttles, two large brass gear levers (forward or reverse) and a steering wheel as well. You needed an extra hand or two if a complex manoeuvre was involved; just was not on to ask another crew memebr to help out (ah, the pride of being the coxswain).
Anyway, what's all this got to do with earning a pilot's brevet: remember my thrusting young lt cdr DO from a previous post? Well, during one of my frequent one-sided talks about lack of interest (and proficency) in boating, he came out with the observation that flying and sailing were very much alike, and so I must have an interest in both. I suppose so, wind does play a factor in both activities, and a sail is aerodynamic, sometimes. But like MPN, I couldn't 'fess up that it was the bloody mountaineering trek to the river and back that was the greatest discouragement. And the wetness and cold that January to March bring to the party
Mister B
That sounds a bit too much like a real survival exercise - I assume that there was also the land survival element (still in the NF?)
teeters
When I did the Chipmunk HSP course (second half of '69) it was at Chuch Fenton; without my logbook to hand (we're in different countries) I seem to remember the hours allocated were 85. We also had a few sessions while at BRNC, flying from Robourough aerodrome, grass runways (which became Plymouth Airport - now closed); about 9 hours allocated, culminating in first solo.
I don't count the odd Wasp flight from the sports field at Norton, just above the college
MPN11
My memories of boating from Sandquay et al are frighteningly similar to yours. The Kitchen Rudder particularly could be a bitch to drive, especially if you were over-enthisiastic with the control wheel at the extremes of its travel - it could very easily become jammed in full ahead or full astern. As Jock Barclay found out when making a dashing approach to the quay, intending to go from full fast forward to full stop - except he was jammed stuck in full ff. Two bowmen with now redundant boathooks found themselves holding two short splintered staves after attempting to overcome the laws of physics by arresting forward motion with said boathooks
.The PB provided a different challenge, with two throttles, two large brass gear levers (forward or reverse) and a steering wheel as well. You needed an extra hand or two if a complex manoeuvre was involved; just was not on to ask another crew memebr to help out (ah, the pride of being the coxswain)
.Anyway, what's all this got to do with earning a pilot's brevet: remember my thrusting young lt cdr DO from a previous post? Well, during one of my frequent one-sided talks about lack of interest (and proficency) in boating, he came out with the observation that flying and sailing were very much alike, and so I must have an interest in both. I suppose so, wind does play a factor in both activities, and a sail is aerodynamic, sometimes. But like MPN, I couldn't 'fess up that it was the bloody mountaineering trek to the river and back that was the greatest discouragement. And the wetness and cold that January to March bring to the party
Mister B
From my school year (1962) we put one into each of the Service colleges - I went to Cranwell, Blondy Pearson (whom I still see) to BRNC Dartmouth and Mike Jiggens to Sandhurst
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Originally Posted by HTB
The PB provided a different challenge, with two throttles, two large brass gear levers (forward or reverse) and a steering wheel as well. You needed an extra hand or two if a complex manoeuvre was involved; just was not on to ask another crew memebr to help out (ah, the pride of being the coxswain).
The PB was a doodle to drive!!! As you say, two bloody great gear levers sticking out of the floor (oops, deck) of the bridge (a good 3 ft long, IIRC), two man-sized throttles and a wheel. The trick you clearly never discovered or were told is that you hook your leg round a gear level to pull it back, or use your plimsol shod foot to push it/them forward. Bit painful, I will admit, but I had that dear boat well sorted ... sporting approaches to the pontoon, hard turn upwind/tide, slam both into reverse, then into neutral, "Make fast forward, make fast aft" and ... Bob's your DO
It was my absolute favourite boat. Like the day we FAA guys took 3 of them "outside" and did some "formation boating" off Slapton Sands using signal flags and Aldis lamp signals. Did you have the wooden boards with the signal messages pasted on them, under a coat of marine varnish? "Sea flat calm, no wind, river flood tide" is says here.
"Line astern ... GO", with the execute as the flag/s were hauled down. I recall we finished off our display with a high-speed run (well, PB high speed) straight at the beach in line abreast, followed by a nifty "Turnabout Starboard ... GO". I'm sure the gulls were impressed - sadly, on 26 Jan 64 I doubt the beach was full of adoring tottie just begging for us to drop hook and swim ashore!
(PS. Looking at the BRNC website, it seems the PBs now have an enclosed bridge. Wimps.)
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MPN (can we drop the 11 now that we're corresponding...?)
Yes, I used the same leg techniques, and had the bruises as witness. However, I had in mind something like a "man overboard" drill, where the punchy approach was one in forward, the other in reverse then juggle the trottles and wheel (remembering to cancel all that once upwind of the overboard, lest you minced him into fish bait).
The other boats you mentioned were probably the Boston Whaler and the 3 in 1 Whaler; I think both could be propelled by oars and sailed by stepping a mast. The latter, I have faint recollection, might have had an inboard diesel donk. By the way, I was pretty useless at the engine thing as well, requiring remedial instruction from the ever patient Mr Love.
The one that NO cadets were ever allowed near was the Captain's barge - I think it was a Fairey Huntress, or some such name; lovely looking boat.
Mister B
Yes, I used the same leg techniques, and had the bruises as witness. However, I had in mind something like a "man overboard" drill, where the punchy approach was one in forward, the other in reverse then juggle the trottles and wheel (remembering to cancel all that once upwind of the overboard, lest you minced him into fish bait).
The other boats you mentioned were probably the Boston Whaler and the 3 in 1 Whaler; I think both could be propelled by oars and sailed by stepping a mast. The latter, I have faint recollection, might have had an inboard diesel donk. By the way, I was pretty useless at the engine thing as well, requiring remedial instruction from the ever patient Mr Love.
The one that NO cadets were ever allowed near was the Captain's barge - I think it was a Fairey Huntress, or some such name; lovely looking boat.
Mister B
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Hehe ... Two sorts of whaler in my time, one with oars and sails, HM ships for the use of, and the diesel engined ones that provided the taxi service to the trots in addition to basic powerboat training.
Am I dreaming, or did the coxswain communicate with the engineer (haha) by whistle blasts, as the poor sod under the coaming next to the engine couldn't hear anything? One for go, 2 for atop, 3 for astern and 4 for I have hiccups?
And I hated the KR as well
(Started on the flying draft ... Won't take long!! Then others, especially Danny42C, can wade in undisturbed by my meandering. I think I'm getting close to joining Danny on his wing as he approaches Shawbury
Am I dreaming, or did the coxswain communicate with the engineer (haha) by whistle blasts, as the poor sod under the coaming next to the engine couldn't hear anything? One for go, 2 for atop, 3 for astern and 4 for I have hiccups?
And I hated the KR as well
(Started on the flying draft ... Won't take long!! Then others, especially Danny42C, can wade in undisturbed by my meandering. I think I'm getting close to joining Danny on his wing as he approaches Shawbury
Had a trip from Lymington to Portsmouth in the Southampton University P2000 - was amazed that even in a ship that size, helm orders were passed from skipper to helmsman, as we see on TV in much larger ships.
This happened to us in Cyprus.
There was a UNICYP cricket contest and we, the RAF UN detachment at Nicosia went off into the sticks to DANECON to play the Danes.
They met us, twelve blokes with white shirts and slacks and we retired tp the mess tent for lunch. That consisted of copius amouts of real Carlsberg lager.
We strolled out to the area of ground that looked like a cricket pitch and eleven different blokes turned up.
Gloating amonst the spectators was their Brit Army liasion officer, an RE captain who had coached the team, and to his delight we got duffed up.
There was a UNICYP cricket contest and we, the RAF UN detachment at Nicosia went off into the sticks to DANECON to play the Danes.
They met us, twelve blokes with white shirts and slacks and we retired tp the mess tent for lunch. That consisted of copius amouts of real Carlsberg lager.
We strolled out to the area of ground that looked like a cricket pitch and eleven different blokes turned up.
Gloating amonst the spectators was their Brit Army liasion officer, an RE captain who had coached the team, and to his delight we got duffed up.
Hope you don't mind another ex ground crew bloke adding to the thread
The charge given out to camlobes when he joined up reminded me of my first start in the RAF at the tender age of 15 ½ in 1968 as a craft apprentice, airframes. I had to go to RAF Halton 6 months earlier than most, as my school achievements were ok but needed a top up so to speak.
Firstly my choices for joining were;
1. Aircraft Electrician (always liked messing about with electrics as a kid)
2. MT Fitter (always liked messing about with car engines etc)
3. Airframe Fitter (suggested 3rd choice)
First choice was out as my mathematics skills were apparently not good enough, cannot for the likes of me know why I was not deemed suitable for MT Fitter (although once I left training I then started to find out that it is not so much what you would like to be, it was what trade needed people), so I started in my 3rd choice, which after 30 years I had the right choice made for me.
So first things first the arrival and splitting up into alphabetic groups to be allocated block/room, introduced to a discip staff, cannot remember too much shouting at this stage, although my memory of small details like this are not as good as others on this fine thread, some of that came later.
Bed packs, the use of the bumper etc and all those other turning men into boys stuff described previously all bring back the memories of a time gone by. My first ‘run in’ with the management was at a briefing, which included form filling and taking the life insurance with the company that went bust, they introduced us to the term ‘re-mustering’ with the explanation that one could change trades within the same trade group, which just happened to mean that I could change to Aircraft Electrician.
Silly me decided to pose the question that if my maths was not good enough to be an Aircraft Electrician when I applied, and I had done no more maths and improved what I left school with, then how come I could now change to the trade I wanted to be, don’t you just know that when there is a total silence in the room that you begin to think (sorry I know that does not bode well for a young erk to start thinking at this stage) that maybe you are not supposed to question the management.
Anyway the brief continued after the pregnant pause as if I had not said anything, after those 30 years, I never did get an answer to that question. Next time I fell foul was on a Saturday when we were given the task of cleaning up the surrounds of the block which I duly joined the rest of the room and id our bit, having demonstrated the keenness I was carrying out this onerous task by showing the amount of rubbish I had picked up to the discip sergeant, put it in a bin and went to my pit.
The discip Cpl then ordered me to go outside and pick up rubbish to which I politely replied that I had just finished doing that and that the other blokes were finishing off, again funny how I did not learn from my previous sortie into expressing an opinion, this ended up with him charging me for disobeying a direct order, which for those in the know is an automatic Courts Marshall offense.
It turns out that you cannot Courts Marshall an apprentice so it was dropped to the lesser charge of non-compliance with an order, which got me 7 days jankers and a £12 fine, and yes I also found the delights of working in the mess hall kitchen (without the bonus of food and not so nice staff), blancoing belts, bags and harness, best blue inspection by the orderly officer.
I know for my first post on this great thread it is a bit long, as I don't know whether to add anything further as I am still trying to keep with all the other memories. By the way I was told that all disciplinary actions taken at training did not end up on your proper RAF files, funny how you also believe everything you are told while in training.
Firstly my choices for joining were;
1. Aircraft Electrician (always liked messing about with electrics as a kid)
2. MT Fitter (always liked messing about with car engines etc)
3. Airframe Fitter (suggested 3rd choice)
First choice was out as my mathematics skills were apparently not good enough, cannot for the likes of me know why I was not deemed suitable for MT Fitter (although once I left training I then started to find out that it is not so much what you would like to be, it was what trade needed people), so I started in my 3rd choice, which after 30 years I had the right choice made for me.
So first things first the arrival and splitting up into alphabetic groups to be allocated block/room, introduced to a discip staff, cannot remember too much shouting at this stage, although my memory of small details like this are not as good as others on this fine thread, some of that came later.
Bed packs, the use of the bumper etc and all those other turning men into boys stuff described previously all bring back the memories of a time gone by. My first ‘run in’ with the management was at a briefing, which included form filling and taking the life insurance with the company that went bust, they introduced us to the term ‘re-mustering’ with the explanation that one could change trades within the same trade group, which just happened to mean that I could change to Aircraft Electrician.
Silly me decided to pose the question that if my maths was not good enough to be an Aircraft Electrician when I applied, and I had done no more maths and improved what I left school with, then how come I could now change to the trade I wanted to be, don’t you just know that when there is a total silence in the room that you begin to think (sorry I know that does not bode well for a young erk to start thinking at this stage) that maybe you are not supposed to question the management.
Anyway the brief continued after the pregnant pause as if I had not said anything, after those 30 years, I never did get an answer to that question. Next time I fell foul was on a Saturday when we were given the task of cleaning up the surrounds of the block which I duly joined the rest of the room and id our bit, having demonstrated the keenness I was carrying out this onerous task by showing the amount of rubbish I had picked up to the discip sergeant, put it in a bin and went to my pit.
The discip Cpl then ordered me to go outside and pick up rubbish to which I politely replied that I had just finished doing that and that the other blokes were finishing off, again funny how I did not learn from my previous sortie into expressing an opinion, this ended up with him charging me for disobeying a direct order, which for those in the know is an automatic Courts Marshall offense.
It turns out that you cannot Courts Marshall an apprentice so it was dropped to the lesser charge of non-compliance with an order, which got me 7 days jankers and a £12 fine, and yes I also found the delights of working in the mess hall kitchen (without the bonus of food and not so nice staff), blancoing belts, bags and harness, best blue inspection by the orderly officer.
I know for my first post on this great thread it is a bit long, as I don't know whether to add anything further as I am still trying to keep with all the other memories. By the way I was told that all disciplinary actions taken at training did not end up on your proper RAF files, funny how you also believe everything you are told while in training.
Exrigger,
Just for the sake of my Memory, 210/211/212 ? I was 214. And re the moniker, you can absolutely never, ever be an ex rigger, you just stop practising as much
Smudge
Just for the sake of my Memory, 210/211/212 ? I was 214. And re the moniker, you can absolutely never, ever be an ex rigger, you just stop practising as much
Smudge