Batmen
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
Wholighan, same time, Stradishall, we had a NS batman who worked this small non-standard type barrack block with just 16 rooms, enough for our Nav Course. It was a pain having to walk the couple of hundred yards to and from the mess but as junior course that was where we were allocated.
To a man, after a month, we all elected to remain there rather than face the upheaval and a new batman. He didn't have to do a lot, we only had the 2 suits, DJ, and sports jacket and slacks.
To a man, after a month, we all elected to remain there rather than face the upheaval and a new batman. He didn't have to do a lot, we only had the 2 suits, DJ, and sports jacket and slacks.
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I was Detco Nairobi in 1971 - VC10s, Brits and Hercs were flying in with troops and equipment and flying back empty. BHC Nairobi had put the word around so there were quite a few indulgence passengers to handle.
One day, an Army colonel turned up with the yellow card duly stamped as approved by the BHC so my staff processed him and told him to wait in the lounge -a wooden hut. When it came to board, he was accompanied by lance corporal who, it transpired, was not a duty passenger. Upon questioning, he referred to the colonel. Said colonel took umbrage that we had not allowed for his batman to travel with him.
'He always goes where I go', was his response! He blamed the RAF for not using its crystal ball!
The arrogance of the colonel to treat his batman as chattel was astonishing as he had not applied for the indulgence for his batman. A seat for the batman was not a problem so he was boarded but was probably quite hungry en route to BZN, unless the cabin staff found a morsel for him. I bet the colonel was not bothered about his well being.
One day, an Army colonel turned up with the yellow card duly stamped as approved by the BHC so my staff processed him and told him to wait in the lounge -a wooden hut. When it came to board, he was accompanied by lance corporal who, it transpired, was not a duty passenger. Upon questioning, he referred to the colonel. Said colonel took umbrage that we had not allowed for his batman to travel with him.
'He always goes where I go', was his response! He blamed the RAF for not using its crystal ball!
The arrogance of the colonel to treat his batman as chattel was astonishing as he had not applied for the indulgence for his batman. A seat for the batman was not a problem so he was boarded but was probably quite hungry en route to BZN, unless the cabin staff found a morsel for him. I bet the colonel was not bothered about his well being.
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I read somewhere (I think) that Douglas Bader when he was a prisoner in Colditz Castle would not allow his batman to be medically repatriated to the UK as he was too useful to him.
The German authorities were quite willing to return said batman via the Swiss Red Cross.
The German authorities were quite willing to return said batman via the Swiss Red Cross.
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I never lived in MQs in New Zealand, always preferring to own our own home, so I had none of the MQ batting experience. I doubt it ever happened in the RNZAF anyway! You could still have your shoes cleaned and receive a cuppa in the morning if you were staying in a Mess, but even in the mid-60s they were almost all civilian staff as I recall.
Singapore during ANZUK was different when I, as a Flt Lt RNZAF was allocated a MQ at 12 Hyde Park Gate at Seletar, by then [1974] taken over by the SAF. We had an Amah of course, for which we had allowances, but she didn't live in, and on the odd occasion when she did I made sure she was in the house and not in the accommodation out back provided for servants. So Kiwis were never very good at this servant relationship.
We eventually moved house from Seletar to Kenya Crescent near the Naval Base. Houses built before the war for senior navy officers. They're still there! Each house had the equivalent of a two-bedroomed servants quarters out the back! When we left Hyde Park Gate, the Barrack Wardens, still run by people who had worked for the Brits for fifty years or so, did the usual inventory check, in my case carried out by an Indian gentleman. He insisted I was a missing a "Mirror, Wall, Large" which of course we'd never had, and in the end he agreed perhaps it wasn't missing. Some of the stuff in those house was legendary: sherry glasses with the George VI crest on them, and excellent silverware. There were things like solid teak book cases, and card tables. I got an RAF associate to buy one of the writing desks, and paid him the Fiver it cost, I still have it and it's in use every day, a very nice piece of furniture! I happened to mention I'd like a couple of the glasses, and the ever obliging Indian told me I had a "breakage allowance, and if we liked we could be having breakage" and promptly wrapped the glasses for me! He assured me it was all above board! In the "Thieves Market" in Singapore, you could buy just about anything you wanted from ex-MQ stock, including an unused set of silver cutlery still in it's box!
Singapore during ANZUK was different when I, as a Flt Lt RNZAF was allocated a MQ at 12 Hyde Park Gate at Seletar, by then [1974] taken over by the SAF. We had an Amah of course, for which we had allowances, but she didn't live in, and on the odd occasion when she did I made sure she was in the house and not in the accommodation out back provided for servants. So Kiwis were never very good at this servant relationship.
We eventually moved house from Seletar to Kenya Crescent near the Naval Base. Houses built before the war for senior navy officers. They're still there! Each house had the equivalent of a two-bedroomed servants quarters out the back! When we left Hyde Park Gate, the Barrack Wardens, still run by people who had worked for the Brits for fifty years or so, did the usual inventory check, in my case carried out by an Indian gentleman. He insisted I was a missing a "Mirror, Wall, Large" which of course we'd never had, and in the end he agreed perhaps it wasn't missing. Some of the stuff in those house was legendary: sherry glasses with the George VI crest on them, and excellent silverware. There were things like solid teak book cases, and card tables. I got an RAF associate to buy one of the writing desks, and paid him the Fiver it cost, I still have it and it's in use every day, a very nice piece of furniture! I happened to mention I'd like a couple of the glasses, and the ever obliging Indian told me I had a "breakage allowance, and if we liked we could be having breakage" and promptly wrapped the glasses for me! He assured me it was all above board! In the "Thieves Market" in Singapore, you could buy just about anything you wanted from ex-MQ stock, including an unused set of silver cutlery still in it's box!
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A very good friend of my wife was a “Batwoman” several years ago (Cottesmore). She absolutely loved the experience for many reasons. She started in the Air Force age 17, with no qualifications, advanced to the rank of LACW and eventually SACW. She very quickly learnt that she was just doing a job and while some treated her as some form of low life others treated her with respect. Those that treated her as low life were generally dirty, lazy people who used their officer status to get by. Those that treated her with respect were just normal down to earth people. She was able to learn a great deal about people and now owns stables in Leicestershire with about 100 horses. She puts it down to the experience she gained working as a Batperson.
As an aside, when my dad was stationed in Penang as a high ranking JT we had an amah. They were Malayan servants who looked after the house and did the garden. As a kid I remember them as lovely people. Is there any difference?
As an aside, when my dad was stationed in Penang as a high ranking JT we had an amah. They were Malayan servants who looked after the house and did the garden. As a kid I remember them as lovely people. Is there any difference?
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''However, it's now 2011, and the young people joining today have an expectation of being treated fairly, as BEagle says. Duties such as waiting on and mess duties are demeaning to those who studied hard and hold down some very technically demanding jobs in the Services.
"Congratulations on completing your 18 months of trade training, you are now qualified to work on multi million pound equipment that people's lives depend on. Here's a promotion, and a pay rise. By the way, you're waiting on in the mess tonight. Enjoy".''
Roadster, do you have the faintest clue what you are talking about? Have you ever lived, other than perhaps as a transient contractor, in an Officer's Mess?
Could you give us an example of technically qualified ground crew being used as mess stewards, because, with almost 3 decades of service well behind me, including stints on mess committees, I cannot think of one. As someone who joined in the mid sixties and 'lived in' on six stations in the UK and abroad I cannot once remember having a service batman; locally employed civilians, glad of a job, yes but never a serviceman. Please lighten our darkness.
"Congratulations on completing your 18 months of trade training, you are now qualified to work on multi million pound equipment that people's lives depend on. Here's a promotion, and a pay rise. By the way, you're waiting on in the mess tonight. Enjoy".''
Roadster, do you have the faintest clue what you are talking about? Have you ever lived, other than perhaps as a transient contractor, in an Officer's Mess?
Could you give us an example of technically qualified ground crew being used as mess stewards, because, with almost 3 decades of service well behind me, including stints on mess committees, I cannot think of one. As someone who joined in the mid sixties and 'lived in' on six stations in the UK and abroad I cannot once remember having a service batman; locally employed civilians, glad of a job, yes but never a serviceman. Please lighten our darkness.
Could you give us an example of technically qualified ground crew being used as mess stewards, because, with almost 3 decades of service well behind me, including stints on mess committees, I cannot think of one. As someone who joined in the mid sixties and 'lived in' on six stations in the UK and abroad I cannot once remember having a service batman; locally employed civilians, glad of a job, yes but never a serviceman. Please lighten our darkness.
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An 0700 arousal is something of a rude awakening. 0730 allows plenty of time for a sh** shower shave and journey into work for 0830. Cock all happens before then anyway, save for pathetic chisellers attempting to make a impression and/or lick their bosses backside.
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Oldbaldeagle-
As a Pte/JNCO, I have waited on in the Sgts' and Officers' messes many times. 7, 8 and 16 Signal Regiments. I've been the minibus driver carrying drunken mess members and their other halves home almost as many times. Same regiments. Never paid, always an additional duty.
I saw the same deal happen in the RAF. SACs dicked left, right and centre for mess duties, although not as much as the Army, granted.
Once I entered the Mess myself, I found myself cringing with embarrassment when it was a dinner night and a JNCO was serving me my dinner. Absolutely atrocious. As a lowly Sgt, I could merely accept. But how I wished that wasn't so.
So I would ask you, old chap, do you have the faintest idea what went on?
As a Pte/JNCO, I have waited on in the Sgts' and Officers' messes many times. 7, 8 and 16 Signal Regiments. I've been the minibus driver carrying drunken mess members and their other halves home almost as many times. Same regiments. Never paid, always an additional duty.
I saw the same deal happen in the RAF. SACs dicked left, right and centre for mess duties, although not as much as the Army, granted.
Once I entered the Mess myself, I found myself cringing with embarrassment when it was a dinner night and a JNCO was serving me my dinner. Absolutely atrocious. As a lowly Sgt, I could merely accept. But how I wished that wasn't so.
So I would ask you, old chap, do you have the faintest idea what went on?
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However, although I was entitled to a batting service, albeit in its latter days, I must admit to having some difficulty recalling what type of aircraft the RAF (or any other air force) flew in the 19th century.....
century.
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As I said in the opening post, my father's batman was a sergeant. I remember his name but won't say it.
My guess is that he was doing extra, private, work when he was digging our garden in married quarters. My mother used to polish my father's uniform buttons (using that metal strip to protect the cloth from the polish) so I'm not sure our batman had regular duties in the house.
After my father died we of course left married quarters and my mother looked after us three brats on her war widows pension, which was nowhere near as generous as now, and doing extra work. This former batman used to write to her asking for money giving various reasons. I think my mum obliged a few times but in the end did not.
We were lucky to live in married quarters because I understand quite a few married couples lived in caravans, at least for a time. There was a caravan site, outside the camp I think, which also housed a nursery school where I went - we called it for some reason 'the carrot tops'.
My guess is that he was doing extra, private, work when he was digging our garden in married quarters. My mother used to polish my father's uniform buttons (using that metal strip to protect the cloth from the polish) so I'm not sure our batman had regular duties in the house.
After my father died we of course left married quarters and my mother looked after us three brats on her war widows pension, which was nowhere near as generous as now, and doing extra work. This former batman used to write to her asking for money giving various reasons. I think my mum obliged a few times but in the end did not.
We were lucky to live in married quarters because I understand quite a few married couples lived in caravans, at least for a time. There was a caravan site, outside the camp I think, which also housed a nursery school where I went - we called it for some reason 'the carrot tops'.
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Batties
Ah Batties
The RAF very generously paid me to go to University in the early ‘80s. It was a rather unusual engineering degree course which saw myself and my fellow Acting Pilot Officers alternating between study periods at the University and practical periods at RAF stations. One such practical period comprised 12 weeks at RAF St Athan where we were fortunate to be accommodated in the wing of the mess looked after by a rather nice blond lady called Sandy.
After a short while I started to become rather concerned with the relationship that existed between Sandy and myself. Remember I was a young, naive, impressionable and easily confused young chap. One evening after a few beers in the bar, I squeezed myself between the pristine, well starched and tightly tucked-in sheets to find that the bed appeared to end about half way down. Sandy had apple-pied it! I struggled with the sheets and think that sorting it all out was beyond my mental of physical capacity at the time so I slept on top. The next morning’s tea (standard NATO (then) – milk and two sugars) was delivered with a giggle. A few days later rushing to dress for dinner, I thrust my hand into my suit jacket to find that the sleeves had been sown up. The next morning the laces of my brightly polished DMS shoes were tied together. I know, I know now, or at least I like to believe that in my naivety I missed all of the signs....Anyway these sort of things continued for a while with me taking them as a good natured joke. Finally my tea arrived with milk and 2 salts; I decided to repay in kind.
The batting room was about halfway down the corridor from mine and I set of to recce it. After a short while I found a bucket. I also noticed that a water pipe ran above the door. It was clear that a bucket of water attached to the pipe would tip over the door as it opened inward. I was now beyond the point of no return and a few moments later the bucket was suspended from the pipe, full of water. Now I was on the wrong side of the door but I reckoned that a gentle easing of the door a small way would allow me to exit without a drenching. This proved true but as I eased the door I realised that it would be obvious, from the force required to move the door, that something was amiss. I decided to disguise this by pushing one of the battie’s armchairs against the door, squeezing through and then pulling the chair towards the door from outside. I then had a crisis of confidence, primarily as a number of senior officers also occupied the wing. I decided to stick a sign to the door – ‘Danger Booby Trapped’. In all reality I thought that this would give the game away, but thought it better than being carpeted for drenching a Squadron Leader.
And so to bed. At 5am the next morning I was awoken by a great splash and scream. Footsteps followed and my door swung open. There stood a bedraggle figure, long black hair lying limply....black? Sandy’s a blond.........It transpired that it was Sandy’s day off and the Mess Manager’s wife was filling in!! Chocolates and flowers, sincerest apologies and a talking to followed. I went back 10 years later, Sandy was still there as were other members of staff including the barmaid who said “weren’t you the one .....”
The RAF very generously paid me to go to University in the early ‘80s. It was a rather unusual engineering degree course which saw myself and my fellow Acting Pilot Officers alternating between study periods at the University and practical periods at RAF stations. One such practical period comprised 12 weeks at RAF St Athan where we were fortunate to be accommodated in the wing of the mess looked after by a rather nice blond lady called Sandy.
After a short while I started to become rather concerned with the relationship that existed between Sandy and myself. Remember I was a young, naive, impressionable and easily confused young chap. One evening after a few beers in the bar, I squeezed myself between the pristine, well starched and tightly tucked-in sheets to find that the bed appeared to end about half way down. Sandy had apple-pied it! I struggled with the sheets and think that sorting it all out was beyond my mental of physical capacity at the time so I slept on top. The next morning’s tea (standard NATO (then) – milk and two sugars) was delivered with a giggle. A few days later rushing to dress for dinner, I thrust my hand into my suit jacket to find that the sleeves had been sown up. The next morning the laces of my brightly polished DMS shoes were tied together. I know, I know now, or at least I like to believe that in my naivety I missed all of the signs....Anyway these sort of things continued for a while with me taking them as a good natured joke. Finally my tea arrived with milk and 2 salts; I decided to repay in kind.
The batting room was about halfway down the corridor from mine and I set of to recce it. After a short while I found a bucket. I also noticed that a water pipe ran above the door. It was clear that a bucket of water attached to the pipe would tip over the door as it opened inward. I was now beyond the point of no return and a few moments later the bucket was suspended from the pipe, full of water. Now I was on the wrong side of the door but I reckoned that a gentle easing of the door a small way would allow me to exit without a drenching. This proved true but as I eased the door I realised that it would be obvious, from the force required to move the door, that something was amiss. I decided to disguise this by pushing one of the battie’s armchairs against the door, squeezing through and then pulling the chair towards the door from outside. I then had a crisis of confidence, primarily as a number of senior officers also occupied the wing. I decided to stick a sign to the door – ‘Danger Booby Trapped’. In all reality I thought that this would give the game away, but thought it better than being carpeted for drenching a Squadron Leader.
And so to bed. At 5am the next morning I was awoken by a great splash and scream. Footsteps followed and my door swung open. There stood a bedraggle figure, long black hair lying limply....black? Sandy’s a blond.........It transpired that it was Sandy’s day off and the Mess Manager’s wife was filling in!! Chocolates and flowers, sincerest apologies and a talking to followed. I went back 10 years later, Sandy was still there as were other members of staff including the barmaid who said “weren’t you the one .....”
Could start a whole new thread on the Batties at Cranwell, in my case in the earlyish sixties. Pop Amies (RIP) was one of the A Sqn batties and he looked after us like a favourite uncle. I left the RAF (GD/P) in 1969, and in April 1980 rejoined as Admin Sec. I pulled up behind Cranwell SHQ and as I opened the car door a voice said "Welcome Back, Sir". "Pop, how nice to see you". "Well Sir, I heard that you were returning and I thought it only right I should meet you". Surprising amount of dust in the air as I entered SHQ.
In the sixties there were still one or two staff around from the very early days of the College, and I believe one batman in B Sqn had been batman for Douglas Bader.
In the sixties there were still one or two staff around from the very early days of the College, and I believe one batman in B Sqn had been batman for Douglas Bader.
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I still have a photo (taken in '55) of myself, then a lowly 'erk', being served my Christmas dinner by Sqdn Ldr. Mason, in the airman's mess RAF Wahn. Does that fine tradition still exist?
Avoid imitations
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It did in my time.
But I gave up volunteering for that after some erk stole my brand new SD hat (we had to buy them ourselves and I could ill afford another as a F/O).
But I gave up volunteering for that after some erk stole my brand new SD hat (we had to buy them ourselves and I could ill afford another as a F/O).
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Yes the Christmas tradition still exists. At a certain Cornish station not so long ago I remember a young Regt lad who couldn't get his head round the idea I would just keep serving him wine when he asked. I explained that I was there to serve! Felt a bit bad as SDO 2 days later when he was parading at 2200 at the MGR for having turned up at work hammered the day after...
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
It is quite possible that some non-catering tradesmen may have volunteered to serve as stewards in the Mess. One reason Mess functions cost is the cost of staff - they don't work for free on a 24/7 basis.
They work all day setting up and are then often paid till gone mid-night or even to breakfast at rates well above minimums.
In US Officers' Clubs it is normal to employ enlisted men and again this is on top of their normal pay.
They work all day setting up and are then often paid till gone mid-night or even to breakfast at rates well above minimums.
In US Officers' Clubs it is normal to employ enlisted men and again this is on top of their normal pay.
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Batmen, Dining-In nights, Parades and all that BS.
Well I guess as a Colonial who served over 23 years with the Australian Forces and rose to hold W/O rank and lead various groups of men I think I can likely claim some sort of record. I never ever attended any official Dining In night. I also managed to complete an uninterupted period of at least five years where I did not go on Parade because I had more important things to do, like crew an aircraft or some other useful endeavour. I also had those under my command removed from Base duties. If it was good enough for the clerks in Accounting not to have to do base duties so that they did not get fatigued and make mistakes I reckoned it was at least equally important for aircrew to be treated in like manner. Thanks God not every "tradition" from the British Forces was retained in the ADF. Oh, and Goudie, you were never "a lowly 'erk", just an 'erk.
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Oh, and Goudie, you were never "a lowly 'erk", just an 'erk.
I would just keep serving him wine
Bader's Batman
DC10Realman - post 43 is right.
Not only did Bader stop the soldier from being repatriated but the soldier used to carry Bader up and down steep stone stairs for his bath.
When war ended, Bader left first and instructed the soldier to bring the spare pair of legs home with him. The US personnel refused to let the soldier carry these items and they were left behind. A little later Bader telephoned the soldier and asked where the spare legs were. When the soldier told him, Bader slammed the phone down and never again spoke to the soldier.
This story was told by the soldier on a TV programme a few years ago and Bader's behaviour was corroborated by others. War hero Yes, Charity worker Yes, but Caring and considerate officer No.
Fancy stopping a POW from being repatriated.
Old Duffer
PS There is a story - probably not true - that Bader was 'fragged' by one of his own when he was shotdown.
Not only did Bader stop the soldier from being repatriated but the soldier used to carry Bader up and down steep stone stairs for his bath.
When war ended, Bader left first and instructed the soldier to bring the spare pair of legs home with him. The US personnel refused to let the soldier carry these items and they were left behind. A little later Bader telephoned the soldier and asked where the spare legs were. When the soldier told him, Bader slammed the phone down and never again spoke to the soldier.
This story was told by the soldier on a TV programme a few years ago and Bader's behaviour was corroborated by others. War hero Yes, Charity worker Yes, but Caring and considerate officer No.
Fancy stopping a POW from being repatriated.
Old Duffer
PS There is a story - probably not true - that Bader was 'fragged' by one of his own when he was shotdown.