The ghost of RAF Chivenor
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....gas fire! We plebs had a coal-filled pot-bellied stove!
The stove at one end of the hut always stayed cold, while the other glowed cherry-red, so it was always tricky choosing the right bed
Other highlights were being winched up into a 22sqn Whirlwind over the airfield, and sitting in the state-of-the-art Hunter cockpit simulator, which remained firmly bolted to the ground
Actually I'm writing a book about those war stories! Nearly finished; well I would have, but still having adventures!
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Fayslag
Would that be the same Flt Lt Tate I have in my logbook
Nov 10 1980 Hunter T7 IRT Capt Tate Pupil Self 1.10 Day dual?
Sven
Would that be the same Flt Lt Tate I have in my logbook
Nov 10 1980 Hunter T7 IRT Capt Tate Pupil Self 1.10 Day dual?
Sven
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Right then - I can't match BEagle's memory for hut numbers etc, but I can recall some happenings - some, many others are there, but lost!
There was the weather, generally glorious -aside from the odd atlantic blow when we retirired to either the bar or other localities. There we were in the bar when Dave R**me screwed up an engine-out landing and landed chute-wise close to the railway line. And the Arab who entered the barrier, legged it to the ante-room, read a paper and denied all knowledge. And the lovely Sandy. And Torrey Canyon. And the pub in Barnacle, and the one in Braunton - and her. And yes, the huts, with the coal fires - accommodating those lovely locale ladies, one or two of whom married into the RAF! And the flying, oh the flying!
And, and - it was all so bloody good!! Almost 50 years ago, yet I can touch it so closely. In May, some of us who have survived the ravages of ageing will meet in the RAF Club to get p**sed and recall times of Chivenor (and Aden).
Soon we will die, and tales with us -------- Whar**y (RIP), Wats*n, D**n, Bat*y, Gro**e, Middle**n, Milla**d, Aitk*n, Henso*, Barry ?, and many others whom I can recall, but not their names!
There was the weather, generally glorious -aside from the odd atlantic blow when we retirired to either the bar or other localities. There we were in the bar when Dave R**me screwed up an engine-out landing and landed chute-wise close to the railway line. And the Arab who entered the barrier, legged it to the ante-room, read a paper and denied all knowledge. And the lovely Sandy. And Torrey Canyon. And the pub in Barnacle, and the one in Braunton - and her. And yes, the huts, with the coal fires - accommodating those lovely locale ladies, one or two of whom married into the RAF! And the flying, oh the flying!
And, and - it was all so bloody good!! Almost 50 years ago, yet I can touch it so closely. In May, some of us who have survived the ravages of ageing will meet in the RAF Club to get p**sed and recall times of Chivenor (and Aden).
Soon we will die, and tales with us -------- Whar**y (RIP), Wats*n, D**n, Bat*y, Gro**e, Middle**n, Milla**d, Aitk*n, Henso*, Barry ?, and many others whom I can recall, but not their names!
Last edited by jindabyne; 10th Mar 2011 at 21:12.
jindabyne, I find it hard to believe that Dave R**me could ever screw up!
I always thought that was a shaggy dog story, so am glad you've confirmed it as no-one would ever believe me!
Not sure about the pub in Barnacle; one of the guys on our course had been a junior doctor at Barnacle some years earlier, so took a couple of chums to one of his favourite watering holes of the day.....which turned out to have become a gay bar in his absence. Never were 3 beers drunk so quickly! We never forgave him.
The Thatched Barn at Croyde and the Williams Arms at Wrafton were our favoured venues. But there were so many others and it truly was Heaven in Devon!
Blunty - you've been writing that book of yours for years! But it'll be good when it's finally published. No doubt it will include your Canberra engine fire SOR -
One of my most enjoyable trips was with you in the other jet when we did an hour of low level battle (as it was called back then) formation over the wilds of Devon - brilliant fun and for once I didn't f**k up!
And the Arab who entered the barrier, legged it to the ante-room, read a paper and denied all knowledge.
Not sure about the pub in Barnacle; one of the guys on our course had been a junior doctor at Barnacle some years earlier, so took a couple of chums to one of his favourite watering holes of the day.....which turned out to have become a gay bar in his absence. Never were 3 beers drunk so quickly! We never forgave him.
The Thatched Barn at Croyde and the Williams Arms at Wrafton were our favoured venues. But there were so many others and it truly was Heaven in Devon!
Blunty - you've been writing that book of yours for years! But it'll be good when it's finally published. No doubt it will include your Canberra engine fire SOR -
Purpose Of Flight: Getting 3 hours for the boss's wall!
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Believe me, he did. And dined out on it as always! Good on you Dave!!
Aah the Willies. But what was the one in Barnacle main street?
And then there were the fatalities, as at Valley. From the ground at CV, I saw too many, eg the RN Vixen on finals.
Aah the Willies. But what was the one in Barnacle main street?
And then there were the fatalities, as at Valley. From the ground at CV, I saw too many, eg the RN Vixen on finals.
Last edited by jindabyne; 10th Mar 2011 at 21:00.
Try looking in one of those Airfield ghost books by Bruce Halpenny (or similar name?)
I have a couple, will look them up.
A mate of mine saw a ghost in the control tower at Sleap, Shropshire.
Level-headed guy, scary story.
A Whitley (?) did lose control there and hit the tower, killing at least one.
lsh
I have a couple, will look them up.
A mate of mine saw a ghost in the control tower at Sleap, Shropshire.
Level-headed guy, scary story.
A Whitley (?) did lose control there and hit the tower, killing at least one.
lsh
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Fixed Cross
Was lucky enough to enjoy two tours at Chivenor (and two courses). Sadly some fatalities did occur-as at most RAF stations throughout time.
-and don't forget The Gribble Inn starring 'The Exotic Eva' (plus snake).
-and the time the service police blew up Norrie B***s' haggis package under the impression that the IRA were operating through the Post Office.
-and don't forget The Gribble Inn starring 'The Exotic Eva' (plus snake).
-and the time the service police blew up Norrie B***s' haggis package under the impression that the IRA were operating through the Post Office.
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Cor, what a lot of youngsters are out there. At one time the Three Tuns was favourite (Anybody remember Billy Drake's antics there in the winter of 1963?) And is anyone of The Puffin Club vintage apart from me still around?
Book
Yup Beagle, still writing; lots of other things to do including looking after new wife. Anyway, here is the preface:
This is the quite remarkable and true story of Squadron Leader Derek J Sharp AFC BSc Dip Comp JP RAF and his incredible adventures. Nothing perhaps was more astonishing than his survival after meeting a Mallard duck at 500 mph and his subsequent fight back to become a pilot in command once again. That he survived to age 30 was amazing, that he continued unashamedly on to a ripe old age was nothing short of a miracle. Conceivably he followed the advice written on a fridge magnet in his kitchen ‘Never drive faster than your Guardian Angel can fly’. Those who knew him would say not a chance! He lived in a time long before Political Correctness, the Breathalyser and motor car safety checks. He achieved all that he set out to do, and more. That would undoubtedly be his epitaph.
This is the quite remarkable and true story of Squadron Leader Derek J Sharp AFC BSc Dip Comp JP RAF and his incredible adventures. Nothing perhaps was more astonishing than his survival after meeting a Mallard duck at 500 mph and his subsequent fight back to become a pilot in command once again. That he survived to age 30 was amazing, that he continued unashamedly on to a ripe old age was nothing short of a miracle. Conceivably he followed the advice written on a fridge magnet in his kitchen ‘Never drive faster than your Guardian Angel can fly’. Those who knew him would say not a chance! He lived in a time long before Political Correctness, the Breathalyser and motor car safety checks. He achieved all that he set out to do, and more. That would undoubtedly be his epitaph.
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Puffin Club
Perhaps I should explain. The Puffin Club used to be a flying club of sorts run by retired Sqn Ldr Maurice Luker (? spelling) in a couple of nissen huts in the north west corner of the airfield about where 22 Sqn now live. It was inside the airfield boundary and so was not directly accessible to the plod who had to go via the guardroom to ask permission of the SDO before raiding the place. The SDO would then phone the Puffin Club to tell them of the impending visit. This was in the fifties. It was of course just a short walk from Wrafton station and very convenient for arrivals on the last train from London and the bar was open until the last guest departed. Also it was a short walk from the Willies after their chucking out time. The landlord was not happy to be unable to continue serving after "last orders" in the knowledge that the troops were straight off to the Puffin Club to continue spending money which he thought should rightfully end up in his till. Of course all good things come to an end and the plod took some underhand action resulting in the club's closure.
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Chivenor Ghost
..... Maurice Looker. He was also a director / owner / flying instructor at the N. Devon Flying Club / Devonair / Puffin Aero Club. All his flying activities came to an end when he ditched a Devonair Auster Aerocrat in the Bristol Channel in August 1955. Looker and his two passengers were fortunately rescued by a passing Danish ship.
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Pedantically..
Britain In Old Photographs. RAF Chivenor. David Watkins.
ISBN 0-7509-1034-8
In some of the older phots, you can see Beags. Joke
Seriously, some good gen on the history of Chiv.
ISBN 0-7509-1034-8
In some of the older phots, you can see Beags. Joke
Seriously, some good gen on the history of Chiv.