Memories of RAFG
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I remember my first weekend in RAFG. Myself and five other new arrivals took the bus into town on the Saturday. I suggested we remember the name of the street where the bus stop was to make it easier getting home. One of the guys said he had memorised it. Later when we were ready to go back to Laarbruch, I asked the guy for the name of the street. He proudly announced it was "Einbahnstraße" (One way street). Doh!!!
Other than driving on the right, another car complication in the later years was the unseemly habit of the IRA targetting cars bearing BFG plates ..... these were nasty tin ones with white letters/ numbers on black.
So "British" plates, with entirely spurious British reg. numbers were issued, which led to the unlikely spectacle of tens of thousands of apparent British tourists swanning around Germany, concentrated near the bases. Today's Brit newspaper [from the YW or the Mally or whatever] tended to give the game away ..................................
I still have the many plates issued to me: we had to destroy the old ones but I destroyed one of each pair to show willing.
So "British" plates, with entirely spurious British reg. numbers were issued, which led to the unlikely spectacle of tens of thousands of apparent British tourists swanning around Germany, concentrated near the bases. Today's Brit newspaper [from the YW or the Mally or whatever] tended to give the game away ..................................
I still have the many plates issued to me: we had to destroy the old ones but I destroyed one of each pair to show willing.
Nobody has mentioned the weather, so the Duty Met, man had better deal with it.
The weather was indeed different, much more text-book Continental, especially so the further East one was based.
Every year, Met. RAF Bruggen ran a sweepstake for the first date with snow at a British observing site. The sweep was always won in November ...... try that in the UK these days.
Guetersloh and Detmold [pongoes] had genuine freezing rain most winters, real evil stuff that coated all surfaces with mirror-smooth ice within minutes. Such it was that cars had an external set of windows, made of ice, and steering was a lottery.
Summers regularly reached the mid 30s C for a week or so, and the heat was quite distressing as air-con was a rarity.
And forecasting was just as difficult. Woe betide a missed snowfall, with airfields black and WingCo Ops looking even blacker.
The weather was indeed different, much more text-book Continental, especially so the further East one was based.
Every year, Met. RAF Bruggen ran a sweepstake for the first date with snow at a British observing site. The sweep was always won in November ...... try that in the UK these days.
Guetersloh and Detmold [pongoes] had genuine freezing rain most winters, real evil stuff that coated all surfaces with mirror-smooth ice within minutes. Such it was that cars had an external set of windows, made of ice, and steering was a lottery.
Summers regularly reached the mid 30s C for a week or so, and the heat was quite distressing as air-con was a rarity.
And forecasting was just as difficult. Woe betide a missed snowfall, with airfields black and WingCo Ops looking even blacker.
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BFG - Tax free cars
Here’s my experience of tax and duty-free car purchases when I was posted to JHQ Rheindahlen in the early 1970’s
I was vaguely aware of the tax and duty-free shopping privileges available in Germany, but decided I’d make use of the UK’s Personal Export Scheme to buy a new car before I departed for Germany, so I sold my trusty Ford Anglia to a neighbour and with the proceeds had enough cash to put towards a new car.
At the time (late 1971) I wasn’t totally au-fait with the car purchase situation for Germany so was tempted enough to take advantage of the UK’s Personal Export Scheme whereby one bought a car in the UK without Purchase Tax provided one exported it permanently within a certain time (about three months I think) after purchase. With a young family and having examined the market and taken advice from friends, a new Austin Maxi 1750cc with rear seats that folded down to a bed seemed to be an ideal family car. So I went ahead and purchased a new Maxi as a personal export vehicle, paying the princely sum of £837 pounds i.e. UK price less Purchase Tax. I exported it in January 1971 and this car served me and the family well for our initial two years in Germany, but in 1974 knowing I’d be returning to the UK in mid-1975 decided that a new and up-market car at a BFG Tax and Duty free price would be a sensible long-term choice — the only stipulation to importing into the UK at the end of one’s tour without paying tax etc. was that it had to be registered in one’s name and be more than one-year old. No problems with this, as when I returned to the UK a year later I would meet these HM Customs’ requirements, and so it was.
Maxi with family en-route to Italy 1972 - taking a break near the San Bernardino pass in Switzerland
At Rheindahlen one was spoilt for choice when buying a new car as on Saturdays the environs of the JHQ NAAFI and the car park outside were filled with a plethora of car dealers all after one’s custom.
Having taken to camping in a big way in the first two years of our tour in Germany, an estate car with plenty of room would tick all the boxes, so I arranged a test drive of a Volvo estate. The dealer was very generous and allowed one to drive around for half-a-day — and I was hooked. A Volvo 145 Estate it was to be. Altogether it cost me the equivalent to £1,300 sterling.
Despite the relatively low price, all car prices whether British, German and French or others included a “delivery” charge and for Volvos from Sweden to Germany the delivery charges were a bit on the steep side. After forty-years I can’t remember exactly what it was, but the dealer did suggest an alternative where one could take personal delivery at Volvo’s plant in Gothenburg in Sweden. Having done the sums it was clear that the cost of a railway journey from Moenchengladbach to Gothenburg plus the cost of a hotel and fuel for the return would be cheaper than paying the relatively steep “delivery charge”. So I opted for a “personal” collection from Volvo in Sweden. This was a relatively simple process. I paid a deposit to the dealer and he placed the order with Volvo. All that was necessary then was to get a bankers draft payable to Volvo for the balance from the bank where I banked in Germany (Rheindahlen’s Commerzbank). A copy of the BFG registration document as arranged in advance with the BFG licensing authorities, a green (insurance) card, BFG number plates, a GB sticker and that was it.
The train journey from Moenchengladbach was via Hamburg (change), Copenhagen (change) and then direct to Gothenburg. The timetable showed I could leave Moenchengladbach in the evening, change late at night at Hamburg and catch the overnight train to Denmark arriving at Copenhagen very early in the morning. At Copenhagen one caught the first early morning train to Gothenburg. In those days international trains were conveyed by the ferry across the water, the passenger railway carriages were driven onto the ferry and driven off at the destination terminal, a new locomotive was attached and the journey continued to the destination. There was no way, except in an emergency of getting off the carriage whilst it was on the ferry, just stay in the carriage for the ferry crossing and it all worked well.
The journey from Germany to Sweden involved two sea crossings: The first from Hamburg to Copenhagen was the Puttgarden (Germany) and Røby (Denmark) ferry, the second from Copenhagen to Gothenburg with the ferry over the Øresund from Kronborg (Helsingør) in Denmark to Helsingborg in Sweden.
The Hamburg – Copenhagen train was overnight in a carriage with couchettes. The journey was relatively short and although the train arrived in Copenhagen at about 05.00, one was allowed to stay in the carriage until about 06.30 or so which allowed for breakfast in the station buffet before boarding the onward connection for Gothenburg in Sweden that left at 07.34.
This shows the 07:34 Stockholm and Gothenburg train (“The Vikingen”) waiting at Copenhagen to depart for Gothenburg.
The ferry on the Øresund from Kronborg (Helsingør) in Denmark to Helsingborg in Sweden (with Hamlet's castle in the background)
I’d been instructed to ring Volvo’s Tourist Delivery Centre when the train arrived at Gothenburg and they responded by sending a car to collect me from the station and take me to Volvo’s Tourist Delivery Centre. Volvo’s delivery service worked well and the formalities were dealt with efficiently.
The banker’s draft was handed over, documents checked etc. and the BFG number plates and GB sticker affixed. This took a little while but the icing on the cake, and totally unexpected was that Volvo had arranged a free overnight stay in a Gothenburg hotel which allowed for a bit of sightseeing and the chance to have a good Swedish meal (with fish of course!). So the next day after an early breakfast I departed Gothenburg south towards Copenhagen (200-miles) my next planned night stop.
Taking delivery of my new Volvo at the Volvo Tourist Delivery Centre.
I took delivery in June. The weather was absolutely gorgeous and being mid-summer I was pleasantly surprised by the strong sunlight and almost Mediterranean look of the Kattegat as I travelled south down the west coast of Sweden to Helsingborg to take the car-ferry back over the Øresund to Helsingør in Denmark.
The west coast of Sweden had absolutely stunning scenery as seen below
In 1974 the Sweden to Denmark ferries over the Øresund were reputed to be the busiest in the world, probably right as my photo shows.
Here’s my experience of tax and duty-free car purchases when I was posted to JHQ Rheindahlen in the early 1970’s
I was vaguely aware of the tax and duty-free shopping privileges available in Germany, but decided I’d make use of the UK’s Personal Export Scheme to buy a new car before I departed for Germany, so I sold my trusty Ford Anglia to a neighbour and with the proceeds had enough cash to put towards a new car.
At the time (late 1971) I wasn’t totally au-fait with the car purchase situation for Germany so was tempted enough to take advantage of the UK’s Personal Export Scheme whereby one bought a car in the UK without Purchase Tax provided one exported it permanently within a certain time (about three months I think) after purchase. With a young family and having examined the market and taken advice from friends, a new Austin Maxi 1750cc with rear seats that folded down to a bed seemed to be an ideal family car. So I went ahead and purchased a new Maxi as a personal export vehicle, paying the princely sum of £837 pounds i.e. UK price less Purchase Tax. I exported it in January 1971 and this car served me and the family well for our initial two years in Germany, but in 1974 knowing I’d be returning to the UK in mid-1975 decided that a new and up-market car at a BFG Tax and Duty free price would be a sensible long-term choice — the only stipulation to importing into the UK at the end of one’s tour without paying tax etc. was that it had to be registered in one’s name and be more than one-year old. No problems with this, as when I returned to the UK a year later I would meet these HM Customs’ requirements, and so it was.
Maxi with family en-route to Italy 1972 - taking a break near the San Bernardino pass in Switzerland
At Rheindahlen one was spoilt for choice when buying a new car as on Saturdays the environs of the JHQ NAAFI and the car park outside were filled with a plethora of car dealers all after one’s custom.
Having taken to camping in a big way in the first two years of our tour in Germany, an estate car with plenty of room would tick all the boxes, so I arranged a test drive of a Volvo estate. The dealer was very generous and allowed one to drive around for half-a-day — and I was hooked. A Volvo 145 Estate it was to be. Altogether it cost me the equivalent to £1,300 sterling.
Despite the relatively low price, all car prices whether British, German and French or others included a “delivery” charge and for Volvos from Sweden to Germany the delivery charges were a bit on the steep side. After forty-years I can’t remember exactly what it was, but the dealer did suggest an alternative where one could take personal delivery at Volvo’s plant in Gothenburg in Sweden. Having done the sums it was clear that the cost of a railway journey from Moenchengladbach to Gothenburg plus the cost of a hotel and fuel for the return would be cheaper than paying the relatively steep “delivery charge”. So I opted for a “personal” collection from Volvo in Sweden. This was a relatively simple process. I paid a deposit to the dealer and he placed the order with Volvo. All that was necessary then was to get a bankers draft payable to Volvo for the balance from the bank where I banked in Germany (Rheindahlen’s Commerzbank). A copy of the BFG registration document as arranged in advance with the BFG licensing authorities, a green (insurance) card, BFG number plates, a GB sticker and that was it.
The train journey from Moenchengladbach was via Hamburg (change), Copenhagen (change) and then direct to Gothenburg. The timetable showed I could leave Moenchengladbach in the evening, change late at night at Hamburg and catch the overnight train to Denmark arriving at Copenhagen very early in the morning. At Copenhagen one caught the first early morning train to Gothenburg. In those days international trains were conveyed by the ferry across the water, the passenger railway carriages were driven onto the ferry and driven off at the destination terminal, a new locomotive was attached and the journey continued to the destination. There was no way, except in an emergency of getting off the carriage whilst it was on the ferry, just stay in the carriage for the ferry crossing and it all worked well.
The journey from Germany to Sweden involved two sea crossings: The first from Hamburg to Copenhagen was the Puttgarden (Germany) and Røby (Denmark) ferry, the second from Copenhagen to Gothenburg with the ferry over the Øresund from Kronborg (Helsingør) in Denmark to Helsingborg in Sweden.
The Hamburg – Copenhagen train was overnight in a carriage with couchettes. The journey was relatively short and although the train arrived in Copenhagen at about 05.00, one was allowed to stay in the carriage until about 06.30 or so which allowed for breakfast in the station buffet before boarding the onward connection for Gothenburg in Sweden that left at 07.34.
This shows the 07:34 Stockholm and Gothenburg train (“The Vikingen”) waiting at Copenhagen to depart for Gothenburg.
The ferry on the Øresund from Kronborg (Helsingør) in Denmark to Helsingborg in Sweden (with Hamlet's castle in the background)
I’d been instructed to ring Volvo’s Tourist Delivery Centre when the train arrived at Gothenburg and they responded by sending a car to collect me from the station and take me to Volvo’s Tourist Delivery Centre. Volvo’s delivery service worked well and the formalities were dealt with efficiently.
The banker’s draft was handed over, documents checked etc. and the BFG number plates and GB sticker affixed. This took a little while but the icing on the cake, and totally unexpected was that Volvo had arranged a free overnight stay in a Gothenburg hotel which allowed for a bit of sightseeing and the chance to have a good Swedish meal (with fish of course!). So the next day after an early breakfast I departed Gothenburg south towards Copenhagen (200-miles) my next planned night stop.
Taking delivery of my new Volvo at the Volvo Tourist Delivery Centre.
I took delivery in June. The weather was absolutely gorgeous and being mid-summer I was pleasantly surprised by the strong sunlight and almost Mediterranean look of the Kattegat as I travelled south down the west coast of Sweden to Helsingborg to take the car-ferry back over the Øresund to Helsingør in Denmark.
The west coast of Sweden had absolutely stunning scenery as seen below
In 1974 the Sweden to Denmark ferries over the Øresund were reputed to be the busiest in the world, probably right as my photo shows.
What a magnificent adventure!
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BFG car number plates in early 80s used to have 2 letters, followed by 3 numbers followed by the letter B. These were issued in alphabetical order. When they reached a certain point it was rumoured that the BFG registration office had a number of letters requesting ‘Please don’t give me VD.’
Later when they got to the end of the alphabet the plates changed to 3 letters, followed by 3 numbers and a letter B. At Laarbruch a Sgt who had just bought a new German car requested the reg no starting with BMW, he managed to be given BMX because he was a touch too late.😂
Later when they got to the end of the alphabet the plates changed to 3 letters, followed by 3 numbers and a letter B. At Laarbruch a Sgt who had just bought a new German car requested the reg no starting with BMW, he managed to be given BMX because he was a touch too late.😂
Detmold [pongoes] had genuine freezing rain most winters, real evil stuff that coated all surfaces with mirror-smooth ice within minutes.
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For a bottle of gin I managed to get VW940B on a VW, my last 3 was 940. Has anybody mentioned vodka in the windscreen washer bottle? Much cheaper than the proper stuff thanks to coupons. It didn’t freeze, oh those winters, but neither did it clean the windows very well.
Avoid imitations
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Back in UK from RAF Germany on leave I parked my BFG registered car outside the local post office and went into a shop. On my return a few minutes later I found a traffic warden writing out a ticket. I asked her what she was doing and she told me in a very aggressive tone that it was because I wasn't displaying a tax disc. I explained to her that it wasn't a UK registered car but she told me that as far as she was concerned, again in an aggressive tone, that it was right hand drive and displaying a UK registration plate (it had a BFG plate, not a UK one). She insisted on putting the ticket under the windscreen wiper. I said I couldn't actually display a tax disc without the car being on the UK register but she then told me I was going to end up in court and she marched off.
I was so incensed I drove round to the local police station, only a couple of streets away, to ask their advice. When I explained the situation the desk sergeant offered me the use of his waste paper bin, which I took advantage of. I must be one of the few people ever to be encouraged to use a police waste bin to throw away a parking ticket.
I was so incensed I drove round to the local police station, only a couple of streets away, to ask their advice. When I explained the situation the desk sergeant offered me the use of his waste paper bin, which I took advantage of. I must be one of the few people ever to be encouraged to use a police waste bin to throw away a parking ticket.
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After 46 years I still remember my BFG plate, LS 543B on a harvest gold 1750 Austin Maxi.
Oh no it isn't 46 years, it's 42 years. It must be something to do with all that German beer.
Oh no it isn't 46 years, it's 42 years. It must be something to do with all that German beer.
, hand brushed courtesy of a chum in station workshops.
The closeness of friends and acceptance of the extraordinary:
LBH 90, Mrs Stress was heavily pregnant and we lived in Goch. One summer Saturday morning we drove onto camp to grab some essentials from the NAAFI shop. Whilst wandering around we happened across 4 blokes (fellow Rocks) all dressed in barbour jackets and clearly worse the wear from the previous nights excess.
We said hallo, had a quick natter and queued up to pay for our goods. We then witnessed 3 leaving with game pockets bulging and clinking and giggling like idiots.
We returned to our tax free Ford Orion 1.6 Ghia i in bright red (oh yes!!!) and found said 3 master criminals sitting on the roof. Whilst I enquired as to what they were doing the 4th returned with a screw together BBQ, 8 bread rolls, 8 beef burgers and crate of beer.
The journey to Goch was cramped and the weekend disappeared into a drunken haze. I took our 4 house guests back to camp with me on Monday morning and that was that. It all seemed so normal.
Many, many happy and outrageous times as an SAC rock on 37 Sqn RAF Regiment at BRU and a GDT JNCO at LBH.
I came back to the UK with a wife, a daughter, the Orion and a schrank!!
Oh and my first car out there was an AUDI GT5S Coupe in Sunburst Orange, WA 501 B.
LBH 90, Mrs Stress was heavily pregnant and we lived in Goch. One summer Saturday morning we drove onto camp to grab some essentials from the NAAFI shop. Whilst wandering around we happened across 4 blokes (fellow Rocks) all dressed in barbour jackets and clearly worse the wear from the previous nights excess.
We said hallo, had a quick natter and queued up to pay for our goods. We then witnessed 3 leaving with game pockets bulging and clinking and giggling like idiots.
We returned to our tax free Ford Orion 1.6 Ghia i in bright red (oh yes!!!) and found said 3 master criminals sitting on the roof. Whilst I enquired as to what they were doing the 4th returned with a screw together BBQ, 8 bread rolls, 8 beef burgers and crate of beer.
The journey to Goch was cramped and the weekend disappeared into a drunken haze. I took our 4 house guests back to camp with me on Monday morning and that was that. It all seemed so normal.
Many, many happy and outrageous times as an SAC rock on 37 Sqn RAF Regiment at BRU and a GDT JNCO at LBH.
I came back to the UK with a wife, a daughter, the Orion and a schrank!!
Oh and my first car out there was an AUDI GT5S Coupe in Sunburst Orange, WA 501 B.
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I remember early 90's that BFBS put out an April fools spoof that all tax free perks for forces personnel were to disappear at midnight. I fell for it. The main NAAFI was closed for the day so I headed to the singlies NAAFI shop. It was full to bursting with blokes stripping the shelves bare. The NAAFI staff just stood back in amazement. Despite not drinking spirits myself, I bought a bottle of scotch and a bottle of brandy. I think I've still got the Asbach somewhere. 
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In 1955, posted to RAF Wahn, Travelled from Harwich to Hook of Holland on a troopship,which was very overcrowded. At about 5 am I went up on deck for some fresh air, the ship was at a standstill but there were lights twinkling in the distance, Holland, I thought and went scurrying down numourous steps to tell my mates. The five of us stood on deck feeling excited at the prospect of being in a foreign country when the ships tannoy crackled into life to inform us that the ship had broken down, we were just outside Harwich and would be returning that morning! We eventually went over the following night.
After living in freezing wooden huts in the UK Goch, where we went to first, was a paradise.
After living in freezing wooden huts in the UK Goch, where we went to first, was a paradise.
When I had a short holding session between Gnat and Hunter courses, it was at Wildenrath. Having arrived by AAC Beaver, which confused the admin folk who couldn't understand how I'd reached the Gen Office with no record of travel, I learned that I needed a BFG driving licence.
So I was given the book to read before taking the tick test. I noticed that the chap who was marking it simply used a sheet of paper with holes in it, which was placed over the answer sheet - if all the holes showed ticks, you passed. But he hadn't realised that if you weren't sure and ticked 2 boxes, provided that one was correct you still passed....
Having passed the tick test first time, much to the surprise of my boss, I was permitted to drive off-camp in HM's Landrovers as my FMT 600 still showed 'Landrover'. Which was quite useful.
The BFG licence was valid for 3 years. So when I came over in a Vulcan for a weekend, we were able to book a hire car from NAAFI or somesuch for the weekend as my BFG was still just valid. Only trouble was that it took them ages to do the paperwork and the Captain was train-critical - he needed a lift to Moenchengladbach station. So I dropped the crew at the OM then sought out the route on the tatty map I'd been given whilst the Captain did a quick change, then off we went. Having dropped him at the station with about 10 min to spare, I had the joys of driving back in the rush hour...still in my immersion suit. On arriving back at Wildenrath I went to get my room key from reception, but was 'encouraged' into the bar for a few Charlies.
Ever tried getting out of an immersion suit whilst the room is spinning after too many Charlies? I have - and it's not to be recommended!
So I was given the book to read before taking the tick test. I noticed that the chap who was marking it simply used a sheet of paper with holes in it, which was placed over the answer sheet - if all the holes showed ticks, you passed. But he hadn't realised that if you weren't sure and ticked 2 boxes, provided that one was correct you still passed....
Having passed the tick test first time, much to the surprise of my boss, I was permitted to drive off-camp in HM's Landrovers as my FMT 600 still showed 'Landrover'. Which was quite useful.
The BFG licence was valid for 3 years. So when I came over in a Vulcan for a weekend, we were able to book a hire car from NAAFI or somesuch for the weekend as my BFG was still just valid. Only trouble was that it took them ages to do the paperwork and the Captain was train-critical - he needed a lift to Moenchengladbach station. So I dropped the crew at the OM then sought out the route on the tatty map I'd been given whilst the Captain did a quick change, then off we went. Having dropped him at the station with about 10 min to spare, I had the joys of driving back in the rush hour...still in my immersion suit. On arriving back at Wildenrath I went to get my room key from reception, but was 'encouraged' into the bar for a few Charlies.
Ever tried getting out of an immersion suit whilst the room is spinning after too many Charlies? I have - and it's not to be recommended!
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Bruggen first night in the NAAFI with the other arrivals and stunned at the prices, when the bar shuts we stagger outside and ask the taxi driver to take us off camp to where there is some life and an open bar...
Short ride later he drops us off and points at door.. In we go to a pitch black bar.... sounds of a projector firing up and a flickering porn movie appears on the wall, followed by a group of well past their sell by date ladies of the night... Rapid departure ensues and another taxi sorted.
..
Short ride later he drops us off and points at door.. In we go to a pitch black bar.... sounds of a projector firing up and a flickering porn movie appears on the wall, followed by a group of well past their sell by date ladies of the night... Rapid departure ensues and another taxi sorted.
..
Last edited by NutLoose; 10th Nov 2017 at 12:07.
In we go to a pitch black bar.... sounds of a projector firing up and a flickering porn movie appears on the wall, followed by a group of well past their sell by date ladies of the night...
Sqn Ldr D***** talking to the middle-aged lady with the duelling scar on her cheek that glistened in the light from the screen on the wall. Fg Off H*****, the adjutant, looking on in rapt attention and later interviewed by the plods because the place was being used by the East Germans for recruiting 'helpers.'
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One and the same... 
The East Germans must have been running the place on a thongstring budget.
Wasn't Pops and Eddies supposed to be similar?
..
The East Germans must have been running the place on a thongstring budget.Wasn't Pops and Eddies supposed to be similar?
..
Last edited by NutLoose; 10th Nov 2017 at 14:13.
I too was conned into buying a Harvest Gold Austin Maxi ( from Rankins of Reydt) while serving at Laarbruch in 1974. It was great for exactly one year and then became a money pit costing more in parts and hours than it had cost to buy! The second time the engine siezed was just as I was parking up outside of the role bay. It was a Friday and I was able to use the hoist in the bay to take out the engine and then fully disassemble it, remove the broken crankshaft,borrow a mate’s VW Beetle to get me to Rotterdam and the ferry to UK, train to Walsall, exchange Crankshaft for new one , train, ferry and car back to Laarbruch, then reassemble the engine, hoist it in and drive the car out of the roll bay by the Monday morning deadline set by the Flight Sgt. Happy Days.
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Flying out to Gut on a Puma trip I wondered why the loadie was carrying a heavyish bag with him, opened up he reveals the motor from his washing machine, the factory was in Gut and even allowing for airfares that he wasn't paying, it was cheaper to fly to the factory and exchange it than do it in the UK.