A slightly humorous account of my part played in

A slightly humorous account of my part played in ending
the Cold War
I would like to say that my patriotic conscience led to my decision in enlisting in the Royal
Air Force back in 1971, but I would be lying. The reality which led to this momentous
occasion was in fact a survival tactic on my behalf. Having spent the best part of 11 years
after leaving school, moving from one job to another, mainly in the photographic trade, and
getting nowhere in terms of providing sufficient financial support for a family about to
increase in size, something had to change, albeit a complete re-incarnation on my behalf.
Somewhere in this shopping centre in Dundee, Scotland, 1971, was an RAF Careers
Information Office, frequented by me on several occasions prior to making the final decision
to take the Queens shilling and enlist. The information I received was not exactly impartial as
the Sergeant assisting me in choosing a trade, of which my choice seemed endless at the time,
was in fact an aircraft electrician and yes you guessed, I signed on as an Aircraft Electrician
subject to trade training and passing exams. A decision which turned out to be the right one
for me.
So with the background information set, it is time to gather some photographic content for 22
years worth of what I got up to serving Queen and country in a very exciting time, none of
which I regret at all. Some of my postings during this period, left a lot to be desired, but on
the whole most enjoyable. Do feel free to get in touch if you want any more information on
the content.
Copyright © 2016 | Composed and written by David Evans
1971
This is where it all started out, on a cold January morning, myself and another batch of newly
signed recruits rendezvoused on the assigned day at the Cumberland Guest House in
Edinburgh. Guys like myself from different locations in Scotland all assembled here for an
overnight stay and the following morning's onward transition to Newark Northgate rail
station in Lincolnshire, England, then by coach to RAF Swinderby where we were all to be
kitted out and introduced to the joys of square bashing and domestic chores. I nearly forgot to
mention I was a bit older than nearly everyone else at 26.
This was to be my home for the next 6 weeks, or at least it seemed that way, although we did
have living accommodation which consisted of 12 man rooms and steel camp beds, what
luxury, and we had soft mattresses too. Most of the recruitment activity was spent either here
or in the station cinema for lectures or indoctrination would have been a better term. First off
was the camp barber, short back and sides being the fashion then. This term was very fitting
as I found out afterwards, a massive big mop on top and virtually nothing round the sides and
back, very fetching indeed as my wife was to comment later on when I returned home for half
time break at 3 weeks.
Next up was a series of vaccinations administered one after the other, thus saving time and
allowing for extra rifle drill and other stuff like circuit training in the Gym. Human rights did
not exist back then and as we all bared both arms and adopted the camp pose of one hand on
each hip, we lined up and formed an orderly line at the slow march, needles firing in each
arm as we moved, nobody passed out as far as I can remember. Sleeves rolled back down,
pick up large broom and proceed to sweep the Hangar floor, this was a form of therapy to get
the serum pumping through our veins quicker seemingly. Can't recall much after that as one
by one we passed out in one way or another, I ended up missing tea and opting for bed. Woke
up the next day as usual, no option there, the klaxon made sure we were all up at 6 am,
washed, showered, dressed, bed packs made and lined up for inspection "Corporal", yes they
were gods at this stage of the game.
I almost forgot to mention that there was a postal strike on at this time, in hindsight a mobile
phone would have been a godsend, but alas the technology was not around then. The normal
communication was done by letter, remember these things? it involved some paper and
envelope and a pen, usually of the fluid ink type too. Anyway I digress, what I was going to
say was that prior to me boarding the steam train in Dundee for transmission to this boot
camp, I was aware that during my six weeks holiday at RAF Swinderby there was a fair
chance my wife would give birth to our latest family member while I was enjoying myself
here, a boy named Neal.
Back to the training now, bull nights and bed packs kept us busy, soon got the hang of all the
blanket and sheet folding and was one of the lucky ones not to have my whole bedding pack
thrown on the floor by the inspecting Corporal and Sergeant for not being regulation shape
and size. Notice the highly bulled up shoes under the bed, a speciality of mine after a few
days practice. Also made myself a few beer chits by helping others along the way.
Another chore was the upkeep of our webbing issue, Blanco was used for this purpose, a
messy process to say the least, but had to be done. Button sticks of the brass variety were
issued to enable cleaning our brass buttons, buckles and the likes, the button stick was to
prevent Brasso cleaner from staining the Blanco. Another time saving clothing issue was our
shirts, these were collar less shirts, called grandfather shirts I believe, collars were issued
separately and in greater quantity than the shirts, so in effect you could attach a new collar to
a shirt which was a few days worn, and still look smart. The collar stud was the only
problem, it tended to irritate the neck if worn for long periods, but it did cut down on having
to have a fresh shirt every day.
The early morning Tannoy calls of "Rise and Shine" took some getting used to at first, but
not responding was at your own risk of being thrown on the floor by the Corporal and not
very good for your street cred in front of all your newly found friends either. Most of our
intake played the game accordingly and it was good that we had a couple of lads who had
been out of the service and having tasted civvy street, were back in once again, having missed
the comradeship that was part of forces life, something that I found out as time went on, and
especially the day I was de-mobbed.
It was now nearly time to have a break in our square bashing routine, week three looming and
the chance to go home for a long weekend was so welcome from the intensity of all this
newly acquired routine. Cinema visits played a fair part too, safety films, trades films,
structure of the RAF films, you name it they all got played out, often a welcome relief from
the constant rifle drill on the parade square, all this culminating later in a pass out parade
complete with the RAF band, spectators, family members and of course us newly formed
band of newbie's. On our return for the second half, we had a new adventure lined up, a
week in Sherwood Forest completing our Resource and Initiative training in the snow, living
in tents in the middle of winter, oh joy!
Up till now only the very few who lived nearby or those lucky enough to have a car, escaped
home at weekends, as for me, no car and living up in Dundee, my lot was staying on base,
and enjoying the pleasures of the TV room and the NAAFI, where I had to endure my first
taste of English beer of the worst kind "Worthington E", how I longed to get home, good
beer, good company and everything else I had given up to be an airman. Square bashing
completed and rail warrant in hand, was time to head off on my Basic Trade Training course.
Basic Training
RAF Newton (Lincolnshire) March the 24th 1971 I was once again on the train, heading for
RAF Newton, I arrived at Bingham station and decided to walk the few miles to the unit, on
the way I stopped off at a pub just up the road to try the local brew, surely it must be better
than my earlier attempts at trying to get used to Double Diamond, how wrong can you get.
This stuff was called Worthington E and I wished I had not bothered, it was warm and tasted
like dilute home brew.
I eventually arrived at RAF Newton and reported to the guardroom where I was given
instructions about where my accommodation was and where to get my bedding etc. This
process was to take place almost every time I arrived at a new unit.
I was informed that that due to unforeseen circumstances my mechanics course would not
commence on the date as previously planned, but was being put back two weeks, and I was to
be employed by the holding flight “ Pool Flight “ . In other words I would be part of a pool
of airmen in similar circumstance who could be called upon to carry out any task that the
Disciplinary staff could think of. My task was to assist staff in the Training Aid Workshop
i.e.: make the teas, sweep up, pretend to be busy and generally keep out of the way till my
course started. Actually it was entertaining and very interesting working with real air force
tradesmen for two weeks and I picked up lots of interesting facts about service life and other
small snippets of useful stuff that I would find helped in the months to come.
Two weeks later when all the recruits due to start the course had arrived on the unit, it was
time to get down to some serious education. The course would run from Monday to Friday
for six months, and those of us who had cars could obviously shoot off home at the
weekends. My circumstances with no vehicle, had to make do with a monthly rail warrant
which would take me home. Luckily for me there were two more Scots in the same boat, and
at least we had each other’s company at weekends on camp.
On the weekends at Newton our trio spent some time going into Nottingham, the place
amazed me, there were women in the ratio 3:1 to men, and it whiled away the time
admirably. It was a place of similar size to Dundee as far as I could make out, and had all the
usual pubs, cinemas so it kept us all from getting to bored. But we all knew that it would be
much better when the Rail Warrant was in our sticky little hands.
We got up to all manner of things whilst being stuck here, sport was one of the things, with a
free gymnasium and squash courts, so we made the best of it all. I was to spend the next six
months here and learn all the basic theory appertaining to the electrical trade, whilst all this
knowledge was being instilled into my brain, opportunity had come my way in the form of
incentive. A special scheme had been introduced to encourage trainees to do well, this
scheme was called the Star Mechanic scheme and offered the following: a trainee who
achieved over 70% in all exams throughout the course would be given a written guarantee of
a Fitters course no later than two years from the date this course finished. I welcomed this
opportunity with open arms as it meant I could progress in my trade faster and also more
important was the substantial rise in salary from Mechanics to Fitters status. This meant
doing the best I could and to this end I did achieve my “ Star Mechanic” Award.
Pass out day, me standing by my parents car outside our block
I passed out from RAF Newton as an Aircraft Mechanic Electrical and also with a jump in
rank to Leading Aircraftsman (LAC) on the 22nd August 1971. My parents were able to
come down to my pass out parade. Dad seemed to enjoy the whole affair, being ex-RAF
himself and commented on how the food had changed considerably since his National
Service days. It was a great day, and a relief at having done what was necessary, also a bit of
emotion crept in with all the events of the day, and that I was leaving behind all the friends
that I had spent six months of my life with. I had of course the chance of meeting a few of
them again when was selected to complete my Fitters course, but that was in the future.
1971-73 continued
My First Operational Posting RAF St Mawgan. It was actually August bank holiday and I
made enquiries if it was possible to submit an annual leave pass from Newton and was told
that I was effectively posted from this unit as of now, and they were not responsible for my
admin, this would be done at my new unit where I should now make my way. My new unit
was RAF St Mawgan near Newquay in Cornwall, I was issued with a rail warrant, and that
was their way of telling me to get on with it. I wandered off back to my billet and said
goodbye to the friends still around, most had transport of their own, and had long left
Newton. Collecting up my suitcase and holdall I made my way to Bingham station and
caught the train to London and Paddington Station. I had time to reflect on the last six
months, and all the friends I had left behind, the chances were I might never meet them again,
but at least I was heading for my first operational Unit, and as such was eligible to apply for a
married quarter and the prospect of having a family life again.
I arrived at RAF St Mawgan without too much trouble, the train journey down had been quite
a lengthy one, and with a quick look at the lay of the land on the way there, found it to be
situated like most Units, quite some distance from the main towns, approximately seven
miles from Newquay. The first task to do on arrival at any unit is to report to the Station
Guardroom, from where you are told where you are to be working and given all the usual
maps to find your way round the place. I asked the most pertinent question on my mind, “
Do I get leave for this Bank Holiday ? “ and the SNCO said “ Why did the silly B-----s send
you all the way down here knowing that the vast majority of this Unit are away on this
holiday ? “
As it turned out they could not start my arrival procedure till Tuesday, due to everyone being
away. They could not give me a warrant to get home either as my admin docs had not
arrived from Newton. I managed to get my accommodation sorted out at least, and unpacked
my kit, not a bad billet with four man rooms, and built in wardrobes and carpets on the
floors, obviously the two other beds with bedding on belonged to persons I had yet to meet,
but that would have to come later. Weighing up the situation and the thought of being stuck
here with nothing to do for four days, I made my first decision, which was to get myself back
to Dundee, so after forking out a fair bit of cash, made my way home, and arrived in Dundee
23 hours later, a journey which I was to make several times. Before departing St Mawgan, I
had made enquiries about the quarter situation and was advised that I may be lucky to get a
place in about one years time. The allocation of quarters was made on a points system, points
for how many kids, also how long you have served in the RAF, well it doesn’t take too much
working out where I stood and the small amount of points I had accrued since January 11th . I
was advised the best bet would be to start looking around for private accommodation and if
the RAF approved, they would subsidise the place to the equivalent of what I would pay for a
married quarter and a bit more, to any landlord who would take me on.
Newquay being a holiday resort town, consisted of Hotels and guest houses by the hundred
and of course the rents in season were steep to say the least. There was a limit to how much
rent the RAF would go to, so a severe handicap at the outset. It was a sad task having to
explain to Sheila the fact that we would not be able to just move down to Cornwall as we had
hoped and planned, but after explaining the housing situation down there, I was sure I could
manage to find somewhere in the near future and that was how we left the situation.
I had to make my way down to Newquay after the Bank Holiday seemed to have vanished
amongst all the other things that we had spoken about. The immediate thing to be done was
to get back and find a place to live, and get my family back as it had been at the start. I had a
lot to think about on the trip to Cornwall, and the 23 hours quickly passed and I was back at
St Mawgan and glad to see my bed, after all the travelling etc., On the Tuesday morning I
was awake early, ready shaved and showered and dressed once more in RAF uniform. I
made my way up to the Mess and had a good breakfast before setting off to the General
Office where I would begin my arrival procedure.
Having been given instruction on which departments to go to, I duly set off. Most importantly
was to visit the Families office to get the forms required for any prospective landlords. I
found out that I was to be working in the Electrical and Instrument Bay , servicing and testing
mainly Nimrod equipment, although there was Canberra’s and Wessex helicopters on the
Unit too, and I would work on their equipment from time to time. At my place of work, I
met Pete Rodgers another lad who had just moved down here three weeks before me, and he
was in virtually the same situation as myself as regards housing, but slightly worse off as he
had no kids and obviously less housing points. Pete had managed to find a winter let in
Newquay and told me that there was an empty flat available in the same property he was in. I
contacted the landlord and he agreed to let me rent the flat but had to vacate by Easter,
basically the start of the summer season in Cornwall. I got the keys from him and went off to
have a look at the flat. It was a bit damp, and musty smelling, but nothing too bad, a good bit
of heat would sort it out.
7 Marcus Hill, Newquay our first hiring
A good bunch of guys in the E & I bay and another mate John Lovegrove also doing the same
job as me, shuffling 720C & D’s around was in the throes of getting married, so it was that
Pete and myself were witnesses to their marriage at St Austell Registry Office (22-Aug1972), special permission being granted for us to wear our best blue uniforms with white
webbing. Lost track of the two lads over the years but in March 2011 had a surprise email
from John who tracked me down through the internet and has brought me up to date with his
adventures since 1973 when I left St Mawgan.
Pete Rogers (on the right) and myself at St Austell registry
office
© John Lovegrove both photos
The happy couple John Lovegrove and his new wife
I telephoned Sheila and gave her the news, and although we had to be out by Easter, it gave
us both a chance to be together and we should be able to get a permanent place before the
deadline. Back to work, and working in the E & I section was very interesting, doing tests on
various pieces of equipment and learning all about schedules etc., my tutor was a Cpl who
lived locally, and he had a good way of teaching people. I got to know the Station well over
the next three months, and found out we had Americans lodging on the unit. USNAF who’s
prime role was to run a Bomb Dump where all the missiles and bombs were stored and
serviced in a special compound which was heavily guarded by their personnel. Station
exercises were quite the norm with at least one every month. This involved everyone on the
unit and being a mere LAC also secured me the position of guard, in whichever deployment
the guard commanders saw fit. Usually this was on the main station patrolling various areas,
but also could include helping out our American friends guarding their compound. Of course
all this entailed donning things they called cabbage gear, which was NBC Suits, rubber
gloves, respirators, tin helmets and not forgetting the infamous SLR ( Self Loading Rifle ) at
that time using blank ammunition or more often than not none.
The day came to bring Sheila and the kids down to Cornwall, and dually arrived at Newquay
station without any hitches apart from the length of journey, after which the two kids were
exhausted. Fortunately the flat I had taken was only 100 yards from the station and an easy
walk. Sheila’s reaction to the slight dampness and musty smell was as I had imagined, but
opening the windows did allow the smell to subside whilst I disappeared to put on the kettle
for a brew. We both agreed this was not the ideal place to raise two kids one who was only
just 8 months old, but was a base from which to work from.
Months later as luck would have it, a reply to one of our many replies to newspaper
advertisement’s proved fruitful, and after having a look round the new flat, found that it was
ideal, also dry and clean into the bargain, this was our new home and a more permanent home
than Marcus Hill. Situated at 22 St Thomas Road, Newquay, only a short distance from
where we were living.
22 St Thomas Road, Newquay, our second hiring
My trade work was coming along in leaps and bounds, sitting various trade tests and oral
examinations during the course of my work, this enabled me to progress up the promotion
ladder and in January 1972 was promoted to the rank of SAC ( Senior Aircraftsman. ). This
particular title seemed badly thought out to be considered senior after only a year,
nevertheless it did mean a small pay rise and was gratefully accepted. Almost a year from
being posted to St Mawgan, I was offered a married quarter, the location 7 miles from base at
an old RAF airfield site called St Eval, of course we accepted and at last had a house of our
own. One small piece of information that had gone unvoiced was that without a vehicle,
things got pretty lonely round here in the winter.
Bus services were only in the nature of one per week down to Newquay, so my family were
marooned for quite some time. I purchased a motor cycle soon after moving here, nothing
fancy just a Yamaha 125cc machine, but this was preferable to having to catch the RAF
coach every day at 7 am and having to wait till everyone was aboard in the evenings, I could
please myself what time to set out and leave etc., so quite a good purchase. Sheila and I
frequented the families club here, usually once a week, the entertainment was very good and
mostly country an western, usually during the evening we would also tuck in to a Cornish
pasty or Oggie” but it was at least social life of a kind and welcome in the winter months.
218 Beaufort Avenue (changed a bit since1971)
At work things were never dull, I managed to get some extra studies done in the guise of “
Science B “ , a modular course loosely based on Physics. This course was in preparation for
my fitters course which as I explained earlier was promised to me within two years of leaving
Newton. My coursework was completed as fast as I could get my modules in and marked,
providing they were correct of course and I managed this within a couple of months. To date
I gad carried out all that was required of me education wise, to qualify getting back on my
Fitters course.
Exercises in Defence of the Unit played a large role in service life, and as much as I hate to
admit, I intensely disliked this aspect of military life, my prime objective was to make it as a
tradesman and do the work I thoroughly enjoyed, and being paid for it helped also. Flight
experience was gained through having several flights in the units Nimrods and I will always
remember my first trip and the excitement and thrill of the sheer power of the four Spey
engines on takeoff had me forced into the back of my seat. The duration of these flights was
lengthy and gave me time to ask many questions of the aircrew about the role this aircraft
played, by far this was what I had imagined the RAF to be.
To further my electrical trade knowledge, I was moved from E & I to the Rotax Bay where I
was taught to service and test Alternators and Generators, starter motors and the like, Rotax
was an annexe to the main E & I and run by Chief Technician Fred Brooks. Fred was an
amiable bloke who ran the section efficiently, and providing our work was up do date and
rather than have us hanging around doing nothing, would have no aversion to his bloke being
stood down, usually at least twice a week. This was more like the thing, and I really enjoyed
working here.
Official notification had arrived on the unit, of the time and dates for my Fitters course, I was
over the moon at this information, and after finding out the details, hurried home to let Sheila
know the good news. One of the salient points for this move was, that I was only being
detached rather than posted so my family could stay in married quarters until I completed the
course and returned. I did not feel so bad about the move because at least we would have a
house here and no chance of trying to find a place elsewhere for the immediate future
anyway. More preparation for my Course entailed getting all my kit ready, plus extra items
like slide rule, compass etc., In these days it was always necessary, prior to departing one
unit for another, to present ones No1 Uniform for inspection to my immediate boss who
would have to sign my clearance form to the effect it was presentable.
It was once again time to move on to greater things, my wife and family would stay on here
in St Eval married quarters, while I trotted off to RAF Halton, got myself sorted out and
apply for another married quarter, do you see a pattern emerging here, nomads probably have
an easier time of it. The criteria for priority on married quarter allocation was still, how many
kids, how many years service, which give you a certain amount of points, a bit like a league
table I guess. But this points table system has one big flaw, there are in fact 2 league tables, a
fixed list and an un-fixed list, the fixed list holds 12 names the un-fixed is limitless, so in
essence if you get on the fixed list, you are guaranteed a quarter. If you are on the un-fixed
list, someone just posted in after you can with their higher points score, make you drop down
the list. Now it does not take a rocket scientist to work out the distinct disadvantages and
frustrations with this system, does it?
February 1973, preparation for my posting to RAF Halton well under way now, final checks
before packing my bags was that I had to present myself in best blue uniform for an
inspection by my then boss, a chief technician Fred Brookes, who I was later to meet at
another unit sometime in the future. Being the nice chap that he was, he said that instead of
attending this inspection at work, I could pop round to his married quarter in the evening so
he could have a good look at my uniform and sign my form for me.
This being completed without problem, was very good at bulling
shoes, a speciality in fact and something that not everyone could
master. I did take pride in my appearance in those days, paid off
many a time for me anyway.
Goodbyes said and off yet again, left St Eval with snow and ice on
the ground, a roaring coal fire well behind me now and back on the train heading for
Paddington Station, a journey I had completed several times now. Underground journey to
Wendover station and walk of about 2 miles to RAF Halton. This unit was built either side of
a main road, the north camp where all the domestic accommodation was, and the south camp
where all the workshops and Technical Area was, I think you have probably guessed by now
that marching was involved each day from one site to the other and back again. I was billeted
in a 12 man room for now, great set of lads whom I was to spend the next 12 months with.
Not quite so strict as basic training, but still the early morning parade where we were
inspected for clean dress, no designer stubble either, and shoes that had to sparkle. Three
ranks, open order march, close order march, flight will move to the left in threes, by the left
quick march down the hill. Here we would tag on to the back of the apprentice boys flights
who were always led by a pipe band, and off we went to school.
Halton had its own Military Hospital. Mortuary as well, Department of Tropical Medicine
and many more I have since forgotten, so if I cut my finger, or needed haemorrhoids
removing, this was definitely the place to be. As it turned out, I did in later years have the
need to get admitted to the Princess Mary's Hospital here, for a knee operation, but that's for
later. Enquiries at General Office regarding married quarters was hit or miss whether I would
get one or not, but was placed on the list meantime.
This course was extremely time consuming for me, midnight oil and all that stuff, where
others seemed to sail through the exams easily, but had to keep my head down and ensure I
would pass the course. The pub down the road a bit was called the Rose & Crown, a real
homely pub, in that it was my second home for just short of six months, while waiting on a
quarter. My school education served me well here, even mastered the old slide rule
eventually, and even now in 2009, the thing is in a drawer somewhere, didn't have the nerve
to chuck it, and it does come out as a curiosity now and then. Wednesday afternoon each
week we had sports, me and several others had wanted to play badminton, but as this unit was
also host to Malaysian students, it was impossible to get on the courts, so we alternated
between tennis and cross country running, the latter was the best bet as we got to run a set
route and when finished were allowed to go back to our billets. Tennis was very competitive,
so much so we actually signed out the racquets and played on snow covered hard courts on
several occasions.
Six months down the line, progress was being made, a few of our course HEFE1/73 fell
behind, failed an exam or two and had to back course joining another crew a month behind
us, this was a shame, but at least they got another chance to continue. For my part, it had been
a struggle so far, but no failures. Good news was that I had actually been allocated a married
quarter on base, with only two or three weeks before the deadline of six months I had to serve
on the unit was up. A few of my contemporaries had already moved on base with their
families and I was glad to be in the same situation. So to the march in at 80 Tedder Road,
RAF Halton this house must have been the worst one I have ever lived in, basically sound
and clean, but fitted carpets was not on the agenda, the hallway was concrete flooring
(painted gloss black) with a strip carpet down the middle. Had the choice to turn this down,
but that would have meant no family joining me, so not really an option. My mother-in-law
decided that she would go down to Cornwall, collect the wife and kids and bring them back
to Halton, just as well as I could not have had time off even if I wanted to, without being back
coursed, so was grateful for that. There goes my coal fire quarter in Cornwall, and with that
my wife actually had to do the march out from there too.
80 Tedder Road, RAF Halton, Wendover, Buckinghamshire
The family settled in well at Halton, change of school for my daughter and my wife found
herself a part time job doing evenings, packing Askeys wafers and cones, paid good money
too. Living in married quarters had its advantages, as we married guys were allowed to walk
down to work without joining in the morning parades, unfortunately this was to be the cause
of me being put on restrictions (jankers) for failing to attend a haircut parade along with all
the others, seemingly we failed to read station routine orders, these were only available back
up in the barrack block and we were oblivious to any of this. Funnily enough it was a week
before AOC's parade and there were lots of jobs needing doing, like painting the grass green,
coal black and other menial tasks. My punishment was 3 days, working in the cookhouse,
doing sod all, but make tea and eat during the few hours, then of course appearing at the
guardroom in full best uniform at 22.00hrs for inspection by the orderly officer, a doddle all
in all, but the one and only time I was charged in my 22 years.
Nothing much in the excitement stakes followed, just hard work and progress even to the
extreme in some cases, AND, NAND, NOT, NOR, OR do the expressions mean anything to
you? Logic was the name of the game, a new concept brought about by the transistor and
microchip. Electrical Theory crammed into the grey matter, to be used only for examination
purposes and not out in the real world later.
Before my family moved down here, there was a couple of days out that stick in the memory.
a Sunday trip to a Cider House, expedition style and across country walk/climb got us there,
unfortunately the return journey was somewhat different, we lost a few of our troop on the
way back, probably hitched a lift I think. Another time we were invited to an evening booze
up at an American base nearby, Upper Hayford. This was arranged by one of our course
members who knew someone there. We arrived by car, stopped at the gates of the camp and
asked where we were heading. "SNCO's Mess" pretty good considering we were SAC's, but
this was accepted and we arrived and were treated to a night I will remember. Were not
allowed to buy any drink, the yanks insisted in picking up the tab, the music at the time was
Motown and seemed to blend in with the copious amounts of Bourbon being drunk. Hard
work played the biggest part in my year at Halton and it all paid off when I passed all my
final exams and became an Air Fitter Electrical.
All that was left was to find out where my next posting would be, hopefully an operational
unit operating fast jets, something to get excited about and build on my experiences, and
newly learnt skills. Alas another setback and my dreams and expectations thwarted, PMC in
their wisdom allocated me a slot on 8 Squadron Shackletons (AEW) at RAF Lossiemouth, oh
joy!. No time to think about things, arrange to march out of married quarter, leaving all the
hard work to my wife as I had an appointment to keep at Lossiemouth.
1974
Off we go, on a cold and freezing February morning leaving on foot complete with RAF
holdall, dressed for the weather in Parka and warm gloves, rail warrant in pocket and arrived
Wendover rail station. Eventually navigated my way round London and caught the train at
Kings Cross, heading for Aberdeen, a long journey and one which I did quite a few times in
the next few years. Headed out from Aberdeen station, having managed to sample a few real
pints of Scottish ale, how I had missed a decent pint since my venture into England, it felt
like I was back home. Elgin and my arrival, what a difference in weather from Halton, sun
was out and all the spring bulbs blooming, all this after a few hundred miles of travel.
Luckily the bus station was close to where I had de-trained and the last leg of my journey was
complete, dropped off outside RAF Lossiemouth. First stop the Guardroom to report my
arrival and collect my blue chit and directions to where I was billeted, Fulmar Block, Cabin
No!!!
Found the cabin (6 man room) but only 4 occupants (all 8 Squadron lads) including your
truly, seemed very comfortable too. I was to do my arrival procedure next day, but first
bedding store and collected my bedding, that will do for now, bed made up, kit stowed neatly
and time for a recce of my surroundings. Living accommodation, messes and NAAFI were
all contained in this one complex, no need to wander around from place to place, very smart.
Eventually the other room inhabitants arrived back from work and introductions were made, a
good bunch of blokes they were too. Got lots of info from the lads, locations mainly and with
that was taken down the Mess for dinner, good grub and a huge dining hall, filled with what
seemed happy people, loads of banter going on between RAF and Matelots, Lossiemouth still
clinging on to its Fleet Air Arm personnel who operated Gannets from the base, although a
few of them had transferred to Shackletons prior to them being demobbed, a great mix I
thought.
After dinner it was time to find the local drinking hole and wash away the 23hours of travel
just done previously. Hello, they had a ten pin bowling alley just outside the block and also a
bar, that would do me nicely and had my fill, tiredness was catching me up, so off back to my
bunk, set my alarm, looked out my uniform ready for the morning and the drag of arriving on
the unit. Quick shower and my head hit the pillow and sweet dreams.
It was all too soon time to get up and shower etc., change into best blue and start my arrivals
procedure. Found out that 8 Squadron dispersal was at the other side of the airport from the
accommodation block, transport being provided to get us there. Lots of kites lined up on the
flight line I noticed, the UK’s early warning system in all its glory. Found the second line
hangar and after enquiring where the leckie offices were, found myself seated in front of my
new boss, Mick Spence a Sgt with lots of Shack experience, also met the lads and we all had
a chat, explaining what our role was, mainly second line, Primary, Primary Star and deeper
servicing, with a first line requirement when needed. I felt that this could be a good start to
my career, get the basics under my belt and then move on to jets as soon as I could.
Settled in well on 8 and before I had time to catch my breath, was told to get down to
clothing stores and be measured for my KD (Khaki Denim) tropical uniform, the squadron
was heading out to Malta for a NATO exercise and I was one of the chosen ones. Quite a
surprise to be going abroad, my first venture in the RAF and thoroughly enjoying the
prospect. Soon we were off to RAF Luqa aboard a Hercules aircraft, the Shacks would follow
soon after. All the lads were KD’d up and looking forward to some sun and hot weather, after
a cold Lossiemouth, we were not disappointed and the landing was smooth with the back
ramp lowered, the heat and the smell of Malta was awesome, something I’ll never forget.
First task, unload all the ground equipment from the Herc before the arrival of the Shacks,
think there was only two on their way. We did have a briefing on landing to beware of the
sun and heat, cover up and you won’t get sunburnt, well this warning was ignored by yours
truly and two lovely blisters one on each shoulder by the end of the day. Had to have a
shower to remove my shirt as it would have removed half my skin otherwise. Took a few
days before the damage was bearable, as it would have meant being charged, if a visit to the
Medical centre was made. You live and learn as they say.
Accommodation was basic here, twelve man rooms and bunk beds, me being allocated top
bunk on this occasion. Off to the NAAFI bar to sample the delights, Hop Leaf and Cisk beer,
the favourite short was Brandy Sours, sold in double measure, very refreshing and so cheap it
was so easy to over indulge. On such an occasion I retired to my bed, fell asleep and almost
as soon as I had got my head down was being shaken awake by a corporal and was informed
that I was on an early morning starter crew, silly bugger had left a note for me earlier, yes,
under my pillow, however I managed to get myself ready and was taken by transport to the
flight line, the sun still not making itself visible, the good thing was that the heat was still
apparent.
Spent a fair amount of time on the roof of our block, coolest place to be
I was to be aircraft marshaller and handed a pair of table tennis bats, Day-Glo red for the use
of. I stood there on the pan for what seemed like ages, watching the galley venting smoke
from the bacon frying crew, all right for some. It was time now, taxi lamps flashed, an
indication that they were ready to roll, did my bit, got the kite on a straight track, listening to
the groans from the tyres and brakes as it rolled past, 6 million rivets in close formation, and
then with a flourish, pointed my bats to indicate to the jockeys that you are on your own now,
and that was my duty done this detachment as far as starter crews went. Off to early breakfast
at the mess. Steamy hot inside the mess by now, but really enjoyed my full English after
being wakened at such an early time.
Shift times were pretty good, allowing us to go sightseeing in Valetta and other places during
our stay. Beaches were lovely and the wine very cheap, made for a very interesting time
during our stay, just outside camp there was a café where we ate before hitting the town,
steak egg and chips 2/- then off to the village first to get tanked up before the clubs down the
Gut (Strait Street) in Valetta, entertainment was superb and so was keeping out of any
conflicts with the Navy, their shore patrols were something else, smack on the head with a
truncheon and ask questions after.
Grand Harbour, Valetta
Our 10 day detachment was soon over and we had met a lot of friends from other squadrons
along the way, a banjo playing lad with 100 squadron did his part in keeping us entertained.
My first overseas trip never to be forgotten and thoroughly enjoyed.
My family moved up to Lossiemouth when I was allocated a quarter and enjoyed the short
stay of just over two years, the kids loved the beaches which we walked nearly every
weekend. The rest of my tour with 8 Squadron was eventful and I had picked up lots of tips
and experiences along the way. I had submitted a general application for service overseas, my
choices being Hong Kong, Malta and Germany, as it transpired I was designed for RAF
Laarbruch in Germany, to work on Buccaneers, so a few courses were fitted in, firstly RAF
Honington where aircraft type was learned, then off to RAF Wittering to learn how to service
and work with “instant sunshine” bombs, which the Buccaneer was armed with when
required, well it was the Cold War.
Fully trained up and ready to go, jets at last, although still not fast jets, but jets all the same.
Once again I was on my way, and as before, having to leave my family to arrange a married
quarter march out, becoming a habit now.
1976
Left RAF Lossiemouth and the family once more, caught a train from Elgin to Aberdeen then
south to Kings Cross in London, a tube journey to the RAF Movements transit camp for an
overnight stay. Early morning start next day and on to a coach which took a group of us to
Luton Airport for the flight to RAF Wildenrath, Germany, this was the central airport for all
RAF personnel arriving in Germany. I had struck up a few acquaintances with the lads who
like myself were heading to Laarbruch, so the company was much appreciated on my new
adventure. The airline that the RAF used for this shuttle service was Britannia Airways,
nothing luxurious but at least an all round improvement to the Hercules, in fact every other
flight I ever took was better than the Hercules. Guess what the priority would be on arrival in
Germany, darn, you guessed, married quarters. My wife being granted the customary 60 days
before having to vacate our Lossiemouth quarter.
Touch down at RAF Wildenrath followed by all the Laarbruch bound troops boarding an
RAF coach for the 1 hour or so journey to base. It was quite exciting seeing the differences
out here, driving on the right hand side of the road, all the European road signs, and
everywhere we passed seemed to be very clean and tidy, no takeaway discards to be seen.
Some interesting villages we passed through and hard to take in all the new sites. It helped
that the weather at the end of May here was the start of the hottest summer for many years.
We finally arrived at Laarbruch and made our way to the guardroom to sign in and get
directions to our accommodation, we had been allocated a barrack block aptly named the
"Swamp" seeing as it had been built on reclaimed swamp land after the second world war,
this block was a long way from the guardroom, another lad "Nobby" and myself set out to
track down this block by foot, and a passing Land Rover with RAF Police aboard, obviously
saw us struggling in the heat, so stopped and offered us a lift, just as well, the half mile trek
would have had us break a sweat.
The “Swamp” our barrack block
This was to be my home for 3 months or more, sharing with other mainly single airmen,
although there were several others married like myself, waiting on a married quarter. Nobby
and myself were billeted in the same 12 man room, although only normally 8 beds filled each
room. This would do nicely thank you. Time to look around and get the lie of the land as it
were. A nice bunch of lads and they filled us in on the latest station do's and don'ts, places to
go and general stuff that we needed to know. Music was played in the room, very often as it
transpired, the top Hi-Fi's affordable over here, due mainly to the extra money we were paid
LOA (Local Oversees Allowance), unfortunately one guy was very keen on playing Leonard
Cohen stuff, and very often got all sorts thrown at him for doing so.
Lots of things to ponder, how to arrange money transfers to the UK for my family, what was
the married quarter situation like, what would I be working on etc. First things first though,
unpack my suitcase and holdall, Get my bed made up, as being an airman of lowly rank
meant we had to collect all our bed linen from clothing stores each time we arrived as single
airmen at a unit.
RAF Laarbruch NAAFI
Looking round the camp, there were loads of watering holes, Bowling alley, just outside our
barrack block, usually the first place to visit after dinner was out the way, then the Malcolm
Club another excellent venue, all the sports clubs of which there were many. Heineken was
the favourite tipple back then as I recall, bottled and draft. German beer was bought by the
crate and names such as Dortmunder Union, Deibels Alt and so many more that I have
forgotten now. Some nights we went off base, down to the local towns, Weeze, where a taxi
driver had a minibus to ferry us back and forth, Mamas a famous eating establishment where
her famous roast chicken was indeed a treat. Opening hours varied back then, usually till the
early hours of the morning when there were enough folks to justify staying open.
Snoopy’s Laarbruch
Another alternative was to go down to Goch, not so far away either, where there were a
small contingent of married quarters based. Goch was a nice little town and had probably the
best disco/bar that I had been in, music at that time, ABBA, played nonstop. One occasion we
dropped in there sticks in my mind, I used to smoke a pipe back then, and was asked by a
young German lass. could she have a try, this followed by several others having a go at my
tobacco, but made for a nice night of conversation of a sort, although only having been out
here a month or so, ordering beer in German was essential learning. Of course all these night
outs stopped when my family joined me later. There was a group of us Scaley's (married lads)
who tended to hang about together, having a lot more in common, it was easier to gang
together. Dennis, Ginge to name a few, Dennis had a car he had driven over in from UK, so
we got around a bit. Eventually we all managed to get married quarters, Dennis a private
hiring in Udem, a village nearby, Ginge at Weeze married quarters Magdaburger Strasse, and
me in Weeze, 9 Franz Hitze Strasse quarters (I believe they have since been demolished), a
community of mostly RAF personnel but also a few Dutch and German tenants. A very
happy community it was too.
9/2 Franz Hitze Strasse, Weeze
My place of work was in ASF (Aircraft Servicing Flight) primarily working on Buccaneers of
15 and 16 Squadrons, but also Jaguars of 2 Squadron which had just started arriving from
RAF Lossiemouth, occasionally also a twin seat Hawker Hunter from station flight. The
hangar we worked in was rumoured to be the biggest hangar structure known to have
formerly belonged to the Luftwaffe or possibly used as a submarine pen during the second
world war, dismantled from its former base and rebuilt here at Laarbruch, but suffice to say
it was massive and held a large number of aircraft. We had our own crew rooms where all the
servicing manuals and drawings were held too. Work was carried out Monday to Friday
where Friday afternoon started with a clean of the floor, about 12 guys in a line with massive
brooms working from one end to the other, took about half an hour to get the job done, then
we all retired to our respective crew rooms and prepared for the weekend with a few crates of
beer and a game of cards, well organised it was. Our job was second line aircraft servicing, a
deeper servicing level to that on individual squadrons known as first line servicing which was
basic and just enough to get the aircraft airborne.
ASF Hangar my place of work 76-79
The work was enjoyable with each aircraft on completion of servicing being ground run on
the pan just outside the hangar, this had a blast wall built to protect the trees directly behind.
Quite spectacular to watch engine runs here, testing out the wing fold and a multitude of
other stuff. As I pointed out earlier, this is what I had joined the RAF to do, a sense of
purpose if you like, seeing the end product flying had a high degree of job satisfaction and
achievement. So on to family matters and the news that allocation of a married quarter was
imminent, weeks away in fact. Back at Lossiemouth things were not as expected, my wife
had been getting mail from the families office frequently, reminding her that the 60 days
entitlement to stay in the quarter had expired and that she had to move out. Not good when I
am elsewhere across the North Sea, but eventually after talking to the Families Officer in
Germany, explaining that we had nowhere to move my family to, she agreed and contacted
Lossiemouth explaining it would only be a month or so, and they would have a place here for
us, and told them to stop the warning mail being sent out. Problem solved, but a worry for my
wife while this was going on.
One of the first things I had to do on posting to Germany was to create a bank account with
the local bank on base, the Sparkasse bank, my salary was automatically paid in to this
account. It appeared that every facility we required was based on the unit, two schools for
primary and secondary education, so that was easy enough for my kids when they arrived
later. However the married bloke contingent managed to do a bit of sightseeing before the
families moved over here, sussing out the best places to visit and what was of interest, here is
a photo of myself on one such occasion, visiting a German town, name long forgotten but lots
to see, even from a bar prospective.
The pipe still in use then, but fell out of favour on my return to UK in 1979, mainly due to
tobacco prices back home compared to buying it in Germany by the half kilo for next to
nothing. Most items out here were extremely good prices and we took advantage in our three
year stay. Everything from Hi-Fi's to Camera's, too good to resist. especially with the extra
overseas allowance we got. Notice too that I still had dark hair, now nearer white, a good
reminder of what has changed after the 34 years that this was taken, hard to believe it was
that long ago, tempus fugit and all that.
Back to Lossiemouth now, time to get all the chattels packed into boxes and crates, ready for
shipping to Germany, quite a big job at the time, but duly collected by the RAF for transit to
Germany. Everyone was excited about the move, a new adventure in a new country for at
least the next few years, maybe we could afford to buy a new car, it seemed that most folks
posted out here, bought new, a great prospect and a means to get around a bit of Europe,
although I was not a qualified driver yet, and as it turned out, did not pass my car test till
1982, however my wife had passed her driving test many years back, and was the sole driver
when we all came to live in Germany. I was now back at work at Laarbruch, having to leave
my family for a few weeks, on their own and my wife to deal with the married quarter march
out. So goodbye to Lossiemouth on to Germany and a few years of excitement.
1977-78
Work wise, things were busy, exercises were many but everyone was in the same boat and
got on with the job in hand. Everyone or the vast majority of folks bought a new car to be
able to enjoy visiting many places in Germany and Holland and we were no different, buying
a Chrysler Avenger 1300cc in metallic blue, our very first car. My mate Dennis already with
a new car, drove us both through to Rotterdam to collect our new vehicle from Europort and
after a short time we were following Dennis back home to Laarbruch, my wife never having
driven on the wrong side of the road before. Safely back home and in the next week or so, my
wife had to pass a BFG (British Forces Germany) car test which she did first go, so now we
were all set to explore outside the Station gates. We followed our flat mate and his wife in
buying a large 6 berth frame tent and ventured far and wide. Cochem on the Rhine was a
good place to go, the free wine tasting went down a treat and saw us visit often. Occasionally
we would load the car with all the gear and visit a nice camp site just inside the Dutch border,
they had everything that you could need, and the kids were free to explore and play till they
were tired out.
I think it was in 78 that both camping families decided to take a holiday in Spain, driving
down there and camping at the Nautica Almata camp site, on the Costa Brava. First stop on
arrival was the supermarket, stock up on cheap
booze for the evening cooling off suppers. The
next day we were introduced to the “Mistral”
not a nice experience at all, temperature
plummeted.
Storm
force
winds
and
accompanied by rain, was not good for tents
staked into sandy soil. I had wondered when
looking back, why folks had dug their ground
sheets in and had bricks securing the tent
ground flaps.
Our tent had survived without damage, unfortunately my mates identical tent had a frame
snap off. A trip down to the local village, a local garage owner welded it together for him for
a few pesetas, this was the next day, so for one night we all 8 of us shared our 6 berth tent.
Good fun really, all in the camping spirit of things. We only saw the kids for breakfast and
mealtimes, they were swimming and playing on the beach mostly. The rest of the holiday was
fine, we found a local transport café for evening meals, and after a few days we actually got
paper table cloths to eat off. Squid and Chips mainly, but a bargain at the prices they charged.
Breakfast in a lay-by somewhere by Lake Geneva.
The family tent where we spent a lovely two weeks holiday. Lovely and bronzed we headed
back home to Germany, keeping in convoy most of the way back but got separated
somewhere in France, eventually meeting up at a garage somewhere near home. A mobile
phone would have been a godsend on this occasion, but we were still not in the technological
era we are in today. Shortly after returning home and on a night shift at Laarbruch, I got a
phone call from the RAF Police, telling me we had a burglary take place in our flat in Weeze,
so off home to find out what had happened. Everyone was OK and being cared for by my
neighbour, seemingly the burglar had got in through the veranda door, which had been left
slightly ajar to air the house as it had just been repainted by the landlord that day. My wife
had been awakened to greet the guy, before screaming for help., he had legged it back out the
veranda door along with about 200 marks which was for the family shopping. I heard a few
weeks later that the commotion had wakened a few neighbours who had chased the burglar,
but he got away.
To cut a long story short, my wife was not able to stay in the flat after that experience, I had
been put on permanent days for a while, till we were allocated a married quarter on base, a
solution that had to be done. We missed all the gang from our Weeze flat, and had to settle in
to being tied to base. This had its drawbacks as well, mainly not being able to escape the siren
alerts for station exercises, but also some upsides, no need to travel to the NAAFI, it was on
the doorstep now, and of course easy access to the many clubs. I used to meet up with my
wife some lunchtimes at the Corporals Club and enjoy a beer and something to eat before
returning to work.
Laarbruch Married Quarters
Barbecues were a regular pastime enjoyed whilst living on base, and the neighbours were a
nice bunch too, this made the move bearable for the rest of our stay at Laarbruch.
One occasion remembered was that a Laarbruch Buccaneer had developed a hydraulic leak
during a sortie, and had to divert to GAF Holsten where a few volunteers, myself included
spent a few weeks there, recovering the aircraft. It was in the winter and snow and ice was
lying fairly deeply, so cold weather clothing was essential. We lived on the base from
Monday to Fridays during our stay and had our own RAF transport to get us back to
Laarbruch for the weekends. Eating at the base was very basic fare, as the unit catered mainly
for conscripts and sauerkraut featured most of the time. So it was that we had breakfast on
base, taking the RAF transport off base to a local pig farm where they had a lovely eating
place. The Engineer who was in charge of our detachment spoke German well, this being his
third tour over here, so he did most of the lunch menu ordering for us, but insisted that we
had to learn to order lunch ourselves and we had a go much to the amusement of the young
fraulein waitress. We got the hang of it eventually and tried a few different dishes most we
asked to be topped up with a Spiegel eir, which itself got a good few laughs. Days here were
spent working as quick as we could to get the aircraft back to Laarbruch and we found that
the Germans had the equivalent of our NAAFI wagon which served up hot drinks and snacks
at 10am or tea break time. My favourite was zwei käse brochen and ein Berliner (Jam
doughnut) and ein tasse tee, please excuse my spelling of the German language, but it worked
at the time. It took 3 weeks of hard work to get the Buccaneer back home safely and had a
thoroughly nice time and was good to meet others working there. I believe they closed GAF
Holsten back in 2005 and think that they operated F104 Starfighters during our visit.
Getting near time to go now, 1979 and wondering where did all the years go to, it was with
sadness that we had to leave this land of plenty and especially the social life that
accompanied work, but it had to be, and my application had gone in for my UK tour
preferences, bearing in mind we had saved a few quid in readiness to afford a mortgage on
our return home, my choices of posting were Finningley, Church Fenton and Linton-on-Ouse.
all in Yorkshire, as the house prices there were affordable.
The last few months were spent getting bits and pieces together in readiness for our move, the
Removal Van had been booked and confirmed, and this time we would all leave as a family
and drive back home, by way of the ferry from Zeebrugge to Felixstowe. All the deep sea
crates had been collected and aboard the removal van. the car had been loaded with all the
valuables, roof rack for all the stuff that we forgot to pack for removal. and goodbyes were
said after handing over our married quarter. On the road again.
Felixstowe port and our arrival, this took an age as we had to declare our car into the UK and
while we filled in all the paperwork, the customs decided to empty our car and search for
illicit material, solid and liquid, in fact anything to stop us getting on our way, but all was
well, the weed was well hidden (only joking), but I knew a mate who used to do regular trips
back to the UK with King Edward Cigars, which were sold to local pubs and the like, he had
an old Ford Taunus with full length back seat access. a lot of cigars can be fitted in there. Oh!
I forgot to mention my destination was, no not Yorkshire, but Lincolnshire and RAF
Binbrook, where the hell is that I hear you say, well it is no more, sold off by the MOD in the
90's. It would have been too much to hope I would get one of my choice postings, things
never worked out that way in the forces, not unless you knew a man who knew a man. This
time though we had been allocated a married quarter prior to leaving Germany, the quarter
had been taken over by proxy by a squadron member on my behalf, so all we needed to do
now was find out how to get to Binbrook from Felixstowe.
The journey to Binbrook was uneventful, eventually finding where we were to be billeted
took a bit longer, but just before arriving there, had to stop off at a local Spar shop and get
some beer, was in desperate need of some by now, well I thought I had bought the shop by
the time I came out, prices were not what we had been used to at all, and the days of buying
crates were a thing of the past. But I was happy in the knowledge that my 3 years had been
well spent, there was no impending nuclear war in the offing, so must have done my bit for
Queen and country after all.
Knocked on a door at RAF Manby married quarters, introduced myself to a squadron
colleague and after a chat, got handed the keys to our quarter which was just a few doors
away. Nice spacious quarter and would do a trip till we got sorted with a mortgage later on.
20 Canberra Crescent as it is 2012
RAF Manby was about 17 miles from Binbrook, I had not been told this whilst in Germany,
so for me it meant catching an RAF Coach every morning from Manby, and also returning by
the same method, this service was not free either, had to pay a month in advance for the
privilege. I had a few days grace, before having to report for duty, this time was spent trying
to get the quarter ship shape, there being just the bare essentials on inventory, our coffee table
was an orange box for instance. However it was time to arrive on Unit, and I caught the coach
and headed for RAF Binbrook, SHQ and started the slog of collecting signatures on my blue
card once more. I had been allocated to 5 (AC) Squadron which operated English Electric
Lightnings Mk3,6 and TMk5 aircraft, seemingly the last unit to host these aircraft. I was
excited at this prospect, my very first squadron posting.
It took the rest of the day to get all the required signatures and finally I arrived on the
Squadron, had a chat with the Squadron boss and ushered to where I would be working,
Second Line Rectification with assistance to the flight line as and when required. Met my
new trade boss, a Chief Tech called Dick Whittingham, an amiable guy with not many years
left till retirement, but had a wealth of knowledge on this aircraft going back many years. I
would be doing rectification and modifications mainly and solving flight line problems daily,
i.e. the aircraft won't start etc. Met all the crew and really looked forward to this adventure.
1979
5 Squadron RAF Binbrook My home for the next three years, shift work was normal and
one week of days followed by one week of nights. After a time it gets tedious having to wait
for a coach back home, especially on night shift as the coach would not leave until all
passengers were aboard. that depended on what time the last squadron finished work. There
were 3 Squadrons operating out of Binbrook 5, 11 and LTF (Lightning Training Flight), so it
was I bought a motorbike a Yamaha RD 125cc and had some sort of control over travelling,
could leave Binbrook when I was finished work.
Work was exciting, learning all about the new aircraft systems, Binbrook being the last
Lightning Unit, had its own Training facility and school on base. This aircraft was quite old
and spent half its life in servicing, the other half flying, not very economical. but the only
interceptor we had in the RAF, and nothing in the world to beat it in a vertical climb. also
operating at Mach 3 when required, was an awesome beast. The interceptor role was called
on weekly, with QRA (Quick Reaction Aircraft) scrambling to intercept usually Russian Bear
bombers which enjoyed testing our defence capabilities. QRA duty was normally a week,
where we had a purpose built QRA hangar which housed two serviceable and armed aircraft
at all times. Backup was provided by the squadrons in the unlikely case that any of the main
two aircraft went unserviceable or needed rectification.
Me with hands in pockets (disgraceful) having completed servicing of a QRA Lightning.
Notice the yellow steel nose wheel guide on the ground, this enables the pilot to make a quick
exit from the hangar without having to waste time steering, also avoided hitting the hangar
doors. Missiles used were Red Top and Fire streak (Red Top shown on the aircraft.) QRA
was one of the best duties, we never left the hangar at all, food was supplied by the mess and
was far better than normal, special rations.
Binbrook airfield is situated at the top of a hill, has its own micro climate and could be
snowing up there and fine down the hill. There was a great rivalry between the main
squadrons 5 and 11, with many a competition from the ground crew trying to outdo each
other for speed of turnaround servicing for one. The Lightning as stated earlier was equipped
either with Firestreak or Red Top missiles, also the Mk6 Lightnings had a ventral gun tank
fitted, this housed the 30mm Aden gun canon. Missile practice camps were held annually at
RAF Valley in Wales, where remotely controlled target towers would trail flares which when
fired up would enable the Lightning pilot to release a missile or two and qualify at this
discipline. Gun firing camps were held annually at RAF Akrotiri in Cyprus, where Canberra
aircraft would tow a banner at length and the Lightning pilot would fire his Aden Guns at the
target banner, hoping to accrue the highest score on the Squadron. The 30mm rounds would
be tipped with dye which came off as the round went through the banner, leaving a hole and a
coloured ring. The dye thing was introduced for each group of Lightnings which took part
during a sortie. Valley was usually a week detachment, whereas Akrotiri was normally 5
weeks or more.
Being the last of their kind, the Lightning squadrons had a vast variety of detachments to
European and Scandinavian air bases, practicing their skills against all sorts of jets. I myself
did a few of these detachments to Aalborg, Denmark and Leeuwarden in Holland to mention
a few.
Akrotiri, in Cyprus Finished flying for the day, closed the canopy and posed for this
photograph, the sun and heat were what I enjoyed about these detachments. Notice the white
painted panel on the aircraft spine, this was to deflect the heat from the contents beneath,
namely the Avpin starter fuel tank. Shift patterns at Akrotiri were 24hours on and 24 hours
off which were spent exploring the Island and it's bars.
One such occasion on our day off, trip down to Limmasol beach, sunning ourselves on the
beach. The black leather bags were a must have back then, bought at knockdown prices and
usually adorned with squadron plastic zaps and the likes, similar to having a suitcase with
labels of places visited. The bags lasted for years and got lugged around whenever the
squadron went on visits to other locations.
This is the place everyone went to for gifts, brilliant selection of leather goods, something for
everyone
This is a NATO Travel Order document that got us legally overseas without the need for a
passport, issued for each trip we made. I managed about 4 trips out to Cyprus during my tour
of Binbrook, 3 with 5 Squadron and an unexpected trip also with 5 when I was posted to LTF
(Lightning Training Flight) as a SNCO and a fellow SNCO at the time for domestic reasons
could not go, so we swapped duties for that period.
1980
5 Squadron RAF Binbrook
Aalborg, Denmark a short stay detachment with loads of Tuborg Pilsner beer and Schnapps
to keep us from dehydrating with all the hard work put in. This Danish base and it's squadron
personnel made us most welcome during our stay. Here are two of the squadron patches we
collected from them.
During our stay here, we set the current record for consuming the most beer for any squadron
that had visited. Our aircraft operated from a HAS (Hardened Aircraft Shelter) and I recall it
was none too warm in there. One incident or mishap occurred when taxiing our aircraft in
front of the HAS, the pilot had been given instruction not to turn the aircraft so that the jet
efflux pointed into the HAS, so Murphy's Law applied and he did just that. scattering all the
paperwork round the HAS, took ages to collect it all together again. But a successful
detachment by all accounts.
RAF Valley, Anglesey, Wales..... This was where we took the Lightnings to allow the pilots
to practice live missile firing. A cold damp place at the best of times, situated so that the
airfield was virtually on the Irish Sea and the associated wind blowing constantly. Cold
weather gear was worn most of the time and it was usually soaking from the damp mist that
came off the sea. Nonetheless taking part in this detachment was more or less compulsory,
especially if you had been out to Cyprus that year, good with the bad syndrome.
Although this trip was with LTF later on, it is the only picture I have of RAF Valley. This
could almost be a "How many people can you get on a Lightning" competition. Needless to
say, I don't have much to say about these detachments, and was always glad to get back to
Binbrook.
Leeuwarden, Holland....was one of the better detachments, friendly people and did us proud
with accommodation too. The base operated F16 Fighter jets and the Lightnings had a great
time playing at combat games with them. Here are just a few mementos I collected on the
detachment, most of the other ones were drunk long time back.
A very picturesque town which we explored during our stay. Architecture was spectacular to
say the least. Museums and the like were visited, as was the harbour area where a NATO
fleet were at anchor, just had to take a photograph of this one, the maple leaf of Canada, 5
Squadron crest.
and just another photograph I decided to take whilst the call of nature beckoned one day
while out downtown Leeuwarden, made me laugh at the time anyway.
So with a few snaps of my adventures listed, now back to reality and everyday life on the
Squadron. The days started with all the serviceable aircraft being towed from the hangar to
the flight line in readiness for the daily planned flying program. For me it was getting stuck
into the various servicing schedules of the remaining aircraft, repairing, replacing, testing and
signing up all the work carried out, pretty routine stuff. This was interrupted regularly by a
call from the flight line, where things were outside control of the flight line mechanics, so it
was a case of grabbing the ear defenders, a couple of basic tools and heading out to the line to
investigate and hopefully sort out the problems, usually whilst the pilot patiently sat strapped
into the aircraft, ever hopeful he would still be able to take his toy flying. Mostly the
problems were cockpit lighting, bulb changes but occasionally we had more complicated
snags like engine start failure where a more in depth diagnosis would be required and dirtier
hands than usual. An interesting job in truth and the knowledge slowly built into a database
inside the brain, to be called on numerous times.
Tea breaks were a great source of fun, crew room bridge causing more than one fight was
normal, Uckers (a LUDO) derivative was popular, as were card games such as Crash and
Brag. Darts and dominoes all played their part in daily life on the squadron. Tea Bar
committees were a good thing to get into, this meant a trip to some Cash and Carry and a
break from work too. All profits made from sales of crisps and chocolate bars were kept for
special occasions such as Squadron parties and the likes. Then there was the night shift,
normally at work for 16.30 hrs for a hand over from the day shift. First job as an electrician
was to was to make sure all the aircraft flying that evening had external lights that worked
and replace/repair as needed, it's amazing how short a time the bulbs lasted, usually down to
heavy landings and not sufficient anti-vibration mountings fitted or faulty. After night flying
had finished, all the aircraft were towed back to the safety of the hangar and any reported
faults rectified. We always had a flight plan and aircraft numbers required for the next days
flying, so basically worked till that was met. Knock off time was normally 3-4 in the
morning, sometimes earlier, a few occasions we were still working when the day shift
arrived, but all to meet the flying plan for the day.
That was a summary of a normal shift pattern. We all know that this utopia can't last and true
to form station exercises intervened from time to time and shattered what was what I had
joined up to do.
1981
Station exercises, oh! joy, back into NBC suits, tin hats, respirators and the thought of not
getting home for a few days, some of the tasks given to us ranged from guard duty to shelter
marshal and beyond. Airfield installations were part of our remit, although could never figure
what we had RAF Regiment personnel for. If you were lucky or were in with the right
people, being part of the ORP (Operational Readiness Pan) teams was a good number,
basically being a flight line mechanic somewhere the other side of the airfield on a aircraft
pan, complete with fuel bowser and driver. The idea was that the squadrons would prepare
an aircraft ready for battle, send it up to our little pan on hold awaiting permission to launch,
sometimes engines still running and we would be there in case some more paraffin was
needed to top up the tanks. "Go" from the Control tower and we marshalled the aircraft a
short distance onto the main runway and the thing was into reheat and airborne before you
had time to clear the fumes from your throat. Then of course the next aircraft would arrive
and go through the same procedure. All rip roaring fun for an aircraftsman.
And here we have me doing just that very task, although this was not on exercise, hence no goon gear.
As I said earlier, we had to stay on base during these games, accommodation was for the best
part either in a room in the hangar on the floor, or if you had a mate on the squadron who was
single and had his own room, you could arrange to be on the opposite shift to him and use the
hot bed swap method, as you were going off shift your mate would be coming in to work and
hand you his keys, so thanks to the two mates who kept me in luxury and comfort during my
stay on 5 squadron, namely Ron Morrell and Ian Morrison.
I had enjoyed 3 years of being an NCO at Corporal rank, doing the job I loved best, working
on aircraft and now due promotion to SNCO and Sgt rank, all exams had been completed and
I also got the much needed annual assessments to further my career. Normally the promotion
was automatic with the criteria above being met, but the goal posts had been changed yet
again, as so often happened as time went along. Now before being promoted, it was
compulsory to attend a Management and Infantry type course of a month’s duration, learn to
manage and also lead a bunch of troops into battle, just an extension of yet again working
with pine poles and puzzles to work out with the extra regiment training of learning marching
formation use, weapon husbandry, how to make the best use of a bang stick and maintain
same, with radio procedures and other non aircraft tasks. Can you tell I was not the slightest
bit interested in this? good guess and you were right.
Just as I was contemplating this course, at RAF Hereford, also the home to the SAS, an
opportunity came my way in the guise of a free intensive driving course, the line were in need
of drivers to tow ground equipment around and the line chief was asking for volunteers to
attend and pass their driving tests. Volunteer, a subject that more often than not is not a thing
you do, but in this case was going to be an advantage to me personally, no more would I need
to use the train or coach to move about between units, it would be a lot easier chucking all my
gear in the boot of a car and at my leisure drive to wherever, even RAF Hereford which
would be my first move by car, even if it was the Avenger we still had from Germany. So it
was I departed by train for RAF St Athan, the RAF driving school being there. I was given
single room accommodation of course and excused the PT lessons each day that the junior
airmen had to do, cushy number indeed. We all had to pass the highway code exam before
being allowed to set foot in a vehicle at all, but this was achieved. Each driving instructor was
allocated two trainees, a half day each at the wheel. Two weeks later they suggested that I
was ready for my test and set the ball rolling, the test was to be in Cardiff, driving through the
multi lane city center as part of it, and no, we did not have the luxury of our own RAF test
examiners either, it was the normal test route by government inspectors. Just before I set out
on my test, my instructor gave me the nod and wink about what my test inspector was keen
on, road junctions were his thing and no way would he pass anyone who failed that aspect.
Everything went to plan, and I passed first time, vowing never to drive through the center of
Cardiff again.
Back to Binbrook, thinking that I would be used as a driver now, wrong, the only driving I
did was to drive an MT driver round the airfield to make sure I understood the traffic light
system for crossing the airfield and get signed up with an airfield permit. One other occasion
when I had to drive a 3 tonner from the line to the Mess for supper one deployment and that
was the extent of my RAF driving. But the plan worked, I had a full driving license, no
stopping me now.
Next move off to RAF Hereford for a month, drove down there in luxury, not having to
manhandle bags and cases for the first time was a great feeling, also meant I was not stuck at
any unit at weekends, I could drive home now. I won't say much about my time at Hereford,
other than I hated every minute of it, playing soldiers in the winter was no fun either, the pine
poles seemed to have got heavier from what I remember when doing the same exercises at
Swinderby in Sherwood forest. The infantry training was downright boring, although we each
had to take a spell as being troop leader during a 36 hour role play scenario, even being
issued poncho's to try and keep the rain off. It was so cold and miserable that the Instructors
called a 2 hour break to let us try and get our kit dry and also authorised a rum ration and the
mess brought a huge tray of hot mince and spuds, speak about being spoiled rotten. The
ration packs we were given, were surprisingly good and use of Stoves, Hexamine a must
learn subject. Classroom subjects in management were to prove helpful later on, so
something good came out of it all. Finally the course debrief and interviews, surprisingly we
lost a few candidates early in the course, those that were not willing to put up with the
bullshit. Ordeal over and back to RAF Binbrook.
Everyone who completed the Hereford course was handed their Sgt's stripes on the last day,
and the last evening was party time with our instructors where we had a chance to have our
say on the course content. Nice now shiny stripes sewn on to my uniforms and back to the
squadron. I knew of course that it was routine procedure on promotion to SNCO that I would
not be allowed to stay on the Squadron, for reasons which seem obvious now, too familiar
with the lower ranks being one and a new start being the other. However the first priority was
being introduced to the Sgt's mess, something I looked forward to. Had a great introduction
from not my own squadron WO, he was tied up with work, but from the rival squadron's WO
Tex Williams, who did me proud, looked after me and filled my glass as required, so thanks
to him for a most enjoyable if not hazy recollection of events.
Now a fully fledged member of the elite an interview with the Squadron bosses and what to
do with me followed. Luckily for me, Lightning technicians were few and far between, so I
was offered the chance to stay at Binbrook and move to the next hangar which was
LTF (Lightning Training Flight), here they had more T5 Lightnings as it
was a training flight after all, but still had the single seaters. I was given the post of Electrical
Trade Manager, with 8 electricians in my charge. This was where my management training
came in handy, I was able to arrange shifts, allocate tasks for my crew and also with this
managerial post came the task of writing annual assessments for each of my team. I still got
my hands dirty though and thoroughly enjoyed the new responsibilities. Along with the
promotion and Sgt's Mess facilities allotted, there was a less enjoyable side to promotion,
namely Inventory Holder of which I was given the LTF Hangar furnishings inventory for my
sins. Just when I thought I had it sussed, another responsibility came my way in the form of
SNCO i/c Barrack Block, responsible for monthly block bull night supervision and task
allocation and ultimately accountable to the Officer i/c Barrack Block. Only had to charge an
airman once in my career and this was it, an airman who's room was inspected the morning
after a bull night at which the Officer i/c instructed me to charge the airman. It was an
experience, must admit, but the guy got off on a technicality.
Life on LTF followed the same pattern as my last position, but was more relaxed and not so
many detachments as before. It helped that I knew most folks on the unit, made life easier all
round. There is nothing worth writing home about for this 3 years on Lightnings and I started
getting the urge to move on to something a bit more modern, when came word got around
that the RAF were to replace the ageing Shackleton Fleet with a modern Airborne Early
Warning aircraft, namely the proposed Nimrod AEW, this interested me due to the fact that
when the Aircraft was commissioned, it would be operating from RAF Waddington which
was in Lincolnshire also and that meant not having to move house. I forgot to mention earlier
that in 1980 we did buy a brand new house in Louth and moved out of RAF Manby quarters,
a semi but with a big garden which was put to good use, greenhouse and all the rest,
obligatory shed of course. I digress, application duly submitted for a posting on the new
aircraft was accepted and a course arranged at RAF Kinloss which was operating the Nimrod.
1983
Now while enjoying my new found role as Electrical Trade Manager on LTF and the
challenges that it entailed, there was still something missing. Detachments that I had come to
enjoy while on 5 Squadron out to Akrotiri, now sadly were not part of LTF duties, but a
surprise followed that allowed me one more trip to Cyprus and the sun.
One of my friends who had been on LTF as a Corporal, Tony Barnes who now promoted to
Sergeant and working on 5 Squadron, came and asked me if I would like to take his place on
detachment for reasons unknown. The swap was arranged between our respective bosses and
so it was I was able to enjoy my last Cyprus detachment from RAF Binbrook.
We ran a two shift system and I was Leckie Sgt on one of them, it was good to be back
working with lads I already knew and the time passed far too fast with little problems from
the aircraft. Then on the last day of flying, the squadron as was usual, planned a ten ship
formation flypast, always with the possibility that not all the kites would make it.
True to form, 9 kites started and taxied off while one “Alpha Charlie” refused to start and the
pilot Dave Carden sadly walked back to the crew room dejected. At this stage of events, I had
dismissed my leckie team mates who had hotfooted it up the runway to get some photos,
leaving me to try and figure out why no start. However after finding out the malfunction
symptoms and checking the inevitable fuse, which was found to OK, this is where knowledge
gained over the years kicked in and of course the panel which needed to be removed to check
this out, was one of the biggest panels secured by high torque screw (numerous).
Panel removed and up the A steps, trained as a contortionist, gained access to a plug I had
suspected was the culprit, and low and behold the plug was virtually ready to fall out of its
socket. Two or three minutes screwing the thing back in and a quick phone call to get the
pilot back down to try a start ensued with haste. All strapped in, a start was attempted and
bingo No1 roared into life, followed by the No2, meanwhile the panel we had removed was
now being fastened back, engine guys working as fast as they could and the kite was taxiing
off to join the others.
Outcome was that Alpha Charlie did manage to rendezvous with the others and complete the
display. One of the many times job satisfaction was at its highest. Below is a photo of the fix
it team doing up the panel and another of the kite taxing off
1984
Prior to me departing on the Nimrod course at RAF Kinloss, a replacement for my post had
been drafted in, a newly appointed Sgt just completed his courses and a fresh outlook for him,
although he had never worked on Lightnings at this point. Normally anyone posted to
Binbrook would have had some Lightning experience. The next few months was handover
time and it went well too. Off to Kinloss and the mighty hunter called the Nimrod, RAF
Kinloss was very similar to my experience of being at Lossiemouth, both bases situated on
the Moray Firth, but Kinloss had the edge, a piper would play his bagpipes each morning at
dawn, just to make us feel at home, north of the border.
The course would last for four weeks, quite intense, with a one week visit to RAF Woodford
where the first two prototypes of the Nimrod AEW were being fitted out with Avionics
equipment, and trial run. It was impressive to say the least, such was the enormity of the new
power required for this machine, that completely new alternators had to be designed and
built, we did get the chance to view the new power being tested on rigs, where all
components of the power system could be tested, down to all the new indicators that would
eventually adorn the cockpit. With all this newly completed course work under my belt and
meeting the other course members who I would eventually be working with on the creation of
the new Nimrod AEW squadron at RAF Waddington, we were officially given a "Q"
qualification to state that we has passed requirements.
Thanks to this photo by Paul Nann, you can see what the AEW looked like before the project
was shelved shortly afterwards. The new AEW would be built by Boeing at Seattle instead.
Duly returned to LTF at Binbrook and was informed that pending my posting to RAF
Waddington and the Nimrod AEW in the near future, I would be posted from LTF due to the
new lad taking over. In fact I was moved from LTF to ASF (Aircraft Servicing Flight) as
electrician assisting the modification team which was a civvy outfit, doing wing root repairs
to extend the fatigue life of the Lightning, this involved disconnecting and connecting
electrical items that had to be removed from the aircraft to enable the mods to take place. I
was given an airman of the same trade to do the work, and my job to supervise and
countersign documentation for the work we did. All in all a boring job with virtually nothing
to do mostly, but it was a case of finding stuff to keep us going. Shortly after this move, I was
to be informed that the whole Nimrod AEW project was being scrapped and that my future at
Waddington was cancelled. Unfortunately for me, the RAF Personnel department were doing
a manning exercise and decided that they could not justify me being at Binbrook and came up
with a way to make the most of my talents, yes another posting, this time to RAF Sealand
somewhere not too far from Chester, at Deeside, this was to be a non squadron posting and
the end of my career as I had known it. RAF Sealand or 30MU (Maintenance Unit) was
where I was headed, TD&S (Task Development and Support wing). First let me explain,
30MU did electrical and avionic equipment deep strip and rebuilds on just about every piece
of equipment used in the RAF, a factory floor environment with 50% RAF and Civvy
workers my allocated task was to update and write servicing schedules for the electrical
equipment, from Generators to actuators, a mind numbing paperwork exercise, sitting at a
desk mostly, typing revised schedules for the shop floor.
I could not contain the excitement of leaving behind squadron life for a mundane and to my
mind pointless waste of the money and time they had invested in my training as a technician,
to suddenly being dumped in this unfamiliar territory. So with heavy heart I set off for RAF
Sealand in 1985, my glory days at a fighter squadron over, I had hoped at some stage to be
able to return to the life I had been living, and it was this hope that kept me going. On arrival
at Sealand, I found out that my post was in fact as a servicing manual rewrite and revision
one, basically updating the manuals that were used to service all the shop floor equipment of
the electrical kind and that meant sat on my ass for 95% of the day at a desk, armed with
sellotape, correction fluid, typewriter, drawing pins, I think you will have got the idea. The
wing I was working on was TD&S Wing do you notice how it fits the bill exactly, just read as
tedious wing and you have got the idea.
I was accommodated in the Sgt's Mess, a room to myself of course and the mess food was
very good too. My life was to be 3 and a half years living in that room Monday to Thursday
night and a long drive back to Lincolnshire each Friday. I negotiated a deal that if I stayed
late one evening and did some work, they would let me leave Friday after lunch, so got a
good start to the weekend. My family at this stage had no intention of following me down the
Deeside, the kids were getting ready for their GCSE exams at school, and my wife had a job
in Louth at the time, so my spell here was destined to be living as a scaly, a term derived
from the Scale E that of a married man. I met a guy who as it happened found himself in the
same predicament as me and we struck up a good friendship while here. I started trying to dig
a tunnel, without success, but a stroke of luck came one day, I got wind of another airman
who enquired about getting a lift back to Grimsby at the weekends, he was willing to share
the petrol costs, and also it would be a bit of company for me, great arrangement. This guy
also worked on the shop floor, so a word to him about getting moved from my desk job
seemed to do the trick and I found myself working as a supervisor on the electrical shop
floor, not ideal, but better than sitting on my ass being bored. I was involved with electrical
linear and rotary actuators, deep strip, rebuild and testing thereof at least a bit of job
satisfaction.
No point in dragging this post out, it was the same routine for the whole tour and finally
managed to apply for my last tour of duty, at the four years left point, so I obviously applied
for anywhere in Lincolnshire, I knew Binbrook would have been my choice, but the station
was due to close and little chance anyway, so applied for Waddington and Coningsby which
at least were in the same county as my family. It was while I was stationed at Sealand that 15
years service had passed by and the RAF decided that I had been a good boy and presented
with a medal LS&GC ( Long service and good conduct)
It seems you get medals for anything these days, but we had a good day out, the Station
Commander presenting the medals. and of course we all had a few sherbet's to celebrate.
Just found some interesting items from one of my albums, record of my attendance at yes, a
Military Hospital, we did have them back then, now I believe military personnel have to
share a hospital with civilians and even then the troops are given grief from the civvies, no
respect at all. One incident recently, guys using the hospital, casualties from either Iraq or
Afghanistan were verbally abused from some Muslim outpatients, how times have changed,
and not for the better either, but suffice to say my stay in this hospital was a happy one and.
the treatment second to none
1989
Life at RAF Sealand continued without incident and I had expected that my last tour of duty
application would yield a good result especially after being denied my squadron life for the
last 4 years. but out of luck yet again it seems and the nearest they could get me to
Lincolnshire was Norfolk and the only place in the RAF that I had hoped to escape RAF
Swanton Morley the graveyard unit where even more paperwork and all the aircraft servicing
forms were collated, add to this the provisioning of aircraft spares and there you have it, the
nightmare posting of all time. One concession allowed me was that because I was not granted
my choice of last tour, the RAF would pay for my removals and disturbance allowances when
I was demobbed. So no pressure, and from the wording of it all, no chance of moving
elsewhere, I was well and truly shafted. What a prospect for the end of an exciting career.
Before setting off for Norfolk, I had tried my utmost to contact some mates who I knew
would like to get back home to the county, but no joy, they were either farther away from
Lincolnshire or not interested in swapping. Looking on the bright side if there was such a
thing, the life of a single airman was coming to an end, my wife applied for a move from
working in Louth Job centre to a transfer to Norwich, and for the last time ever, I applied for
a married quarter, the waiting list was small, so it was not a long wait envisaged.
Had a great send off from RAF Sealand and although I was glad that I
was moving out, it is always the sadness of not seeing your old mates and keeping in touch
was always a hard thing to do, speaking from experience that is. But it was a relief not having
to travel twice weekly between Lincolnshire and Deeside, the M62 would not figure in my
routine any more. Swanton Morley nicknamed "Swanton Mortuary" for those that were lucky
enough to avoid, was a sprawling area of grass, dotted with numerous buildings, even had a
grass runway for light aircraft, gliders, microlites and the like. A huge acreage to trail round,
so huge in fact that the Station Commander decreed that we could walk on the grass, to cut
down on mileage.
My very last arrivals procedure went well, taking a day to complete, thought if this is my lot,
then it will be in my time for a change. It was a very relaxed RAF Unit, most of the
inhabitants were Senior NCO's, with just a token of junior ranks stationed here. Now for
where I was being sent to work, at General Office, the first bad vibe was that they had not got
me marked down as being posted in here, so being pissed off at not even having a post to fill,
did ask if they were not expecting me, could I go and wait on another posting coming up, this
remark went down like a lead balloon and after a few phone calls I was sent to Initial
Provisioning Flight and wandered around till I located the said building. It was as expected an
office block with computers, filing cabinets, aircraft spares manuals and all manner of stuff. I
was interviewed by my Flight Sergeant who had not been expecting a new posting either. IPF
(Initial Provisioning Flight) were responsible for the provisioning of aircraft spares on new
aircraft builds for a period of 18 months, the predictions being calculated for each spare part
by computer mathematical modelling software, backed up by manufacturers data and
reliability figures. Thought to myself, what the hell have I got myself into here.
Nice bunch of guys working here though and they had each got their own aircraft type to
work with, me, I had nothing and as it turned out, no new aircraft expected in service either.
Anyway that would get sorted out later, now it was time to go down the Sgt's Mess and get
myself a room for the duration or until I was given a married quarter. Got a lovely room in
the annexe, backed up my car and unloaded my gear, this would do for now, very
comfortable thanks. Familiarised myself with mess procedure and took a walk to the NAAFI
for provisions. Sampled the evening meal which was presentable and retired to my room to
unpack and make myself at home. Tomorrow I would find out about the rest of the station
and meet my Flight Commander hopefully. IP Flight airmen were nomadic by nature,
spending equal amounts of time on unit and visiting other units, MOD in London,
manufacturers and many other exciting places.
Had a nice quiet evening in front of the TV, reflecting on what I would be getting into at
work, but now it was reality and meeting my Flight Commander for his welcome to the unit.
During the conversation, I once more enquired why I had been sent here, had I upset the
cart/someone, me, never. The rehearsed answer was on the lines of, "you have had a varied
career and obviously experience that makes you a prime candidate for Swanton Morley" so
that was that, stuck in a job which seemed to me pointless, why couldn't they have recognised
my technical skills and posted me to a squadron instead, well enough moaning from me,
think you will have got the drift by now.
Back into the office now and introduced to the gang, well half of them, the other half were on
the road somewhere doing what they had to do, all on rates of course. The idea of getting paid
rates was at least appealing, and the prospect of getting out of the office and off the unit also.
Easy now my son, walk and run syndrome. What I wanted to know was what am I to be set to
work on? it did not take too long to find out, my Flight Sergeant had a project he was
working on, Spares provisioning for the E-3D Sentry our new airborne early warning
platform, ironic really as the scrapping of the AEW Nimrod was my downfall back in 1985.
This new Boeing was being built out at Seattle, USA and my job would be to liaise with the
seconded RAF team who were working out there with the Americans (some folks have all the
luck it seems)and get all the information required to supply enough spares for this machine
for the first 18 months of its life when the first squadron was formed back at RAF
Waddington as 8 Squadron (my very first squadron on Shackletons back in 1974-76). The
Americans had successfully been operating the E-3 AWACS for a few years themselves, and
our variant being built, just had a few different avionic components, but the airframe side of
things already had a lot of serviceability history, which made spares provisioning that much
easier. Communication was done by email mostly, me sending of queries by day, and getting
replies by the following morning.
I would like to add a few comments about my career so far, as we all know in peacetime we
in the military play at practice wars, scenarios that could happen at any time, all very well
and probably necessary to remind us that first of all we are members of the armed forces, and
secondly we are tradesmen, the first option often put to one side. During my time at RAF
Sealand, we had the Falklands War, albeit a short war due to our superb troops handling of
the situation and swift resolve. Many men lost their lives in defence of this outpost island and
it's inhabitants, I would like to pay them all tribute. My belief was that this conflict was
justified.
I was not personally involved in this war, why. will always be a mystery, maybe my age,
maybe the fact I had not worked on any of the aircraft employed in this theatre, I just don't
know. But my skills at RAF Sealand were utilized as well as all the airmen and civvies
working on the shop floor, we worked overtime most days, to produce the serviceable aircraft
spares needed to support the ground crews down south.
What made me remember about circumstances in the paragraph above was, that now as I sat
at my humble desk, typing and emailing away, we had just heard of the upcoming 1st Golf
war and the RAF were busy sorting out the personnel that would be required to play their part
in this conflict. I was sure that I would be going to this one, having worked on Buccaneers
and knowing that they would be deployed. A tense time, wondering if my name would be
picked out of the hat, while I played at being a desk pilot. However I was not selected as a
player, and put this one down to my age and having been away from Buccaneers since1979. I
had all the experience and qualifications of Nuclear/Conventional weapon systems under my
belt, that was why I was certain I would be picked, but to no avail. You may think I have
been extremely lucky in missing these events, but I'm sure I had played some small part in
my own way.
I managed after a few months to secure a married quarter on base, my wife successfully
transferring from her job in Lincolnshire to Norfolk, my son came along for the ride as he had
been made redundant from his job earlier. So we had a nice little 2 bed roomed semi from
which to carry on as a family. My own property back in Lincolnshire being let till my
discharge from the RAF in 1993. My son actually had a few jobs in Norfolk, before returning
to Lincolnshire about a year before I was demobbed, he lived in our own property which was
now empty of tenants, and made me damn sure I would never again let out any property of
mine, the tenants did not do a good job of keeping the property particularly clean, and the
Estate Agent we employed was just a waste of space, with it would appear, no routine
inspections. You live and learn I guess.
1990
Meanwhile back to the story, and there was still the constant terrorist threat from the IRA
Swanton Morley was always considered a soft target mainly because there was not much of
an RAF Regiment presence and the targets although not military equipment but rather all the
Central Documents and Servicing records were processed and stored here, so more of an
inconvenience if the unit was targeted. Nonetheless we still deployed RAF Police and Airmen
on the entrance road to the station in times of heightened alert. Proper fortified bunkers were
used with armed guards, SLR (Self Loading Rifles) still being current at that time, and extra
live guard training as well as annual weapon certification.
To make sure we understood the severity of this undertaking, this little booklet was our bible,
along with rules of engagement and various other bits of official certification.
Told you there was more bits of paper, don't sound so surprised, I could fill this page with
stuff like this, but will spare you.
By now I was deeply into spares and learning things that could have served me well in my
previous postings, always the same though in my opinion. In the course of my work, I had to
contact the procurement managers for my project at MOD Harrogate, a warren of Nissen huts
and pre-fab buildings. My first visit had been arranged to visit the establishment, a fellow
spares officer would take me up there and introduce me to mysteries of where procurement
was played out, so that in future I could be clued up on who to talk to. Learnt a lot about the
correct way to arrange such visits, get the right paperwork authorised, collect Rate 1's having
pre-booked accommodation prior to setting out. My first visit was all arranged for me and off
we set in my friend’s car, arriving in time for lunch at a pub, then meeting all the right people
who made me welcome, this was a two day visit, so we both retired to our Bed and Breakfast
to unpack our gear. Followed by a night out in Harrogate, eating out and having a few drinks
in initially the conservative club (I was not a member) and then several watering holes later,
retired for the night. Good family accommodation and a superb full English breakfast in the
morning, before completing our business at MOD Harrogate. A brilliant experience and was
actually in pocket from my expenses. I would during my years at Swanton Morley, make
several trips up here.
As well as predicting spares for the E-3D AWACS, I also took on the task of writing a soft
consumables manual, necessary because the petrol's, oils, greases, adhesives and the likes
were all American products and the UK wanted to use approved MOD equivalents which
were in use by the UK Military. This necessitated me having to visit the MOD in London,
where along with other officials, we would discuss my findings, and an expert in this field
would tell me which products to substitute for the USA products. Normally these visits would
be of one day duration and an early start for me, MT transport to Norwich rail station and on
to London, returning early evening and picked up by RAF transport and returned to base.
Several London visits were for two days duration and I stayed at the Union Jack Club, near
Waterloo Station.
Managed to retain this receipt for a three night stay, £15 a night,
hate to think what they charge these days, but bet it's an arm and a leg in comparison.
As I said earlier, the Americans were operating the AWACS airframe in Europe, and had a
wealth of computer data available to us, especially on component life, so it transpires
somebody thought it would be a good idea to ask the Americans if they would mind us
getting copies of the stored data which was relevant to us and our machine. It took a few
months of getting permission, but they agreed that if we took out some large reels of data
tape, they would copy what we wanted onto them. Straightforward it was not, the yanks used
a different computer data system than the British, now there's a surprise. We had to involve a
member of the Small Systems Computer team to ensure that we would be able to use the data
being copied. A team of three, me and another spares forecaster a Computer whizz kid all
authorized to make a 3 day, 2 night visit to a NATO air base at Geilenkirchen in Germany.
Tickets to be collected on arrival at London Heathrow.
Armed with the newly issued NATO travel order, we set off for London by train, from
Norwich Rail station, leaving plenty of time to get a beer before the flight. Arrived at LHR
and went to the British Airways booking kiosk and were informed that the flight we had been
booked on, was actually overbooked and they had arranged for us to fly Club Class with
Lufthansa instead, first and only time I ever travelled luxury with the Forces.
Which was swapped for this one
Accommodation in Geilenkirchen had been pre-booked for us and very nice it was too, a
lovely little hotel a friendly atmosphere and a nice bar which was well attended in the
evenings. RAF Personnel stationed here, working on the AWACS, would collect us from the
hotel after breakfast, and drop us back after work, a very good arrangement indeed.
A most enjoyable little trip, we came away from here with enough data to last a lifetime.
Sampled some nice German beer at lunchtimes too
1991
By now progress had been made regards my little AWACS projects and several trips to St
Giles Court, MOD, London followed, where the team got together and reported progress or
otherwise. My work on the Soft Consumables catalogue had reached its completion and I was
thanked by all the top brass, for a good job. The UK RAF team from Seattle attended a few of
these meetings, so was always a good time to catch up with how the new aircraft was
progressing. I was fortunate that I knew one of the guys working on this team, he would bring
over some one off posters and photographs that Boeing had printed, which took pride of place
back in our office at Swanton Morley. I still have several 10 x 8 glossy prints of the original
aircraft livery scheme and a large artistic illustration of what they had envisaged when the
aircraft came into service.
Things back at Waddington were gearing up for the arrival of the first new machines from
Seattle, all the support bays for avionics. electrical and engines were being finalized. A few
visits to Waddington were required, to pass on information that was of help during this time,
also volunteered to help out in the electrical bay, setting up test bays for new equipment, all
in the hope that I might actually get a posting here, but with only two years left now, just a
dream. It was somewhere around this time that our married quarter was getting refurbished, a
first in 20 years that involved us as a family, double glazing of the UPVC type, fitted carpets
instead of squares, a complete revamp in fact. Took about two weeks to complete, but what a
difference it made. My wife had settled well into her Norwich job Center job by now, and my
son was still living with us. Social life was good here, even took in a Mediaeval banquet at a
local priory. The Sgt's mess had several good functions which we attended, Burns night and
several others.
1992 saw one of my mates from work, retire, he had been responsible for provisioning spares
for the Lynx, Gazelle and Puma helicopters during his stint at Swanton, so now he was on his
way, I was asked to take over his helicopter workload, with a good few months handover.
Followed him around his haunts, MOD Harrogate where I met the procurement Officer for
these machines spares.
Once a month we had to attend Westland’s helicopters meetings in Yeovil, Somerset, staying
in B&B at nearby West Coker. a lovely accommodation with a brilliant landlady and the best
full English breakfasts I can recall. I would arrange to meet the Harrogate Officer at
Paddington Rail Station and the both of us would travel down to Somerset, all on rate 1's of
course. £13.50 a night B&B and the rest for night time pub visits, a lovely time was had by us
both.
The Helicopter team at Westland's. Yeovil, Somerset. Me 3rd from the left and my mate Al
extreme right. The applecart was about to be upset regards this arrangement though, and
typical of the MOD and saving money on all the wrong things, it was decided that as there
was a military base nearby at RNAS Yeovilton, I should use this as accommodation for future
Westland's visits, no more rate 1's. Well I had to go and try this arrangement out and see if it
posed any problems. Arrived for one such meeting and booked myself into RNAS Yeovilton,
only to find out that as I was just a mere Sgt, and the equivalent naval rank was Petty Officer,
that is where I was billeted, a basic rating block, even having to collect my own bedding on
the way. If I had been a Chief Tech then I would have been afforded the equivalent of Sgts
Mess accommodation. On my return to Swanton Morley, I requested a word with my flight
Commander and handed him a neatly typed account of my experience at Yeovilton,
explaining that as I was a Sgt and entitled to appropriate accommodation, i.e. Sgts Mess. and
felt this was not good enough, and requested that any future visits to Westland's was as
before, B&B. Low and behold I managed to win that argument and the status quo was
reinstated. My mate Al might have had some input on this decision, but never did find out.
Both the Helicopters and AWACS projects were to see my time out in the RAF, not a posting
I would have chosen for myself, but nonetheless reasonably enjoyable, and I certainly learnt a
hell of a lot about provisioning and gained a lot of friends in the process. My last year or so,
saw me being deployed as a Guard Commander, station duty with work on the gate alongside
the RAF Police, armed guard duty at this time of heightened security alert from the IRA,
routine load and unload of live rounds was second nature back then. Also was employed for a
week at RAF Ely Hospital in Cambridgeshire, responsible for a team of guards on the
hospital gate, excellent mess there, with personal menu's filled in each day, memorable for
lots of reasons. But now in 1992 it was time to think, resettlement and what courses could I
make use of for demob and back to Civvy Street. There were lots of seminars I attended,
mainly down London, but it seemed if you did not want to be a security guard or work for
BAE in Saudi, then the choice was very limited. Not only that, but in these days, there were
no RAF certificates that equated to anything outside at all, not even NVQ's, so nothing there
for me. In the end I made the decision to continue my computer skills gained at work, by
attending a month’s course in Essex, where I gained lots of City& Guilds qualifications for
my efforts, stayed down Essex at a B&B which I had a hard time convincing my Education
Officer was the only course of its type available, but got her signature on the paperwork in
the end.
Earlier during my time at Swanton Morley, I got myself signed up for a year’s day release at
Norwich City College, doing Technical Authorship, and Technical Writing, a brilliant course
with practical work as well, really enjoyed the course and came out with another bunch of
City and Guilds certificates.
Completed this course in July 1991, a good experience being educated at a non military
establishment was novel, and break from pounding a desk for one day a week. The students
Union bar was also good value. Still had no idea what I really wanted to do when I was
demobbed. Now it was time to find out all about monetary matters, what to do with my
pension and gratuity, the accounts department worked it all out for me, and the matter was
discussed with my wife before making any decision to which direction we would take. My
full military pension was not actually payable till age 55, and I was being released at age 48,
so 7 years to wait for that full pension. I won't go into detail here, but we chose the best
package available at the time.
Now to think about 10th January 1993, my last day in the RAF, bearing in mind my wife had
a job down here in Norwich, and would have to apply for yet another transfer back to
Lincolnshire, my son was in the process of moving back to Lincolnshire as he had just got
himself a job back home, so he moved into our own house back in Louth, and my wife started
looking for accommodation, somewhere nearer Norwich, till a transfer to Lincolnshire was
available. This turned out to be a few years before a suitable transfer came her way. Looking
at my chuff chart at work, the days were flying by now and putting my house in order was the
order of play. Handed all my work projects over to the guy who was to be my replacement
and made sure he had all the introductions to the right folks. Managed to fit in a few weeks
leave to sort things out back in Louth and ask around about what type of jobs were available
to me, the answer was not a lot to be honest, fine if you were into caring, or a farm worker,
but techie wise, nothing apparent.
The final round up and my final piss up was held in the Rugby Club at Swanton, a few mates
attended, but due to the nature of the work, half of them were on the road somewhere, got
presented with a enormous crystal brandy glass, engraved with the dates I was in the mob, a
glass that still survives today. Job done, work finished and a month’s resettlement leave to
play with, lots to do, my mind was in a somewhat confused state by now, this is the final act
and I felt utterly depressed for the first time in my life, not knowing what the future would
hold, out of my comfort zone after 22 years of ordered confusion and still years of work left
till retirement.
The final part of the play, saw me having an interview with my Station Commander, this was
compulsory and where he got to say his thank you to me for all my sterling work over the
years, a handshake and presentation of my 22 years in a blue plastic A5 booklet that was very
concise to say the least. Last but not least my final visit to SHQ to collect all my paperwork
and discharge documents and the final insult if not realisation that I was actually very near to
being a mister, they took my ID Card, Form 1250 from me and issued me with a Station
temporary pass, required as I still had my married quarter to hand over.
1993
By now my wife had moved into a flat in Norwich and my son ensconced in my house back
in Louth. I was busy preparing our married quarter for hand over and arranging for our
household effects to be moved back home, boxes to pack, appliances disconnected and
loaded on to the removal van and gone. One more night in this now empty quarter faced me
after all the cleaning of what was left, my wife had come back from Norwich to help out with
this chore, and was extremely grateful for it too. Early rise, Barrack Warden on the doorstep
along with the families officer, took approximately half an hour and that was it now, no house
key, only armed with my temporary pass, I sat in my fully laden car, cleaning materials from
the night before and after what seemed like an eternity, started the engine and departed RAF
Swanton Morley with sad heart and a feeling of being lost, watched in my rear view the
Station Gates diminish till they were no longer visible.
Hello Mr Evans and goodbye RAF, 22 years of my life gone just like that, so swiftly it was
unreal and continued to play on my mind for months after. So cold and clinical an end to a
career. Would I do it all over again, yes I would, thoroughly enjoyed the rough with the
smooth and gained such a lot in many ways. I still keep in touch with anything Lightning and
was so glad to have had the opportunity to work with the finest bunch of people at RAF
Binbrook, which was my favourite station. I am still in touch with a few guys from these
heady days back in 79-85, each one has much the same memories and fondness for the
Lightning.
As it is now, I have had full employment since leaving the RAF and retired from work
December 2009. I still have my memories of the good old days, and reasonable health
thankfully. My interest in Lightnings still continues with regular visits to Bruntingthorpe
Airfield in Leicester where the Lightning Preservation Group have a Q Shed and 2 Lightnings
which still do fast taxi runs throughout the year.
Hope you found this account a worthwhile read and would appreciate and email to let me
know your views.
Kind Regards David