I thought it might be nice to create a thread where one could remember with some fondness ones own times in the ATC or similar or even Armed Forces. A bit less negative than the thread about what we are no longer allowed to do and maybe a bit of an eye opener to some!
I hope this will be well received and produce some interesting and amusing stories.
Reminiscing about singing on any coach trip or march etc and sharing stories about The Mayor of Bayswater’s daughter - or, an Engineer who confided in me, before he died, about the creation he made for his wife… and thinking these “stories” were brilliant!
I was in a boarding school squadron, long disbanded or rather incorporated into a CCF unit. It was 641 Squadron part of the Gloucester Wing and therefore part of the South West Region. There was a choice to be made between Scouts and the ATC so having started in the Scouts I quickly realised that cadets did lots of exciting things like Gliding, Flying and Shooting with the downside of having to wear an uniform and do some square bashing which non cadets used to rib us about but similarly the last laugh was on us going flying etc.
The CO was the A level French teacher and my Housemaster. The No2 was what one would call a Civilian Instructor who one imagined had an Army background as he was a weapons and drill expert as well as being the A level Chemistry teacher. I can remember him teaching us how to strip a deactivated Bren gun we had and a Browning machine gun out of a WW11 fighter. Drill was with deactivated .303 rifles. Every year at the Annual Inspection we would put on a flight of Exhibition Drill incorporating marching, parade ground formation and conducting rifles moves on the march like changing shoulders in perfect time amongst other moves long forgotten.
I remember doing my D of E with some mates in the Forrest of Dean and it poured with rain for the whole weekend. When we asked a farmer for permission to set up camp he insisted we pitched our tent within the barn to get some relief from the weather!
I only went gliding once which I think was at South Cerney but flying in Chipmunks I seem to remember was about once a term from the University Squadron at Bristol based at Filton. We used to have to strap into parachutes then waddle out to the aircraft doubled up and then climb in being careful to only step on the black patches thus avoiding the weaker wing fabric. I used to love aerobatics. That feeling when you get to the top of the loop and you drop a bit out of your seat to be held by the straps on your shoulders holding you in.
With the British Aircraft Corporation at Bristol we had a visit to see Concorde being built and went inside the full sized design replica that they had. The cockpit was tiny for a three seat flight crew and the mass of dials, switches and controls was mind blowing.
I remember visiting RAF Lyneham and a group of us cadets getting told off by some serviceman who got us formed up and marched us off to where we were supposed to going.
We had a Merlin engine with display cut outs in a covered store and we made a poor effort to try and tidy it up as we did not have the right tools. Evidently all the nuts and bolts were an odd size to make it more difficult for the Germans to investigate if they got their hands on one. An appeal came out from a group of RAF Engineering Apprentices who were looking for one and we gave it up and they made an amazing job of doing it up and it looked like new from the photos we saw later.
We used to do night exercises on the hills in the Cotswolds with Invaders trying to get to a target defended by the Defending force. Exciting and sometimes frightening for youngsters out in the dark listening to all the noises in the dark trying to decide if it was attackers or defenders or just birds or animals or branches, twigs and leaves blowing in the wind etc.
The highlight for me was in my final year when the handful of leavers were taken to RAF Little Rissington and we each had a flight in a Jet Provost, the RAF jet trainer of the time. The G force was impressive when we descended to circle the treetops of the farmhouse where my pilot lived and he told me to wave when his wife came out and waved to us! Naturally I was sworn to secrecy about that at the time.
I tried for a Flying Scholarship which meant staying at Biggin Hill with a load of other applicants from around the country in the winter. It was very very cold but our dormitory was roasting hot even with all the windows wide open. We had physicals, medicals, exams and aptitude tests and I evidently passed everything but failed as I was overweight and always have been!
Another memorable weekend has just come back to mind when we were collected by the Gloucester or was it Wessex TA and trucked down to Pilning Down, Aust where the Severn bridges are nowadays but before their time in the late 1960’s. It was an Army Camp but only occupied when the ranges were in use. We were to man the butts and operate the targets for the TA to do their shooting practice. This involved raising and lowering the target frames, patching the holes and pointing the shot holes out to the shooters with triangular pointers and then they tried to hit the pointers whilst we were showing the shot holes.
We had a cracking roast beef dinner on Saturday night, failed miserably trying to find a pub and walking miles before giving up. Then as we got into bed the TA Cook/Chef came around and gave us all bread and dripping from the roasting pans.
Sunday was the best though as we got to do the shooting with the TA operating the Butts. The SLR was the army rifle at the time but we also got to shoot Brens and GPMG’s at 3 or 4 hundred yards. I can vividly remember the RSM shouting at us to keep the rifle barrels down as he didn’t want one of us putting a shot over the top of the stop butts which someone had evidently done in the past and hit a double decker bus on the other side of the River Severn in Chepstow!
We even had a go on the short range with a Stirling sub-machine gun and the Officer’s 9mm Browning semi-auto pistol.
Exciting stuff for a teenager!
Another day out was to the Army Artillery ranges at Larkhill on Salisbury Plain. We de-bussed at the base and were transported out onto the ranges in an Alvis Stalwart 6 wheel drive amphibious truck which they usually used to transport the boxes of artillery shells out onto the range. This thing could evidently go forwards or backwards at 40mph! As I was the Flight Serjeant at the time I got to sit in the passenger “armchair” next to the driver which must have been air sprung. The rest of the cadets in the back got bumped around like peas in the back as we drove out over the plain to where the firing was taking place.
After watching and firing we each got a ride in the Army Bell spotter helicopter over the hill to see where the shells were landing on the other side and the pilot did a few moves which made the flight exhilarating.
A SMLE (Lee Enfield), Llyd Ranges in Kent, a summer’s day and seemingly unlimited .303 ammo.
Altcar ranges, see cadets teaching TA PARA’s how to use an SMLE and the look of shock on their faces when they fired them.
For me, the first flight ever at annual camp in a Chipmunk in the late afternoon at RAF Macrihannish in 1973.
This is a copy of my Dad’s letter to Aeroplane which won the letter of the month prize at least 20 odd years ago - his prize was 36 500ml bottles of Shepherd Neame’s Spitfire Ale and I don’t remember him letting me try any of it! The letter was headed up
Beaufighter Booze Cruises
“On 23 April 1944 I was detailed to deliver Spitfire, MH553, from our base at Kilo 40, on the desert road to Alexandria to Mersa Matruh. Having handed over my charge, I asked Control if there was anything going back to Cairo. “ Yes, one of your chaps Flt Sgt Drinkwater is taking a Beaufighter back to Kilo 40 at 8am. Be there and you’ll be on your way”. So I was there.
A very scruffy man appeared “You Beard? Get in and we’ll be on our way.” I followed him up the ladder and, as directed, sat on the main spar behind him. I noticed he began to sweat a bit and a very strong smell started to fill the cockpit - and it suddenly dawned on me that we were in a pub or brewery. The closer the take-off approached the more Joe poured out sweat, and he seemed to shake a fair bit. However we took off successfully and landed safely at the other end.
Later I discovered he had developed a drink problem after receipt of a Dear John letter from his wife who had left him, he never recovered, finding solace in drink. Nevertheless he was always pleasant , but always far from immaculate. Before any of us could go for a day to Cairo we had to appear before the CO and it was always “Flt Sgt Drinkwater, you are a so-and-so disgrace - get smart and you may go!”
On May 7th 1945 someone decided I should convert on to Beaufighters which was completed after 11 hours, and I subsequently ferried 3 Beaus back from Nicosia to Heliopolis; but the important one was the fourth. On September 18th NV486 had to be brought back to Kilo 40. We went to Nicosia in a Baltimore loaded with 3 barrels, one for 6 gallons, one for 12 gallons and one for 18 gallons. Airmen’s mess, sergeant’s mess and officer’s mess respectively. Strict protocol. Once there I had to visit various bodegas in Famagusta to find the best 3 Star Brandy for the best price - which was £1 per gallon - and bring it back to Kilo 40 in the Beau.
In the sergeant’s mess it was sold at a piastre a tot or £1 a bottle and this was poor Joe’s undoing. He would often have 2 bottles in an evening and then try running up the roofs of people’s tents, causing mayhem!
In 1947 I was sitting in the Marine Hotel in Sidmouth having a Pimms with my fiancee when I heard a shout of “Wey Hey!” from the public bar. It could only be one person - Joe Drinkwater. I asked the landlord and yes it was. He was round in a flash and insisted on giving my intended a big wet beery kiss. He was there on his travels. He was a traveller in Belgian-produced cushion and curtain materials, which he carried in an Austin 16 saloon.
The story has a sad ending because not long afterwards I asked after him again but he had died. He had been on one of his sprees and tripped over a doorstep, fallen and broken his neck.
Beaus did several trips like that, but Heliopolis was out of bounds for those landings!
And his name was not really Joe Drinkwater!
Denzel Beard