Robert Storey – No 1 Radio School Royal Air Force Locking PDF Free Download
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Robert Storey – No 1 Radio School Royal Air Force Locking
After I left College at Chesterfield in June 1961 I started to make my plans to
join the Royal Air Force. My first step was to go to the Royal Air Force
recruitment centre in Sheffield to apply to join the RAF as an Aircraft
Apprentice. This was followed by my initial interview and medical check-up.
To qualify as an RAF Apprentice I had to sit an entrance exam as my GCE results
would come through too late to exempt me from having to take the entrance
exam. This was held at Clay Cross School and entailed three exam papers,
Maths, English Language and Physics.
A few weeks later I learned that I was successful in the entrance exam and that
I now had to attend two days of medical examinations, assessment tests and
interviews at RAF Cardington in Bedfordshire. By the time I had finished all the
tests and interviews I was a nervous wreck, but thankfully I must have ticked all
the correct boxes, as I was offered a three year apprenticeship as a prospective
Radar or Radio Fitter and I was to travel down to Weston Super Mare in
Somerset, to start my apprenticeship on 21st September 1961.
Those two months in the Summer of 1961 seemed to drag on for an eternity. All
I wanted to do now was to start my new life and become an apprentice in the
Royal Air Force and eventually become a fighter pilot like all my ‘Battle of
Britain’ heroes.
I set off from home in the early morning of Wednesday 20th September 1961,
dressed in my smartest clothes and freshly polished shoes and armed with my
railway travel warrant and caught the bus to take me to Derby and the start of
my new life.
I’m not sure whether my Mam and Dad were glad to see the back of me now
that I was leaving home, or were sad to see their second son flying the nest.
I caught the train for Bristol at Derby railway station and then at Bristol
I changed platforms and caught the train that would take me to Weston Super
Mare.
1
There were a few nervous faces on the same train and inevitably I struck up a
conversation with two young boys, Trevor Williams and Martin Wilbraham,
who were also heading for RAF Locking.
At Weston Super Mare railway station we were met on the platform by a stern
faced RAF corporal, who directed us to an RAF bus waiting outside the station.
From the railway station the bus took us to RAF Locking, where a reception
committee of apprentice NCOs were waiting to direct us to our allotted billets
in a large block of wooden accommodation buildings.
I was directed to hut 316 and the Leading Apprentice in charge of the room,
LAA Pete Crowe allotted me a bed space and left me to introduce myself to the
other eager recruits.
I was now a member of the 99th Entry of Apprentices at the RAF No. 1 Radio
School at RAF Locking and my home for the foreseeable future was in the
wooden accommodation billets of C Squadron.
The first part of introduction to RAF life was to change from our civilian clothes
into a drab pair of green overalls, the first stage of removing our individual
identity and reducing all the new recruits to the same level of anonymity.
The next two days were taken up with introduction lectures, the issuing of
uniforms and other strange items of seemingly vital pieces of service
equipment: shoe brushes, nail brush, button stick, white china mug,’ eating
irons’ and then, finally on Friday the 22nd September we all marched to the
NAAFI canteen to be formally inducted into the Royal Air Force and just to
prove that we were now part of the RAF we had our allotted service number
stamped on our hand. ‘Remember that number lad’.’That is you for the rest of
your service life’. I then had to hold up my right hand and pledge allegiance to
God, Queen and Country. That was it. I was now a number and a loyal servant
of God, Queen Elizabeth the second and Great Britain.
On the 22nd September 1961 there were a total of 202 nervous recruits inducted
into the 99th Entry of Aircraft Apprentices.
2
Quite a few fell by the wayside during the following three years, some
discharged by purchase, some medically discharged, some joined the 100th
Entry after illness and some were found to be totally unsuited to technical
trades and some even totally unsuited to a military life. We also gained one
apprentice from the 98th Entry (Graham Sargent) after illness.
I suppose the following few weeks were driven by a mixture of fear and
enthusiasm as our collective time was given over to marching and ‘bull’.
We would spend a large part of the day on hands and knees polishing floors,
sat on our beds polishing badges, buttons, buckles and ‘bulling’ boots, followed
by endless marching expeditions round and round the roads of RAF Locking.
I had had an introduction to the world of cleaning, polishing and marching in
my two years with the Air Training Corps, but this was major league cleaning,
polishing and marching. This was serious stuff and seriously knackering!
The marching did have its lighter side though, as some of my fellow recruits
were sadly lacking in co-ordination and instead of swinging the left arm with
the right leg, they would persist in swinging the left arm with the left leg.
Absolutely hilarious to watch, but as we all had to keep marching until the
clowns got it right, the joke wore thin quite quickly. Once we were all kitted out
in our immaculately shiny and clean uniforms we were herded into number 3
training block to have our official 99th Entry photograph taken, along with our
Commanding Officer, Flight Lieutenant King.
3
Now that we were fully signed up members of the Royal Air Force we eagerly
awaited our first pay day. As I was now aged 17, I was entitled to the princely
sum of £3 - 13 shillings and 6 pence a week, of which I was paid £2 - 10
shillings, the rest of the money (£1 – 3 shillings and 6 pence) either paid into my
Post Office Savings Account, National Insurance contribution, or held in credit
for when we eventually went on leave. I suppose that I was one of the lucky
ones, as the pay for anyone under 17 was only £2 – 2 shillings a week.
I still have my last pay slip from RAF Locking when I was still an Aircraft
Apprentice and that had risen to the princely sum of £7 – 17 shillings and 6
pence a week. Pay Parade was held once a week and we all had to queue up in
uniform and when my name was called I would take two paces forward, call
‘Sir’ and then call out the last three numbers of my service number, salute and
then step up to the pay table and collect my cash.
One of the most demeaning aspects of being a ‘Sprog’ (a new recruit), was the
practise of ‘Sprog Bashing’. I suppose this was a throwback from public school
life, where the new boys or ‘Fags’ would be used to run errands and be used for
tedious tasks. In our case it was a definite case of bullying, with a definite
threat of violence if the tasks weren’t completed.
The NCO apprentices in charge of the rooms would also turn a blind eye to the
sprog bashing as it was recognised as a ‘rite of passage’ that all apprentices
would have to go through. One of the most blatant cases would regularly be
carried out by the 92nd Entry, which was one of our senior entries.
The normal practise at the end of a working day at classes in the technical
blocks was that we should form up outside the technical block and be marched
back to our barrack block by an apprentice NCO.
On the way to the barrack blocks the apprentice NCO was relieved of his
command by a 92nd Entry apprentice and we were marched, as an entire flight,
into the 92nd Entry billets where we were tasked with sweeping the floors,
cleaning their kit and generally doing all the tedious jobs that they should be
carrying out. 4
As this ‘kidnapping’ was being sanctioned by apprentice NCOs, the threat was
that unless we carried out the requests we would face a charge of disobeying
orders, or alternatively we would be taken to somewhere quiet and given a
good kicking. This was blatant bullying, but as this was a tradition that had
been carried out for quite a few years, a blind eye was turned to the practise.
Thankfully, when we became a senior entry two years later the practise had
been stamped out and anyone caught trying to revive the practise would find
themselves on a charge and living in the guardroom for a few days.
Another aspect of ‘sprog bashing’ was the midnight raids. Again, in our case it
was the 92nd entry who found it great fun to raid our billets after ‘lights out’ at
10pm.
The door to the billet would burst open and the raiders would sweep through
the billet upending all the beds and then leave as swiftly as they entered.
It’s amazing that serious injuries weren’t inflicted, but I suppose the blankets
and mattress cushioned the poor unfortunate ‘sprog’ from suffering any broken
limbs.
Once again, the apprentice NCO in charge of the room would conveniently turn
a blind eye to the proceedings, so protesting was useless. We would just
remake our beds and try to get back to sleep, generally for a while with one eye
open, waiting for the next raiding party.
As well as the general round of drill practise, cleaning and polishing, we also
had to confront the task of learning to be Radio and Radar fitters and get to
grips with new words, like superheterodynes and megacycles.
Classes in the technical blocks would start at 8am and finish at 5pm – but as
this was a military training establishment the day had to start with a parade
and inspection. The parade and inspection would commence outside the billets
at 07.30 and the Flight Sergeant would run his beady eye over each one of us in
turn, his eyes flashing left and right and up and down like an anti aircraft gun.
Shiny buttons, shiny badges, polished shoes and of course the obligatory
haircut. 5
Naturally, something would be found to be out of order and then the order to
rectify the problem and report to the Squadron Office after classes, to be
inspected once again.
My classic tale of morning parade and inspection I still find amusing. Flight
Sergeant Pollard was holding the inspection that particular morning and was
going down the line pulling up each individual for some minor infringement and
then he got to me. ‘Have you had a shave this morning Storey’? ‘No Flight
Sergeant, I don’t shave yet’. He looked me straight in the eyes and said ‘You do
now lad’! ‘Get back to the wash room, get a shave and report back here in 10
minutes’! So from that day on, I started shaving – whether I needed to or not.
We were only in our initial billets for about two weeks. We were then allotted
our training classes and respective billets. I was allocated class 99F and was
moved, along with my new class mates into billet number 323.
Soon after moving into our new billets, we settled into a busy routine and
attempted to balance trade training with service ‘bull’.
Before we left the billet for working parade each morning, we had to sweep our
bed space then make up our bedding into a blanket pack. Two members of the
billet would be detailed as ‘stay behinds’ and they would sweep and polish the
centre of the room before they too would join the working parade and march
down to the technical blocks.
In the evenings, after we had been marched back from classes and had our
evening meal, it was more ‘bull’. The beds and lockers would all be moved to
one side of the room. The billet floor was then swept and polished, initially on
hands and knees and then using a long handled ‘bumper’, which was swung
back and forth continuously until a high gloss to the floor was achieved. When
that side of the room was gleaming, the beds and lockers were ‘carefully’
moved to the other side of the room and the process was repeated. Then when
the beds and lockers were back to their original places, the centre of the room
got the same treatment until the floor shone like a mirror.
6
Once the floor polishing was finished we could concentrate on cleaning and
polishing our own kit ready for the evening inspection which was usually
carried out by the apprentice NCOs. Once this was successfully completed we
would then have to carry out our allotted ‘room jobs’. My ‘room job’ was to
clean the room of the corporal apprentice, who had a room of his own at the
end of the billet. I suppose that it could have been worse, as someone had to
clean the toilets, the bathrooms or the showers. The corporal apprentice,
‘Gladys’ Evans, from the 93rd Entry, was pretty lenient, so the room job was not
a big problem. I met ‘Gladys’ a few years later when he was a Flight Lieutenant
navigator flying Canberras with 249 Squadron in Cyprus.
Evening kit inspections could be very unpredictable. There was always
something that didn’t come up to scratch and had to be cleaned or polished
once again. One of the nastier tricks was to find fault with the person’s china
drinking mug. Many mugs were smashed against the end of the metal bed, or
the mug would be placed upside down on the end of a ‘bumper’ handle and
when the grip on the handle was released the handle and mug would start to
fall. If the owner of the mug could catch it before it fell to the floor and
shattered, he could keep the mug. Needless to say, the owner was always too
slow to save the mug and he would have to take a trip to the NAAFI to buy a
new one.
During the first two months of our apprenticeship we lost nine of our Entry for
various reasons. Seven apprentices bought themselves out and two were
transferred to the apprentice school at RAF Halton to take up a different trade.
The lad in the next bed to me in hut 323 was called Trevor Mills and came from
Southend in Essex. He used to regale me with tales about him and his ‘hard
men’ mates having riotous weekends swaggering along Southend pier, the
longest pier in Britain, or taking over the rides at the ‘Kursaal’, the famous fun
fair in Southend. Each night, after ‘lights out’ I could hear him sobbing his heart
out and calling for his mother. He lasted until the half term break in October
and we never saw him again.
7
During my first term in 1961 I was approached by the ‘C’ Squadron Office and
asked if I was interested in joining the RAF Locking Voluntary Brass Band, as it
was on my documents that I had been a member of a Brass Band before joining
the RAF. I thought that it would be good to carry on with my music so I became
a member of the Voluntary Band. From then on I was badgered by the Band
Master to join the Pipe Drum and Trumpet Band and live in the Band
accommodation block. I resisted constant requests from the Band Master, but
eventually agreed and moved into the Band Block sometime in late 1962. So
not only was I learning Radio and Radar every weekday, I was now a cornet
player with the Brass Band and a trumpet player with the Pipe, Drum and
Trumpet Band, or the Tripe, Bum and Crumpet Band as it was usually called.
During our first two terms at RAF Locking we weren’t allowed any civilian
clothes at all. Whenever we were allowed out into Weston Super Mare at
weekends we had to be dressed in our No. 1 dress (best blue). This was initially
a novelty, but quickly became an annoyance as we stuck out like a sore thumb
and of course weren’t able to nip into any pubs for a refreshing beer.
After the second term, Easter 1962, we were allowed civilian dress, but it had
to be a double breasted navy blue blazer with silver buttons and a No.1 Radio
School badge or an RAF badge, an RAF tie, grey flannel trousers, white shirt and
black shoes. So we still stuck out like sore thumbs, although it was now a bit
easier to visit remote pubs and get a drink.
It wasn’t until our last year that we were allowed to wear lounge suits, as long
as they were of a ‘conservative style and colour’. Then again, all rules were
there to be broken, so in the last year we did bend the rules to include the latest
fashions. My idea of fashion and ‘cool’ was my grey fleck Italian jacket, grey
Italian trousers with 16 inch bottoms and ‘winkle picker’ Chelsea boots.
8
During our first year at Locking, drinking in pubs around Weston was fraught
with problems and the danger of being caught drinking, certainly in uniform,
carried the threat of being put on a charge. Most of us were underage as well,
so a certain amount of cunning was needed to find somewhere to drink without
finding ourselves on ‘jankers’. The hut 323 solution to the problem was to
either go to Yatton on the train or to Congresbury on the bus. This took us far
enough away from Locking so that we could drink without the fear of being
caught. There was a small pub in the village of Congresbury with a bar which
looked like someone’s back parlour, where you could buy a pint of scrumpy for
10d (around 5p in 2013 prices) and considering that three pints of scrumpy
could seriously affect your eye sight, a Saturday night drinking in Congresbury
was a cheap night out.
The other favoured venue was the Railway Inn in Yatton, close to the railway
station, so we could easily get a train between Weston Milton station and
Yatton and the walk back to camp from Weston Milton station would always
sober us up for getting back into camp safely.
One Saturday evening four of us, Marty Thompson, Dave Deronal, Ug Bowie
and myself had gone to Congresbury on the bus. We went to the scrumpy pub
and eventually after our regular intake of three pints, we decided to head back
to camp on the bus. We would get off the bus at Locking Road then walk the
two miles from there to camp. Ug Bowie decided that rather than waste money
on the bus, he would thumb a lift back into Weston. The next time we saw him
was about an hour after we had got back to the billet. He had got a lift on the
back of a motorbike, but as he was under the influence of 3 pints of scrumpy,
he fell off the bike and ended up in a hedge bottom. The rider of the bike
decided that he wasn’t going to risk going back to see how Ug was and left him
battered and bruised in the hedge bottom. Thankfully Ug wasn’t badly injured,
but he carried the scars for a while after that. In future he always caught the
bus back to Locking Road with the rest of us.
9
Occasionally, a few of us would venture further for our Saturday nights
entertainment and get the train in to Bristol. Our favourite drinking spot was
the ’10 Bars’ in Bristol’s Old City. These were either old pubs, or cellar bars, all
belonging to Harvey’s, the sherry producing company. These ‘Wine Bars’ in
1962 were a far cry from the ‘Wine Bars’ of modern times. They were scruffy,
dark and dingy places, but with terrific character and whose main function was
to dispense the large varieties of sherry imported by Harvey’s. I had never
drunk sherry before, but if that was the main ‘tipple’ on sale, then I was up for
it. Usually, the first port of call was the LLandoger Trow in King’s Street, one of
the earliest pubs in Bristol, and reputed to be the inspiration for the ‘Admiral
Benbow’ in Robert Louis Stephenson’s book, ‘Treasure Island’.
.
It was now a ‘Bernie Inn’ and what we needed wasn’t a slice of literature, it
was a slice of fillet steak with all the trimmings before an expedition round as
many of the 10 bars that we could manage.
I think that at that time ‘The Rummer’ was also a pub and steak restaurant
which we used occasionally as a start of our bar crawl. ‘The Rummer’ was
reputedly the destination of the first stagecoach from London to Bristol back in
the 18th century, so it was a seriously old pub. Although we found the history of
these wonderful places very interesting, the order of the day was to drink in as
many of the bars as we could before we had to catch the train later in the
evening. Thankfully all of the 10 bars were located in the same area of the Old
City, so we didn’t have far to walk between bars. The furthest we would have to
walk was back to Temple Meads station to catch the train back to Weston after
our drinking marathon, then the two miles from Weston Milton station to
camp.
10
On the 10th May 1962 our class was detailed to take part in a canoeing
expedition in Weston Bay, which would be part of our adventure training.
Around ten of us set off from Anchor Head in two man canoes with the object
of crossing Weston Bay and landing at Brean Down some time later. We were
dressed in our green denim overalls and plimsolls and a lifejacket. The sea was
quite choppy and it looked as if the trip was going to be quite challenging. We
were supervised by a corporal physical training instructor who insisted that
everything would be fine and we would have a great time.
I was in a canoe with my friend Hugh Moore and knew as soon as we launched
the canoe that we were going to have a difficult time. Two of the canoes
capsized as soon as they launched and the four occupants had great difficulty
swimming back to shore as the tide was trying to drag them away from shore.
Hughie and I got as far as the Marine Lake and Knightstone Pier before we
were capsized and thrown into the water. We abandoned the canoe and
attempted to swim for the rocks at Knightstone Pier but the tide kept dragging
us away from the shore. Just to make matters even worse, the sluice for the
Marine Lake had been opened and water was gushing out from the lake just
where we were trying to land. It took a lot of effort and hard swimming, but we
eventually scrambled onto the rocks at Knightstone Pier. Just to add to our
desperate fight for survival, the corporal training instructor was stood on the
walkway at the side of the Marine Lake shouting at us and urging us to swim
harder. No thanks to him we survived, which is more that can be said about the
canoe, which was smashed to matchwood on the rocks.
Only one canoe managed to reach Brean Down. The rest of the canoes capsized
and all the occupants managed to swim and scramble ashore. The Weston
lifeboat on Birnbeck Island was alerted, but for some reason was never
launched. The corporal PTI was given a ‘dressing down’ when we returned to
Locking, but the whole affair was hushed up and promptly forgotten, even
though a photo and article appeared in the Weston Mercury newspaper.
11
The article only mentioned two canoeists, Dave Deronnel and Dave Scott
Douglas – no mention of the rest of the bedraggled swimmers. At least we
were thankful that nobody drowned!
The culmination of our first year training was the dreaded RP1 examination,
which tested our knowledge gained, or not gained, during our Radio Principles
classes during the preceding year. I remember that the exam was a real
‘stinker’ which I along with 50 % of the Entry failed miserably. After the result
an inquiry was set up as to how half of the boys sitting the exam could fail it. I
could have told them – it was too bloody hard! The same conclusion was finally
reached by the Education Officers and a week later the Entry marched down to
No.3 Technical Block to re-sit the exam. Thankfully I passed the second exam
along with the great majority of the Entry and an abrupt end to our dreams of
a career in the Royal Air Force was avoided.
With the final results of our education and technical training completed for our
first year of training, we were asked which branch of the Radio and Radar
trades we wished to take. As I was still an avid aircraft enthusiast I applied for a
place to train as an Aircraft Radar (Bomber) Fitter. I was then allocated a place
in class 99AB3 and as long as I was successful in all my exams in the next two
years I would get to be an aircraft radar fitter working on the new V Bombers
now entering RAF service, as well as the TSR2 tactical strike bomber which was
due to enter service in the next few years. (Unfortunately TSR2 was cancelled
by the Labour Government on the 6th April 1965, so I never did get to work
on it).
Soon after the RP1 exam, in June of 1962, the 99th Entry went on their Summer
camp to South Devon for two weeks.
The main camp was at a former RAF Medical Rehabilitation Centre at Collaton
Cross near Plymouth. Our accommodation was in four man tents away from
the main camp, with communal messing facilities and communal latrines.
I remember the latrines well, as we could answer the call of nature and chat to
another five fellow crappers at the same time. All very cosy!
12
The highlight of the two week Summer camp was the three day expedition
across Dartmoor. We were split into groups of six and given our own food
supplies, maps and compass and given a destination to head for each day.
We were dropped off on the first day at Shipley Bridge to the West of
Buckfastleigh in Devon, with instructions to head for our first camp at
Powdermill Farm, a former 19th century gunpowder factory close to Postbridge
in the middle of Dartmoor.
Although the direct distance from Shipley Bridge to Powdermill Farm is only
around 10 miles, the country is very difficult with many areas of boggy land, so
we had to be extra careful not to stray into the middle of any dangerous boggy
areas. We had all read ‘The Hound of the Baskervilles’ by Sir Arthur Conan
Doyle, so we were anxious to get to Powdermill Farm well before dark before
the hound appeared and ripped us to pieces!
After a well earned rest and sleep, we were up early for the next phase of the
expedition. That entailed a five mile hike to the Royal Marines training area at
Cramber Tor, South West of Princetown, where we were given escape and
evasion training, as well as rock climbing and abseiling on nearby cliffs. It was a
long and exhausting day but very enjoyable and once again we collapsed
exhausted into our tents in the late evening for a well earned rest and sleep.
The third day of our expedition entailed a 10 mile hike across the moor to the
military firing range at Willsworthy, near Mary Tavy on the Western edge of
Dartmoor. The hike across the moor was once again tiring but uneventful and
we arrived at our destination in time for a well earned evening meal. We
camped that evening at Willsworthy and after another early rise and an
excellent breakfast, the next day was taken up with armament training on the
firing ranges. This was an excellent opportunity to gain our marksmanship
badge on the Lee Enfield .303 rifle and the Bren light machine gun.
13
After an interesting and challenging three days on Dartmoor we boarded an
RAF three ton truck in the afternoon and returned to Collaton Cross for another
well earned rest.
Another one of our interesting expeditions was a canoeing expedition from
Newton Ferrers, along the Yealm Estuary and out across Wembury Bay. This
was my first visit to this area of Devon and I was struck by the beauty of the
whole area. We had expected Wembury Bay to be difficult to canoe across as it
was open sea, but the sea was flat calm and the whole trip was a brilliant
experience.
We had one day of rest and relaxation during the Summer Camp and for this
we were taken by RAF 3 ton truck on the 19th June to the nearby resort of
Bigbury On Sea. Although the weather was warm and sunny, there was a
strong wind and the sea was very rough, which prevented the less adventurous
of us from venturing into the waves. This didn’t seem to stop many of the
holidaymakers on the beach. One 14 year old girl had ventured into the sea and
had strayed too far from the beach and got into difficulties, with the tide trying
to sweep her further away from the beach. She could be heard screaming that
she couldn’t swim and needed help.
Three of the Entry, Terry Still, Dickie Sharp and Mick Trim saw what was
happening and plunged into the water and swam out and reached her, but due
to the strong current and undertow they had great difficulty getting back to
shore. By this time a boat had been launched and although the sea state made
rowing difficult, it eventually reached the girl who was safely bundled into the
boat. Meanwhile the girl’s father had also tried to swim out to save his
daughter and he also got into difficulties and eventually he was also bundled
into the boat.
14
Terry, Dickie and Mick clung on to the boat as it was slowly rowed back to
shore and even though progress through the rough sea was slow, they all made
it back safely to the beach. For this act of selfless bravery, Terry, Dickie and
Mick were awarded a Royal Humane Society Bravery Award.
We had had a brilliant two weeks on the Summer camp and had learned many
new skills and thankfully the weather had been excellent with hot sunny days
and warm nights, but it was now time to head back to RAF Locking and look
forward to our first Summer leave at home.
After a very welcome six weeks ‘home leave’ I returned to RAF Locking in early
September and joined my new class, eager to learn all about aircraft radar
equipment. As well as learning radar theory, we started workshop practise
classes, learning how to use drills, files, soldering irons and other essential
items of equipment to turn pieces of metal and wire into works of art and
hopefully turn us all into skilled fitters. I thoroughly enjoyed workshop practise
and found that I was quite good at the practical side of our training rather than
the theory side of the training. Maybe I was destined to be a ‘doer’ rather than
a ‘thinker’ and never destined to become a rocket scientist!
I was now 18 years old and that meant that I was now entitled to a pay rise.
I would now receive a gross pay rate of £6 – 9 shillings and six pence per week.
From this vast sum of money I would receive £3 in cash at the pay table, with
53 shillings and 8 pence going into my POSBY (post office savings bank
account). I was also now paying 5 shillings and 3 pence income tax as well as 6
shillings and 1 penny a week in National Insurance contributions.
It was during this time towards the end of 1962 that the 99th Entry moved out
of the old wooden huts in ‘C’ Squadron lines into the new brick built barrack
blocks. I was now living in the Band block, which was called ‘Hawker’ (A3) block
and was also one of the new brick built barrack blocks.
As the 99th moved out of the wooden huts the bulldozers moved in and the old
wooden huts were slowly consigned to history.
The Winter of 1962/1963 was extremely cold with record snow fall during
January 1963.
15
As we were now fully skilled with sweeping brushes and shovels we were
tasked with ‘snow clearing’ in an attempt to keep the roads and footpaths of
RAF Locking clear of snow.
This was an admirable (and cold) task, but as soon as we cleared away the
snow, down it would come again and the roads and paths would be blocked
once more. The snow continued for most of January with record low
temperatures, but at least we were nice and snug in our new barrack blocks.
We couldn’t have been snowed in all of January 1963, as I recall that
Chris (CJ) King and myself, along with a few others from the Entry caught a
train to London on Saturday 26th January and went to the all night jazz festival
at Alexander Palace. We went fully equipped with blankets and food and plenty
of cans of beer in green sand bag sacks. What an excellent jazz festival, with all
the jazz bands of the time, Ball, Barber, Bilk, Monty Sunshine and the surprise
of the night was Sonny Boy Williamson, the Blues harmonica player who took
to the stage with Chris Barber and Ottilie Patterson.
As we were only on a 36 hour pass we had to be back at Locking for Sunday
evening, but what a memorable weekend!
One of the big problems with going away on a 36 hour pass to places like
Alexander Palace and later when we went to ‘all night’ jazz clubs in London,
was that we had to sign out at the guardroom in our normal civilian clothes of
blazer and flannels and somehow sneak out our casual clothes of jeans and
sweaters so that we could change on the train. We must have had a good
routine as we also had to book back into the guardroom on Sunday in our
blazer and flannels, but I have no memory of how we achieved it.
The ‘all night’ club that we normally went to in London in 1963 and 1964 was
Ken Colyers’ Jazz Club in Great Newport Street in Soho where George Melly was
the resident compere, but on two occasions we went to the ‘Flamingo Club’ in
Wardour Street in Soho where Georgie Fame and the Blue Flames were the
resident group.
16
Another excellent music venue that we went to in 1963 and 1964 was the Bath
Jazz Festival, which was held at the beginning of June each year, during the
Bath Music Festival. I’m sure that the Jazz concerts weren’t ‘all night’ affairs, so
we had to sleep on park benches after the concerts before getting the early
morning train back to Weston Super Mare.
I was never very sporting during my time at Locking, but we had to have a try
out for all sports and athletic events. I had a try out at pole vaulting as I
thought that I might be good at it. In those days the poles were wooden and
appeared very sturdy. My first try ended with the pole jammed in the ‘slot’ in
the ground. My second attempt was even worse as the pole jammed in the slot
and then as I tried to take off, the pole snapped and I ended up flat on my back
and that was my last attempt at pole vaulting. We also had to have a try out at
boxing, something I had never tried before – or since. I was paired with Graham
Hawkswell, who was smaller than me, which took some doing at that time as I
was still quite a ‘tich’.
After a few minutes of dodging around and trying to deliver a couple of ‘right
hooks’, Graham delivered a ‘right hook’ of his own – and laid me out cold! That
was the end of my boxing career, but Graham went on to box for the Squadron
and RAF Locking. A pretty useful boxer!
My normal Wednesday sports afternoon activity, besides walking around camp
in a pair of shorts and plimsolls and holding a rolled up towel, was caving and
potholing, as I was a member of the RAF Locking Caving Club. There were three
of us in the Entry who regularly went caving on a Wednesday afternoon, ‘Iffer’
Newman, Dave Stewart and myself. Our normal caving ‘haunts’ were either in
Burrington Combe, where we explored Goatchurch Cave , Sidcot Swallet,
Read’s Cavern, or Rickford Cave, (recently discovered by a farmer when he was
excavating the foundations for a new milking shed), or on the Mendips around
Priddy, where we explored the more severe Swildon’s Cave or Longwood
Swallet. Thankfully, we never got lost or had any accidents, but only a few
weeks after we went down Longwood Swallet in 1963, a party from Bristol
went down Longwood Swallet in August 1963 in wet weather and a girl in the
party died of exposure when she was trapped in the cave when there was a
sudden thunderstorm and rainwater flooded the cave. A dangerous sport!
17
Like all Entries before us, the 99th Entry carried on the tradition of practical
jokes and wreaking havoc in the local community. Some of the practical jokes
were pretty harmless, like draping a huge 99th banner from the side of the
Grand Pier, to some which bordered on the plain criminal, like removing a ‘one
armed bandit’ from one of the amusement arcades in Weston and then having
to dispose of it in the River Axe when it was realised that it wouldn’t be wise to
keep it as a souvenir.
The fountain on the Beach Road lawns in Weston was a prime target on quite a
few occasions, either having a packet of Daz dropped in it to create a beautiful
foaming display, or on one occasion when potassium permanganate was
dropped in it to create a lovely purple display. Well, we had to have an outlet
for all that youthful testosterone, didn’t we?
One of the crazier practical jokes was to put an old Austin motor car on top of
the boiler house between Hannah and Barber barrack blocks. That was a
mammoth undertaking involving lots of scaffolding poles and builders’ planks,
but was even scarier to get it down again after threats of severe repercussions
from the ‘C’ Squadron Office!
Possibly the funniest practical joke was when Iffer Newman (who could sleep
through a hurricane) had his bed, with him fast asleep in it, carried out of the
barrack block and deposited in the Wing Warrant Officers’ car parking space.
The best part about that joke was that he didn’t wake up until the Wing
Warrant Officer wanted to park his car in his space in the morning.
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During the Summer leave period in August 1963, I went for a weeks’ holiday
along with Martin Thompson and Dave Deronnel to Butlins’ Holiday Camp at
Clacton in Essex. We had a brilliant time relaxing and drinking (of course), away
from all the pressures of Locking. During the holiday I met a young girl called
Beryl Elliot from Ealing, who was on holiday with her friend and her friends’
family. We got on very well together and continued to keep in touch after the
holiday. I went down to Ealing four or five times in the following few months
and stayed at her house and we seemed to be getting on really well with each
other. As she was still only sixteen and I was now nineteen and in the RAF, her
parents didn’t approve and told her to finish our brief relationship. So that was
it, a budding romance down the toilet. Hey ho!
The constant threat during the three years at RAF Locking was the threat of
‘Jankers’. This could be ‘awarded’ for any misdemeanour, a word out of place,
drinking underage, caught with unauthorised civilian clothes, climbing through
the hedge to avoid booking in and out of the guardroom and a hundred and
one other infringements of ‘The Rules’. Thankfully I only received around a
dozen days jankers in total, but once on jankers the danger was that extra days
could be ‘awarded’ for the slightest infringement of ‘The Rules’.
Jankers initially, was being confined to camp for an amount of days, but
besides that punishment, we had to parade at either the guardroom or the
Squadron Office, once at 6pm in full ‘best blue’ dress, then again at 10pm in
‘best blue’ dress. Also, between 6pm and 10pm a period of two hours of
‘fatigues’ was to be carried out, either sweeping floors, digging gardens,
painting stones or any other grotty job that could be found that needed doing.
Once on jankers the trick was to try to avoid collecting extra days, so
everything had to be spotless. I was awarded three extra days once for not
having any water in my water bottle! Absolutely crazy, but these were ‘The
Rules’ and any infringement would attract extra days.
19
Iffer Newman held the Entry record of 65 continuous days on jankers, as he
kept on being picked up for dirty shoes, dirty cap badge, dirty webbing belt
brasses, or long hair, in fact, anything that the inspecting NCO could find wrong
during his inspection. During that time, the whole of the billet pulled together
and helped him clean his kit and eventually he managed to complete his ‘never
ending’ period of jankers.
Another annoying problem for us during 1962 and 1963 was the attitude of the
local ‘yobs’ to the Locking Apprentices. I don’t know if it was because we were
all better looking than the local teenagers, but this was also the time of the
battles with ‘Mods’ and ‘Rockers’, so there was always an undercurrent of
animosity towards ‘those bloody Apprentices’. We were still either dressed in
uniform or our blazers and flannels when we went into Weston, so we were
easy to pick out from the crowd, so inevitably there were a few fights.
On a few occasions the ‘rockers’ from Bristol would descend ‘en masse’ into
Weston and this resulted in some violent altercations on the beach or along the
promenade. In one memorable incident an apprentice from the 96th, I think it
was Sid James, threw a ‘rocker’ over the sea wall on to the beach, where a
massive ‘punch up’ ensued.
As we got further through our training the ‘bullshit’ became less and less as the
technical training became more important. We still had barrack block and kit
inspections, as well as the compulsory Saturday morning parades, but the
emphasis was now on trade training to try to mould us into becoming skilled,
as well as smart, fitters.
The 99th Entry was the first Entry for the aircraft trades to be trained purely on
radar equipment. Up until now the aircraft trades were classed as radio trades,
where part of the training was on UHF, VHF or HF radio equipment.
20
From our Entry onwards someone in Training Command had decreed that we
would only be radar trained, so in our case we only received equipment training
on IFF (Identification Friend from Foe) and Green Satin (a Doppler navigation
equipment). No reason was given to us for this change and we assumed that it
wouldn’t affect our status or promotion if we successfully passed out as Junior
Technician with automatic promotion to Corporal after three years.
I wasn’t to find out until a year after passing out that this wasn’t the case and I
would have to take another equipment exam before promotion to Corporal.
This was my first introduction to the deception and perfidy and even sheer
stupidity of the Senior Ranks of the Royal Air Force and that was to be the start
of my disillusionment with service life.
Surely, if it was realised by the Training Officers that we would need further
equipment training to qualify us for automatic promotion to Corporal after
three years, then another radar equipment course (such as TACAN or Radar
Altimeter) could easily be added to our syllabus during our apprentice training
instead of once we had passed out from RAF Locking - but I guess that requires
a bit of logical thinking, something which the Training Officers obviously didn’t
possess.
In the last two terms of our training we started to receive practical training on
the aircraft in the hanger at Weston Airport. This was set up exactly as we
would have to rectify problems on the aircraft when we were posted to our
operational stations after our pass out. We would be given an instruction sheet
with the aircraft type and number and the reported fault. We would then have
to get the required test equipment, power up the aircraft and find and clear the
problem, then clear all the paperwork. I thoroughly enjoyed this part of my
training as this was what I had joined the RAF for. I was now actually working
on Avro Shackletons, Hawker Hunters, Handley Page Victors and Gloster
Javelins, and loving every minute of it.
The last two terms during 1964 were very hectic and pressurised as we were
now taking our final examinations and failure at any time would destroy our
chances of successfully passing out as Junior Technicians.
One of the projects during our last term was what was termed as a ‘set task’.
It involved writing a book of around 5000 words on any chosen subject and
we were given 6 weeks to complete the task. I had looked at various subjects
that appealed to me but finally settled on writing a biography of Tazio
Nuvolari, the Italian Grand Prix motor racing driver.
21
I had written short essays before in school and college but I had never
attempted anything like this before, but found that I thoroughly enjoyed it.
It was extremely absorbing as there was a great deal of research to be carried
out before a single word was written and any photographs that were required
had to by photocopied and then printed. This was carried out by Dickie Sharpe,
who happily volunteered to take on the task as he was an avid photographer
and was able to use the photographic clubs’ equipment. Once the writing was
completed it then had to be passed on to be typed by a young lady friend who
just happened to be taking a typing course at college in Weston.
The task was finally completed in the allotted 6 weeks and handed in to the
Education Department for assessment and when all the results were revealed
I had missed out on getting the top mark by 2%, so I managed to get joint
second place along with Doug Wade out of 172 entries.
A very satisfying result!
The final equipment exams were quite daunting, wondering whether we had
absorbed enough to describe the working of a complex piece of radar
equipment and then find and rectify faults that the examining staff had put on
the equipment. My IFF exam was all the more daunting as I had drawn the
short straw and my examiner was none other than the dreaded Chief Tech
‘Black Mac’ McCaffrey, the scourge of all Trade Standards examiners, who
allegedly ate apprentices for breakfast. Thankfully he treated me gently and
I came through unscathed and passed with flying colours.
When I look back at some of the past exam papers that I have copies of, I am
amazed that we were actually quite intelligent. The maths paper which was the
final paper for the 93rd Entry, which we took as our ‘mock’ paper, might just as
well have been written in Chinese for all that I understand it now, but I
managed to pass it in 1962.
Our RP2 exam paper, which we took in November 1963 is all Greek to me now
when I look through it, but again I passed, but I suspect not with flying colours.
22
In our last term at Locking, rules and regulations had been eased considerably
and we were now allowed to have cars on camp, as long as we were old
enough to drive and had passed our driving test.
I applied for my provisional driving licence in November 1962 and then started
taking driving lessons in Weston and eventually passed the driving test at the
3rd attempt, so now I had to wait until our last term to buy a car.
I had managed to save enough money in my POSBY to go out and buy a decent
second hand car but not enough to buy anything ‘flash’. By that time the lads in
the 99th were turning up at Locking with all sorts of cars, but the only new one
that I remember was Dave ‘Jock’ Adams’ ‘A’ registration Austin Mini. The most
exotic car that I remember was Iffer Newman’s 1938 Triumph Dolomite sports
saloon, a 2 litre 6 cylinder monster of a car which was very rarely on the road
and gave him all sorts of problems. Roy Walsh bought a Willys Jeep, which he
promptly drove through a stone wall, demolishing the wall, but due to the
Jeeps’ rugged construction, it (and he) remained relatively unscathed.
After a lot of searching through the local paper in January 1964 I found an
advert for an Austin A50 Cambridge for sale for £130 in Kingswood, just outside
Bristol. I got a lift up to Kingswood with Martin Thompson and Dave Deronnel
and as the car was a good ‘runner’ and in good condition, the deal was done
and I drove the car back to Locking. I was now the proud owner of my first car.
My own Austin A50 Cambridge, registration number LFK 578.
During the last month at Locking all the members of the 99th Entry had to move
back into the 99th accommodation to start drill practise for our pass out parade
at the end of July, so I moved out of the band block and into ‘Hannah’ block.
The most nerve racking day of the whole 3 years at Locking was when we were
all assembled on the sports field to be told whether we had successfully
achieved the required grade and would be promoted to Junior Technician.
23
The relief was incredible when I was told that I had made the grade and would
be posted to RAF Finningley in Yorkshire as a JuniorTechnician with automatic
promotion to Corporal after 3 years.
Although I knew that I wasn’t the most successful of the 99th apprentices I just
hoped and prayed that I had done enough to succeed - and I had.
The next month was mainly given over to drill practise and ‘bullshit’. Our Lee
Enfield rifle woodwork was sanded down to bare wood and then re-varnished
and then polished to a high gloss. All the rifle metalwork was rubbed down and
repainted. Our boots were ‘bulled’ to a mirror finish and our brasses and
buttons were polished until we needed dark glasses to inspect them.
Pass Out day was the 28th July 1964 and our parents had travelled down to see
their ‘little boys’ pass out from RAF Locking and venture out into the big wide
world.
Thankfully the weather was warm and sunny so the parade wasn’t a wet
weather parade and could be held on the parade square.
The parade was a success with no ‘screw ups’ and once the ‘pass out’ dinner
was over along with all the speeches and prize giving – that was it, our
apprenticeship was over. Next stop Yorkshire and RAF Finningley.
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