RAF Air Movements 1953-1961

Civvy Street - Bumming Round Europe- Chicken Farming !!

Returning to civvy street after 3 years in the mob was very refreshing. I let my hair grow long and grew a beard.
Ken and I had made our pact while in the RAF to try to hitch hike to Australia and we needed to raise some cash first. I had picked up a job almost straight away as an estimator for Tube Investments in Birmingham. We were in the throes of estimating the steel pipe requirements for the Aswan Dam in Egypt. This job carried a mediocre salary but I was constantly told that bigger things were in store for me. Sitting at a desk was a grand way to earn a crust but if you wanted big money then it was "get down and dirty".

British Road Services moved a lot of freight around the country and they were still using labour to hump the goods rather than getting their loads palletised or containerised. This suited me and I worked nights loading and unloading trucks at a large depot. Pretty soul destroying work but I knew it was only for a few short months and the money was good.

Around this time the conflict in the Suez area flared up. I was on Emergency Reserve to the RAF for some years and with the Suez crisis I was concerned that I might be recalled for duty. Apart from that, the plans we had made to leave the country could well be stalled.

Firstly I heard nothing about Reserve call up so I wrote to the Air Ministry requesting permission to leave the country. Permission granted with no problems. Obviously the Suez thing didn't require my being recalled to service. Wheew !!

With a rucsac apiece, some clothes and a two man tent, Ken and I took off from England and arrived at Dieppe. We hitched into Paris with little trouble and set up camp in the Bois de Boulogne. After a bit of sight seeing we headed for the Swiss border. Our plan was to head down to an Italian port and endeavour to find an Australian bound ship and apply to work passage. We spent some time camped in Geneva and then headed for Milan and on down to Genoa. On the road we camped rough where we could and slept in some funny places when it rained ! During this time we had been out of touch with developments in the Suez affair. Arriving in Genoa we headed to the docks. What.....no ships !! Well I suppose if the Suez Canal is blocked then the only way to the East is via South Africa. Ships on the long haul were no longer transiting the Med.

We did get onto one ship which had taken on a cargo of French cars at Genoa and was bound for Australia. The First Officer was very understanding of our plight but as the ship had just left it's home port in Norway, the crew was at full strength. He did say that ocassionally they had crew go sick and they would pick up replacements, but not on this occasion. His suggestion was that we should head for Marseilles as some ships would still come that far into the Med for cargo and then go on round South Africa.

Money was beginning to get tight although we were able to travel for free. We ate consevatively, often sharing a french stick and a lump of cheese for a main meal. Travelling to Marseilles took us along the coast of the South of France and we quite enjoyed the towns of San Remo, Menton, Monaco, Nice and Cannes. It was still summer so sleeping on the beach was a pleasant option in these areas. We had toyed with the idea of getting seasonal work in the grape harvest to extend our stay in France. This was in the hope that the Suez crisis would be shortlived and ships would again begin to flow through the Med.

Murphy's Law would see that the grape harvest was going to be late that year due to bad weather during the growing season.
So we kicked around in Marseilles for a couple of weeks but things did not improve and no Eastbound ships were to be seen.

Now at a point when we had to make decisions, we decided that a return to England was the only option other than enlisting in the Foreign Legion. We stood outside a Legion barracks at Marseilles and were very tempted to 'have a go'.

So with the small cash reserve we had left we purchased tickets on the Paris express and from there we hiked to Calais for the return to Dover.

On parting, Ken was off to Hull and me to Birmingham. We agreed to have another go later on when the crisis had settled down. In all we had spent about 4 months in Europe and both had lost a bit of weight through our meagre rations.

Back to Work

.. Almost penniless and grossly underweight, I had to think about what I would do to earn some money. I called at the local Labour Exchange as it was then called and was interviewed by a gentleman who specialised in resettlement of ex service bods.
After a lot of questions as to what I was interested in and how I saw my future career formulating, he came up with the suggestion that I should undertake training in a rural pursuit. He suggested a training course in Poultry Husbandry which would involve a year of practical hands on training at a poultry farm followed by 3 years of study at Harper Adams University College which I think was in Shropshire.
My mentor drove me down from Birmingham into the Cotswolds and we then visited the Shilton Experimental Poultry Farm which was to be my years practical course. Then he organised a room for me at a local pub in an adjoining town which was to be my accommodation for the next 12 months. All of this was funded by the Government and I was also paid by my employer so I was well pleased !
I enjoyed this work immensely and learned a great deal, much of which became useful in later life. Ken had returned to Hull and was working as a sales rep for Saxa Salt and seemed quite content for the time being. We still talked about making our way to Australia sometime in the future.
A few months after starting in the poultry business I met my future wife ! She was a local girl and we began to go out together regularly. As the end of my 12 months course neared, I was looking at a future of the next 3 years being spent at College. This did not impress me as I was now almost 23 years old. Pat and I were discussing our future together and it was then that we came to the conclusion that a career in the RAF was more to my liking than 3 more years of study with little or no money and no prospect of marriage.
So I applied to the RAF for re-enlistment and was accepted. There was also a 'bounty' of 100 pounds for re-enlistees so that was going to pay for the engagement ring !

Back in the 'mob' again

The early months of 1958 saw me once again at Cardington being kitted out. As a re-enlistee I seem to recall a different approach from that when I first signed on ! Maybe that was also due to the fact that I rejoined with my old rank of Corporal.
After kitting out I was posted directly back to RAF Lyneham. No 'square bashing' this time thank goodness. Although very early in the piece I had to do a firearms refresher course. The result of this was that I was awarded a Marksman Badge so my eye must have still been on target !

At Lyneham I was once again in Unaccompanied Baggage which I knew with my eyes shut !

A Comet 2 taxis past Unaccompanied Baggage Section

I applied to join the Station Guard of Honour and was accepted. Perhaps being tall was in some way the reason for this. I must admit that I did enjoy the marching and drill to martial music. I still get a tingle when I hear the RAF March. The most important VIP I can remember was the visit to the UK of Emperor of Ethiopia, Haille Selasie.

When rejoining, I had indicated a preference for a posting overseas and selected Changi, Singapore, Kai Tak, Hongkong and Katunayake, Ceylon as possible postings. Having done my previous service in the UK I felt certain that it would not be too long before I was drafted. Pat and I went ahead with our wedding plans for June on Midsummer's Day. We included in the invitations a possible change of date if my posting came through a bit early. As it happened my posting to Changi (hooray) came through and with embarkation leave we were able to stick to our timetable. We even had our honeymoon in Scotland as planned. It doesn't usually work like that in the Service !!

Photo of TS Oxfordshire by courtesy of Derek Lehrle of New Zealand.

My method of transport was to be by sea to Malaya. I thought this a bit odd as I was an Air Mover but there you go. After a very short period of marriage I was off to the other side of the world. The situation with married blokes was that you had to go ahead and arrange suitable accomodation for your spouse/family before the RAF would allow them to join you. Married quarters were in short supply and the routine was to find a place that could be vetted by the RAF and taken on as a married hiring property.

TS Oxfordshire was the troopship that was to transport a mixed services single and married families group to all points en route to Singapore. Embarkation was done at Southampton where we were to receive our hot climate Khaki Drill uniforms.

Whilst it was normal to have our serge uniforms tailored to fit in the UK there was no such luxury with KD ! The shorts looked like bloomers and the shirts fitted where they touched. The quality of the material had been chosen to offer the maximum amount of discomfort while being worn.

For those who are unfamiliar with troopship travel I have to explain that the object of the exercise is to get as many bodies aboard as possible. In the photo above, the single men's troopdecks are the rows of portholes on and just above the waterline. Bunks were on a three tier basis with little room between each layer. No lockers were available so all gear was stowed in a kitbag which contained all our belongings.

Leaving Southampton Water was a memorable event as we slowly moved away from the sheltered waters out into the Channel. We were warned that the Bay of Biscay could be rough and this pre-warned those with queezy stomachs to be prepared for the sea sickness to come. I was fortunate to not suffer from this in any way but many who were at sea for the first time were not so lucky. We eventually made landfall at Gibraltar and having passed the Bay were quite happy about the smoother Med. waters.

Going ashore at Gib was by tender while the ship refuelled or replenished. The first thing most of us wanted was a good feed. Being a British Colony the needs of the Brit forces was well catered for. Fish and chippers and 'greasy spoon caffs' seemed to be everywhere. A good fry up of bangers, chips, beans and eggs was soon scoffed down with great delight.

Soon we were on our way again crossing the Med to Suez. The weather was beginning to warm up and somewhere along the way we were instructed to switch into KD and stow our UK serge uniforms away. It was quite hilarious seeing each other in those badly fitting uniforms but at least it was a bit cooler garb to wear in the sun.

Calling at Suez awaiting a convoy to transit the Suez Canal brought back memories of our ill fated trip only 18 months or so ago in attempting to reach Australia. If only things had been different I might not have been on board that trooper. We were not allowed ashore at Suez so we passed the time examining the wares of the dealers in their 'bumboats' who pulled up alongside in an endeavour to sell their goods. It was the usual tourist junk of leather goods, carvings and multi coloured rugs and wall hangings. The routine was for a rope to be thrown up to pass around a rail. Then a basket was attached to the end and was pulled up for a prospective customer to examine the goods. If a sale was agreed by shouting and haggling back and forth then money was lowered via the basket to the bumboat. Often some clown would grab the item and pretend to take off with it without paying. This would create a real ruckus resulting in all sorts of name calling and exhortations to Allah to bring a visitation down on our heads. It was all in good fun really.

As we moved slowly into our convoy position it was very sobering to see all the wrecks and buoys marking sunken ships still left over from the Suez War. There wasn't too much handwaving going on from the canal sides as we drifted through. Sullen looks were very much the order of the day. Bad losers the Egyptians !!

Aden was to be our next stop and we were looking forward to getting onto dry land again. Little did we know about Aden!

Aboard ship life was much of a routine. Meals were sort of OK but a good feed was always on everyone's mind. There was a canteen where the guys could enjoy a beer and some darts or board games in the evening. We did have the odd bull session mainly to ensure that our living spaces and ablutions (heads in the Navy) were kept clean and tidy. Living in such confined and crowded conditions could soon have seen an outbreak of some disease if allowed to become unclean. Below decks, there was some arrangement for air to be pumped down through vents. Of course this wasn't airconditioned so the air reaching us was pretty much warm to hot all the time. At night it became so hot on the troopdecks that it was quite common to grab the thin mattress off the bunk and head up to the open deck. This was not allowed at first as the Officer I/C ship was worried that he might lose a body or two overboard. Eventually a blind eye was turned and the practice continued all the way to Singapore.

Arriving into Aden harbour was so looked forward to. Tenders again were to get us ashore for a few hours. What a disgusting place Aden turned out to be. Unpaved streets with goats and other stray animals wandering around. Dirty unkempt Arabs, gross smells, dust, heat, flies and filth probably best describes our initial take on the place. Some of our passengers were actually disembarking at Aden as this was where they were going to spend the next 2 1/2 years. We who were going on breathed a big sigh of relief that our lot had not fallen on this place. Pity was also felt for those who were staying. We all felt a great relief to be back on the Oxfordshire and leaving Aden behind us.

Our next port of call was to be Colombo in Ceylon. Crossing the Indian Ocean was going to take a few days and the guys were getting into the swing of shipboard life. Sun baking on the upper decks became a daily routine and despite repeated warnings the sick bay became full of sunburn and sunstroke victims. We were warned that anyone falling sick with either would be charged with creating a self induced illness. Some of the pure white skinned bodies were very badly burned indeed.

As we had a few families on board a big thing was made of the crossing of the Equator. The children took part in a fancy dress competition and of course the appearance of King Neptune went down well with the young ones and old alike.

Arriving in Colombo was a further excuse to get ashore and have a decent meal. I had been through Ceylon on my trip to Changi in earlier times, so I was not unfamiliar with Colombo. Our shore time was restricted so finding a place to eat which gave the choice of 'english' food was all important. At that time there was a large contingent of UK service personnel on the island so that many of the cafes and tearooms did have the sort of grub we were used to.

Soon we were off again and ploughing our way on the final leg to Singapore. Sailing down the Malacca Straits between Indonesia and Malaya brought us in touch with the Orient proper. We could actually smell the Asian food wafting on the breeze. We had our first taste of the monsoon season to come. The sky was lit up with a stunning show of lightning. No rain and no thunder, just a continuous flashing of sheet lightning all around.

Time to organise our kit and pack what little gear we had with us before the ship berthed in Singapore harbour. This time we were actually alongside the jetty.

Buses were drawn up alongside awaiting the various services to assemble for their final destinations. The driver of the RAF transport for Changi was lounging near his bus and looked at us with amusement. I couldn't believe how smart he looked compared to us. He had a tailored set of KDs many shades lighter than ours and the material looked to be a lot finer than ours also. At first we thought that this was the result of the hot sun fading the material but he soon let us into the secret. Get yourself down to a tailor at Changi Village pronto and get a couple of sets made up. "Is that allowed" we asked. He soon told us that if we didn't we would look totally odd and completely out of step with the other guys. Obviously the officers and SNCO's were well aware that the issued KD was a heap of rubbish and turned a blind eye.

It wasn't long before our kit was on the bus and a roll call taken. We were on our way to RAF Changi, which was to be home for the next two and half years.

RAF CHANGI

The drive out to Changi was of great interest to those who had not been to the Far East before. Passing the shop-houses that lined the roads and seeing the food vendor stalls was a new experience to many.
Our driver made a point of indicating the Changi Jail that we had all heard or read about as we drove past.
Once we arrived we were allocated a bed in the airmen's barracks. These were large two storey buildings with verandahs all around. The area was quite large and bigger than the usual billet in UK. I got an upper floor bed which caught a smidgin more breeze than the groundfloor ones.

I had chummed up with a young Irish fellow who was one of those that got badly burnt on the way over. After we got ourselves squared away he suggested a trip by cab into town. He was intent on visiting a brothel after being cooped up on the ship for many weeks. I said I was happy to accompany him for moral (should that be immoral ?) support but that was all. Our cabby knew where to go, as cab drivers do, and soon we were at the gates of a very nice low set house. The owner met us at the door and invited us to come in. Paddy, I don't remember his name, was asked to select a young lady from the few girls that were paraded for his selection. When he went off to a room off to one side of the reception area, the madam asked me if I would like to make a choice. After I told her that I was a recently married man, she said that was OK and I could wait for my friend. Paddy was not too long, returning within a matter of minutes with a happy look upon his face.

As is often the rule, my first stint on Air Movements was again on the loading party. On my first day I was given a freight manifest and a pre-loaded flat top truck filled with the usual mix of cargo. Sitting atop the freight was a crew of local "coolies".
That was the title given to the locals who worked with us on aircraft loading and unloading. This wasn't in any way a derogatory term but just the accepted description of those guys.

Driving out to the pan where the aircraft was parked I did a quick calculation of weights etc to organise the guys for the loading. When we got to the aircraft, I went into my spiel about weight and balance and how they must follow my directions to ensure that the aircraft would be properly trimmed. I was being met by blank stares and I began to wonder if they understood English. When I had finished my chat the coolies leapt into action and in a blink the aircraft was loaded, chained and lashed down. I was flat out keeping up with recording where the freight was being placed. When load control did the final trim sheet the C of G was bang smack in the middle of the envelope. These guys had been loading aircraft for years and knew more about the job than I did. From then on I left it up to them !!

PASSENGER TRANSIT HOTEL CHANGI CREEK

Very soon after I was transferred to the Passenger Transit Hotel at Changi Creek. This was a great location on the banks of the Creek with a small crew of Air Movers. Flt Lt Myers was the Movements Officer i/c with a F/Off Lambert as his 2 i/c. We operated on a shift system of 24 hours on and 48 hours off. This was cool because, after the passengers were all bedded for the night and next day's flight passenger manifests raised, the duty Movements Controller could kip down for the night in a spare room at the hotel. An early call was arranged with the hotel staff on duty for breakfast and then it was a matter of chivvying the passengers to get their breakfast and report to the weigh-in station with their luggage. After that the bus would arrive to transport the pax down to the aircraft.
The above photo shows me on left, an RAF policeman and a caterer from the hotel. The police uniform is non standard but a lot lighter than mine which was also a non standard locally tailored job. The caterer was a National Serviceman and he is wearing the basic issue gear, although I think he may have had the shorts cut down a bit. They usually went to the knees !!

Civilian aircraft on charter to the RAF were not allowed onto the military airfield at Changi and we would need to go over to Paya Lebar, the civilian airport, about 15 minutes away from Changi to receive them.
As my wife was now pregnant with our first born son, it was urgent that I get some accommodation organised before she became too advanced to fly. I found a small flat which was detached from a main residence, owned by some wealthy Chinese. It was probably the servant's quarters of days gone by. One bedroom, a small living area and a kitchen. It was situated on Bedok Road which was a handy bus route to both Changi and Singapore city. It was also on the coast with lovely sea views across the ocean.
It was vetted by the housing officer and the call forward went in for my wife to join me. The one drawback was the location right next door to a Chinese Kampong. These little basic collection of huts, housing the poorest of the local population, are no longer a feature of Singapore life. All day and well into the night the Chinese music could be heard coming from Tannoy type speakers hung around the compound. Individual radio or TV was probably not within their financial ability.

Soon I got news of my wife Pat's departure from Stansted by Skyways Hermes, which was basically a civil version of the Hastings. Being in Air Movements I was able to follow the route the aircraft took on its 5 day flight to Singapore. I was concerned to find that after every night stop the flight was declared U/S (unserviceable) and I began to wonder whether she would arrive safely. The 5 day trip dragged out to 9 days with me getting more and more agitated. Enquiries I made seemed to point to mag drop difficulties which were not major snags as such but I was still concerned.

Pat's arrival meant that I could move out of barracks and take up residence in our 'hiring'. Unpacking her couple of large suitcases, I was dismayed to find that apart from personal clothing and some infant clothing for the new arrival, there was nothing with which to set up home. The hiring was sparsely furnished but did not contain any linen or kitchen/dining utensils.
So it was off to Changi Village and a mad shopping spree. We soon had enough gear to make a start and we could add to that as we discovered what we were short of.

Day to Day

The photo is of our second hiring taken in 1982 when I revisited Singapore.
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We soon had the new hiring up to scratch and Pat had help in the form of an 'amah' supplied by the RAF to do the heavy household chores and the ironing. The quality of some of these people left a lot to be desired !! We had a run of three, all of whom were totally hopeless. The oldest was well into her 60s and the youngest around 18. But they lacked experience in all of the functions they were supposed to do. We did eventually get a great amah who had just left an officer's family who were Timex.
Han Sah Wah (Sawah) was first class as an amah and was skillful in every way. My uniforms were starched and pressed immaculately. Occasionally we would ask her to cook us a Chinese meal and that was terrific.

Being on East Coast Road and very close to Bedok Corner, we used to walk along the sea front in the cool of the evening and during one of these walks we discovered a new housing development nearing completion just around the corner from where we were. After making enquiries it turned out that the whole 'estate' was going to be taken on as RAF hirings and we plumped for one of them. We were not too sad to leave behind the constant Chinese music coming from the kampong and to have a house with 2 bedrooms and a servants room. The problem was that the area was still not sewered and the RAF insisted that this be done before passing them for service habitation. They did relent, due to the pressure on housing, and allowed us to move in while the sewering was being constructed. This meant that for the time being we had to make do with an Asian style squat toilet with the 'night soil man' calling every morning.
With Pat being heavily pregnant the toilet facilities had to be 'adapted' to suit. I scrounged a large wooden packing case from Stores and with a bit of handyman skill created a passable 'sit upon' toilet.
As Pat's time got close Sawah was asked to stay overnight when I was on duty. This she did with no problem. Of couse we paid her a supplement to the pay she got from the RAF.

Disaster Strikes

We settled into a good routine and as Pat was getting close to her time we were not able to get around much. I had look around for a car to buy which would make things a bit easier but most of the second hand cars were pretty tacky.
At work things began to get hectic. Around this time the nuclear testing was in full swing in Australia and many additional flights were beginning to come through. Where the 24 hour shift had been a doddle before it got to the point where virtually no rest was possible on a shift. I would come off my shift and need the 48 hours to recover. I had arranged to take my leave when the baby was born so it was a matter of keeping on going.
Pat eventually went into the RAF hospital at Changi for the birth. She was overdue and was in hospital for several days before the day arrived. I was relieved that I could now go on leave and was feeling somewhat rundown. Several days later I called at the hospital in a taxi to collect Pat and our new son Gillon. I was feeling quite groggy myself and put it down to an attack of the flu coming on.
When we got home I had to take to my bed to try and shake the symptoms. I had the classic flu symptoms of aches and pains and running hot and cold. Pat rang the medical section and was told to dose me with aspirin or some such. After a few days I was attempting to hobble to the toilet when my leg gave way beneath me. Pat was getting concerned and when she rang the medicos this time there was instant action. Within minutes there was a Medical Officer and an ambulance at the house.
After a fairly cursory examination the doctor announced his opinion that I had Polio !!
I then spent a couple of weeks in an isolation hospital room before being moved into a general ward. The treatment in those days was for lots of exercise to build up muscle strength. I would be wheeled down to the Changi Pool by an RAF PTI and put through a strenuous regimen of water exercises. Of course in the tropical heat that was a pretty hard task.
It was eventually decided that I be 'casevaced' back to the UK for further treatment. Pat was repatriated with Gillon, at only a few weeks old, on an earlier flight.

REHABILITATION

Photo of me on my 3 wheeler at RAF Chessington!
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I was scheduled to be flown back to UK on a stretcher. Casualty Evacuation aircraft had a small section up front where stretchers were slung three high. I wasn't much keen on that so when the MO asked me if I would mind going as a sitting passenger to make way for another stretcher case I was pretty happy. I was to have a Senior Medical Officer accompany me on the trip. In fact this particular Squadron Leader sat next to me all the way back and hardly spoke a word or enquired as to my condition. Although we were on the new Comet 2 jet aircraft as opposed to the old Hastings prop job, I still found the journey tiring. The Sqdn/Ldr was obviously just on a junket back to the UK and probably felt uneasy sitting next to a lowly 'other rank'!

We landed at RAF Lyneham and I was transferred to RAF Wroughton Hospital for appraisal. Wroughton was only a short distance from Lyneham. After appraisal I was then transferred to MRU Chessington (Medical Rehab Unit) where I was to spend the better part of a year on rehabilitation. I did manage to get home for the odd weekend once my leg had grown stronger and I felt confident on crutches.

When my recovery was seen to be at the best to be hoped for, I was to be appraised again for future service. I was adamant that I wanted to remain in the service and managed to convince the Air Commodore doctor that I would be able to cope. He was doubtful but at least he did listen to my side. I was returned to duty with a posting to RAF Lyneham and a chitty to excuse parades etc. Lyneham is a huge camp geographically and required a lot of walking to get from A to B. I was just about to give up when a vacancy in the Passenger Transit satellite camp at RAF Clyffe Pypard came up. This camp was an old wartime flying training base and had lots of wooden huts that had been converted to rooms. This was where outbound passengers spent the night before their flight from Lyneham the next day.
Some of the old huts had been converted to married quarters and we were lucky to score one that had been used by Officers. This meant that the furnishings were "officer standard". So after our short stay in Singapore this was to be our first home.
We enjoyed our time there but all good things come to an end. The RAF had decided to close the camp and had built a complete new Transit Hotel at Lyneham.
We were transferred back to Lyneham and allocated a married quarter there. But the problem of the camp size was going to present me with all sorts of problems. Pat and I had a discussion and it became apparent that I had little chance of gaining promotion or furthering a fulltime career in the RAF. On my next medical appointment I confided my fears to the SMO and he agreed that the best course was for me to take a medical discharge.
So ended my Royal Air Force career...............

GONGS !

During my service in Singapore, I was awarded the GSM Malaya medal (General Service Medal)

Some 50 years later the King and Government of Malaysia awarded a medal to those who served during the transition to Independance and the conflict with Indonesia.

The Pingat Jasa Malaysia medal is reproduced below alongside the GSM Malaya.

We are fortunate in Australia in that we are permitted to wear our medals whilst in the UK the recipients of the PJM are not allowed to wear the medal at official functions. Go figure !!

A retrospective of RAF service of the time