RAF Air Movements 1953-1961

Transport Command

When I had completed basic training at RAF West Kirby I was granted some leave before joining my new operational station. My prior interest in RAF aircraft had been fighters and bombers and had no idea about the Transport Command fleet. The aircraft depicted here is the Handley Page Hastings and was the major workhorse of Transport Command when I arrived at Lyneham. Additionally there were also Yorks and Vallettas. The Hastings had acquired a fine reputation during the Berlin Airlift with round the clock ferrying of supplies into the beleaguered city. Although the RAF Movements School at Kidbrooke was in operation, it seemed that new recruits to Air Movements were first sent direct to a station for "hands on" training. As such we were given the prefix U/T (under training). The normal proceedure was for AC2 U/Ts to be allocated to one of the following sections in rotation for about two weeks: * Loading Party * Freight Shed * Load Control * Passenger Section * Unaccompanied Baggage After this, depending on where your particular expertise was apparent, you were then allocated to the appropriate section. Having done my stint in all the sections I was put into the Unaccompanied Baggage section to replace a recent 'demobee'. Working with the Senior Customs Landing Officer who was a civilian from the Customs Service was a nifty job. Bill Forse was a stickler for the system and required the staff to be very much "customs" oriented. All personal baggage coming back from overseas, whether single airmen/officers or families was subject to scrutiny. Baggage came in all shapes and sizes . From suitcases to cabin trunks and even recycled wooden crates that had been salvaged from RAF stores overseas. When an inbound aircraft was unloaded there usually was a small amount of unaccompanied baggage. Some dedicated freight aircraft could have a huge load. Loading party would deliver the goods to our little shack which was situated on the edge of the perimeter track. Each piece had to be accompanied by a customs declaration and if it was locked then copies of the keys had to be submitted. A list of the items and its originating station together with the customs declarations would then be submitted to Bill Forse. He would go through the list and tick the items he wished to inspect. On many occasions it would be the entire consignment or he would selectively tick the items which he thought might have contraband or 'no go ' items. If keys were not sent for suitcases or trunks, we became adept at picking the locks or if that didn't succed Bill would give the OK to smash the lock off with a hammer and screwdriver. Many cartons/tins of fags were confiscated as were anything remotely pornographic. Playing cards were a favourite with naked ladies in all sorts of poses. A magazine called Sexology was also a much prized find for us young lads. We had never seen such photos before. Of course our glances had to be very surreptitious as we were not permitted to do more than lift everything out of the baggage being examined onto a table. Once the OK was given we then had to repack ASAP so as not to slow down the process. Of course repacking hurriedly was a bit of an art. Most bags were packed to the brim and it often took a couple of us to get the lids back down !! I recall that Bill spent a lot of time going through photos, slides and negatives. Whether he was looking for breaches of the Official Secrets Act or just plain porn we never knew. Many a cigarette was smoked by him as he perused the photographic stuff, while we waited or repacked the previously examined case. Within the section there was a bonded storeroom which was kept permanently locked. Bill had a key as did the section chief who was a Flt/Sgt. Booze , cigarettes, cigars, firearms and other prohibited goods were contained there awaiting disposal. I remember clearly finding a book which had been wrapped between other books and when the bundle was opened the centre book had been carefully hollowed out to hide a small handgun. Ooops....I don't know where that one ended up but Bill was not a happy chappy that day. Our establishment was a Flight Segeant as NCO I/C, a Corporal as 2 I/C and three airmen. Because the place had to be manned around the clock this meant a system of shiftwork. With the exception of the Chiefy we all took turns in doing a 24 hour stint.This was a piece of cake because as soon as things quietened down in the evening, a small collapsible cot was erected and a good night's sleep was fairly usual. Except when there was an aircraft parked right outside the hut and the maintenance crews were doing an engine test at all hours !! The next day was a free day off. As Air Movements was classified as round the clock duty, billets were allocated to shiftworkers to enable them to sleep during the day. Obviously the dormitory style huts with 20+ beds were not considered suitable so we were allocated 'rooms' in what were the very latest thing in barracks. These were a Z shaped building of two storeys with individual rooms containing a double bunk. Two people shared this area for sleeping. In the centre of the Z was the ablutions plus washing and ironing facilities.
Such luxury after the billets of West Kirby. My memory recalls the names of these particular airmen's quarters as Hastings (where I was) York and Valetta.

For The Next Three Years.......

The exalted rank of AC1 came at the appointed time which was 6 months service. This was followed by LAC ( Leading Aircraftman ) and at the end of my first year at Lyneham I had made it to SAC (Senior Aircraftman ) Ray Taylor, who was Cpl in the section on my arrival was a National Serviceman and came from Spennymoor in Co. Durham. Ray is on the left in the photo. Neville Goff was also a National Serviceman and came from Spalding in Lincolnshire. Nev is on the right. I'm the bloke in the middle and the aircraft behind us is a New Zealand Air Force Hastings. The other one of our team was Clive (Taff or Smudger ) Smith who hailed from Bridgend in Wales. I believe he also was a NS. At around the start of my second year at Lyneham, Ray was demobbed and left a place for a Cpl 2 I/C. I was promoted to this position with 'acting' rank. The Corporal rank is not a particularly easy rank to have. You are still required to use all the airmen's facilities and mix with 'other ranks' and yet maintain some discipline and issue orders. Our unit was small and we all got along well so I didn't find it too onerous. Guard Duty and appointment as Guard Commander, plus Orderly Corporal were also duties that required a fair degree of tact. Anyway, I seemed to survive. Talking of duties.......in the winter months the entire station staff were allocated 'snow clearance' duties. This, from memory, was a week long stint during which you were not allowed to leave the camp. When an alarm sounded the duty crew would assemble at a given spot and together with a truck laden with salted grit, head for the main runway. With a shovel apiece we would then start at the runway threshold (07 it was I think) and follow the slowly driven truck sreading grit all across the runway. Of course this would usually be in the middle of the night and the temperature would be below freezing. We were issued with special gear to combat the cold but the feet and hands would be freezing while the body would be soaked with sweat!! The only shining light was the fact that we were given a rum issue. Some guys didn't care for neaters though so those that did would end up with quite a happy disposition. All worries about the cold would soon disappear in a fine hazy fog of partial inebriation. On one occasion we had just commenced our trip down the runway when we heard the sound of an approaching aircraft. Looking up quickly we were just in time to see a Hastings just clear the top of the truck and land a bit further down. Whether that was by design or we hadn't been seen I will never know. It was pretty close and scary at the time.

Day to day

Like many before and many since no doubt, I settled in to a steady routine. Having so many National Service bods in the RAF at the time was a bit unsettling for us regulars. The NS blokes were prone to whinging about their lot and constantly telling everyone just how many more days they had to go before demob and return to Pontypridd or some such out of the way home town. They did not seem to have any interest in seeing anything of the world outside of their own parochial little hamlet. Perhaps I am being unfair as these people would never have been in the service if conscription hadn't existed.

Perks of the trade!!

Although anyone could apply for a SNC flight ( supernumery crew), Air Movements personnel were always in the front of the queue. When asked why a flight was requested it was always good to say that you were looking for "route experience". Somewhere during my second year at Lyneham, I and a friend, Alan Langford from Brighouse in Yorkshire, applied for a trip to Malta. Alan was a NS bloke and worked on Loading Party. He was a linguist and was going to University after his service to study Russian and German. In his case, you could see why National Service was a complete waste of 2 years of his life. I hope he eventually made up for it. Alan and I were room mates in Hastings House so we got on pretty well.
Picture is of me at the Transit Hotel at RAF Luqa awaiting a flight back to UK.
My urgent instructions from Bill Force, the Customs Landing officer for who I worked, was to bring him back a bottle of Vat 69 and a Pimms No 1. Not being a spirit drinker at the time, I was only happy to oblige. I knew that my allowance was 200 fags and 2 bottles of spirits so no laws were being broken.
The trip out to Luqa on Malta was exciting for 2 young airman who had little flying experience. I had been awarded a flight of some 15 minutes in an Anson while at West Kirby but this was bigtime !! The flight was a freight run and the crew and AQM (air quartemaster) now called ALMs (air loadmaster) were the only others apart from us. We helped the AQM prepare and deliver refreshments to the crew. Flying at around 10,000 feet, we were able to see a fair bit of the country we were flying over but as we were not pressurised the noise was a bit hard to get used to. We eventually arrived at our "overseas" unit where we were to stay in Transit until the aircraft returned from Fayid in the Canal Zone. We both loved Malta and the couple of days we were to stay there was planned out to include as many sights as we could manage.
Photo on right of me, taken in Malta in 1954 .
Of course we realised that being S/N/C we had a low passenger priority but never expected to be offloaded from our return flight. Both Alan and I had taken only a couple of days leave so we were a bit concerned about the delay. No doubt we will be OK tomorrow we thought. Well to cut to the chase...we were almost 2 weeks in Malta awaiting a flight back !! We had run out of money and had to get a special pay parade just to keep some cash in our pockets. We saw a lot more of the island than we had expected , travelling all over on the local bus service. That of course is another story. Because the island is predominately Catholic we were not used to the habit of the passengers 'crossing' themselves before the journey. After our first trip with horns blaring and brakes squealing we began to appreciate the reason for this !! Known to every serviceman that has ever been in Malta, Straight Street or The Gut as it was called in Valletta was a magnet for us young blokes. Never had we seen anything like it. Being accosted by 'ladies' as we strolled down the lane was something we had never before experienced. Quite an education for us.
On arrival back at Lyneham we were both up
before the SWO who had posted us as AWOL. When we had explained the circumstances he let us off with a mild reprimand. He must have realised that this wasn't our doing.

Lyneham Days.

Although there was a pub in Lyneham village, it wasn't thought to be far enough away from the camp for us young lads to feel comfortable. Chippenham was about the closest and there were a few pubs there. Some were known as 'officers' watering holes so they were steered well clear of. There was a new Services club recently built and that was a favourite port of call. Meals were reasonably cheap and billiards, snooker and table tennis were available.

Our nearest railhead was a little village called Calne. Here it was that the unaccompanied baggage for onward transport to the owners was sent. It was always a 'treat' to accompany the MT driver to Calne to help with the offload and paperwork. We could wave to all the pretty girls we passed and the odd wolf whistle was always appreciated by the local talent. Calne also had a factory for making pork pies. Never went to Calne without buying one to eat on the way back. My love of English pork pies came from those days but they are not as readily available in Australia and they certainly aren't the same taste.

Big nights out would invariably see us in Swindon. There was the Palais dance hall which gave the opportunity to meet the local lasses and a multitude of pubs. The only one I can now recall 50 years later is the Quart Pot !! Impecunious as we were as young erks, it was always possible to have a good night out on a couple of bob! I had never drunk 'scrumpy' cider before but had consumed the non alcoholic variety. As no doubt thousands before me and thousands after, the introduction to scrumpy was an experience never to be forgotten. Once the sour taste of apple had blanketed the taste buds it was quite a pleasant drink. But how quickly it took hold of you was the killer. Halfway through the second pint, us hardened 10 pint a night beer drinkers suddenly found that we were beginning to lose control of our faculties. I never ever saw anyone consume more than 2 pints of the stuff. One young bloke in our group who was having his 'scrumpy virginity' assailed for the first time was so overcome by the stuff that we had to literally carry him to the bus back to camp. He had become stiff, almost cadaver like and the only place we could put him was on the upstairs parcel shelf. Fortunately we had a back entrance into camp so avoided going past the guardroom. I think back then it was considered a chargeable offence to return to camp in a state of drunkeness.

As time progressed I took to meeting a Royal Navy mate up in London. We would stay at the Union Jack club at Waterloo for a mere pittance and that included breakfast. Usually we hung around the West End area and had a couple of favourite pubs.

As Time Goes By.....

Pay was a pittance and when I wanted to go to London for a weekend it was necessary to 'borrow' against next weeks pay. Nev Goff was a great source of funds in that he rarely ever left the camp unless he was going home to Lincolnshire for a weekend pass. I could always rely on Nev coming good with a couple of quid till next payday. Basically I was living beyond my means and after paying back last weeks borrowings it would then be necessary to borrow again to see me through till next pay. When I scored a duty that meant me being confined for the weekend so that gave me time to get back on track.
As my Malta trip had by now faded into the past, it was time to try again for another trip. This time I had leave due and put in for a route trip right through to Singapore. Ken Sparne from Hull was my buddy for this trip and again we scored a bullseye being OK'd for a freighter Hastings on the Changi run. The flight was via Idris and El Adem in North Africa, Habbaniya in Iraq, Mauripur (Karachi) in Pakistan, Negombo, which later became know as Katunayake, in Ceylon, or now known as Sri Lanka. Lastly into Changi where we were put up in the transit billet. We had 2 nights over at Changi before the long haul back via the same route. Flying time was approximately 8 hours each day and we night stopped at each of the fuel stops. Overflying India from Pakistan to Ceylon was not permitted for military aircraft so we hugged the coastline down the side of this huge sub continent. I was amazed and saddened to see the levels of drunkeness in the canteens at some of these route stops. It seemed that in the African stations particularly that drinking to excess was the order of the day. This resulted in some pretty ugly scenes in the clubs, with servicemen abusing the local staff who manned the bars. It was not unusual to see the barmen ducking to avoid empty or even part filled beer cans being lobbed at them.
All in all this was a great trip and an eye opener for us to see how others served their time in foreign parts. Flying unpressurised at around 10,000 ft. gave a good view of the terrain and I still can smell the oriental smells one experiences as you descend into places like Mauripur, Negombo and Changi.
This trip would have occurred around mid 1955 and then the requisite 'demob calendar' went up on the wall in my bunk. As 1956 approached and demob was just around the corner, Ken Sparne and I made a pact that when we were both back in civvy street we would make a concerted effort to get to Australia overland or by working passage on a ship.
Bill Forse, the Customs Landing Officer for whom I had worked for the best part of three years, tried to convince me that a career in the Customs Service would be a good one to follow. After three years in a uniformed service that was the last thing on my mind !!
In February of 1956 I took my departure chitty around the camp for the last time and bid farewell to the RAF.

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