RAF Days

I had decided from a very early age that I wanted to join the Royal Air Force, and from the age of 13 I served with 30F squadron of the Air Training Corps in Ely, Cardiff (my home town). While my parents were away on summer holiday in 1969 I signed up and left school at Christmas that year. Here's a segment about the first days from my biography "Do or do not".

On the morning of January 5th 1970 I stood on the platform at Cardiff Central Station with my mother and father waiting for my train to arrive as I started my journey into the Royal Air Force. The train pulled in, I gave my parents a huge final hug, boarded and waved as it pulled out. Years later my father would tell me that as the train pulled out of sight my mother burst into tears and cried for a long time even after they got home.

My parents were always very supportive of what I wanted to do and I know that they were proud that I’d instigated this myself. Sitting on the train I was naturally nervous, but also excited as to what lie ahead, but it wouldn’t be all beds of roses that was for sure. Military training was such that they would break you down and then build you back up in the image they wanted you to be. We were greeted at the railway station, taken to our billet, which was a long room with 18 beds, accompanied by one side cupboard and wardrobe each, and then led for an introduction by Sgt. Geraghty, our NCO in charge.

Basically we had 3 days to make up our find if this was for us, and if it wasn’t we could leave with no cost or damage, but AFTER the 3 days we signed on the dotted line and our souls were theirs. So for 3 days it was all smiles and ‘please’ and ‘thank you’ and everything was really cool, although a couple of the lads decided it wasn’t for them and left. On the morning of the 4th day we went one by one into the administration office, signed the official paper, received our service number (P8011133 was mine) and when we were all done the atmosphere changed. Suddenly we were the lowest of the low and couldn’t move fast enough for any of them. We were given coveralls to wear for the first three weeks until our uniforms were available, and our nicknames as ‘Sproggs” were well set. We were basically targets for the established apprentices until we too had our uniforms. Next stop was the barbers who promptly shaved our heads, and I mean shaved, despite protests to the contrary. The next three weeks were introductions to the various classes, aptitude tests and a LOT of marching and physical exercise. I still couldn’t climb the rope although I was losing a bit of weight with the diet and exercise. I guess I just wasn’t strong enough yet.

Waking up at 6am wasn’t too bad but the method sucked. They still used the bugler playing reveille and he would stand at various locations in the corridors to play, so not only did you hear the one that was meant for you but also everybody else’s on your floor. Then the billet corporal would come out and start shouting until you were up, into the washroom, down to the mess for breakfast and the day began. I was a part of 217 entry, a 2 year training course that went right down to component level and would graduate its students as Junior Technicians, one step below corporal. The only problem was, as I was to find out a few months down the line, they had started a new educational system that very year and the pressure was horrendous. The exam schedule was nothing short of torture and by my 16th birthday I was a complete nervous wreck. One of the guys came up to me and just offered me a cigarette saying, ‘This will calm you down”, and as I was desperate enough to try anything I took it, and from that point until 1996 became a smoker. It did chill me a bit but never helped with the exams and by September it was clear that I wasn’t going to make it in 217 Entry so I was moved down to the Radar mechanics with the new entry of 404. This meant I would graduate in October 1971 as a Senior Aircraftsman, 2 levels below Corporal, and would be working on First Line Servicing, on the aircraft themselves, rather than in the laboratories, which suited me big time so that obviously happened for a reason.

It was standard practice for the new entries to be raided by the older entries and that happened one evening without warning as a wave of apprentices swept into the room tipping the beds upside down, throwing the wardrobes and chairs, and one stood by the large balcony window and smashed it deliberately. When they had left the sergeant came around and told us that unless we found out who had smashed the window the cost would be taken out of our weekly allowances, which were only £3 a week as it was. I couldn’t let that happen so I pointed out the guy responsible and for the next few months did my best to avoid him. When I couldn’t take it any longer I went up to him and told him to get it over with, but he surprised me by saying that he deserved it and he admired me for having the balls to do what I did. He shook my hand and we left it at that, talk about breathing easy.