johnwilliamsraf

John Williams RAF

Senior Aircraftsman

28th January 1953 until 28th January 1956

The Memoirs of John Williams written in July 2007 recall a unique experience of 3 years in the British Royal Air Force in the mid '50's, and his civilian experiences that followed on Her Majesty's "Troops" Ships. The story of a marine plumber who saw more service on the water than in the air and who after his military service spent more time on privately contracted Troopships than did platoons of British soldiers. Follow John's unravelling story as we gradually publish the chapters and related photographs. John can be contacted via the Editor or go to "Most Wanted" for John's service record.

OVERVIEW OF RAF DAYS

My association with troopships, and ships generally, began when I left school at Christmas 1947. I commenced an apprenticeship with a ship repair company in my hometown Birkenhead on 20th January 1948 as a marine plumber. Among the ships we worked on was a number of troopships belonging to the Bibby Line of Liverpool. I remember one of the first ships I worked on was the Devonshire. Unknown to me at the time of course was the fact that I was to have a long and enjoyable association with this ship, even to the extent of meeting my future wife aboard her,but that was in the distant future.

As it happened it was the best thing to happen to us, as our duties entailed setting out the seating for film shows and carrying the projectors and film to wherever they were needed.In this way we got to go to parts of the ship we would never normally be allowed to go to First, Second, and Third Class sections of the ship as well as the troops section had film shows and we got to see all the films, even on one occasion in the crews section. It was a doddle. I found out later that it was common practice to give as many troops as possible jobs around the ship and there was someone helping out in every conceivable job that could be found for them. This helped relieve the boredom that inevitably creeps in during a sea voyage especially on the longer voyages. (Above left: Early evening drink on board)

By the time we were entering the Mersey there was quite a covering of snow and snowball fights were in full swing. (Photo left is Salisbury Dock, Liverpool Harbour). This soon stopped as we pulled alongside the Landing Stage and we started looking amongst the assembled faces on shore for anyone we might know. I was lucky enough to hear my name being called and looked across the ever decreasing span of water between the ship and the stage, to find all my family there. I was the eldest of seven children and they were all there except my next eldest brother who was away with the Cheshire Regiment. Unfortunately they were not allowed aboard and I wasn't allowed ashore so we had to shout back and forth across the 40/50 foot gap that separated us. They seemed to be prepared to stay the night until I told them to go home as they must have been freezing. My mother came back in the morning and met me when I finally got ashore the next morning, and accompanied me to Lime St Station, as I had to go down to Innesworth for demob. It was another two days before I finally got home just in time for Christmas.

2nd Entry

During the first twelve months of an airmans service it was compulsory to

take educational sessions occasionally. It was after one of these sessions

when we were having a chat together that the subject of flying came up. The young Pilot Officer who was taking the class asked who had flown before. Apparently out of about twenty of us there were eight of us who had never been up. He promised to do something about this and he would let us knowwhat he could manage. About two weeks later when I had all but forgotten about it, there was a phone call to the section asking for me. The Flight Sergeant I/C the workshops wanted to know what I had been up to as there was a Pilot Officer asking for me. "No idea Chief "I replied. All Flight Sergeants in charge of a section are called Chiefies. It was the PO from the education section telling me he had arranged a flight for the following morning and I was to go to the Parachute section to pick up a parachute and Mae West then I would be taken out to the aircraft When he said parachute, I said that I was having second thoughts about going. He told me he had been to a lot of trouble to arrange this flight and I had better be there or else. Apparently it is mandatory for anyone flying in military aircraft to have parachutes. What I would have done in an emergency I don`t know,but Ilike to think I would have remembered some of the old films and done the right things.

The following morning I turned up at the parachute section to find a couple of the others there too so I didn`t feel too bad after that.. We went in and signed out the parachute and the Mae West and staggered, or was it swaggered out, with them slung over our shoulders and feeling like the Dam Busters going off on a raid. We boarded the vehicle that was waiting to take us out to the aircraft which was about a couple of miles away over the other sideof the airfield. When we went to board the aeroplane [it is never called a plane]. I asked one of the crew what I should do with all this tackle. He said "Oh just shove it under that seat out of the way,you can pick it up again when we land" That is where it stayed for the next five hours. I found that we were going to take part in a rehearsal along with otheraircraft from all over the country for a flypast in June when the Queen would be reviewing the RAF at Odiham in Hampshire.

Eventually the engines were started and we started taxiing to our takeoff point. I was surprised at the noise, as of course military aircraft are not sound proofed or insulated at all. In addition to that, there seemed to me to be a few draughts due to ill fitting doors etc. Of course if they need to fly at any great height the crew would go onto oxygen so it didn`t matter too much Fortunately we would be flying at fairly moderate heights so we wouldn`t need oxygen and as it was early summer we shouldn`t be too bothered by cold. Then the engines were opened up and we trundled off along the runway. I use the word trundle deliberately as I thought the aircraft was never going to pick up enough speed to lift off. The first time I realised we must have been airborne was when suddenly we were over water and that was a couple of hundred feet below us. The runway ended at the cliff edge of the north coast of Cornwall. We were about eight miles east of Newquay. We flew several hundred miles out over the Atlantic before turning to fly to our rendezvous over Odiham. This was where I was about to be amazed. When I went forward to the cockpit the pilot was sitting in his underpants and vest and sweating quite a lot. As I watched, the engines were constantly being fine tuned and course changes made in order to keep the aircraft on course and on time according to the prearranged schedule. This was obviously harder work than I, as a common erk, could have realised. After a while I went to the rear of

the aircraft to the spot where a rear gunner would have sat in a bomber. In this aircraft there was a sponge rubber mattress where an observer could look out of the Perspex cover in a search and rescue operation. It was a bit unnerving when I first lay on this as it juts out a couple of feet

beyond the tail and you seem to be suspended in mid air. I knew we must have been getting close to our destination as we had been flying over land for half an hour or so. Then suddenly, out of nowhere, the air was full of aircraft. I think there were probably forty or fifty aircraft behind us and I have no idea how many ahead of us. Then as suddenly as they appeared they disappeared. Once again the sky was empty. I have always admired the navigational skills shown by these aircrews to be able to navigate to such a high degree of accuracy. These aircraft came together from all over the UK to a little spot over the Hampshire countryside and to within seconds of their allotted times. We had travelled over six hundred miles to get there and we were still on time. Amazing! We then made our way back to St Evaland we landed and handed in our parachutes and went off for tea. It was several hours before my hearing returned to normal.

I was stationed in Cornwall right through the summer of 53 and it was a

great place to be as a young man. I had a mate who was a member of a small dance band and although I couldn`t play myself I often accompanied the band when they played in some of the various village halls on Saturday evenings. I helped make up the numbers to pay for the cost of transport around the county. There never seemed to be many local men at these events and I was told that the majority of them went away to work as there was so little employment locally. Well their loss was my gain and I became quite friendly with one particular girl who lived in St Austel. However it was a romance doomed to fail as we didn`t see each other very often due to the distance separating us and the few opportunities to meet. We corresponded for a while even after I was posted to Egypt, but gradually even that stopped. My posting to Egypt was I think due to my volunteering for service overseas.

In the early fifties there was an RAF Flying Training establishment in

Southern Rhodesia [nowadays known as Zimbabwe] that was the place I

volunteered for, but finished up in Egypt. I was sent up to Lytham St Annes for kitting out with my tropical gear and then down to Hendon in transit to Blackbushe Airfield to emplane for Egypt.

3rd Entry

Before I continue with my story of my life after my demob, it might be a

good idea to relate a little about my experiences in the RAF. The first

contact I made with the RAF was when I had to register for National Service before I was 18 at Pownall Square in Liverpool. After a medical and some aptitude tests I was accepted for service in the RAF, something I had wanted to do since the age of eight during the war. However, I think there must have been a mistake somewhere along the line as I was going to be a pilot. Unfortunately they had all the pilots they wanted and instead offered me a trade in whatever I felt I could manage. Why would I want to learn another trade? I already had one. So the Flight Sergeant who interviewed me suggested I might already be qualified for something in the General Engineering line. I told him that I didn`t think a ship builder/repairer would be of much use with aircraft. After discussing the pro`s and con`s we settled on my entry as a welder, which was something I had been doing during the first half of my apprenticeship. There was a couple of draw backs to this, as first I would have to sign on for three years and my acceptance was contingent on my passing a trade test. After a little thought I decided that an extra year wouldn`t hurt,and besides the pay was a little better than NS pay. Having made that decision, I had to take a trade test, and for this I had to go to RAF Cardington in Bedfordshire. This was to be my first taste of what life in the Air Force would be like. I have to say I was quite impressed with the living conditions, as every thing was spick and span, what I didn`t realise was that this was only due to the hard work of other lads just like me. I was given a bed for the night and a mug and what the corporal I/C the hut said were Eating Irons. Of course I was still a civilian so there was no marching about or being shouted at. I was shown where to get a meal and where the NAAFI was, and told my test would take place the following morning, and till then I was free to do as I pleased.

So after mating up with a couple of other lads who were also to take a test

in other trades, I spent a couple of hours in the NAAFI before going back to the billet and getting a nights sleep. On the following morning I went for some breakfast and then reported to another hut. This camp was all huts. Once I was in there I was directed to a table at which a Flight Sergeant was sat, and told to sit down. It was then I got my first lesson in RAF bullshit. The F/S opened a sheaf of papers and asked me a few basic questions on Oxy/Acetylene welding that anyone with a modicum of knowledge of the subject would have been able to answer. After a few minutes of this with the F/S reading questions from his papers and me giving him the answers,he said, "Right, That’s it .You pass. I asked him where I went to for the practical test. He said " What practical test? I wouldn`t know anything about it, I only ask the questions" He confided that he was only filling in time till his demob came up. This was 1950 and there were still a few wartime airmen about who had not yet been demobbed. I was told I would enter the RAF with the exalted rank of AC1,

which is the norm for any airman who has completed his trade training. As I wouldn`t be needing any training I would be fully trained when I entered the RAF three years hence. I have no idea how much that ten minutes cost the RAF but it was worth it to me as I had a couple of days off work for which I was paid and free rail travel and accommodation and meals for two days. What a farce!

It was three years later when I finally had to return to Cardington on

January 28th 1953 to be kitted out and attested as they call it, before

being sent with the rest of my intake to Bridgenorth in Shropshire for basic

training. Normally basic training in the RAF lasts eight weeks, and ends

with a passing out parade. This wasn`t to be our fate, as the date of our

passing out parade coincided with the date of the formation of the RAF on

1st April 1918. Instead we were to take part in a commemorative parade

through Manchester, complete with flypast. For this, on the fifth week of

our training we went to RAF Wilmslow near Manchester where we had an

intensive last three weeks of marching and drill etc. On the day of the

parade we assembled in a park three miles from Manchester City Centre,and after inspections by some military big wigs we marched off with fixed bayonets and four bands playing. I believe there was about 2,000 men and women on that march as all the intakes from other recruit training centres for that date were also on parade. That march made a big impression on me and I never forgot it. To my surprise no one I ever spoke to subsequently had even heard of it.

After a short leave I had to report to my first permanent posting,. RAF St

Eval in Cornwall. A Coastal Command station. It was then that I realised

that somehow I had made a mistake with the date when I was due to report. I should have been there on the Sunday to report for duty on the Monday. I was a day adrift. My mind was in a turmoil thinking of all sorts of dire consequences. After being used to the strict discipline of basic training I expected to be court marshalled at least. However when I reported to the guardroom on the Monday evening, The SP Corporal on duty ,said not to worry as no one was expecting me. A huge weight lifted off my mind at that and I decided that if this is what the RAF is like I might enjoy my time in it. I think there is one aspect of RAF service that may be different to the army and that is that most times RAF personell travel between postings as individuals and not as a group. Another strange custom is that when you get to a new posting you have to go through a procedure known as arriving. This is a process whereby you are given a form on which are listed just about every section on the camp. You have to visit each one and sign in and by this means you are registered as being on the strength. The older airmen who have been through this process several times at different camps can make

it last four or five days and have a good skive at the same time. I

completed in two days and was told I should have taken longer. As some RAF camps are spread over huge distances, especially flying stations as this one was, I could easily have gotten away with it. When being posted elsewhere you went through a process known as clearing, the reverse of arriving.

Once the preliminaries were completed it was time to report to my section

which was the Station Workshops flight in the General Engineering Squadron. Which in turn was one of the squadrons which help make up the Technical Wing. Most RAF Flying stations are made up of three wings. The other two being the Administrative wing and the Flying wing.

I found that most of my work would be in the repair and maintenance of MT vehicles and ground equipment, little if any welding is done on aircraft.

The only welding on aircraft I ever did was on the engine baffles of the

Shackleton aircraft, which were flown from there on maritime reconnaissance flights. These were made of a new metal to me called Inconel and required a new technique which I had to learn. There was quite a flow of these baffles coming through as they had to stand a lot of heating and cooling and they were inclined to crack under the stress. As it wasn`t a vital part of the aircraft it was permissible to weld these cracks up to prevent them spreading further. Another job and one I enjoyed was repairs to the many old cars and motorbikes belonging to the aircrews and which they raced about the airfield on with little apparent regard for safety.

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