7T5 CLUB AGM 2007

The AGM will be held in Halton Village Hall on the Saturday 22nd; of September 2007,
starting promptly at 10.00hrs to 11.00hrs.

Our AGM will be brief, being on the same day as the Triennial and we will all wish to be down at the airfield for the 'Meet and Greet'.
We will be displaying our excellent banner for the first time on the march from Workshops to Henderson Square.

Model Aircraft

Responding to your request for something to put in the newsletter, I have had two model aircraft made which might be of interest to the lads. As you did yourself Dave, I served in FEAF immediately after graduation, (except for that small hiccup known as the Suez Crisis which delayed our departure). The first aircraft type that I worked on at Changi was the VickersValetta, so I have had a model made of a representative airframe. I chose 'Q' for Quebec as the subject and the registration VX555 which goes along with it. . Incidentally, research has shown that 'Quebec' did not suffer an awful fate, as did many of the other airframes. (That's why I chose it plus the fact that the Changi Association provided me, and hence the model maker, with a good photo). The model is approx 18 inches in span and comes complete with mounting stand.

After Changi, I was posted to Colerne near Bath where the Hastingsaircraft had just been transferred from Lyneham. (Comets and Britannias took their place). I was familiar with the Hastings because we had them at Changi too, when 48 Sqdn was converted from Valettas. It was a great 'plane and I enjoyed getting filthy dirty working on them. I am surprised that nobody saw fit to model the Handley Page Hastings because it was the workhorse of Transport Command for many years. However, the same model maker who made the Valetta has also come good with a Hastings. The airframe I selected is from 36 Sqdn at Colerne and has the registration WJ334 with the RAF Transport Command livery. Again, research showed that WJ334 was not involved in anything nasty, but was taken out of service as life expired. This model is the same size as the Valetta and they are both a nice size for display purposes. (Anything bigger and Jan and I would need to build a hangar).

Both models are custom made and cost me a very reasonable, (I think), £89.99 each. The company is called Nice Airplanes Ltd and the contact is Martin Weir who can be reached by E-mail on niceairplanes@hotmail.co.uk or at Nice Airplanes Ltd, PO Box 8256, Melton Mowbray, Leics. LE13 9AP. Martin is, as you would expect, ex-RAF and is very obliging. He will make any model of any plane, civil or military, and has excellent research material. To date, to my knowledge, he has built models of the RAF Britannia XM496, (now at Kemble), and also the giant Beverley transport.

Best wishes to all
Peter de Frere (589164)

Chairman's Notes.

A TROPICAL DISASTER
A short account from the pen of David Blunt

During 1958 whilst serving at the A & AEE at Boscombe Down I was selected to serve with a team which would take a Javelin FAW7 to Nigeria for Tropical Trials. Having been at Boscombe Down for just over 2 years 1 had worked on more than 15 different types of aircraft but principally on the Canberra and Javelin. The Javelin was a horrible beast, heavy, a hydraulic nightmare, difficult to work on but never the less 1 have to admit 1 liked working on them.
In due course the full team was selected, ground equipment gathered together, KD issued, jabs given and all other preparations made. At the same time we learned that the Navy Squadron at Boscombe Down would be taking a Sea Vixen along for Tropical Trials as well. The trials were to take place at Kano but since the range of the Fighter aircraft was marginal for the leg from Idris to Kano it was decided that they would travel round the coast of Africa to Nigeria. So the two Hastings support aircraft loaded with crews and equipment left for Kano one accompanying the fighters and the other flying direct. I flew in WD 496, a Mk 2 Hastings via Idris to Kano. The trip was quite uneventful, 7½ hours from Boscombe Down to Idris, and after a night stop 6½ hours to Kano.

At Kano we were accommodated in the Airport Hotel, an old but comfortable hotel on the edge of the airport. It was built for the days of travel when aircraft used to night stop between legs.

We arrived at Kano a day before the arrival of the Javelin and Sea Vixen accompanied by TG502, a Hastings Mk 1, with the rest of the crew. The idea was to check all the equipment so we set up in the old airport building and got going. Refuelling had to take place at the new terminal from hydrants and then we would tow the aircraft back to the old airport. During the first day the aircraft were allowed to soak to get the skin nice and hot. Air ventilated suits were tested and all equipment checked.

The following day the aircraft were made ready for flight. Our first pilot was suffering from a dose of "Gyppo Gut" but the "Boss" wanted the trial to proceed apace so our second pilot was elected to fly the first mission in the heat of the day. XH757 took off at midday and flew off on the trial. After two hours it had not returned and worried eyes began to search the skies.

Thirty minutes later the familiar noise of the Sapphires were heard and a sigh of relief was breathed by all. A few minutes on the downwind leg the engines cut. The pilot banked the aircraft slowly and plonked it down on the threshold where port and nose undercarriages collapsed and 757 came to rest. No casualties but what a state to be in - crashed on the first trip. It turned out that the navigator got lost at low level so they climbed to try to get a fix and shut one engine down to conserve fuel; but didn't quite make it.

We thought that would be the end of it, but we were later to realise it would have been more convenient if it had caught fire and burned out. It was decided to salvage the aircraft which had to be moved in any case since it was a hazard to other aircraft landing and taking off. Lying on soft sand about 50 yards from the tarmac with virtually no equipment a difficult job faced us. In the meantime trials with the Sea Vixen went ahead without problem.
Kano didn't see much traffic in the daytime, it was strictly an early morning and evening airport in those days. Never more was the saying about "Mad Fools and Englishmen going out in the Midday Sun" true. DC-6, Constellation and Stratocruisers were the order of the day with the lovely sounds of the big P & W and Wright engines carrying across the bush on the pre-flight run-ups.
The station engineer for Kano said that if we didn't move 757 he would. However, when the "Boss" said O.K. he suddenly had to pay a visit to Lagos. The only equipment available was a 5 ton petrol electric crane designed to operate only on tarmac. We did have the offer of a load of railway sleepers. The "Boss" decided to call in the Nigerian Army to recover the aircraft but in the meantime it was decided to reduce the weight of the aircraft by as much as possible. Removing the engines was impossible, but ejection seats, jet pipes, tail cone, drop tanks and pylons were easily removed. The tail plane and fin had to come off but the odd angle at which the aircraft sat made it difficult and jacking it into the horizontal raised the tail which the airport authorities did not like. However after 2 days using a road of sleepers and by levelling the aircraft the tail plane and fin were eventually removed.
By this time a British Army Captain with a Sergeant and 2 Privates, all Nigerian, had arrived with a six wheeled Austin K2 Wrecker. This would be used to tow 757 back to the old terminal. It was decided to support the port wing on a trailer for recovery.
With the aircraft in more or less the horizontal the trailer was manoeuvred under the port wing packed up with sand bags. The starboard undercarriage was secure so the 757 precariously balanced on one wheel and a trailer it was slowly winched along a road of sleepers which was moving at the same speed as the aircraft, ably helped by about 12 Nigerian Labourers. Once the aircraft was on the tarmac the slow tow back to the "line" began. From the crash to this point had taken seven days.

By the time we arrived back at the "lino" the Sea Vixen was due back. Suddenly panic. Radio contact with the Sea Vixen was lost. After a further 30 minutes it was decided to mount a search, so the Hastings was given a before flight and we took-off with about a dozen observers on board to look for the aircraft. It was about 5:30 and dusk was beginning to fall, lots of small fires were beginning to appear. This was literally looking for a needle in a haystack. After a couple of hours the captain decided to return to Kano, we could do no more. At 10 o'clock at night we received a message. Pilot and observer had ejected and were O.K.
The following morning we learned the full story. While flying at 550 knots and only about 600 feet above the ground a Vulture flew up the air intake and into the engines. A fire warning light cane on and power was lost. The pilot ordered "Eject" and the aircraft crashed and was totally destroyed. The pilots chute did not open properly and the canopy became torn. However he landed safely. The observers' seat functioned absolutely perfectly. He landed awkwardly and sprained his ankle so badly he was unable to walk. He wrapped himself in his canopy and stayed where he was. They landed about a half mile apart, neither knowing where the other was. The pilot borrowed a horse and rode about five miles to the nearest police post. On arrival the pilot fell off the horse and hurt his back. A message was radioed to Kano advising what had happened. Nothing could be done about the Sea Vixen, the Navy "Boss" visited the wreckage but only the ejection seats were salvaged.

So now we cleaned up as much of the Javelin as we could, blanked off the ports and orifices and removed the engines & placed them in containers. By now what was left of 757 was parked in a small hangar and prepared for storage. It was decided that the aircraft was worth recovering and a working party would return a later date after a full survey had been carried out.
It only remained to clear up all of the equipment. The Hastings we had out there was loaded up with freight and passengers and returned to the U.K. Two days later a second Hastings appeared and we loaded the remainder of the equipment and we climbed aboard for the two day trip back to the U.K.
By the time we arrived back at Boscombe Down via Lyneham to clear customs we had been away for five weeks and nothing to show for it. At the time this probably went down as the most expensive event in the history of tropical trials

Dave Blunt

THINGS YOU NEVER KNEW YOUR CELLPHONE COULD DO.

There are a few things that can be done in times of grave emergencies. Your mobile phone can actually be a life saver or an emergency tool for survival.

Check out the things that you can do with it: -

1. The Emergency Number worldwide for **Mobile** is 112.
If you find yourself out of coverage area of your mobile network and there is an emergency, dial 112 and the mobile will search any existing network to establish the emergency number for you, and interestingly this number 112 can be dialled even if the keypad is locked. **Try it out.**

2. Subject: Have you locked your keys in the car?
Does your car have remote keys? This may come in handy someday. Good reason to own a cell phone: If you lock your keys in the car and the spare keys are at home, call Someone at home on their cell phone from your cell phone. Hold your cell phone about a foot from your car door and have the person at your home press the unlock button, holding it near the mobile phone on their end. Your car will unlock. Saves someone from having to drive your keys to you. Distance is no object. You could be hundreds of miles away, and if you can reach someone who has the other "remote" for your car, you can unlock the doors (or the trunk). Editor's Note: It works fine! We tried it out and it unlocked our car over a cell phone!"
(NOTE - Not Your WebMaster & Editor, but the Editor of the Article John sent)

3. Subject: Hidden Battery power (Nokia Only(?))
Imagine your cell battery is very low, you are expecting an important call and you don't have a charger.
Nokia instruments comes with a reserve battery. To activate, press the keys *3370# Your cell will restart with this reserve and the instrument will show a 50% increase in battery. This reserve will get charged when you charge your cell next time.

4. How to disable a STOLEN mobile phone?
To check your Mobile phone's serial number, key in the following digits on your phone: *#06#
A 15 digit code will appear on the screen. This number is unique to your handset. Write it down and keep it somewhere safe, when your phone get stolen, you can phone your service provider and give them this code. They will then be able to block your handset so even if the thief changes the SIM card, your phone will be totally useless. You probably won't get your phone back, but at least you know that whoever stole it can't use/sell it either. If everybody does this, there would be no point in people stealing mobile phones

John Higgins

WATER TOWERS

Now that I come to think of it most of you will remember that most, if not all, RAF stations have similar water towers. They were designed in the pre-war years by my neighbour, now deceased, Ken Dawson. Ken was a water engineer of some note who was tasked with the job.
The reason for my mentioning this will become clear.

My management decided we should mark my 70th Birthday with a trip to New Zealand, So we left Cambridge about an hour before the snow arrived on 7th February, flew out from Heathrow with Singapore Airlines with a 2 day stop over scheduled for both outward and inward journeys. Nothing eventful going out. I saw 'The Queen' and the latest James Bond film and when a beautiful young hostess asked if I would like to drink some red or white wine and I asked if she had some whisky, she gave me about the same measure as if it had been wine. I turned out that she had only been in the job a few months but she is obviously destined to go far!

Singapore bears little resemblance to what we knew, the Padang, St Andrew's Church and one or two other land marks are still recognisable but the Happy World where I learnt the Cha Cha Cha is now gone as is the Greenspot factory, near where we buried Pete Arundell. The Botanical Gardens is much expanded and the Tiger Balm Gardens have been relocated and expanded.

Getting from Singapore City to Tengah (as I remember) used to be via the Bukit Timah Road to Bukit Panjang and turn left past the 'City Lights'. We decided to go by the Underground/Metro. This is a very pleasant way to travel - clean and efficient, discount for pensioners, and tannoy information on the trains in well-modulated English.
Tengah is not marked on the tourist maps and EW27 is the nearest Metro terminal to where I thought it was. The first taxi driver did not know where Tengah was and the second agreed to help us find it. I remembered Chua Chua Kang road being relevant in our time. We passed a couple of very large cemeteries and then through the jungle type foliage I saw two big black water tanks on about 100ft tower of steel RSJ's. The Water Tower!
And I knew I was 'home'.

At the entrance the Officer in charge of security was all smiles and friendly but 'No Entry and no photos' - but if I was quick he would not notice. He said lots of our people had visited; some of you also may have enjoyed the experience.

New Zealand was all that I had expected and more. They have much of what we had and valued 50 years ago without many of the negative aspects called progress.
Quite easy imagine how it produced Thompson, Enwright and other outstanding Brats. A sensational, beautiful country full of nice people - go and have a shufty.

Outside the hotel in Auckland a guy parked his car on the pavement and our coach driver said proudly 'He's an All Black'….. Roadside rules obviously did not apply

Frank Williams

UP COUNTRY

"O.K. Crash Crew report to the Office" This was the call that came across the hangar. As one of the Duty Crash crew (we had at least one crash every month for the first 18 Months I was at RAF Tengah on Singapore) I duly reported. "Right" said the Cheify "go and get your small kit, a Venom has crashed 'Up Country' and you're going to guard the Crash Site".

We got our gear and climbed in the back of the Three Tonner and set off. Across the Johore Causeway and off 'Up Country'. We got a little more info from the Sergeant in charge, a Kiwi by the name of 'Jumbo' Conroy, it appeared that a Venom pilot at 12.000 feet heard a 'Bang' from somewhere on the aircraft and it went in to an inverted spin. He recovered to level flight at 8,000 feet and when he relaxed, it promptly went inverted again. He thought "Blow this for a game of soldiers" (or something similar!) and promptly ejected.

The Aircraft had crashed about 70 miles up in Malaya, near a village called 'Balai Rengit'. When we arrived at the village, we were knackered. 70 miles in the back of a Three Tonner. with the exhaust fumes blowing in the back was no fun at all! The Officer in Charge said "As soon as we get to the aircraft we'll check all the control runs".

We rested the night in the village community hall and next day set off on foot along a jungletrack, led by one of the local Malay police. About 7 miles in, we found (the remains of) the aircraft in a pool of almost neat AVTAG with just the wings and the boom sticking out. Someone muttered "how are we were going to check the control runs now?" but luckily the Officer didn't hear this.

 

 

 

 

We spent two days at the site, allegedly to keep the locals away, but this was pretty pointless as several items had gone missing before we got there. Jumbo Conroy was suffering from Heat exhaustion, so it was decided to evacuate us by chopper

 

Above: Your trusty Editor keeping the natives at bay!

In due time an Leonides powered Whirlwind arrived dropped a streamer which I picked up. It wasn't until I got back to Blighty about two years later I was looking through my 'Souvenirs' from Singapore I discovered that there was a message in the weighted end of the streamer telling us he would hand a short distance to the west of us! At the time we followed the sound of the engines and got to the Helicopter. On the way to the chopper, I managed to fall in a drainage ditch which was about eighteen inches wide and five foot deep and left me with just my head above ground level, and the Officer going past told me to "Stop messing about!"

We loaded 'Jumbo' and three of the other lads, and away they went. About twenty minutes later, the chopper re-appeared and collected the rest of us. My first ride in a chopper lasted about ten minutes and they dropped us off in the playground of Balai Rengit School.

If I'd known then what I know now I would never have got in the chopper. The first helicopters sent out to the Far East, Dragonflys and Whirlwinds, were sent out on the assumption by some Fathead in the Air Ministry that the "climate of Malaya is much like that of England"!! They were so limited by their flight envelope that they couldn't take off straight up, but had to be flying forwards to gain altitude! Some of the jungle rescues of soldiers from the deeper jungle involved them making a large clearing so that the helicopter could fly around the clearing to climb out of the jungle, and this even sometimes resulted in the medic, who came in with the chopper, being left behind so that the casualty could be flown out!

We returned to Tengah on the Saturday and were given the Monday on to recuperate, but sadly on that Monday a Venom crashed into one of the Married Quarters killing several wives and Children.

But that's another story.

Dave Howell

FLYING DYNAMITE

My first overseas tour in the RAF took me to Aden leaving Lyneham in RAF Comet C2 XK 715 on 1 March 1959. We flew to Idris, had lunch refuelled and flew on to Kano in Northern Nigeria for a night stop in the Airport Hotel. The following day we took off for Nairobi and landed at Embaksi where another night stop was made. In fact we stayed at Eastleigh for 24 hours and finally left for Khormaksar and landed there at eight o'clock in the evening. The heat after the Comet ride was unbearable. Flying at 41000 feet in a Comet was an unforgettable experience, smooth and fast.

At Khormaksar I was employed in Beverley Aircraft Servicing Flight. This place seemed like the end of the world and after six months the RAF introduced the one year tour at route stations. A vacancy for a Corporal Technician came up at Riyan which I applied for and eventually was accepted. My time at Riyan started in October when I flew there in a Valetta of 84 Squadron.

Duties at Riyan were simple. I was in charge of visiting aircraft which generally only required refuelling. Regular visitors were the fresh ration aircraft which came on a Tuesday and Friday and flew on to Salalah and Masirah and returned on a Wednesday and Saturday and an Aden Airways DCS which visited on Tuesday, Friday, Sunday and Monday.
Irregular visitors were the odd Meteor, Venom, Beverley and Twin Pioneer of the RAF and a couple of DC3's belonging to Dhofar City Air Services taking supplies to an oil camp at Thamud in Southern Saudia Arabia.

It was twice during my tour at Riyan, that a York of Trans Mediterranean Airways arrived for 4 or 5 days to take fuel and dynamite to Thamud for the oil company. The fuel run consisted of loading the York with barrels of fuel and making 3 or 4 flights a day to Thamud.

On the second visit the York was to take dynamite to the desert. The dynamite was brought in by sea to Mukalla 25 miles away and was stored on the edge of the airfield well away from everything and under guard. The York arrived and was refuelled with just enough fuel to take it to Thamud and back to Riyan with no diversions. Boxes of dynamite were loaded and the aircraft prepared for take-off at first light the following morning.

Everyone was woken before 6.00am when the engines were started, a run-up carried out and the York taxied to the end of the runway for take-off. The captain ran-up the Merlins and released the brakes. Speed gathered slowly and the tail came up. With the nose held down the York thundered along the desert runway throwing up clouds of dust.

As the runaway threshold loomed up it looked as if a take-off was doubtful, an abort was out of the question. All the onlookers the whole camp ran in all directions away from the impending disaster. The York used about 50 yards of the undershoot before it staggered into the air to the intense relief of the onlookers. It climbed slowly and eventually disappeared over the Jebel which is about 4500 feet high.

When an aircraft arrived at Riyan the controller would sound a hooter 20 minutes before arrival time. Unfortunately the Jebel provided a radio blackout and aircraft approaching from this direction gave only 5 minutes warning before arrival. When the York re-appeared everyone went up to the airfield and as it was on finals, the engines all stopped one after the other. The pilot put it on the runway and came to a halt. So we refuelled the York on the runway and it was reloaded at the same time. It turned out that when loaded the previous day the weight of the boxes had been wrongly quoted and about 12 tons of dynamite had been loaded instead of 9 tons.

Generally four flights were made each day with the last landing being after dark and we would have to put the goose necks out for a flare path. In all about 20 sorties were made.The captain of the aircraft was an ex-Spitfire pilot and for this job he was paid £7.00 per hour for about 12 hours per day. As for the rest of the crew, the co-pilot engineer and navigator, they were Lebanese unlicensed and getting £5.00 per hour. Not bad for 1960, but then, who wants to fly dynamite?

On the day that they departed we asked the captain to do a "beat up" of the airfield. He took off and disappeared behind a small ridge to the north about 200 feet high. We could hear the aircraft but not see it. Then it appeared and flew along the runway toward the assembled group at a height that seemed to be about 10 feet above ground level. Everyone ducked as the York flew over then climbed and banked and flew off towards the Lebanon. Other than refuelling and re-oiling the York, the only task we had was to fill the paperwork to recover payment for landing and parking fees and fuel used.

After the York had gone, the C.O. came up to the airfield and said the captain had left £50:00 to pay for drinks as a token of his thanks. There were quite a few sore heads the following morning.

In all this was a very Interesting part of my career, but I wouldn't care to fly dynamite even for £7.00 an hour.

David Blunt

LETTER FROM A JAGUAR ENTHUSIAST

This story starts in 1966 when I was a young 29 years old corporal based at Lyneham in Wiltshire where, having just returned from two years in Aden, I was whiling away the remains of my 12 years engagement. The perceptive among you will have noted that my promotional prospects throughout the previous 11 years had been, shall we say, rather slow. In fact, so slow that, at my rate of promotion, I would be 73 before I made sergeant and 136 before I would have a crown added to my stripes.

So there was I, a good-looking and a very eligible bachelor who had successfully fought off the advances of dozens of girls from the nearby town of Swindon but with one big disadvantage: I was driving a Humber Hawk.

In truth, the Humber was not a bad car, in fact mine was in quite good nick and it ran very nicely. However, unlike its owner, it had no image. This was the point I made to friends as we sat drinking tea one evening in the Corporals' Club. (I hardly ever used the NAAFI for fear of being mobbed by WRAFs). During these discussions one of the lads suggested that I buy a Jaguar.

At the time I thought it was a stupid idea. How could a twelve quid a week corporal afford to run, let alone buy, such a car, a car that epitomised businessmen, bank robbers, racing drivers and other unsavoury characters? But the chap was adamant. He knew someone who would sell me his Mk 8 saloon for fifty pounds and, if I was interested, he would make viewing arrangements.

A couple of nights later, accompanied by a friend Smudger Smith, (have you noticed how there's always a Smudger Smith in these stories?), I went to the Goddard Arms Hotel in Swindon to see the Jaguar. It was owned by the assistant manager who said he had little opportunity to use it and wanted to clear the enormous space it occupied in the car park. The car was black with maroon side panels and had light grey leather interior. The battery was flat but we soon jump-started it and the engine ran smoothly. I asked Smudger what he thought, although I knew I was already hooked, and he simply said, 'Go for it laddie.' This annoyed me a bit because he was at least four months younger than I, but he was also twice my size and could handle himself well in a scrum, so I held my tongue. After all, you couldn't help liking a bloke like that.

I took the Mk 8 back to camp, sold the Humber to a young airman who was newly married and planning a large family, the poor fool, and began a new life as a Jaguar owner. Every night I parked it outside the WRAF billet in the hope of making a catch but without success. I think the girls were peeved at having to walk all the way round it every morning to get to work. Either that or they had no taste.

After about four months the automatic gearbox failed and I was left stranded. In those days spares were only available from main dealers so they were priced at top whack. A new gearbox was quoted at eighty quid, more than I'd paid for the car, so my Jag went for scrap. I was given forty quid for it without the radio, which I gave to my brother for his Ford Anglia, doubling its value.

Now I was without wheels, a situation which, apart from being irksome, was severely affecting my social life. You can understand the situation; the girls in the WRAF Block had been unimpressed so I had to look elsewhere and elsewhere had to be Swindon which was ten miles distant. I desperately needed wheels.

If you want to buy a car, any car, the best selection is to be found in London. (Never buy a London car - they are always stuck in traffic, never cleaned properly, always grimy and generally knocked about). So, off I went to the Big Smoke with £100 in dirty notes, (made up from the forty quid I had received from the sale of my Mark 8 Jaguar and all that remained from the Humber Hawk's sale after deducting my bookmaker's share and that of the local publican). However, it was enough, or at least I hoped it was, to get a decent motor. Somehow, after walking for what seemed like 50 or 60 miles and visiting countless backstreet dealers, I ended up in Hanwell where I spotted a bright red Jaguar stuck at the back of a used car lot, (just waiting for a mug to come along and give it a new lease of life). The price was a very unreasonable £80. The dealer showed remarkable restraint throughout the procedure, never once letting his joy at making a sale show on his face. In fact, towards the end of the proceedings I am sure that I saw a tear forming in his left eye.
Once more I was mobile. I drove my new purchase, a 3.4 litre saloon of 1957 vintage, back towards the UJ Club at Waterloo to pick up my weekend bag but horror struck. In London's traffic the car drove so badly, missing and stalling as I coaxed it along, that I had to abandon it and take the Tube to Waterloo.

To cut the story short, I eventually got the car back to Lyneham where, with the help of friends, I gave it a good going over and it repaid me with several months of very fast and smooth running. However, it was not without its dramas. One evening whilst doing a fast overtaking manoeuvre of a line of Austin Sevens, the bonnet flew off and the first Austin in the line ran over it and crushed it beyond repair. The result was a ten shilling bonnet from the local scrap yard in a nice shade of grey which blended perfectly with the bright red paintwork on the rest of the car. It transpired that the attachments for the bonnet were so badly corroded that a previous owner had used body filler to patch it up. Closer inspection revealed that other parts of the car had been given similar treatment. The RAF being the RAF, it was not long before the lads had nicknamed my lovely Jaguar the Isopon Special.

On another occasion, when parked overnight, the spotlights were stolen and an attempt was made to open the bonnet resulting in damage to the leaping Jaguar mascot. (They must have used a large hammer to try and batter their way in. If they had tried the door, they would have found it open and could have opened the bonnet the conventional way). This incident distressed me to the extent that I even informed the local police which, they claimed, also distressed them.

Worse was to happen whilst on leave when my beautiful red and grey 3.4 saloon was attacked by a new car near Hyde Park Corner. Apparently the foreign driver did not realise that the orange lights that you could flash at will often meant that you were going to make a turn. It's much the same today. Fortunately a relative was a panel beater and he was able to make good the dent and enable me to get back to Lyneham at the end of my leave. However, there was no time for a paintwork repair so the damaged area was blown over with grey primer temporarily to match the bonnet.

Eventually my reputation as a Jaguar owning rake began to cause jealousy among the lads at Lyneham and, in an effort to boost his own status among the girls, one of them persuaded me to sell him the car and three pages from my address book. He gave me quite a good deal, £20 for the Jag and £10 per page, so I had £50 to spend on a replacement...

By this time I have to admit that I had wised up, so I spent £32:10s on a Wolseley 6-80 at the local auction and lived happily ever after. Well, not quite. In fact I bought a third Jaguar with my £180 gratuity after demob in 1967, married Jan a year later and we have had seven more little Jags since. I am here to tell you that the lure of the Jaguar is very strong. They are addictive. Some say they are like beautiful blondes - they seduce you, (I wish!). So, be warned, stick to Hillman Imps or whatever but steer clear of Jaguars or you will fall under their spell.

Peter de Frere (589164)

PS. Yes, before you ask us, we have one now!

I COULD UNDERSTAND THE FUSS IF THE DAMNED THING HAD GONE OFF!

You may recall from my previous note that my bad luck continued after I left Halton and went to Pembroke Dock. The rest of my 10 months in SW Wales passed without any real incident. I could hardly be blamed when my bed caught fire, with me in it, because some fool (Dave Knight RIP) topped the stove up in the middle of the night, and I was parked a bit close.

Similarly, I was only an assistant when the boss blew some fire bottles and one buried itself 6 inches deep only 2 feet from where he was standing because he got the charge wrong, and after my stint in the cooler at Halton I was only an interested spectator when the boys went out and put small explosive charges in all the unplugged cannons in Pembroke Castle, left them with a 15 minute fuse, and went down to the town to watch the fun. I must admit that the reaction of the local populace as these cannon started going off one by one in the middle of a lazy summer's afternoon is one of my more abiding memories of sports afternoon. The constabulary were quite reasonable about that little incident, really; the Chief Superintendent came up and told us that he knew what had been done, with what, by whom and where it came from but he could not prove it. He went on to say that if we ever tried anything like it again he'd damned soon find something they could prove, and we'd better believe it!

By this time the first stage of investigation into any incident was to ask if I'd been around at the time. If the answer was "Yes" the case was closed and the cause put down to an Act of God!
So after some 10 months at my first station it closed down (nothing to do with me, at least, I don't think so) and I was posted to a trials unit at a place called West Freugh in the south west of Scotland. Off I went, bright eyed and bushy tailed, the eternal optimist, ready to make a fresh start, but my bad luck was still with me, and manifested itself once again in the panic button when I was on Duty Armourer. This being a smaller station we only had the one man sleeping in the Armoury and the panic button was a switch by the side of the bed. One night I must have been a bit restless, and I knocked the switch on as I turned over in bed. The first I knew of this was when the phone went and the duty policeman asked me to turn the alarm off as it had been ringing for an hour, and the off-duty guards couldn't sleep. Of course this made a good story to tell the boys in the morning, but unfortunately it got back to my boss, who promptly charged the duty policeman, orderly sergeant, guard commander and anybody else he could think of. This did not exactly make me popular in Police Flight or the Sergeants' Mess and I can think of few more dangerous places to be unpopular in, particularly as a young JT less than a year out of training. I had to tread very warily for the rest of my time there, which was not to be too long, as it happened.

My run of bad luck continued when the AOC made an unscheduled visit late one afternoon. We only had 4 aeroplanes, although I was really moving into the modern era by now, because one of them was a jet, two really if you count the Lincoln with 2 Avons slung in underwing pods (You should have seen that go!). We also only had a few parking slots, depending on what we were bombing up with for the next trial. Of course the pilots knew us and we knew them and we all knew where the slots were and it was (fairly) common practice to meet the aeroplane at the turn off and walk in front of it, forwards of course, giving the occasional lazy beckon over the shoulder, until you got to the correct dispersal, when you changed to the more formal approach.
One afternoon I was bringing a Lincoln into the far slot, about 200 - 300 yards up the taxiway. It was a beautiful afternoon and I was fairly relaxed as I strolled up the peri track with the Lincoln growling along behind me, but I gradually became aware that something was different. I thought a little and suddenly realized that the engine note had changed. A quick glance over the shoulder revealed that the Lincoln had been stopped at the last intersection to give precedence to the AOC's Devon which was now following me.
I didn't know who was on board at the time of course, but I was uneasy, and I swear that that pretty little aeroplane was more menacing than any Lincoln; how right I was!

Some time later (to be honest it may have been earlier; it is 30 years on, and while my memory is good my chronology may not be) I inadvertently discovered the power of the trade unions. We were moving a bomb trolley out of the hangar, and we were blocked by a tractor. Before anyone could stop me I jumped aboard and moved it about 5 yards. Unfortunately it was not only a civilian manned MT FIt, but a mainly civilian manned station and so it was that the whole trials unit came to a grinding halt while high level discussions took place to reassure the workforce that they were not being made redundant, and there was really no need for them all to be out on strike .

It has always been my belief that the Royal Air Force changed from rubber covered electrical cables to plastic ones because of the way that blue could fade to look like green, and green could darken to look like blue. I may have had something to do with the final decision. I had to rewire a bomb carrier, and had dutifully made a note of which colour went where on the terminal block (You may recall that nobody bothered with wiring diagrams in those days, least of all Air Ministry, who didn't even publish any.). Now I should explain that on this particular carrier the blue wire carried power to the release unit, which actually drops the bomb, and the green wire fed the fusing unit which arms the bomb and pulls out all the safety devices. I don't really need to go any further do I? As I said they used to fade after a while.
You've all seen the films - the bomber approaches the target "Bomb doors open", " Bombs selected and fused" and lo and behold - down goes a 1,000 pounder well outside the range area. I could say that I was lucky because the bomb aimer had not pressed the release button which would have armed the bomb through my carefully connected green wire but in this case it didn't matter since the bomb was only sand filled. Couple this with the fact that the bomb fell in the local doctor's back garden, and he was the station MO and was an honorary member of the Officers' Mess and I see no reason why there was really so much fuss, and the whole matter could have been settled over a drink.

Laurie (Taff) Richards

OBITUARIES

David "Lew" Lewington - 589186 Armourer

Dave left Halton and went straight to RAF Bruggen. On his return to the UK we met and were married in 1960. We had two children one boy and one girl who have five of their own. He was posted in 1962 to RAF Seletar in Singapore with his family and he thoroughly enjoyed his time there. After much upheaval in his trade as an armourer, he remustered through RAF Locking from 1967 to 1969 to the electronics trade something which he called the "fairies" in his armourer days. You will know the correct name for this trade. From 1971 to 1976 he had a great time at RAF Cottesmore with the flight checking team travelling the world doing his job. In 1976 he was posted to Tongeren in Belgium to work on a NATO site. For the remainder of his service career until 1987 he spent this mostly in Tongeren interspersed with a few months in the UK. He retired from the Service at age 51 and joined NATO as a civilian, as I was already working there for NATO, until he retired in 2001. He is remembered by his colleagues as having a remarkable sense of humour. As you may remember he was also a talented football player and later a keen golfer.

Ann Lewington

When Dave Lewington arrived at Halton he was one of a Southampton contingent which included Mike Bray, Tony Collins, Brian Drysdall, Mike Topp, Trevor Nutland and myself, all of whom, except Trevor, attended the same school, Tauntons Grammar. Lew was one of the first group of Armourers to be raised to LAA status, I think the others were Bert Braillard and Jerry Baker. He also soon became a prominent member of the outstanding Apprentices football team. His popularity was typified at the Re-Union in Bournemouth last year. Virtually everybody I spoke to asked "Have you heard from Lew?" or "How is Lew getting on?"

After passing out we were both posted to Bruggen, along with Geoff Jordan, Jim Harris, Ken Hollands and Derek Welsh (ex 73rd). Here Lew was again a regular member of a Station football team which included some outstanding National Service players. Following our Bruggen tour we lost contact for several years. Around 1975/75 he arrived at Marham aboard an Argosy checking out radar equipment -- he had re-mustered to Ground Radar in the intervening years! There then followed another long period of no contact.

When the 7T5 Club started up Dave Crosby asked if I could help in tracking down 2 or 3 Armourers, one of whom was Lew. By pure chance I saw an article and photo in the local rag about a Mr and Mrs Lewington celebrating their 50th or 60th anniversary in a retirement home. I recognised Lew's father, contacted him and was given the address and phone number which now appear in the 7T5 Club Directory. It transpired that Lew's last posting was to SHAPE HQ (or AFCENT HQ) in Brunssum, Belgium, although he actually worked at Tongeren (also in Belgium). While there he and his family set up home across the border in Holland. He carried on working at Brunssum as a civvy after demob, along with his wife Ann. Lew apparently played golf regularly at, of all places, Bruggen.

It's amazing how you can so miss someone you haven't seen for years, as I'm sure many of you will agree.

Bill Mountford

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Henry Bird - 589215 Electrician

Henry "Dickie" Bird passed away on the morning of 31st December 2006. Dickie joined the 75th, as an electrician, in 1953 as some of us did. From the start it was obvious with a name like Henry and Bird he was always going to be called Dickie. I cannot recall his whereabouts after we left Halton. I only came upon him about 5 years ago when I was playing golf at Chippenham. He did leave the RAF early and worked for the aircraft industry. He suffered for quite some time with breathing difficulties and it was sad to hear today that his heart stopped beating of the morning of 31st December 2006.
RIP Dickie.

Dave Bidgood

The Editors Bit