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Thursday,  February 19, 2009 

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Thanks for the Mammary

My intention for this page is to attempt to build a loose data base of memories of our life at RAF Hereford, no matter how trivial, there is so much I have forgotten  about our working day, what we did after work and on weekends, the clubs and activities we were compelled to participate in.

I have started with what I remember about life in the Block but please fill in the gaps or  contribute your own memories.

'Click Here' to submit your memories

Ray writes:

My earliest memory of the barrack block was a feeling of sheer horror when I saw the size of the room that I was to sleep in. The apparent vast expanse of polished floor with 20 empty beds, 20 large lockers and 20 small lockers, and curtains folded at the bottom resting on the windowsills. I suspect that like the majority of new arrivals that day very few had shared a room with one or two people let alone 19 and the prospect was daunting to say the least. It is amazing how easily we all adapted to the communal life and  just got stuck into to doing it, the daily grind of bed packs, bumpering the floors, polishing and cleaning the lockers and daily room inspections. But there was an upside to life in the block I have fond memories of nights spent bulling my shoes in the laundry room along with Geordie Goddard, Tom Gray, Pete Roxborough and a whole host of others listening to King Crimson and the Beatles on Toms record player......................

Alun writes:

I ended up at Hereford entirely by accident. I was 15 and a half,  bored, being nagged by my parents and living in an area where the education system was so poor that most school leavers had two choices: Work at Rotary Hoes Ltd, Harleston (a manufacturer of rotary muck spreaders) or join the  forces.
In Norwich on one rainy Saturday a gave in to pressure from my parents and went in to the RAF careers information office - just to take a look, you know........

I was met by a smiley seargent who welcomed me and asked me if Iwas
interested in joining. I was wearing a tie die tee shirt, bell bottom
trousers and a cow bell at the time, with  the whole ensemble topped of by blue circular sun glasses and a headband made out of American Indian beads. I mean, did I look like I was serious about joining the forces?
This guy was either on commission or very very keen to see the ranks of the Air Force swelled. He completely ignored my retort of "sniff, not really mate, it's just me parents want me to find a job soon", and asked me to take an aptitude test - "while you're here, you  might as well - no committment, honest." Took the test - "While you're here we have the doctor on site, why not have your medical done - no committment, honest." Next thing I know I have accepted the apprenticeship......

Comes the day to go to Hereford... I wake up and turn on the radio - Peter Paul and Mary are singing "Leaving on a Jet Plane", followed by Simon and Garfunkle "Homeward Bound".  Was this an omen I wonder as I clean my teeth. My Father drops me off at Diss station where I exchange my rail warrant for a ticket and board the train.
I am being met by a lovely lady called Janet Johnson in Liverpool Street.
She is going to see me across London. Janet is a hippy, she lives in a
commune in Muswell Hill. We get to Paddington Station and I am about to get on the train. Janet grabs me, holds me close to her and says, "Don't go  man, like they'll teach you to kill man, you'll become a war pig." "Janet",I reply, "I'm going to be a clerk." But she is insistent, "No man they'll make you kill, don't go please, come and join us in  the commune." This goes on for some time and I only assuage her insistence by telling her that I was signed up, and if I didn't go "THEY" would come looking for me. I don't think she relished the idea of military police stomping round her commune flat (I think she may have experimented in the taking of pharmaceuticals), and so she finally let me go.

Now my parents were a little short on attention to detail, therefore they
have not passed on to me any information on the dress code for the new
apprentice. So I am still dressed in, you guessed it, tie die teeshirt (I did have more than one), bleached levi's with triangles sown into the legs
and with long hair.

On the train, I see a lot of lads about my age looking very dapper in
blazers and grey flannels with moderately short haircuts and pastel or
grey/white shirts. I get talking to one of them and ask where he is going.
He tells me he is going to Hereford to join as an apprentice as are a number of similarly dressed individuals in the carriage. I tell them that I am too.  They laugh, looking at me with my duffle bag and contraband clothes. Most of all they laugh at my hair. You'll have to get that cut they guffaw. I think they expected their short back and sides to be sufficient for the barber at Hereford to pass them by (I had the last laugh there - at least I made the barber work for his money).

Anyway, the train pulls in to Hereford and I line up with the rest of the
erks. We are greeted by a wonderfully  avuncular man who tells us his name is Sergeant Rudge. As he walks down the line the takes a rheumy eyed look at me and tells me that this queue is for individuals who are here to join the RAF for Hereford. I think he thinks I am a  scaley brat from married quarters. I tell him that's what I am here for and he snorts and mumbles something about the way the world is going......

We get to Hereford and are shown our rooms. We were originally in Leroyd Block. One of the kids complains about the 16 man rooms and immediately leaves. Sergeant Rudge comes all over nicey and arranges the lockers in the room to make three areas. I can't understand why all my mates had warned me about how brutal the military discipline regime can be. These people are all being really nice, especially Sergeant Rudge. When we are going down to the mess for instance he jovially suggests that we all might like to try to put our feet down at the same time, "you know guys, just for fun." I'm going to like this military life.......

Anyway after 3 days of walking "in time" with nice sergeants and corporals, we walk (in time) into  the NAAFI and are taken upstairs, given what looks like a raffle ticket (with a number on it that I have subsequently been unable to forget, no matter how hard I try) asked to take an oath, sign some papers then some officer hands me a fiver and says congratulations Reynolds, you're in the airforce. I retort, "WHAT! you mean I wasn't up until now?" "Yes", he replies, you've just signed on. Bugger me, I could have stayed with Janet for a  life of peace love, sex drugs and rock and roll and nobody would have come looking for me. "Ah well", I think, "never mind, it's nice here and they're all very friendly." Funny though as I go down the stairs to go outside, I can hear Sergeant Rudge, and somehow his voice sounds rather different all of a sudden..............................

Leon writes

My 'recurring' memory is that of a weekend camp that myself and Pete Clavering volunteered to attend. (The only two  sproggs from the 317

Unfortunately the camp was for the 316 lads (sxxx entry)and we were unwelcome from the start. We were very new and ignorant of all the protocol - both just 15 years old)

On arrival at the base of Snowdonia  myself and Pete were relegated to sleeping in the Bus - as they (316) were one bivouac short (naturally). It was the coldest night of my life (at that point) - the civilian bus driver had his own camper ample blankets,etc - and  made a makeshift 'home from home' bed at the rear. Pete and myself slept on steel in the corridor of that bus. We were offered pillows by the driver at a quid each.

The next morning it was porridge and eggs with the lads - still  cosy in their tents with oil heaters blazing (dished up in in one mess tin at one time). Then on up Snowdonia we trudged - no water bottles - and melting snow in our mouths all the way up to quench our thirst (we almost got there -  snow storm forced us all down).

Sounds far fetched?  Check with Pete!(I have other recurring memories too - thankfully many are ok even good and only a few bad).

The best one being passing out day and those three bladed  cloth props waiting for us at the end of our beds!

Leon writes

I can still recall the first few minutes of arrival at RAF Hereford. That grey Bus pulled up, and next to me, this big guy (turned out to be a Clerk) muscled his way to be the first to exit from the rear with his case. Motioning me aside he made as if to professionally para drop from a C130. "Out the way mate"

At that precise moment I pondered if I would ever make the grade at this place - and whether it had not been my biggest mistake to sign up at Stafford months earlier.

Next thing we were all being split into seperate curious motley trails by a a 'kind  hearted soul' - whom I would later know to be Sgt Rudge "..Clerks & Cooks this way,Suppliers that way.." as he directed us to our Blocks -mine being Nicholson. 

It was far too early to guess what lie ahead - but those initial moments remain embedded as are many significant events that were yet to follow!

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