A Weather-Guesser's Memories with the RAF
When clearing at one station at which I served, one of the clearance signatures required was from 'Station Bicycle Store'. No-one knew where that was, but some wag had helpfully written an extension number in the squadron phone book...
Ring....ring...."Hello?" "Station bike store? Whereabouts are you on the station?"
"NO, young man, I am OC WRAF and this is NOT the station bicycle store!"
Ring....ring...."Hello?" "Station bike store? Whereabouts are you on the station?"
"NO, young man, I am OC WRAF and this is NOT the station bicycle store!"
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My eccentricities are both below the knee [fortunately].
Garish proper woollen socks [wife is a prodigious sock-knitter] chosen to clash with trousers, and ..................
........................ very shiny shoes, the maintenance of which, on Sunday mornings, is said to be a form of occupational therapy.
PS Bondhu boots are not polished, madness only goes so far.
Garish proper woollen socks [wife is a prodigious sock-knitter] chosen to clash with trousers, and ..................
........................ very shiny shoes, the maintenance of which, on Sunday mornings, is said to be a form of occupational therapy.
PS Bondhu boots are not polished, madness only goes so far.
LB,
thank you for such an entertaining and well written story of your life in the 'Met' My morning reading will never be quite the same. I retired after the HEART job and despite being offered an extension or a job with the Aux Af I had had enough. So after nearly 40 years man and boy I cleared and never looked back. I had a great time but would not wish to be serving now. My stores clearance was hilarious as the young lady behind the counter could not find a lot of items on my record. My wind up watch was especially puzzling to her.
thank you for such an entertaining and well written story of your life in the 'Met' My morning reading will never be quite the same. I retired after the HEART job and despite being offered an extension or a job with the Aux Af I had had enough. So after nearly 40 years man and boy I cleared and never looked back. I had a great time but would not wish to be serving now. My stores clearance was hilarious as the young lady behind the counter could not find a lot of items on my record. My wind up watch was especially puzzling to her.
LB, thank you for laying bare the ups and downs of service with the RAF as a 'weather guesser'. The Met Office might only have been your second choice of career given the summary rejection on medical grounds of the first, but it seems to me that both the Met Office and RAF were the net beneficiaries of the fickle finger of fate in your regard. Your story has fascinated because we have all enjoyed the professional output of you and your ilk but with little idea of how it was acquired and honed. Your personal odyssey so closely linked to ours with all the peculiarly oddities common to an RAF life, yet now through civilian eyes, has amused and informed alike. Thank you for sharing it with us. Sergeant Wilson might well have asked, "Do you really think that's a very good idea, Sir?". I feel I can reply on behalf of us all by saying, "Yes, certainly!".
Thanks again
Chug
Thanks again
Chug
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LB, thanks for regaling us with your memories, I have enjoyed reading them, and experienced many a giggle. I get a sense that there is a comedian within you, looking for an outlet? 😉
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Maybe, but my outlet is writing very specialised military history books and articles. Period 1800 to 1919, British Army, line infantry, no Jocks or Guards or Rifles, just the ordinary heroes.
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MMU 2 by David Taylor
My first detachment was for two months to Ascension just as the British were re-taking the Falkland Islands. We worked in tented accommodation at Wideawake Airfield and not in a particularly convenient spot. As Ascension was in the South-easterly Trade Wind belt there was a constant surface wind SE’ly 15 kts gusting 25 kts, give or take a few knots. Our tents and generator were downwind of the MT section and the frequent vehicle movements raised clouds of volcanic ash which penetrated out tent and equipment. Because of that dust, we couldn’t raise the tent flaps and with surface temperatures between 25 to 31 C, there were sauna working conditions. We also had a number of visitors – land crabs. They would wander into the tent at night much to the disquiet of one of the staff.
Our main job was flight forecasting for the journey down to RAF Stanley where the C130s had to be refuelled by Victor tankers. These refuelling manoeuvres necessitated both aircraft to ‘toboggan’ (a shallow descent) for the slower Hercules to maintain contact with the Victor. Accurate upper wind, turbulence and cloud forecasting were required for levels between 35,000 ft and 5000 ft. Of course, visibility in ice crystal upper cloud is much better than in the lower-level water droplets clouds. I had one trip where the refuelling failed and I returned to Ascension after a tiring twelve hours unsuccessful flight. Incidentally, one Victor pilot commented after experiencing severe turbulence, ‘It was like trying to stuff a wet noodle up a wild cat’s arse.’
We were billeted at English Bay which was overcrowded and noisy from the victorious troops returning from the Falklands. The kitchens were adjacent to the overflowing toilet block where swarms of flies flitted between the two. The cooks made the tinned food very tasty and we dined outdoors. However, the diners always looked suspiciously at the flies which had just landed on their plates, wondering where they had just come from. We then moved to Georgetown, in a complex of families from the BBC and Cable and Wireless and we overlooked Long Beach where the green turtles came to lay their eggs. The comparison was beyond belief.
I was no kill-joy but gave my team strict instructions not to cause noise or annoyance to any neighbours particularly as there were young children. We became part of the community and were invited to the dentist’s bungalow next door for dinner and we baby sat for a couple who always plied us with good eats and drinks. There was one hiccup when one member of staff knocked down a lamppost as he backed out of the drive. I told him it was an amazing feat as there were only about 8 lampposts on the island (gross exaggeration). He reported the demolition to the local police and we heard nothing more; it was just a little darker at night.
Our transport during these detachments was a speedy old Ford saloon hired out to the RAF by a USAF sergeant. He was a likeable rogue who tried to bribe me with a handful of dollars ‘for the tea swindle’ so that we would continue to ask for his vehicle. It was always requiring new tyres because of the state of the roads which were often covered in abrasive volcanic ash and it occasionally broke down. I was unhappy with the temporary replacements, which would have failed any MOT, but my gang insisted that it was better than nothing. One of these vehicles was a flat-bed lorry which he told us was in great shape but as we drove off, he yelled, ‘You have to pump the brakes and the parking brake doesn’t work’. We couldn’t stop before he quickly disappeared! I did have a couple of rounds of golf with the Station Commander and it was there I discovered why it is known as a ‘round of golf’. The balls would ricochet off the rocks at all angles and any progress in a straight line was a miracle. The ‘greens’ were made up of a mix of sand and oil so that the balls didn’t get too embedded into the sand. The only handicap was the course itself!
My first detachment was for two months to Ascension just as the British were re-taking the Falkland Islands. We worked in tented accommodation at Wideawake Airfield and not in a particularly convenient spot. As Ascension was in the South-easterly Trade Wind belt there was a constant surface wind SE’ly 15 kts gusting 25 kts, give or take a few knots. Our tents and generator were downwind of the MT section and the frequent vehicle movements raised clouds of volcanic ash which penetrated out tent and equipment. Because of that dust, we couldn’t raise the tent flaps and with surface temperatures between 25 to 31 C, there were sauna working conditions. We also had a number of visitors – land crabs. They would wander into the tent at night much to the disquiet of one of the staff.
Our main job was flight forecasting for the journey down to RAF Stanley where the C130s had to be refuelled by Victor tankers. These refuelling manoeuvres necessitated both aircraft to ‘toboggan’ (a shallow descent) for the slower Hercules to maintain contact with the Victor. Accurate upper wind, turbulence and cloud forecasting were required for levels between 35,000 ft and 5000 ft. Of course, visibility in ice crystal upper cloud is much better than in the lower-level water droplets clouds. I had one trip where the refuelling failed and I returned to Ascension after a tiring twelve hours unsuccessful flight. Incidentally, one Victor pilot commented after experiencing severe turbulence, ‘It was like trying to stuff a wet noodle up a wild cat’s arse.’
We were billeted at English Bay which was overcrowded and noisy from the victorious troops returning from the Falklands. The kitchens were adjacent to the overflowing toilet block where swarms of flies flitted between the two. The cooks made the tinned food very tasty and we dined outdoors. However, the diners always looked suspiciously at the flies which had just landed on their plates, wondering where they had just come from. We then moved to Georgetown, in a complex of families from the BBC and Cable and Wireless and we overlooked Long Beach where the green turtles came to lay their eggs. The comparison was beyond belief.
I was no kill-joy but gave my team strict instructions not to cause noise or annoyance to any neighbours particularly as there were young children. We became part of the community and were invited to the dentist’s bungalow next door for dinner and we baby sat for a couple who always plied us with good eats and drinks. There was one hiccup when one member of staff knocked down a lamppost as he backed out of the drive. I told him it was an amazing feat as there were only about 8 lampposts on the island (gross exaggeration). He reported the demolition to the local police and we heard nothing more; it was just a little darker at night.
Our transport during these detachments was a speedy old Ford saloon hired out to the RAF by a USAF sergeant. He was a likeable rogue who tried to bribe me with a handful of dollars ‘for the tea swindle’ so that we would continue to ask for his vehicle. It was always requiring new tyres because of the state of the roads which were often covered in abrasive volcanic ash and it occasionally broke down. I was unhappy with the temporary replacements, which would have failed any MOT, but my gang insisted that it was better than nothing. One of these vehicles was a flat-bed lorry which he told us was in great shape but as we drove off, he yelled, ‘You have to pump the brakes and the parking brake doesn’t work’. We couldn’t stop before he quickly disappeared! I did have a couple of rounds of golf with the Station Commander and it was there I discovered why it is known as a ‘round of golf’. The balls would ricochet off the rocks at all angles and any progress in a straight line was a miracle. The ‘greens’ were made up of a mix of sand and oil so that the balls didn’t get too embedded into the sand. The only handicap was the course itself!
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