The First Seventy Years: 26 – A Shattered Mug
...There was the occasional purge in our billet which resulted in a concentrated evening of bulling. Our kit would sometimes have to be laid out on our beds for inspection.
I recall that on one such occasion the officer conducting it looked at my drinking mug with its tea stains much in evidence and promptly smashed it against the end of my steel framed bed causing it to shatter into many pieces...
Eric Biddulph recalls RAF kit insepctions.
Most of the corporals who occupied the two rooms in my billet were pretty decent guys. They changed from time to time. After one of them was posted to another station he was replaced by a Corporal Storey.
I soon took a dislike to him. He tended to shoot his mouth off about his sexual conquests, amongst other things. I seem to recall that he was married, but his wife had chosen to remain at home in another part of the country.
My dislike of him came to a head one night. I had been out to the Ferry Boat Inn for the night. I returned to find him in my bed. He may have been drunk; I cannot remember. "What the hell are you doing in my bed?" I said. This was a risky thing to say to a corporal, as he had the capacity to make life difficult for me.
I eventually got him out and he staggered into his own private room. I straightened my bed and climbed in. I jumped out pretty damned quick. Most of my top sheet was wet through; he had lain in my bed masturbating.
Needless to say, although he tried to impose unpopular tasks on me in SHQ, he always knew thereafter that he would have to operate within acceptable bounds least I begin to talk.
I often wondered if Corporal Storey's exploits included members of the Women's Royal Air Force. There were around one hundred WRAF personnel on site out of a total establishment of about four hundred. A high number of them gradually disappeared off site, having moved into the motherhood phase in their lives.
Early rising could not be associated with 0630 hours, but anyone required to be on duty before that time would receive an early call. This was performed by someone on fire piquet duty. Each evening one piquet would be detailed to sleep in the guardroom. A camp bed would be erected in one of the cells. The piquet would be woken by the RAF policeman on guardroom duty.
It could be as early as 0330 hours when I would be dragged out of bed and given a list of billet numbers and names and sent out into the night. It was usually catering staff and military policemen, but sometimes it would be radar operators and fighter plotters if there was a training exercise in progress.
My saga with the SWO continued. One particular cold winter morning I had forgotten my gloves. I was caught with my hands in my pockets. Result - clean out the toilets in SHQ.
At least kit inspections, drill and cleaning sessions did not appear on the horizon as often as was the experience of soldiers serving in the army. There was the occasional purge in our billet which resulted in a concentrated evening of bulling. Our kit would sometimes have to be laid out on our beds for inspection.
I recall that on one such occasion the officer conducting it looked at my drinking mug with its tea stains much in evidence and promptly smashed it against the end of my steel framed bed causing it to shatter into many pieces.
There was a parade about once a month on which all personnel not on essential duties were required to attend. This ensured that boots were polished and best blues saw the hot iron and a damp cloth.
Every year on a Sunday during September there was compulsory attendance at a church service in Bawdsey village to commemorate the Battle of Britain. I don't know whether the whole of the RAF observed this reverent event or whether it was limited to Fighter Command stations. The Battle was essentially its finest hour.
Once a year there was also an inspection of the whole station by the senior officer with overall command of 11 Group. This inevitably entailed the mounting of a guard of honour. It was known in the jargon as the 'AOC’s parade'.
When I arrived at Bawdsey in May 1956 it had just taken place. I was less fortunate in 1957, however, when it was scheduled for 15 July. During the month of June I spent quite a bit of time on rehearsals, marching and getting my rifle from the ‘slope arms' to the 'present arms' position. Inevitably this also involved wearing white webbing.
There were other duties relating to the visit. Kerbs and stones were given a fresh coat of white paint, fire buckets a coat of red gloss, and some doors and window frames received the treatment. A station wide purge ensured nothing was out of place on The Day.
