Open Writing

The National Service Act of 1948 dictated that all young men reaching the age of eighteen were to present themselves for a medical and if passed fit were to serve a minimum of 18 months (later increased to 24 months) in the armed forces. Youths involved in apprenticeships were offered deferment until the completion of their training. In my case that was until May 1957.

About this time Prime Minister Harold McMillan made a speech suggesting people in England "never had it so good". I had my doubts as I reported to RAF Cardington in Bedfordshire. Here, I had some trade training tests which were fairly modest after my apprenticeship at Readheads. Then it was on to Bridgenorth in Shropshire for eight week's basic training, more commonly known as square bashing.

During training all new entrants were allocated into Flights. Each Flight consisting of a mixture of young men from all over the country with various trades and backgrounds. It was the job of a sergeant, with the aid of a corporal, to train us up to the expected RAF standards. The sergeant was a little cockney and the corporal a large Scotsman. We called them "The Rock Apes", and figured their real aim was to put us through hell.

Training consisted of getting up at dawn, bed packs made to perfection, lousy food, rifle drill, marching lessons, bulling boots, cleaning uniform and regular inspections. With twenty young men in each billet desperate to get home or at least a permanent posting, we tried to avoid trouble. I just kept my head down and thought anything is better than Readheads. Obviously this didn't work because I was told that I hadn't done my bed pack correctly (as per the chart on the billet wall) and so I ended up scrubbing and polishing the billet floor with someone else in the same predicament.

One day, whilst out on the drill square, we were informed that our intelligent one, (e.g. our right hand marker), had gone down sick and our 'Rock Apes' were looking for someone to replace him. As they passed down the line looking for a victim they decided I looked intelligent. I tried hard to deny this but was given the job.

The right-hand marker was a key man in most drill movements but I had a problem picking it up. (I blamed this on the fact that I was left-handed). With only one week to go before Pass Out things looked desperate. The sergeant and the corporal conferred and then the little man came up to me, looked up and promised if I didn't get this right he would "back flight" me so far that Pontius would be my pilot officer. I couldn' t help smiling, so that was another night of scrubbing and polishing the billet floor. However, the threat worked like a treat, I got it right and we all passed out on time.

All professional sportsmen doing National Service were, at that time, usually sent to a Camp or Squadron who were actively involved in sport. They stayed at the Officer-in-Charge's discretion. After completing basic training I was surprisingly given the choice by our boss Wing Commander Masters. He said I could go overseas with the Squadron to Malaysia or stay at Bridgenorth. I think he knew my answer before asking the question because Bridgenorth was a good base for sports.