The 81st Entry
RAF Halton Aircraft Apprentices
Sept 1955 - July 1958

ISSUE No.10 - FEBRUARY 2007
81st ENTRY NEWSLETTER
Editor: Mike Stanley

Why an Armourer? by 681218 Sach Goodwin

During the school term 1954-55, various students were sitting entrance exams such as RN tiffies, Army apps, RAF apps and the Dockyard. Being a member of the ATC and a model aircraft constructor, I thought I'd have a go at the RAF exam, not that I thought I had much chance of passing it. Indeed, my class master confirmed that fact! Anyway, during the summer holidays I presented myself, complete with ruler, pen and pencil, at some school or other in Kingston, Portsmouth.

Sitting at the desk in front of me was a fair-headed lad wearing an ATC uniform. This was Duncan Goodacre, who was soon to be my roommate and lifelong friend. It occurs to me that Kingy Guy, Curly Knowlton, and all the other Pompey lads must have been in that room. A few weeks later an envelope arrived bearing a railway warrant and an invitation to go to Halton and have a look around.

Having nothing better to do I went on the great train journey north, arrived and was shown into a barrack room full of other young lads. One of these lads was quite frightening. He was tall (in comparison to me), had the DA haircut, the draped jacket, the drainpipe trousers and the brothel creepers, a real Teddy Boy if ever you saw one. He was walking around proffering a packet of Senior Service and muttering something unintelligible. This character turned out to be the never to be forgotten Jim Henry. My memory fails me, but I think it was at this time that we were interviewed as to which trade we fancied. I was seated before Sqn Ldr Malarky and told him that I fancied engines. Sorry lad, he replied, engines are full. How about being an armourer? Suits me said I, and that is how I became a plumber. It was only later I discovered that the said Sqn Ldr was the station Armament officer. He was obviously trying to fill his Quota. I had eaten a bag of sweets on the train and when I pee'd in the bottle at the medical, it turned the wrong colour. As a result, a few others and myself were kept in that night, but a retest in the morning found me to be in A1 condition.

Back home for a while and another envelope arrived bearing rail warrants and suchlike, and like the rest of you, I pitched up on 4 Sept 55 to start a career of 39 years and 7 months the following day. I was just under 15 years and 5 months old at the time.

Block 3 Room 2. Point at a face for a name

Reading other accounts of peoples lives at Halton, I seem to have lead a rather sheltered life. Not for me the motorbikes and cars - couldn't afford one. I did however learn to puff the evil weed. I have vivid memories of myself, Ben and Taff Harris and Dunc Goodace walking through the woods at the back of 3 Wing one sunny afternoon en route to the Toc H in Wendover for a penny cup of tea and a game of croquet. We had a paper packet of 5 Players Weights and not a match between us to light the bloody things with!

Like our illustrious Webmaster I was not the sporting type. I did, however take up hockey and thoroughly enjoyed it. For those who never played it, I can attest to the whacks on the shins and various other parts of the body. Not for us heroes the box to protect the privates! That was for the wimp cricketers. Whilst on the subject of sport, does anyone who ended up in 2 Wing remember the Wednesday afternoon when the whole wing was ordered to parade in PT kit, denims and boots and Wing Cdr Stubbs took the lot of us on a run into Wendover, round the back of the hills to somewhere or other and back again? I've never seen so many knackered officers and SNCOs in my life.

How about the Sunday getting lined up for church parade outside 3 Wing tank when the drum major tickled the goat's backside with the end of his mace and was last seen running down the hill being chased by Cpl A/A Lewis? Or how about the Saturday afternoon when some Paddy Cpl cook had the whole Entry on the square as punishment for throwing that goo that passed as margarine onto the ceiling of the upstairs dining hall. I seem to remember that the other entries lined the square and gave him so much abuse that he gave up in the end.

The final year saw some fool giving me my snag. Block 1 2 Wing was transformed into the ITF and I spent my final year teaching young lads how to make bed packs and polish boots. One young lad came to see me on the day his uniform was issued and complained that his collars had holes in them. I sent him away to get a shirt and pointed out that it had holes in it as well. After sending him to the tank to purchase some studs I spent the next half hour showing him how to get dressed. This was the same lad who didn't know how to make a bed. Guess he was a mummy's boy.

Postings come through and I'm off to 2TAF. For reasons too complicated to go into here, I swapped with our esteemed editor and ended up at Sleaford Tech. I did get to Germany, after Cranwell.

See next episode