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

ISSUE No. 7 - MAY 2006
81st ENTRY NEWSLETTER
Editor: Mike Stanley

At the halt, facing left.......... by Willie Keays

"No 1 Squadron, at the halt, facing left, at 25 paces distance, form close column of flights!"

Do you remember the many parades we took part in? Do you look back in nostalgia at them? Do you ever ponder how the formal military commands and manoevres of 18th century warfare became transmuted to Henderson-Groves parade square in the 20th century? You probably don't but then you're almost certainly not so hung up on military history as me.

The worst parade I ever took part in was in late 1955, on Henderson-Groves. It was the only full Station Parade I ever took part in. Everybody on the station was involved, by the order of the Station Commander Air Commodore Geoffrey Nicholas Ernest Tindal-Carill-Worsley CB CBE,old 'TCW' for short, thank God. Sgt Davies, our Drill Instructor(DI) on No 3A Wing, he of the short stature, thin moustache, slashed SD and varnished pace-stick which he often threatened to insert somewhere unspeakable and play billiards with your eyeballs, told me that over 4000 people were on parade; Brats, Boggies, and Staff. The flight I was in was at the left rear of the parade, right up close to Henderson Mess. It was, and is, the highest point on the parade square; all I could see was a sea of SD caps. Old TCW loved his Station Parades and inspected, or so it seemed, every rank of every flight. It took hours in freezing cold weather. I lost all feeling in my ears and my toes. I shivered any time afterwards when somebody said ' Station Parade'.

TCW in due course of time left. He was one of the drivers of the Halton Buckler racing car and that project never seemed to recover from his departure. Air Commodore E D McKay-Nelson was the new Commandant and mercifully was not interested in Station Parades.

I can't remember how often we had a Wing Parade. Was it once a month? Now I didn't mind the marching but I feared being inspected, probably because I was a natural scruff. On one occasion, as I stood by my spick and span comrades, waiting for the Advance to be sounded, I could see that they were proud in their shining splendour, immaculately pressed, boots you could see your face in and looked at myself, unkempt, dusty, tarnished, and badly creased. The old trick, tried the night before, of soaping the inside of my trouser creases and placing them under the sheets for the night, hadn't worked. It looked as if I had slept in them and not on them. Anyway, faced with such a contrast between myself and the others, I fainted. Or so it seemed. I was careful to break my fall with my hands and not my nose. Two of my comrades were detailed take me to Sick Quarters where we all three were rewarded by mugs of hot sweet tea and unfortunately missed the parade. I developed this trick into an art form in later parades, so much so that my dear short-arsed comrades,during sizing, jostled to be next to me in case I should faint.

Even though inspections were not a feature of Church Parades, I still resented them. Not so much for the interference with a 'reesty' Sunday, but their compulsory nature. Anyway, my soul was past saving. With this inherent resentment of Church Parades and believing that any Padre would agree with me, I remember being dumbfounded by the appearance of Padre Gordon-Bennett one Sunday, up there at the front with the Parade Commander, swinging his arms like a good 'un and clearly enjoying it.

In the latter days at Halton I had managed to smarten up and no longer needed to faint. I found that the music played soothed my dislike of parades. Even today when I hear a pipe band play After the Battle or The Green Hills of Tyree in slow time, I drift back to Henderson-Groves. Incidentally, I flown over Tyree many times; it's as flat as a pancake!

During Graduation Parades, when we were one of the supporting squadrons, the hairs of my neck would stand up when the Parade Commander ordered 'Sound Point of War!'. This was followed by a rapid bit of soul-stirring music as the Queen's Colour was wheeled in position for March On. Then came 'March on the Queen's Colour!". The RAF March Past was played. A proud moment especially when it was our turn. Wasn't Bill Verdin(RIP) our Colour Bearer and Tank Martin the Parade Commander?

Graduation Parade 28th July 1958. March Past, in quick time, in close column of squadrons. With thanks to Roy Hindley

In Cyprus, where many of us were posted to, 1958-61, we didn't have bullshit parades. We had Guard Parades and Funeral Parades instead. We buried 'em quick out there, within 24 hours, including Frank Gooding, of the Tyre Bay at RAF Nicosia, a good friend of Roy Hindley and myself. Just to cheer us all up, some GD person somewhere though it would be a great idea to have a Standing Funeral Party. You can imagine what we felt like, as we serviced our 'Queens of the Sky', Hastings C Mk 2, to see the Standing Funeral Party doing their various tricks, like 'Resting on your Arms Reversed' and slow marching with an improvised coffin. The Great War song would go through my mind, 'The Bells of Hell Go Ting-a-ling-a-ling, for you but not for me', I hoped.

Posted back to the Land of Tech Training and Make-Believe, at No 4 S of TT at St Athan, parades were de rigeur, particularly the AOC's Inspection parade. I remember one of these for two reasons. Firstly, having done the two marches past, both in quick time; we couldn't handle the slow march; and returning to the Receiving Base, before the Advance in Review Order, our Flight Commander, Flt Lt Saunders, overshot the marker by about 20 yards. We were the front flight of the centre squadron, right in front of the AOC. Now you will all remember that Sgt Davies, DI of No3A Wing, had told us back in 1955, that six was the maximum numbers of paces that could be done by 'Sideways March!' Flt Lt Saunders clearly didn't have the benefit of Sgt Davies's tutition for having turned us into line, ordered "25 paces, right sideways march!". Some of my dear SNCO comrades, and myself, who knew how to march sideways, did just that, but most of us lost count somewhere along the line, each of us stopping when he thought we reached 25. Other turned right, and barging into others, tried to go to the appointed spot as if in column of route. Others just stood stock still, as far as they were able, with a confused mass of greatcoated instructional staff cannoning into each other. What a shambles! What a laugh! I still feel for Flt Lt Saunders.

The other reason I remember that parade was that it took place on the same day as Sir Winston Churchill's Funeral, 30th January 1965. That evening, watching grainy black and white television, I was reminded of Halton when the Black Watch piped the gun-carriage, drawn by matelots, from St Paul's to the wharf near the Tower to the tune of 'The Green Hills of Tyree'. Very poingant, very moving, the passing of an era. ( and now the Black Watch has gone as well. Thanks Tony)

In Singapore, as a 'Super Tech' ATech on 66 Sqn, the only parade I took part in was the disbandment parade in 1969. The mighty Belvederes had run out of flying control servodyne hours and no one had thought to ensure a supply of spare servodynes for the 'Flying Longhouses'. By filling the No 3 tanks with red ink we managed to get 13 of them in the air. When they landed, they were scrapped. Sic transit gloria mundi! The photo shows the disbandment parade at RAF Seletar in April 1969. Note the .303s. Just as well they didn't give us SLRs as no-one knew to to do any drill with them..



















The next parade of any importance I took part in, was my commissioning parade in 1976. I also received the BEM that day, awarded for Long-Distance Crawling on Nimrod Line Sqn at RAF Kinloss.This royal honour was the saving of me because my ex-ranker's attitude at OCTU had not found favour with the Directing Staff and had resulted in a 'Sheet 6', normally the Kiss of Death for an officer cadet.(If it looks as if I'm standing in a hole, it's 'cos I was 5'6" and the Reviewing Officer was 6'6".)

Halton, being near London, often supplied troops for ceremonial occasions in the capital; Lord Mayor's Show, trumpeters at the Cenotaph, and route lining. During my sojourn as a Technical Education officer in Comedy Hall I took part in two State Visits.On the first, in 1978, I was issued with a sword, at last, and waving this about just like a real officer, I commanded the route-lining party just outside the MOD building in Whitehall. Now no-one had warned me about the speed of the Royal open-top carriage and unfortunately my "Royal Salute, present arms!" was only a salute to the the hangers-on who followed HM as she was bowled along at 90 mph. Sitting next to her was the late unlamented odious Romanian reptile Nicolae Ceausescu. Oh dear! What she has to put up with!

My final parade in the Royal Air Works was at the College of Knowledge at Cranwell in late 1986. I was just an idle observer of this important Sovereign's Graduation parade.. What made it memorable was the very low flypast of two Phantoms of 228 OCU from RAF Coningsby. One of the pair came in below the height of College Hall dome and as they went over the parade, both went into a full-reheat climb. Dozens of hats were blown off, marker flags were blown over, some of the stucco ornamentation on College Hall fell off, and Air Officers' blood pressures brought to bursting point. A photographer standing on the parapet of College Hall fell backwards and broke his arm. This happy pair of pilots then came back and did it again. I was told later that one of the F4s came in at 72 feet. Fantastic! It beat Flt Lt Saunder's effort back in 1965.

Six months later I retired from being Head of Control Engineering at Cranwell College of Knowledge and became Principal Lecturer in Control Engineering at the University of Glamorgan. The only parade I saw there in the 18 years to my next index-linked pension was one organised by the Lays and Gesbians, or something like that. As this pink procession playfully pranced past my office window, I looked skywards to watch a pair of rapidly-growing specks high in the sky. Was this a pair of F4s about to swoop down and with their rolling thunder and fiery breath bring some additional excitement to the proceedings? Alas, it wasn't. It was two airliners going west, just like me.

(I'm not fully retired. I'm now a Domestic Slave u/t at a B & B in the Brecon Beacons. There is a 50% discount for any ex-Brats if they spot a solar eclipse from their bedroom window.)