|
 | |  | |
It was after the Second World War that young Keith Downer from Worthing joined-up. His last months of military service were spent on an RAF base at Longparish to which he made a nostalgic return visit some years ago. Keith takes up the story:-
The last posting of my service life, where I remained for six months, was to R.A.F. Station Longparish, Hampshire, situated in the middle of Harefield Forest, near Andover. The area was owned by the Wills Tobacco family, or so we were told. Longparish was one of the largest Bomb Dumps in the Country at that time. Thousands of tons of deadly bombs lay alongside the roads that the R.A.F. had built all through the forest, hidden from enemy eyes under the trees.
Our living area comprised of wooden huts under a mass of Silver Birch trees. There was a little Railway Station at Longparish and in the Goods Yard we had situated our Transportation Office. We sent many trainloads of bombs away from that little Goods Yard and our cranes, trucks and men always made it a hive of industry. Each day the railway engine would pull in, hitch up and take our wagons with the bombs away to far off destinations. I had some good friends there. Kenny, our genial boy from Barnstaple, our Clerk from Ives in Bucks, an ex-Fireman from Devon, our Comedian from Aylesbury and the tough boy from Hastings, always in trouble.
There was our sole married man named Emm, whose wife and family were squatters and lived in ex-Army huts in Southampton. Poor old 'Emm' was so worried about their welfare, he used to absent himself without leave to be with them and we would cover up for him.
Also in our group we had a number of Welsh lads who would of course, always be singing together.
We had approximately 1,000 men on that Camp, the C/O a Wing Commander was billeted in a grand house in the village. If ever one man made me determined not to make the Air Force my chosen career, then it was that man. He had that untouchable, aloof attitude and treated all men under the rank of Flt/Lft. as if they should not breath the same air as him. Not one I would call an Officer and a Gentleman, but one of the types of man the war had given the chance to order respect but not deserve it. I hasten to add he was the only Officer in my time in the Services that I did not respect.
I was demobilised from 202M.U. Longparish in February 1948 and rejoined civilian life two days later. It was in July 1972 on my way home from Bristol that I saw a road-sign that pointed to Andover. A lovely sunny day with time to spare, I turned off my route and made my way towards Andover. Passing through the Town, I took the Longparish Road which is now part of the Winchester By-Pass.
Seeing a Policeman, I pulled up alongside him, 'Is this the way to Longparish?' I asked him.
'Yes straight on'. He looked at me as if to ask, why Longparish?
Sensing his interest I said, 'You may think me sentimental, but I was stationed there in 1948 and I thought I would look the old place up'.
'There isn't much left now,' he said, 'just a few old roads.'
Thanking him I bade him cheerio.
'Cheerio,' he waved back.
The sign was written in large letters 'Longparish'. I turned down the lane, passed the grand house that used to be our H.Q., now painted smartly; a large car was stranding in the driveway. I thought about the Wing Commander and smiled to myself wondering where he is now.
The Railway Station came into view, now closed, the rails torn up, the Goods Yard now used by a small Engineering Firm and a Chicken Farm. I alighted from my car and walked onto the old Railway platform. No trace of R.A.F. habitation, just the two old Railway Cottages where, in 1947, we had stood-by with our fire engine whilst the families had carried out their traditional bonfire night celebrations. We had to be on duty as, of course, fire was our greatest enemy and fear with all the explosives stacked throughout the Forest.
I jumped in the car and drove to the living-site, and passed the Guard Room or rather where it had once stood. I remembered we had to report there every time we left Camp.
The old parade ground came into view, where we had formed up for Parades and inspections, now completely overgrown; the W/O's Office, the Cookhouse, the Dining hall, now demolished and just a heap of brick rubble and twisted water pipes littered the site. Had a thousand men lived and worked here, I thought? It was so quiet, hardly a sound, no birds singing.
What had happened to all the lads, the Officers, the N.C.O.'s. Twenty-five years, had it been that long? We were 18, 19 and 20 years old, now we were middle-aged men, some no doubt now dead. Faces flashed across my mind, incidents. I was here when our present Queen married Prince Philip, my Parents were alive, and I had not yet met my wife. So much had happened and passed.
I started the engine of the car and drove slowly past the 'Ghost' of the Guard Room... 2284926 Aircraftsman Downer, Sir, leaving Camp, for good.
Carry on Airman!!'
| |  | |  |
To add a comment you must first login or join for free, up in the top left corner.
|
|
