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On reaching the age of 18, I was faced with making the decision whether to enter the services as a National Serviceman or as a short-term regular. The difference was that a National Serviceman received three shillings a day for two years and joined any of the services the government decided, whereas a regular, serving a minimum three year engagement, received seven shillings a day in the service of his choice. The latter, on purely monetary considerations appeared to be the best choice. I therefore applied to join the Royal Air Force on a three-year engagement and reported to RAF Cardington, Bedfordshire on 17th March 1952 (St Patrick’s Day). RAF Cardington was used as an initial joining camp where all volunteers to join the RAF as regulars were assembled. Also at Cardington were the hangars that had been built for the large airships between the war years. These hangars made ideal indoor parade grounds.
During this week all were tested as to their medical fitness and also to their suitability for a trade. All persons serving in the RAF had a ‘trade’; I was detailed to become a Nursing Attendant, due to the fact that I had sufficient School Certificates and because I had started the course before joining up as a medical laboratory technician. We were then assembled to take the Oath of Allegiance to the Crown. (There was no Queen at that time, as she had not yet been crowned). Following our oath of allegiance we were kitted out with all the uniform including boots that we would require during the following twelve weeks Basic Training (square bashing or boot camp).
RAF West Kirby.
The following Sunday we were all loaded onto a special train and taken to Royal Air Force Station West Kirby on the Wirral just outside Liverpool. When we had been at RAF Cardington the sergeants and corporals had been quite polite to us. This ceased once we were on the train and under the control of the Drill Staff. They can only be described as complete professional B*****ds. They shouted, screamed and verbally assaulted us from the moment the train doors were closed until we arrived at West Kirby station.
So here I was, 4095376 AC2 (Aircraftsman Second Class) Hartup E. R. in Hut D10, 2 Flight, A Squadron, RAF West Kirby. (Note that after forty-eight years I still remember my service number. In fact ALL ex-servicemen can, mainly because this number was marked on every item of clothing and that without it one could not collect ones pay.) There were twenty of us in the hut, five huts to a flight and three flights to a squadron making a total of 300 men in each squadron. That was a lot of men on parade, all moving at precisely the same time. We were kept on the move, literally, seven days a week, for twelve weeks. We marched or ran at all times wherever we needed to go. Taking short cuts across the parade ground was an absolute ‘no-no’ as were ‘idle’ actions like putting hands in pockets or even smoking outside if on duty. To be found to be ‘idle on parade’ resulted in having to run round the parade ground for as long as the drill staff decided, often with a rifle held at arms length above the head. The amazing thing was that one could be accused as ‘idle on parade’ even when not on parade! Needles were stuck in our arms for various inoculations. Out on the parade ground we were marched up and down, saluting anything that moved and sometimes just saluting. Parade drill was done with or without a Lee Enfield rifle. There was the assault course to be dealt with, rifle shooting on the range and in fact anything that would make one into a man who would do anything he was told to do IMMEDIATELY, without thinking.
There was one young lad in our hut I remember very well. He came from Norfolk and spoke with a very pronounced accent. He had never been away from his village and was one of these awkward characters that could not even swing his arms correctly when marching. As he strode forward with his right foot his right arm moved forward. This was referred to as ‘marching like a pregnant penguin’. The first morning after our arrival in West Kirby, we were all rushing out to the ablution block for a wash and shave when he just froze in the doorway. “What’s all that water,” he said. He had just seen the sea for the first time in his life. Amazing when you think that we live on an island and that when we questioned him we found out that his village was only fifteen odd miles from the coast. He had never travelled from his village in all of his life.
Whilst I was at West Kirby I met an old school chum, Ken Wastie. Ken had volunteered two weeks before me but it was certainly great to meet him there. More about Ken later on as our paths kept crossing.
We were allowed out of camp on the third weekend, in uniform, so naturally we made our way down to New Brighton. The big attraction here was the ‘Royal Iris’ that sailed from New Brighton for a cruise on the Mersey for four hours on a Saturday night. There was a fish and chip bar on board and a ballroom with lots of girls!!!! (After three weeks brain washing we had nearly forgotten what girls were, nearly.) I remember dancing with this girl and that the boat rolled a bit and she slipped and fell against me. It was only on the Monday morning when on parade that I was screamed and shouted at over the filthy and disgusting condition of my uniform. I was accused of lurid goings on whilst out of camp. Apparently when the girl had slipped she had left a small amount of lipstick on my shoulder flash (The Eagle). I am sure that those drill instructors could see a speck of dust on the toecap of one man’s boots out of three hundred men on parade.
After six weeks we were taken to London on a bus, given a rail warrant home, and given a long weekend leave pass. We then had to go back to London for the bus that travelled overnight back to camp. We were then called onto the parade ground almost as soon as we returned. Luckily, most of us had been able to sleep on the bus.
RAF Lytham.
Eventually all good things must come to an end and I was informed that I would be going to the Royal Air Force Medical Training Establishment at Lytham St Anne’s near Blackpool after a two-week leave for ‘trade training’. We were again taken by bus to London and given two rail passes, one to get home and the next to go from home to Lytham station where transport would be available. This meant struggling with a full kit bag and webbing kit, consisting of a backpack and front pouches, on and off trains. However, it was good to be home strutting around in uniform. Obviously I visited Ruth as often as she would allow. We went to many dances and gatherings and had a good time. We even decided to get engaged on her birthday in the July when I would hopefully be home on leave. (It is a strange coincidence that ALL of the three important ladies in my life have been Cancerians).
The next stage in my military career was my arrival at MTE (Medical Training Establishment) RAF Lytham. I was on course no 148/1, which totalled 17 airmen and 13 WRAF. The treatment here by the corporals and sergeants was totally different from the treatment at West Kirby. These staff were all qualified medical staff and were all tutors. I suppose now they considered that we were a more disciplined ‘mob’ and that we could therefore be treated as humans. We were now let out of camp every night and at the weekend but had to return every night by ten p.m. This meant that on Saturdays we could go, if we could afford it, to such wonderful places as Blackpool, Liverpool or even Lytham St. Anne’s. Pay at that time was six shillings a day which totalled £2 2s 0d a week all found i.e. clothes and food and accommodation. We were also allowed out in uniform in the evenings if we didn’t need to revise the day’s study or clean such items as boots or press uniforms. One 72-hour pass was granted after the first six weeks and a coach was laid on for us to go to London and then by train home for a long weekend. Being on a camp with WRAF personnel certainly made life a lot better. For a start we had to march at a slower than normal pace so that the girls could keep up with us. They normally fell in at the front of the squad so that we had to march with a 28-inch pace rather than the normal 30-inch for men. If we were in the front then we all used the normal 30-inch pace to try and leave them behind. I well remember the time that one of the girls in front of me had the misfortune to have the elastic on her drawers break just as we were given the command to ‘Halt’. These black items slipped down to her ankles. She was just about to bend down to rescue them when the voice of the squad sergeant bawled out ‘Stand still in the ranks, no moving!’. Then the order to dismiss was given which meant a half turn to the right, pause and then move off to the lecture room. She could then recover the item much to her embarrassment.
I had only been at Lytham one week when I met Ken Wastie again in the NAAFI. He was still two weeks ahead of me at that time but unfortunately got ‘put back’ twice which meant that he ended up two weeks behind me when I finished my training.
Although we were marched around to classes, complete with members of the WRAF (Women’s Royal Air Force), it was more just a way to get a group of persons from one place to another in an orderly manner. We were being trained as nursing staff to be able to operate in either a hospital or RAF camp. We therefore had to study Biology and Anatomy as the first subject. If we passed the exam we then went on to First Aid, which meant we were then able to man ambulances and Accident and Emergency Departments in hospitals. This was then followed by ‘hospital training’ in which we were taught the various skills that would be required to work in a hospital including ‘barrier nursing’ for infectious diseases like tuberculosis, operating theatre practice, dispensing medicines, changing dressings and giving intra-muscular or sub-cutaneous injections. We also were taught passive unarmed combat, to train us for any eventualities if we were to undertake work in a psychiatric ward! We were also tested for resistance to certain diseases like tuberculosis and, if necessary, given the prescribed inoculations. If any of the exams at the end of each session were not passed you were put back by two weeks. Being ‘put back’ was only allowed on two exam failures after which you were either re-mustered as an ‘Administration Orderly’ or into another trade.
We had one organised trip from the camp when the whole of the intake had a tour of the Lake District by coach. We visited Lake Coniston and Derwent Water and had a wonderful day out. We were allowed to go on this trip in civilian clothes. Another recreation of ours was to play cards in the NAAFI where we were often joined by a couple of the WRAF girls. There was a station cinema that showed a film once a week and there was a television in the NAAFI. Remember, this was 1952 and television was still in its infancy and not many people actually had one at home. This television set in the NAAFI projected the image onto a white screen about four foot wide by three foot high above the set so that it could be watched by quite a number of people at the same time. Broadcasts were not all day, only in the evening starting about 6 p.m. with the World News and went on until about 9 p.m.
I managed to get through the medical training without being put back and eventually on the passing out parade received my collar ‘dogs’. These collar badges consisted of the staff of Mercury with the intertwined snakes, wings on both sides and the King’s crown at the top. We were very proud of these as they marked us out as more important than ordinary airmen. The only other airmen to wear ‘collar dogs’ were Dental staff. As I was now a qualified airman I was promoted to AC1 (Aircraftsman First Class) with a pay rise to nine shillings a day (£3 3s 0d per week). The trade of nursing attendant in the RAF was the most senior ground trade group. We always boasted that we and the Dental staff who ‘won’ our wings without flying a plane!) The following day was ‘Postings Day’ when we were told which RAF camp we were going to, where it was and given a rail warrant and travel allowance to pay any bus travel. We had to make our own way to the next camp. My posting was to RAF Tarrant Rushden in Dorset. The nearest railway station was Blandford.
No 210 AFS (Advanced Flying School), RAF Tarrant Rushden
Well they nearly got the joining instructions right; Tarrant Rushden certainly was just outside Blandford but the site that I was supposed to get to was outside Salisbury and situated on the Wiltshire/Dorset Border some fifteen miles from Blandford. After travelling by the shortest route from Lytham, by myself on the train that took all day, I finally arrived at Blandford station at nine o’clock at night. I asked the station staff which bus I needed to get to the camp and was informed that there was no RAF camp at Tarrant Rushden, just an airfield operated by a civilian firm Flight Refuelling. They added that the RAF personnel arrived there by RAF coaches every day from somewhere in Wiltshire but didn’t know where they came from! As we were in Dorset, Wiltshire was almost a foreign country I suppose. Sounded as though he thought they came from outer space! His advice was for me to go round to the Police Station - they knew everything he reckoned.
At the police station the duty sergeant confirmed that the domestic site was at RAF Grimsditch but that there was no bus there until next morning. After telephoning the camp to report where I was, he offered to put me up in the police station that night if I didn’t mind sleeping in a cell! He promised that the door would be left open all night. I agreed, so then he wrote a short note and told me to take it to the house next door where his wife made me a good fry-up and several cups of tea. Next morning after a good night’s sleep and a hearty breakfast again supplied by his wife, one of the policemen gave me a lift to the bus stop, made sure I got on the right bus and told the conductor to let me know when we got to the camp. We arrived there after a long slow drive in a double-decked bus after about three quarters of an hour.
RAF Grimsditch certainly lived up to its name. There was one house and a garage within sight of the main gate and we had passed the nearest pub about two miles back at the crossroads. The camp had been an American Hospital during the war and had then been left derelict. It was being done up so at least the quarters were quite fair. The first person I met was Corporal Martin Brind, a ‘Snowdrop’ (RAF Policeman) who actually came from the next village to me and was the son of the local butcher. After going to the Administration Office and signing in, I was shown my bed space in the airmen’s quarters and told to report to SSQ (Station Sick Quarters).
The staff at SSQ consisted of a Medical Officer, one corporal, one other nursing attendant and myself. The camp had just been opened and although flying was taking place from Tarrant Rushden the sick quarters staff were still unpacking equipment, looking after the needs of the station staff but not yet staffing the crash crew at Tarrant Rushden. Our MO (Medical Officer), Pilot Officer Hobbs was a recently qualified doctor who was doing his National Service. He was more a doctor first and an officer second. He was billeted out in Salisbury and came to the sick quarters every morning by sports car. Often he would come in on a Saturday and we would go up the woods at the rear of the camp and shoot game, after which he would take us back to his lodgings where the landlady would prepare a meal for us. We only called him ‘Sir’ when others were around - the rest of the time he was addressed as ‘Doc’. The following week another three nursing attendants arrived as well as an ‘Admin. Assistant’, whose duties were to keep the sick quarters clean and tidy. Guess what, one of the newly arrived nursing attendants was KEN WASTIE!! He had eventually qualified. Ken had a sports car (M.G. Model PA) and so we often went down to the local pub in the evenings for a beer (or two). Although the car was only a two seater it was often filled with four including the driver. We had really become typical devil-may-care air force ‘Walla’s’. Once the strength of the sick quarters was at this level one of us had to be the duty medic at Tarrant Rushden. The duties were to undertake any treatments required by RAF flying and ground personnel on the site and to be ready with an ambulance and driver for any crashes that might occur. Eventually a decompression chamber with a qualified operator was based with us and so we all had to take turns in accompanying pilots on instruction in the chamber. In this chamber they were shown the effects of flying at altitudes over 25,000 feet without oxygen and how the ‘bends’ could be prevented during descent from altitudes above 48,000 feet.
RAF Tarrant Rushden was an Advanced Jet Conversion School under Flying Training Command where pilots did a conversion course to change from flying propeller driven aircraft to jet aircraft. It was also unusual as, not only were the RAF staff accommodated some way away; most of the aircraft maintenance and routine handling was done by civilian staff employed by Flight Refuelling. In the Fire Station I was the only member of the RAF, the rest of the Emergency staff including the ambulance driver were civilians. As a member of the crash/rescue team I had to learn how to fight fires as well as save lives! The whole of the section worked as a team and backed up everyone else. The aircraft used were the Gloucester Meteor 3 and the De Havilland Vampire T11. Flight Refuelling had a contract with the Royal Air Force for the refurbishment of Meteor 8 aircraft, which were one of the most modern fighters in 1952. Flight Refuelling were also developing the mid air refuelling system, the brainchild of Sir Alan Cobham, himself a pre-war member of the RAF and one of the pioneers of early aviation. Not only did I meet Sir Alan in his office but also I actually gave him first aid for a minor cut. The civilian works nurse, with whom we shared a nissen hut, was away on another call when Sir Alan’s secretary phoned to say he had cut his finger and would I go immediately and treat it.
The Commanding Officer of the station was an ex World War II fighter pilot and one great character. He said that the main reason for being in the Royal Air Force was to fly planes. He also said that all airmen under his command would fly even if they were ground crew. As the designated flying hours for student pilots was always being reached by the end of each month and so that the instructors could keep their flying pay, once the target for the month had been attained then all ground crew would be delegated to fly. I flew with one instructor in a Meteor 3 (twin seat in tandem - one behind the other) on several occasions and also in Vampire T11 (twin seat side by side). I enjoyed every trip and even took the controls. The only way an airman could be excused flying was if he had been certified as ‘not fit to fly’ by the Medical Officer.
Eventually all good things must come to an end, and it ended when we had a Flight Sergeant posted in to take charge. The corporal who had been running it from the start was very relaxed but the new sergeant was a stickler for military correctness - lots of bull etc. However, after a while he also started to relax a little so things did not go completely bad. During my stay there I was sent on detached duty to RAF Weston Zoyland in Somerset for a few weeks to fill in while they were short staffed. Weston Zoyland was situated on Sedge Moor, just East of Weston Super Mare. This was a much bigger station with a Squadron leader in charge of the sick quarters and three other Flying Officer doctors. There was a staff of about ten airmen. This was another flying training school where pilots went after Jet Conversion to learn squadron fighter techniques. Whilst I was there we had several minor crashes and two major crashes with fatalities. One of these was when one of our aircraft failed to pull out of a dive and was seen to go down in the Bristol Channel. About ten days later we received a telephone call to meet the police at the mouth of the River Parret because they had found the body of our pilot washed up. When I got there with one of the MOs the police showed us this body caught up in some piles about twenty yards out. I was detailed off to go and recover it so I started to walk along the beach to try and find a boat. The policeman informed me that there was not one there so I had to wade out up to my waist in the water and secure a rope round the corpse’s leg so we could pull it ashore. It was December and the water was Bl..ey cold, little wonder I later went down with a severe cold! We had to strap the stretcher, complete with corpse that had been wrapped in a tarpaulin onto the roof of the Land Rover as it was too scented to travel inside with us. We then went direct to Taunton General Hospital where the autopsy was performed. It was not a very pleasant job; thank goodness things like that didn’t happen too often. The only other messy crash I had been to was earlier when at Tarrant Rushden when we were called out to try and rescue the crew of a Harvard trainer from another airfield that had flown into the side of a hill. Parts of the crew were spread over quite a wide area, as were parts of the plane. This was my first sight of a body and I was very sick. The doctor made me carry on the search and this perhaps was the best thing for me.
My time at Tarrant Rushden/Grimsditch was very relaxed and, as it was only about forty miles from home, I took my bike down there so I would have my own transport. I often rode from Salisbury up to Reading on a Saturday afternoon and then returned by train from Reading to Salisbury cycling the two parts of the journey either side of the rail journey. It was cheap to take a bike on the train and as servicemen we travelled at a special cheap rate. Whilst at Grimsditch I received a promotion to LAC (Leading Aircraftsman) that meant I could wear a two bladed propeller on each sleeve three inches below the shoulder flash. Also of course my pay went up to eleven shillings a day (£3 17s 0d per week!!).
Soon after I was promoted to LAC I was sent up to Lytham for assessment of my suitability to be trained as a Hygienist. I was very interested as the service qualifications were acceptable outside the RAF. I was given a rail warrant for the train to Lytham via London but as I was travelling the day before payday I was a bit short of cash. I worked it out that I had enough money for a cup of tea in the Salvation Army café, just by the rail station in Salisbury, before catching the train and enough money to divert to Greenford where an aunt lived and I could hopefully get a midday meal. So in I went to the ‘Sally Anne’ and ordered my cup of tea. The assistant, noticing that I was travelling with a kit bag, asked where I was going so I told her. She then asked what I was going to have for my lunch and I replied that I would call in to an aunt in London. She then asked me how much money I had and so I said I had just enough for the tea and underground train. She made me sit down and promptly served a steak and kidney pie, mashed potatoes and peas. I pointed out that I didn’t have enough money to pay for it but she just said that she hadn’t asked for any money nor would she, adding that whenever I had enough money and saw one of the Sally Anne girls in uniform with a collecting box she would hope I would put in what the meal was worth to me. She followed up the pie with a rhubarb crumble and custard and a package of sandwiches to eat on the train. Since that time I have never passed a Salvation Army collecting box without putting in money. They helped me when I needed it, without asking about my religion, just as they always do for other needy people. The Salvation Army has always been held in high esteem by ex servicemen. My grandfather used to relate how, when they were in the trenches during the First World War the Sally Anne girls would come up into the trenches and hand out pencils and paper for the men to write home. They would then take them away and post them. They never asked for the money for the stamp. He added that the Church Army did the same thing.
After arrival at Lytham and being assessed on my aptitude, I was informed that as I was eligible to receive the training, I would need to sign on for a further four years. As I was not in favour of a full time career in the Royal Air Force I confirmed that I was not interested in extending my contract and so I was told that I could travel back to RAF Grimsditch.
In February 1954 I received notification that I was being sent somewhere overseas and sent on three weeks embarkation leave. I spent much of this leave with Ruth and had a good time. I did not realise that she was also seeing a sergeant from the local REME barracks! Whilst on leave I received instructions and rail warrants to report to the RTO (Rain Travel Officer) at Liverpool Street from where I would travel to Harwich to catch the Military Ferry to the Hook of Holland and onward travel to the 2nd Tactical Air Force in Germany with about three hundred other airmen.
Royal Air Force Hospital Rostrup.
Once we docked in The Hook of Holland having spent an uncomfortable night’s crossing in bunks stacked from floor to ceiling with about fifty men to each cabin, we joined the ‘Blue’ train going to Innsbruck, which was the central posting camp for the RAF. This journey took all day and packed lunches were served during the trip. When we arrived finally at Innsbruck we were all taken to a large barracks where we were to stay for a while awaiting final allocation. The following day I was informed that I would be going to join Royal Air Force Hospital Rostrup that was near Hamburg. I was paid a travel allowance in German marks and my pay in BAFS that were Sterling valued money notes for use within military establishments. If we needed German marks at any time we could apparently obtain these from the Pay Section. The rate of exchange then was thirteen marks to the pound. I was given a rail pass and routing paper with instructions of which trains and timing I would have to take to get to Bad Zwischenahn station where I would be met. This time I was travelling by myself on the Bundesbahn (German railway). The journey went well as I can remember and on arrival at Bad Zwischenahn in the late evening I was duly met by an RAF driver and a Volkswagen Beetle. This was the first one I had seen and it certainly was strange. I reported in at the main guardroom, was allocated a bed in one of the blocks and told to report to the HWO (Hospital Warrant Officer) at 0800 hours the next morning. I soon settled in and spent the first evening with the other nineteen men from my billet block in the NAAFI. This was a very nice facility with a restaurant, a reading room/library and a music room with radio and record player. Meals were very cheap and well presented. So started my stay at the hospital where I could expect to stay until the end of my service in March 1955.
The next morning I duly presented myself at the HWO’s office where I met Flight Sergeant Rippingale (Rip) and was given a sheet of paper to be taken round to all sections of the hospital where I was ‘signed in’ as being on the roll. The last place to report to was Matron’s Office. A matron was the scourge of nurses in every hospital in the world, civilian and military. She was so close to God and actually was considered by many to outrank even him. It is a pity that matrons are no longer employed in hospitals in the NHS - if they were things would definitely run more smoothly. When I marched into her room she continued looking at some papers on her desk and then, without looking up told me to report to Officer’s Ward Sister and ended with, “I hope you enjoy working here.” I therefore set off down the long quarter of a mile corridor to the Officer’s Ward. Sister said that they were not very busy so I should just look as if I was working. She asked me what I had done before I joined up then said, “Great, I’ll tell the Pathologist as he is short of laboratory staff and you would be better employed there than here!” Within two hours I was called back to Matron’s Office and told to report to the Pathology Laboratory. I really enjoyed it there. Two corporal laboratory technicians, a German cleaner and now a laboratory assistant assisted the pathologist, who was a Flight Lieutenant. My main tasks were to assist the Lab. Tec’s. as required, mixing stains and even doing some sample blood stains, preparing the medium for petrie dishes and test tubes, sharpening blood transfusion needles, making up the transfusion sets and sterilising them and making sure that all samples were autoclaved before disposal. I also had to do all the simple urine tests for sugar and albumin in respect of the expectant mothers, and in the frequent samples taken from the wards. Yes, in the early fifties all equipment was re-used and so needles or trocars, needed sharpening before reuse. Rubbing them down on a very fine carborundum stone did this. The rubber tubes were sterilised after use, cleaned by the cleaner and then the sets made up and re-sterilised by me. I even got to watch and help in a couple of post mortems with the pathologist. On one occasion I had to trace along the length of a tapeworm from one of the patients and find the hooked head in order that we would know that the tapeworm had been completely expelled. This chap had been referred by his Medical Officer to the hospital because he suspected that the patient had an intestinal tapeworm. The treatment for this now seems a bit barbaric but then it was the only treatment known. The patient was starved for four days, apart from sips of water and then given a large dose of senna pods to produce a severe bowel movement. The expelled worm was over ten feet in length - and yes - I did find the head! The patient actually bought me a beer for my hard (and unpleasant) work because he was so relieved to have got rid of the beast!
The hospital was situated on the side of the Bad Zwischenahn Lake and had a boathouse, which housed the Hospital Yacht Club and a jetty. The lake was about four miles long and three miles across with lots of bankside cafes each with their own jetty. There were twelve GP14s and twelve Pirates that were kept on moorings. Also included in the fleet were a wooden ships lifeboat that could be either rowed or sailed and a diesel motor launch for rescue purposes. I joined the yacht club and, in typical military style, had to undergo tuition and pass various tests to get my ‘rating’ or ‘ticket’. When you joined you held a ‘Novice ticket’ which meant you could only go sailing if accompanied by a ‘Green’ ticket holder. Once you had become competent enough handling the yacht you took your first test and if successful were issued with a ‘White’ ticket. As a holder of a white ticket you could take a boat out with any crew when the wind conditions did not form white horses or breaking waves. You were also allowed to crew for a green ticket holder in races that were organised nearly every weekend, either internally or against other yacht clubs. Eventually, after crewing in races and taking the helm in internal races with a ‘Master Green’ one qualified for a ‘Green’ ticket. As a holder of a ‘Green’ ticket you were made a member of the Hospital racing team and, if good enough, eventually sail at Command and inter Service level. After about three months consistent sailing I qualified for my ‘Green’ and before I left Germany represented the Second Tactical Air Force sailing in the Inter Command Championships in Berlin. The Club Commodore was Rip Rippingale and with him and a small group we spent a wonderful long week-end at the Pig Yacht club on Steinhude Meer and another long weekend sailing a forty foot cruiser off shore from Wilhelmshaven. I spent a lot of my spare time at the Yacht Club as it cost nothing to belong and there was always plenty of activity. Sometimes in the afternoon and evening I would take out the rowing boat and do a bit of fishing.
RAF Hospital Rostrup was also a Mobile Field Hospital (MFH) that is the British equivalent of an American MASH (Mobile American Services Hospital). Half of the staff, including me, were issued with an extra set of kit which was kept in a separate locker and were trained to be able to start out from the hospital within four hours of being called out and be fully operational to receive patients within two hours of reaching the designated site. Every member of the MFH were trained to drive seven ton lorries and had special designated jobs to be done on arrival at the site and then they would undertake their normal duties. One of the special tasks that I had to undertake was, with three others, clear a site for helicopters to land after which I would act as a surgical nurse. This sometimes meant that we would have to clear small trees and brush from the area. We all had to be able to drive the seven-ton Bedford trucks that were kept loaded with everything a hospital may need. This included tents for use as wards, operating theatres staff accommodation, basic ration packs, electrical generators, mobile x-ray equipment etc. A lot of time was spent training especially in the erecting of the special tents used for operating theatre and wards. These tents were based on the Bedouin tent being held up with internal poles and the edges fixed down with tent pegs, no guy ropes were used, the canvas holding up the tent. There were three layers of material - an outside heavy canvas, a middle light canvas and inner gauze net like mosquito netting. Because of the multiple layers, they were insulated from the outside weather conditions. These tents had been used by the Rommel’s Afrika Corps in the Middle East.
Erecting these tents was a team job. The various layers were laid out on the ground so that the two main holes were lined up. Then two men had to crawl in pulling the main poles behind them. These were fed into the holes and the top finial knob was fitted from the outside. When the two men had got out from under the canvas the tent was hauled into an upright position simply by pulling on the canvas. When the tent was upright the layers were fixed down with the tent pegs. Then the smaller inside poles were placed in situation to hold the canvas up over the whole of the area. This gave it the Bedouin look. Tent erecting training was held every week and all members of the MFH were supposed to attend, including the nursing sisters. Some of these thought it was beneath their dignity to train with airmen and so failed to participate. The next occasion we went out on an exercise and were getting on with the setting up of the hospital, they ask the HWO who was going to put up their tents? He said that they were responsible and now was not the time for them to be taught. They would just have to work it out for themselves, and next time come to the training sessions. The system was that the staff was responsible to put up their own tents once the hospital was completed.
We were called out on several occasions, once in the middle of winter with snow on the ground. The biggest manoeuvre we took part in was Operation Battle Royal when the whole of the Allied Forces were in the field. Members of a MFH qualified for rum ration, as did the crews of Air Sea Rescue craft. I got to like the real navy rum but now prefer Irish whiskey instead. As a part of my training for the MFH I had to go to RAF Hospital Wegburg and - guess what - I met Ken Wastie. He had been posted there three weeks after I had been posted to Rostrup.
On one occasion when Princess Margaret was going to visit the hospital and her aircraft would be over flying the lake on its way to Oldenburg Air Force Base, the rescue boat would be used to patrol the lake in case of emergency. I was delegated to crew the boat and, as we had a couple of crates of beer aboard, this was much more interesting than being on parade or on duty in the hospital. We spent a very enjoyable day moored in the middle of the lake fishing and partaking of the occasional beer. Just before she left she visited the yacht club and we were called in to meet her.
During the winter the lake froze over from December to about March and the ice was so thick that it was safe to skate on. The Germans even took their Volkswagens onto the ice. We used the masts from the GP14s in ice yachts, which was one of the winter sports on the lake. This is fast and exhilarating and also very dangerous. We were kitted out with body armour and looked like American football players. One of our Saturday afternoon past times was to try and skate around the lake, calling in at every café for a small beer. This was impossible but after enough lubrication one’s skating skills certainly improved! Perhaps this was because we were so relaxed. Every café put coconut matting on their jetty right into the bar so that skaters did not need to remove their skates. My skates were long Fen skates that clamped onto a pair of shoes or boots, as did roller skates at that time.
After quite a spell in the Pathology Department I was moved to work on the Medical ward as Senior Nurse. One of the most dreaded days of the week was ‘Matron’s Inspection’ on a Thursday morning. The matron had a small white poodle that used to accompany her everywhere she went. The main problem was that the hospital, being built on one level meant that the way from the Families’ ward to medical was via the outside patio area. Matron’s dog would go out and pad around on the wet grass and then come into the ward just in front of her. I had to meet her at the door and with the Ward Sister, follow her on her rounds. Where her dog had walked just in front of her there were wet, muddy, footsteps. Matron would glare at the otherwise sparkling floor and comment “I see the ward is in the usual pigsty like condition, Hartup!” as she left the ward. She surely knew the difference between human and animal footprints.
Because of the problems the dog gave us, it was not surprising that he suffered retribution. As I have described earlier, the hospital was laid out on the one floor with a long corridor running the whole length. The entrance to the Medical Ward was opposite the corridor leading to the Pathology Department. If matron’s dog ventured onto the ward without her, it was changed into a floor polisher! We would get hold of it, turn it on its back, and then slide it along the floor with all four legs in the air. Actually the dog enjoyed this and often came back immediately for another slide/polish. One time we slid the dog, on its back, out of the ward, across the corridor and down past the Path Lab. Unfortunately, the dog sailed across the corridor immediately in front of matron who was walking down the corridor. Surprisingly, when she came into the ward to see who was responsible, there was no one to be seen.
In December 1954 Ruth sent me a letter returning my ring and saying that she had met a sergeant from the camp nearby where she lived and that our engagement should be ended. Of course I was extremely upset by this, especially as the distance between us did make the continuation of a relationship difficult. Probably it was all for the best but at the time I wasn’t convinced. Luckily there was plenty to keep me occupied during the remaining time I had to spend out there.
At the time of the break-up I had actually been sent to work on the maternity ward. Can you imagine a 21-year-old youth at that time having to work with mums and babies! Matron said that if she could use the girls to work on the men’s wards then the men should be able to work on the women’s wards. Quite revolutionary at the time especially as there were no male midwives then. The lads in the billet pulled my leg a lot but in fact I found it interesting. I assisted occasionally in the delivery room when the midwives were pressed but most of the time I spent ‘topping & tailing’ the babies in the nursery, taking them out to the mums and of course a lot of bed making and cleaning with the other nursing staff. I only spent about a month on Maternity and was then moved to the Ward Master’s office.
Ward Master’s Office was the reception point of the hospital. All new admissions had to be registered with us as we controlled the availability of beds, arranged and staffed the out patients clinics and made appointments for the staff to see the Duty MO. I spent one month on night duty, which lasted every night from 8 p.m. to 8 a.m. next morning. One duty every night was to produce a return for Matron showing the bed state of the hospital theoretically at midnight. One night we had a newly arrived AC1 who had come straight out from Lytham. He had red hair so was called ‘Ginger’. In charge of the shift was a Corporal Ellis Blackmore who could really spin a yarn and, as this new lad seemed a gullible type, Ellis started to discuss with me, the only other person in the room, a case that had occurred a year earlier. He reminded me that this poor airman came in in a terrible state and how we had had sat him in a wheel chair in the waiting room for the Duty Doctor to see. Unfortunately the doctor was delayed, we forgot about the patient, and so he died all by himself, alone in the room. Ellis said that this sort of neglect was exactly how ghosts started. ‘Ginger’ was taking this all in although in fact Ellis was discussing it with me! After a pause for a couple of minutes Ellis said he would do the ‘bed state ward round’ as it was nearly midnight, adding as he went out that this was the normal times ghosts appeared for the first time. When he came back after a bout ten minutes he asked Ginger to check the ‘Ward Kits’. These were the sets of pyjamas; dressing gown, slippers and other equipment patients were given for use on the ward. We had six sets to cover for any patients admitted at night. As Ginger went out to the waiting room where these were stored Ellis said “Look out of the hatch and watch him”. Ginger went to the door, held the door handle and opened the door a small amount. He just stood there staring; his hand was shaking so much the door handle was rattling. He then slammed the door shut and ran out of the hospital. Ellis told me to have a look as he went to get Ginger back. As I opened the door there was a real apparition. In a wheel chair was the Sister Tutor’s demonstration skeleton that Ellis had dressed in RAF ward kit, complete with a beret and placed in the centre of the room where the moon shone on it! It’s a wonder poor Ginger didn’t have a heart attack!
In March 1955 I had to return to the U.K. for demob and return to civilian life. I collected my Full Monty (suit, raincoat, shirt, tie, shoes and a trilby hat) from Gloucester and returned home. As I had served three years with the colours I was placed on five years Class E Reserve. I therefore had to retain all of my uniform in case I was needed at any time.
Note:- The Full Monty referred to the complete outfit which was given to all servicemen being demobilised and referred to the fact that the whole lot was in fact supplied under Government Contract by Montague Burton’s, the Fifty Shilling Tailors which was later re-named Burton’s.
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 | | RAF West Kirby
Rear Row 1st left | |
 | | Medical Training Establishment Lytham
Middle row 3rd right | |
 | | RAF Hospital Rostrup | |
 | | Main Corridor,
RAF Hosp. Rostrup | |
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