Final Weeks of Square Bashing

...our Drill Test disintegrated into a complete farce; the grim-faced wing commander turned and left the parade ground, closely followed by our pilot officer

Every week during our training course there was an invitation promulgated in Station Routine Orders that I am very glad I didn't accept. Volunteers were required at the Common Cold Centre at Porton Down. They would spend a week there and receive a few shillings a day additional pay. Only minor discomfort, similar to that associated with a winter cold, would be experienced, explained the invitation. Our Drill Instructors told us that if we volunteered we might be re-coursed and that might delay our graduation by several weeks. Tempting though the money offer was, I don't think anyone from our flight volunteered. Years later it became clear that the Common Cold Centre had in fact been the cover name for highly controversial experiments into nerve gases. I have often wondered since whether the corporals were protecting us from something they knew but could not pass on to us. I like to think they were.

One day we were shown a film about venereal diseases which had very explicit scenes of real sufferers. One lad got up half way through and stumbled towards the door. ‘Where d’you think you’re going?’ barked the corporal at the door but then, seeing the recruit’s face, got out of the way just in time to avoid a stream of vomit. That film was followed immediately by a film about blood donors.

On the weekend of my 18th birthday, my 31st day in the RAF, we had our first 48 hour pass and most of us went home. Weekend passes were for precisely 36, 48 or 72 hours but why such precision was necessary was never explained. A series of private hire buses were contracted for all 48 and 72 hour passes and were routed to take in the major cities. My return ticket cost 25 shillings to Leeds and it used up almost all my available money. The bus took a very circuitous route, through the town centres of Wellington, Chester, Birkenhead, Liverpool, Manchester, Huddersfield and Bradford., dropping lads off at regular intervals. My journey on the Friday afternoon from Bridgnorth to Leeds took seven hours – no motorways or city bypasses of course. The return journey on Sunday evening, leaving Leeds City Centre at 6 pm, took even longer because the driver couldn't remember where he had to pick up the Manchester contingent! Eventually, as we cruised slowly along Deansgate at midnight, they found us.

One day we had a mammoth Wing Parade. The entire wing of four squadrons, each comprising four flights of 50 to 60 recruits, were all on parade at the same time with the RAF Regional Band. According to my diary:

‘I was on the very front row. Wing Commander Ostle was the chap who took the salute – he must be at least 6ft 6in tall. He inspected everybody – but not very thoroughly.’

The parade seemed to go very well and all the members of my flight appeared to have enjoyed it. There was something very satisfying about producing a good parade, marching to a decent band, especially without continual interruptions from the drill instructors. When there are so many men on parade carrying out intricate manoeuvres there is no scope for individual instructors to bawl ‘As you were!’

Towards the end of the course there was a reorganisation of our squadron. The whole of No 15 Flight had been selected to go off to form the Royal Guard of Honour at the Runnymede Memorial which was to be dedicated by HM The Queen on 17 October. As a result my flight and 14 Flight were re-grouped into 3 flights so that, together with 16 Flight, the passing out parade would still be symmetrical with four flights per squadron. We on 13 Flight were quite disappointed that we had not been selected to parade before the Queen. This is our Graduation Photograph - click the image to enlarge.

On the penultimate day of the course we had the Final Drill Test which was in the nature of a dress rehearsal for the Passing Out Parade itself, but with only one flight on parade at a time. We on 13 Flight were quite confident of our ability and so we were looking forward to performing in front of the Wing Commander. We would march onto the parade ground, dress off, present arms for the General Salute, march past the saluting base in quick and slow time, advance in review order, change from three to four ranks and back again, and so on. It was an absolute disaster – but not entirely our fault! Instead of one of our Drill Instructors giving the orders, the parade commander was our own Flight Commander, a very young pilot officer Navigator, because he would be in charge of our flight on the Passing Out Parade. Perhaps his performance was also under scrutiny – in which case he failed!

We had been taught that whenever a wrong drill order was given we were to ignore it. For example, if the order to Present Arms was given when we were at the Order Arms position, we should ignore it; if orders to halt or about turn were given on the wrong foot, we were to ignore those orders. The idea of ignoring wrong orders was intended to ensure that every member of the flight did the same thing. The fatal flaw in that theory was that it relied on everyone recognising what was an illegal order. Sadly our Flight Commander gave a whole string of wrong orders, and equally sadly while some of my fellow recruits ignored the wrong order, others carried out what they thought was a perfectly correct order. When the order to About Turn was given on the wrong foot, some carried on straight on in the direction they were going regardless, while others about turned. This resulted in the flight splitting into several small groups. Immediately afterwards, when the hapless pilot office gave another about turn order on the right foot in an attempt to rectify the situation, the various elements all about turned again, and seconds later there were multiple collisions right in front of the saluting base. Thereafter our Drill Test disintegrated into a complete farce. The grim-faced wing commander turned and left the parade ground, closely followed by our pilot officer. One of the drill instructors sorted us out and marched us back in silence to our billet. We were genuinely disappointed that we had been made to look ridiculous and we honestly felt sorry for the young officer.

Graduation Day was 18 October. In spite of our worries we did not have to repeat the drill test nor was our departure from Bridgnorth going to be delayed. In fact our final parade was pretty good. We had a different officer in charge of us – one who knew what he was doing. The Station Commander was the Reviewing Officer and Wing Commander Ostle stood close behind him on the saluting base, probably with his fingers crossed. As soon as the parade ended we were marched off to the armoury to hand in our rifles. A couple of hours later, we were free to leave and I never again met, or heard from, any members of 13 Flight. None of my friends on 13 Flight was going to be a wireless mechanic so none was posted to RAF Locking.

I had thoroughly enjoyed myself for most of the eight weeks; only the bull sessions for cleaning our kit and the barrack block were a pain - oh, and the injections. I was good at drill and physical training, I earned a marksman’s badge for my skill with the .303 rifle and the Bren Gun, and I ended up even fitter than I had been at the outset.

I travelled home by public bus to Wolverhampton and thence by train to Wakefield, changing at Stockport and Stalybridge. This time I really could get on the train for Leeds at Stalybridge! I reached home in time for supper. My parents were astonished at the changes they found in me. The bored, frustrated teenager they had known so well a few weeks earlier had gone forever.

There is no doubt we regular airmen recruits were treated better than most National Servicemen were but, because we were all volunteers, we were well motivated. All my fellow recruits on 13 Flight were actually keen to learn, keen to do well, proud of our progress, and had learned a great deal about the importance of team work and good leadership. Yes, we were proud to be regular airmen in the Royal Air Force.

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