Tony Cunnane's RAF Years

Just before 0900 we went to Reception where we all boarded a waiting coach for the short journey to RAF Lyneham. As soon as we arrived a medical orderly was waiting for Mick Harley, ‘Tombstone’ Gaunt and me. We had to go to Sick Quarters for the cholera injection that someone at Innsworth had forgotten to give us. In the ‘departure lounge’ at Lyneham we met up with the rest of the passengers on our flight. In addition to our small bunch of wireless technicians there were 12 officers, half a dozen NCO aircrew and one solitary WRAF airwoman. Coffee was served to us, actually served to us, while we waited. I wrote in my diary that it was “very good coffee but spoilt rather by the taste of the cardboard cups we drank it out of.”

I’m sure I wasn’t the only airman who was excited about the forthcoming trip. I don’t recall that any of us had flown before. From time to time a loudspeaker announced the arrival of various aircraft. For some reason I can clearly remember one announcement: "Hastings 339, inbound from Idris, is now in circuit". Then at 0945 we were called forward, only 45 minutes after leaving Clyffe Pypard so full marks to the Movements staff. Our plane was the ubiquitous Hastings, a large four-engined transport often known in those days as the Queen of the Skies. Before leaving the lounge the Duty Air Movements Officer explained that the aircraft had been reassigned at the last moment and was still fitted out as half passenger and half freight. He said that was why there were only about 25 passengers in total and apologised because half the luggage racks were missing and most of the cabin lights were unserviceable so “reading might be difficult”.

The officers got on first and bagged all the window seats, the SNCO aircrew followed them and we airmen of course were last to board. I found myself seated next to a squadron leader pilot adjacent to the port wing. It turned out to be one of the best positions on the aircraft because in turbulence, seats along the line of the wings are usually the most stable. The aircraft captain, a flight lieutenant, came back from the cockpit to give us an emergency briefing about the way to don and operate our Mae West life jackets. He stressed that our individual life jacket was stowed under the seat in front of us and that we should not go for the one under our own seat. I was sure there was a reason for that but I wasn’t about to ask the question. The sergeant didn’t demonstrate the technique as today’s Air Hostesses do so I’m not sure how much of his briefing went in. He then went on to explain how to operate the aircraft doors in the case of emergency. Finally he described our flight route to our first stop, Idris in Libya. I noticed that the squadron leader in the seat next to me continued reading a book all the way through the emergency briefing. I felt secure in the knowledge that he would help me if something dreadful happened during the flight.

We took off at 1020 GMT and climbed sedately to 9,500 feet. The weather was good with little cloud and excellent visibility. I tried tentatively leaning across the squadron leader to try and recognise somewhere on the ground but I could recognise nothing. He didn’t offer any assistance but continued to read his book. I was making notes as we went along to write up later in my diary so I know we crossed the south coast of England at 1050 and the south coast of France at 1425 GMT. For about an hour and half over the southern part of the Mediterranean the going became rather rough – the pilot described it as “slight turbulence”. I didn’t feel at all sick, which was a relief to me, but my arm had already gone stiff and painful as a result of the cholera injection. I had also developed a headache which could have been due to the cholera jab or the incessant noise or a combination of both.

I was surprised that the Air Quartermaster, a sergeant, served us with hot tea and coffee several times during the flight. I was surprised on two counts: one, that we got any refreshments at all and two, that a sergeant served junior technicians. There was a further surprise when he told us that there was a cardboard box containing food under our own seat – not the one in front!

I looked around and saw that most of my fellow junior technicians were already tucking into the contents of their box so I retrieved mine and looked in. There was a cardboard tray holding a piece of corned beef, a few beans, some peas and a couple of pieces of tomato. There was also a tiny cardboard salt cellar, a bread roll, a piece of butter and a small piece of spreading cheese. In my notes I wrote, “An apple and a packet of biscuits completed the selection which I thought was excellent.” Shortly afterwards I was forced to leave my seat to visit the toilet right at the back of the aircraft. There was a short queue of my fellow airmen – it seemed the officer and NCO aircrew had no such needs. I was rather alarmed to find that it was difficult to stand upright in the toilet, not just because of its small size, but because that end of the aircraft seemed to be rotating in small circles. The nose level was considerably greater in there and howling winds entered through various gaps in the airframe.

Soon it became dark outside and what with the headache, the sore arm, and my excitement at landing in a foreign country, I was not sorry when the Quartermaster told us to fasten our safety belts because we were starting our descent for the landing at RAF Idris.

It was quite dark when we made an extremely bumpy landing at Idris. When we stopped at the terminal an officer came into the plane and announced that it was 1935 local time, 1835 GMT. We disembarked, officers and NCOs first of course, and boarded a couple of coaches which took us the short distance to the Transit Hotel. When the officers and senior NCOs had been led away, we were issued with chits for a meal. We went into the dining room which, I noted in my diary, “was hardly up to hotel standard but we were quite pleased with ourselves when we discovered that we were to be served by natives** and had not got to queue up for our food – they even supplied knives, forks and spoons.” Of course, I wouldn’t use the word natives in that context these days.The meal consisted of potato soup, followed by fried egg, potatoes and tomatoes. Having finished we drifted back into the main hall and whilst waiting for someone to show us to our accommodation we gathered bits of information about the place. I recorded that Tripoli, the nearest town of any importance, was about 50 miles to the north on the Mediterranean coast. Cigarettes were about 1s 3d (6p) for twenty compared with about 3s 7d (17p) in UK. Beer and spirits were also much cheaper. The bar in the Transit Hotel would accept English money but the NAAFI only took local currency. (** That was a verbatim quote from my 1954 diary; I would not use the word 'native' these days of course.)

We were taken to the Isolation Ward in Sick Quarters which was to serve as our transit accommodation for the night stop. The beds were ready made for us and looked very comfortable. After relieving ourselves of our kit Mick, Tombstone and I set about finding the NAAFI. A corporal who directed us offered to change 10s (50p) for us so we split it between us and in exchange got 50 piastres – half a Libyan pound. This meant that one piaster was worth 2½d (1p) and it was subdivided into 10 milliemes each worth one farthing (0.25p). After losing our way once we eventually arrived in the NAAFI only to find ourselves in the Corporals’ Club. As it was empty we stopped there and the NAAFI staff, local civilians, either didn’t notice or didn’t care. I bought some chocolate which cost just about the same as in the UK.

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Below are three scans of pages from my diary, written at the time, some of it whilst airborne. Click on any one to pop up a more legible version.

Please note that some words that were in use in 1954 are certainly not acceptable in 2009 but I have left them unaltered to show how language has changed in the last 55 years. Absolutely no offence is meant even though at least two words, wog and native, were undoubtedly derogatory in 1954.but, nevertheless, in common usage then.