Tony Cunnane's RAF Years

This story was edited extensively in May 2010

During my disembarkation leave at home in Wakefield after returning early from my tour at RAF Gangodawila, Ceylon (Sri Lanka), I received a letter from the RAF, enclosing a railway warrant, and instructing me to report to RAF Hemswell in Lincolnshire on 13 March 1956. I was a bit surprised by this order because I’d expected to go to the Aircrew Selection Centre at Hornchurch more or less straight away after my leave.

It took two train journeys: one from Wakefield Westgate to Doncaster on a slow train and thence on an even slower train, on which I appeared to be the only passenger, to Gainsborough Lea Road. I was wearing my best blue uniform because it was required in those days to report to new stations 'properly dressed'. After stepping down onto the platform I approached a station porter (remember them?) who, in answer to my question, silently pointed to a sign which instructed RAF personnel arriving on posting or detachment and wanting transport to the camp to telephone (reversing the charges) and wait. It took about an hour for a 3-ton truck to arrive for me. I sat up front with the driver – a journey of about 5 miles along a narrow, largely deserted road ending with a steep climb, in low gear, up what is known as Hemswell Cliff. Then, all of a sudden, there was the airfield on the left spread out before me. (More about RAF Hemswell on Wikipedia here)

After 15 months in Ceylon working at a remote signals unit which had only 14 personnel, it was a bit of a shock checking in at Hemswell, a fully operational flying station with three large squadrons of Lincolns and Canberras. My first impressions as we chuntered up the hill towards the airfield was apprehension. Why? Because I'd never been on a large operational station, other than Locking where I'd done my wireless training and Changi in Singapore where I spent 4 days for a commissioning board. However, I told myself, I was a corporal with an overseas tour behind me and that gave me status. That was, sadly, probably one of the last years when corporals had the status their training merited.

Initially I was allocated to work in the Ground Radio Flight at Hemswell and I was soon happily employed helping to maintain the VHF equipments used for short-range communications with the station’s aircraft: the T1131 transmitters and the R1492 receivers on which I’d been trained at Locking. That made a change because it was the first time I'd seen those equipments since leaving No 1 Radio School before going to Ceylon.

Below are two RAF landing charts for RAF Scampton.The top one is dated 1955 - before the runway extension and the diversion of the A15 trunk road.The bottom chart is how Scampton airfield was laid out from about 1958. The A15 diversion around the end of the greatly extended runway is clearly visible.Click either image to open the complete chart in a new window.

My Boss on Ground Radio Flight was a very friendly squadron leader. He knew, of course, that I was at Hemswell awaiting a summons to Hornchurch. He told me there could be a delay of several months waiting for that summons and he said he would fix it for me to have a familiarisation trip in one of the station’s aircraft so I would have something to talk about at Hornchurch.

That was very thoughtful of him and I was grateful.

He was as good as his word and on 23 March I went for a trip in a Lincoln bomber. Not being aircrew and so having no flying log book, I didn’t record either the aircraft registration or the names of the crew. My diary (see left) merely records that we flew most of the 5-hour sortie at 16,000 feet. The Lincoln was non-pressurised; all the crew wore their oxygen masks throughout. Unfortunately no-one had supplied me with an oxygen mask which is probably why I made special mention in my diary that I “didn’t use oxygen!” Come to think of it, I don't think they had provided me with a parachute either and even if there was one stowed away somewhere no-one had mentioned it – or told me how to use it. (As you can see, my diary entry about the flight was merely a headline. Security was very strict in Bomber Command and I had a guilty feeling that I might even have betrayed a military secret by mentioning I had been flying in a Lincoln!!)

I was able to wander around the aircraft at will but to be truthful it was all rather boring, very noisy and exceedingly cold. I wandered around watching each of the crew members at work and had a look down the bomb-aimer’s window in the nose, but we were flying high above the clouds and the ground was invisible. Eventually I settled down in the galley where it was quite warm. None of the crew took any notice of me. It was a very long 5 hours! (When I became a pilot some years later and took passengers along for a ride, I always made sure they were properly equipped, briefed, entertained, and finally debriefed.)

After a couple of weeks I was detached from Hemswell to a small out-station at Normanby, just south of Caenby Corner and just north of Scampton, to cover for a chap who was being sent off on an advanced training course. I found that I was in sole charge of ten high-powered short wave transmitters and a group of a dozen airmen, including three or four RAF policemen, a store man and a cook. We all lived together in a barrack hut. This was yet another occasion when I was sent to do a job for which I had no qualifications. It’s just as well the half dozen wireless mechanics who were already there knew what they were doing. I was at Normanby for about three weeks and fortunately nothing happened that needed my attention nor did anyone come from Hemswell to see how I was doing,

It was during this period at Normanby that I went down the A15, the Roman Road 'Ermine Street', to Lincoln several times and saw the extensive road works connected with the lengthening of Scampton’s main runway for the arrival of the V Bombers.

I did better at Hornchurch the second time around (12-18 April 1956) mainly because I knew what to expect and how to play the system. A few days after arriving back at Hemswell I was summoned to an interview with an administrative squadron leader. He sat me down in his office and showed me a letter that had just arrived from Hornchurch. They were offering me training as an air signaller which carried with it promotion to sergeant on graduation. I was hugely disappointed.

“You have to sign at the bottom to say you accept this offer,” said the squadron leader proffering a pen.

“No sir,” I said after a very brief pause. “It’s not what I want. I want a commission and I want to be a pilot.”

The squadron leader asked me to re-consider. He said that because the new V Force was starting to expand rapidly there would be lots of vacancies for Air Signallers and airmen with my qualifications would find the course very easy. “In any case,” he continued, “It will mean promotion to sergeant when you finish the course, with a big jump in pay, and there will be opportunities to try again for pilot training later."

With some reluctance I accepted what I knew to be second best and signed the form.

On 22 May 1956, I left Hemswell for the very last time, in a staff car, for Gainsborough railway station where I boarded an extremely slow train that stopped at largely deserted stations every few miles and eventually dropped me at Kings Lynn. From there I took a bus to East Dereham where I met up with a couple of others, including a flight sergeant returning from leave, who were about to order a taxi for the 3-mile journey to Swanton Morley. I happened to mention that I was reporting on posting (once again my uniform was a bit of a giveaway) whereupon the flight sergeant assured me that I was entitled to official transport. He telephoned the RAF station on my behalf and in due course we were all picked up by an RAF vehicle. It turned out that the flight sergeant, a WW2 air gunner, would also be on my course but in 1956 corporals did not talk socially to flight sergeants!

Many years later, 35 years later to be precise in 1991 when I was working at Scampton with the Red Arrows, I had sneaky access to the confidential reports written on me following my two visits to Hornchurch and learned from them that on each occasion the recruiters had noted my unacceptable Yorkshire accent and, therefore, considered me unlikely ever to become suitable for a commission but quite suitable for service as a senior NCO.

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