Bikes, Pipes, Broken Pegs and Bangers!

by Martin McArthur Inst Fitter (Gen) 81st & 84th Entries

As some of you may know I committed the heinous 'crime' of keeping and riding a motorbike while at Halton. I bought the bike for the enormous sum of £18 from a New Zealand Sergeant Apprentice, Butch Butcher and kept it at the back of a pub that only sold beers - no spirits - in Great Missenden.

I paid the price; some clown of a florist in a van turned across the road in front of us while we were travelling at our maximum speed of 45 mph, and the rest is history. Curly Knowlton, on the pillion, and I finished up in hospital in Windsor and, after some weeks there, some more at time PMRAF Halton we went on to rehabilitation at RAF Collaton Cross, in Devon.

What a holiday camp! The food was good, we weren't subjected to the Halton style rules and the exercises gradually corrected my horrendous limp and made both of my legs fitter and stronger than before. We went through 'early legs' on to 'inter legs' and then to 'late legs'. In 'late legs' we were given ancient RAF bikes and allowed to ride round the local countryside where we visited cafes and consumed numerous cream teas. We also found that scrumpy cost less, and gave better hangovers, than beer.

On one occasion four of us hired a rowing boat at Newton Ferrers. What a motley collection we were, I had my crutches, someone else had a plaster on his arm and another had a neck brace and the fourth was wearing a leg brace which kept his leg straight after a cartilage operation. I don't know who was the maddest, us for hiring a boat with only a partial set of limbs between us, or the man who risked hiring his boat to us. We nearly came to grief trying to make a landing on a shallow beach with waves running up on to the sand, but in the end we got back without anything worse than a soggy arm plaster.

My return to Halton resulted in a visit to the Wingco. He was quite kind really, I only got 14 days jankers, as he recognised that putting me back a year in training was in itself quite a punishment. I considered myself lucky as Jock McLean in 1 Wing, same injuries as me, got 14 days inside and put back a year. Other memories of Halton are mostly of the pipe band, firstly as a very junior piper later becoming Wing Pipe Major and drilled by the dedicated Flight Sergeant Lenz so that we won the inter wing Pipe Band competition, then for the final term, Station Pipe Major. I was really very honoured, supported by some very fine pipers and drummers; we took part in a number of events. At Harpenden Highland Games we were commended but not included in the prize giving because the Apprentice Pipe Band drums didn't drum in the style of the Highland bands. We played at Earls Court as an interval filler, we took part in the Lord Mayors Show parade - no we were not at the back sweeping up! We also did at least one funeral at Halton village, playing 'The Flowers of the Forest' in pouring rain.

I also remember being very proud when I went to the Cenotaph, in civvies, on sick leave, and our trumpeters played the Last Post, conducted by Freddie Bailey - whatever happened to Freddie? These same trumpeters played Lights Out and Reveille every day, remember them?

There was also the aero-modelling club where I built a flying boot(a Welly, I suppose,WK)which went round in circles at the end of some fine wires, the Equitation club where I was on a horse that bolted across the longest 'diagonal' of the airfield, and afternoons lounging on the 'pimple' when we should have been somewhere else.

Leave from Halton was often quite memorable, not so much the formal trips home, more the times I spent with several others on the Norfolk Broads on as hired motor cruiser. We went, by water, from pub to pub, ate very well on board and indulged in things like 'water skiing' at 5 knots, using bunk boards as skis, and once piping our way into a mooring place. At a pub on a staithe at Hickling Broad someone went for fish and chips after a serious session in the pub. When he returned he stepped into the gap between boat and shore, but the fish and chips were snatched from his hands before he sunk into the shallow water and mud! After hosing down on shore he was still able to partake of his fish and chips.

Eventually my days at Halton came to an end and I was posted to Leuchars, very proud of my shiny new JT stripe. By this time I had bought myself a car - it was a 1938, long wheelbase, Austin 7. A few of us piled in and we made our way north. Progress was slow as the poor car was well past its sell buy date and there were 3, or was it 4, ex-apprentices and all their kit loading it down. Some way on the journey we had a puncture, no spare, no jack, but we did have a spanner that fitted the wheel nuts. Two stalwarts lifted the car and off came the wheel. I was able to buy a motorcycle inner tube and have it fitted at a nearby garage and we proceeded on our way. One hill we encountered was so steep that everyone, except the driver (me), had to get out to lighten the load and even then we only just made it to the top!

Later in the day another problem came to light, well it didn't come to much light, the headlamps were worse than useless. If anyone drove behind with modern headlights, even only on dip, they cast such a shadow in front of my Austin 7 that my headlights could barely have any effect. I must have driven several people stark raving bonkers as I had to slow right down in order to drive within my visibility limits. Remember this was in the days before motorways, and country roads; even A roads had little in the way of aids to the visually impaired. Eventually we arrived at Leuchars and spent the first 5 days 'arriving'

Martin McArthur