MORE OF SYLT.

By John Catley.Armourer.


Once again I find myself following an article by Mike Stanley with his description of an air firing programme at RAF Sylt. Not too sure of the date but think it was early Spring 1959; I was with 41 squadron (Javelins) at Wattisham and, like Mike, off to Sylt for an air firing jolly. Two transport aircraft arrived for the personnel and ground equipment, namely a Hastings and what someone aptly described as an aluminium cloud - a Beverley. Naturally I was allocated the Beverley with all the ground equipment; this wasn't so bad as I was coerced into assisting the Air Quartermaster into handing out the packed lunches during the flight which allowed me to be at the front of the aircraft as we flew over the Dutch bulb fields and so see the wonderful colours of the tulip fields in full bloom; it was a sight I will never forget.

Upon disembarking at Sylt we encountered the weather as described by Mike, one will never find a complete brass monkey on this island. We were allocated a hangar and made ourselves at home. There was a little old German worker, he must have been 80 years old, repairing a window and one of our comedians tapped him on the shoulder and asked "How's the master race today?"; fortunately he didn't speak English but we all cringed as this was the first meeting with a German for most of us.

The next day all the aircraft were armed up and the weather clamped so no flying, little did we know that this would be repeated for the entire period we were at Sylt so not a shot was fired.

I'm pretty sure the aircraft with the big black crosses that Mike saw were Hawker Sea Hawks.

I cannot remember his description of the food at Sylt, maybe it had improved by the time we arrived. I do remember a pretty German waitress looking after us, probably because she was well endowed and couldn't help hitting you in the ear with a part of her anatomy when serving us (we all ordered seconds).

This also was our first encounter with the local financial arrangements, I'm talking here of the dreaded BAFS. Before payday one had to indicate how much to receive in German Marks or British Armed Forces Vouchers that ranged from £5 all the way down to 3d but could only be used in the NAAFI. If your change came to less than 3d you were given a box of matches whether you smoked or not. The day before payday was like the floor of the New York Stock Exchange with all the bartering going on. Another thing we saw was a couple of guys playing darts and when one of them won he didn't just buy his opponent a pint, he bought a whole crate of beer as apparently this was the custom.

Again following in Mike's footsteps we journeyed into Westerland and hit a few bars. I recall in one bar, I think it was called the Pigalle, there was this pretty German fraulein trying to put money into a jukebox; unfortunately some idiot had poured beer in the coin slot and knackered it, she was getting very frustrated and kept shouting "F..k it! - F..k it!", we thought how well English expletives had become universal.

I remember also how my sergeant had become bored with all this inactivity and had taken to drink, he kept boasting how he had mixed rum and crème de menthe into a fabulous concoction. Needless to say he flew back strapped to the aeroplane all the way, prematurely embalmed.

I can't help wondering where Mike is going to take me with his next article.