Issue Number 5

November 2005

HALTON AND BEYOND……Part 1

by A/A Timberlake G. C. 681096 commonly known as Geoff.

I was the guy who lived over the hills in Chesham so Halton was almost in my local patch. My time at Halton was, like that of most others, a mixture of the good, the not so good, the bad and indescribable. When I entered Halton, I put down Airframe as first choice but having an interest in guns and competition shooting, armourer as second choice. However when one of the clerks attempted to assign me as armourer I dug my heels in for airframes and as time later proved I have been pleased about that decision.

Competition rifle shooting was virtually the only sport I was really interested in, and fortunately our initial ‘confined to camp’ period ended just before the annual Buckinghamshire County Rifle Championships, which were held on the County ranges just outside Wendover off the Gt Missenden Road. So having checked with my father to see he was attending (he had the rifle), and still being a member of the Rifle Club at Little Chalfont, I duly entered in the Junior Classes (junior up to 18). I walked along the backs to the range following what later was to become a familiar route to the Well Head.

My arrival caused some consternation for a group of Apprentices shepherded by a grizzled Chiefy, these being an official entry from Halton! I was pounced upon by the said Chiefy who grilled me and on learning that I was one of the ‘new entry’ he promptly informed me to attend at the indoor range next Tuesday evening. Hence started my shooting career in the RAF, which over the next decade or so lurched from peaks to lows depending on my current posting. My highlight at Halton was 1957 when we won the full-bore competition between the Apprentice and Boy Entrant Schools, this was held at Bisley during the annual RAF Championship Week. We were only allowed to go down on the Sunday though! The same year by some fluke, (someone up there must have been asleep) I won the Halton Station Championship open all Staff, Regulars and Apprentices - apparently the first ‘brat’ to have done so - my old ‘friend’ the Chiefy didn’t know whether to be proud that one of ‘his boys’ had won, or downright miserable because he had lost! For a day my bedside locker was graced with a large cup until I had to return it to Henderson Gym for safe keeping,

Another fond memory and in certain ways the start of my downfall to the pleasures of a dram or three, was a trip to Coventry to see the King’s Cup Air Race. I can’t remember who organised the trip but we travelled in a double-decker bus to the race. On the way back to Camp it was suggested we stopped at a pub for refreshments. Up to that point my association with alcohol had been confined to Cider (with my school mates in Chesham) and Green Ginger at Christmas - a complete novice! So when someone suggested to me that I should try a ‘Tom Collins’ although I hadn’t a clue what one was, I said yes as I didn’t want to look too much like the country bumpkin. Gin, bitters and lemonade was an exotic mixture which captured my appetite (and that of many others in the party) - it was a merry trip back!!

After Halton my posting was to Aden Command and after several false starts at Innsworth my fellow travellers and I where flown out of Lynham in a Comet 2C, - with the modified windows I was quick to note - this one had forward facing seats and so it was probably the same a/c that Brian Spurway travelled in. We made a re-fuelling stop in Tripoli and landed in Khormaksar later that day. I, a brand new J/T with such shining stripes came down the a/c steps to a small reception committee set up to inform all of us where we were going next. My posting of ‘Aden Command’ although Double Dutch to me didn’t cause the bored look on the WAAF clerk to slip an inch, she simply said “Timberlake??? Oh yes, Eastleigh for you” I had wanted to go to Kenya so I was overjoyed. Mind you, 21 days in transit in Khormaksar was a strain. My fellow transitees and I spent our time between drinking chai on the billet veranda watching Beverleys reverse out of their squadron line on the airfield or down in Aden gawking at the sights in the Souk and attempting to drive bargains like the more seasoned members.

After an uneventful flight in a Haystack (well as far as any flight in a Haystack is uneventful!!); Eastleigh on the outskirts of Nairobi seemed paradise. My assignment was to the aircraft storage flight. At that time there was (as far as I can remember now) no a/c squadron operating there, most movements were by visiting a/c. The storage flight held a mixture of Venoms Mk5, Pembrokes, TwinPins (there's another nick name for you) Scottish Aviation Twin Pioneer to the lesser informed, and a Valetta. (I must disagree with those who call the Valetta a ‘Pig’ that name was usually retained for the Valetta’s posh cousin the Varsity, which looks very much like a sow about to have a litter to end all litters. These were the reserve stock for Aden Command. Our job was to service them, do mods when needed and to prepare them for the occasional flight test. Eventually more Venoms arrived and with them rumours that a new squadron was being formed (don’t expect squadron numbers - I don’t do numbers as my grandson would say). This rumour became fact when aircrew arrived, mainly new pilots out of training, and new postings for most of the storage flight personnel except for yours truly. Eventually I was posted to Bahrain at the other end of the Command - still it could have been worse - like Sharjah.

Being the newest rigger on the flight I was not too happy when the Venoms went flying, as prior to the engine start an asbestos blanket (wonder what Health and Safety would say these days?) was placed over the tail plane to prevent burn damage and after a successful start, muggings then had to lean over the tail-boom to drag this heavy thing off, without getting burnt. Nasty. Another feature of the a/c was the need for pilots to immediately and harshly apply the brakes once the a/c had commenced to taxi, so that the nose dipped sharply - this was to ‘unlock’ the nosewheel centring device, failure to do this resulting in the a/c being unable to steer. There was no powered steering in those days merely differential braking/steering. Anyone who has been to Eastleigh will remember the large Monsoon ditches that run down the sides of the peri track etc. The Venoms were always lined up facing across the track so it was vital for this nose dipping to be done within seconds of the initial taxy movement. One of the new pilots, although briefed by the Flying Instructor and all of us ground crew, either ignored the advice or else was too gentle. The result was after two attempts to turn, and more and more frantic signals from the rigger (guess who) for urgent braking, but the a/c still going straight for the monsoon ditch it was time for a rapid exit left from muggings here. The pilot did manage to stop before tipping it in and after a red-faced tête-à-tête with the Flying Instructor, he had another and more successful go and made it to the runway and take-off.

I left Eastleigh in the tail boom of a Beverly - not a luxurious travel arrangement by any standard. As we flew over the North West Frontier area the a/c hit an air pocket and fell what seemed to be for ever - it was staggering to think of an a/c of that size being thrown around like that. In later years, before the phenomenon of “wind shear” became more widely understood, several larger a/c were lost in strange accidents - remember the BOAC Comet 4 crashing into Mount Fuji in Japan?

I Arrived in Khormaksar but without my kit, which by some quirk had either been loaded onto a Lincoln that had been in at Eastleigh on its way back from Malaya to the UK or simply not loaded - either way I never saw that kit again. After a few more boring weeks in transit I arrived via another Beverly in Bahrain. There I shall bed this part as Bahrain represents the next stage of my saga.