My race to rescue a long-distance love

BACK IN the early Fifties, I was based at RAF Medmenham in the Thames Valley. I was a member of 591 Signals, a mobile unit. While on detachment at Scarborough, where we were deployed to an inland naval signals unit, I fell for a beautiful Yorkshire lass. After we had finished our job with the Navy we returned to RAF Medmenham. Back at base I received a heart-rending letter from my girlfriend about how sad and miserable she was feeling without me. I jumped on my AJS motorbike and drove at speed to Scarborough without informing anyone. I just made it to there when my motorbike conked out, so I abandoned it in a car park. My girlfriend persuaded me to return to Medmenham, where I was in deep trouble for being AWOL. It took me two days to hitchhike back to camp. When I arrived I was immediately put on a charge. The following day I was playing for the station football team when I was tackled at the touchline under the nose of an RAF policeman. ‘ ‘Ere, you’re on jankers, aren’t you?’ he said. I was marched off the field to face a further charge for playing football while I should have been serving a punishment. Sadly, the distance between us — not to mention the broken motorbike — proved to be insurmountable obstacles for my relationship with the Yorkshire lass, but it was an experience I’ll never forget. Ah, young love and the recklessness of youth!

Jonathan Bryant, Worthing, W. Sussex.