MY TIME UNDER CORPORAL CRACKLE
I had asked to serve in The Royal Air Force in a clerical role, though when I had my medical, I thought I might fail since I was recovering from shingles! However, I was told I was 100 per cent fit, except for flat feet and colour blindness and so would not be able to fly. (I had no desire to!)
I left home on 25 January 1952 for RAF Innsworth in Gloucestershire to do eight weeks’ training (“squarebashing”). Saying goodbye to my mother was emotional. But I found it exciting – the first time away from home! When we arrived at RAF Innsworth, it was pouring with rain; we were immediately put on parade.
The flight sergeant greeted us with the words: “You’re no longer tied to your mother’s apron strings! I’m in charge of you now.” We were then taken to the store and kitted out and given a large sheet of brown paper in which to wrap our civilian clothes to be sent home. My clothes were soaking wet; I imagined my mother’s horror on opening the parcel to find my damp clothes. (I had suffered pneumonia and double-pneumonia as a teenager, so she would be convinced that I wouldn’t survive!)
The first shock I had was the foul language – every other word was the “f” word. The first night at the camp was terrifying. There were 27 of us in our billet. We had barely got settled in when the corporal in charge of us came in. He was tall, slim, very smart with highly polished boots – and stern-faced. We were ordered to stand to attention by our beds. He walked up one side and then down the other, eyeing each one of us up and down in turn, without saying a word. Then he stood in the middle of the billet and said: “My name is Crackle, Corporal Crackle: C-R-A-C-K-L-E. Ask anyone on the camp about me and they will tell you I am a bastard!” We were all shaking in our boots! Corporal Crackle then said that the floor was a disgrace and we were told to get on our hands and knees and polish it. He would be back before lights out (10pm) and would expect to see his face in it! It was jolly hard work, but we thought we had made a pretty good job of polishing it. The floor was gleaming.
There was a stove in the middle of the billet, with a container for coke. When the corporal returned, just before 10pm, he walked from one end of the billet to the other, looking at the floor – and then proceeded to tip out the contents of the coke bin and to stamp on the coke, crushing it into the floor and ordered us to clean it all up before morning. As he left, he switched the lights out and we were left in the dark!
“Square-bashing” was quite an experience and hard work but, amazingly, we actually came to enjoy it and at the end of it I was fitter than I had ever been in my life. When our training came to an end, we actually bought Corporal Crackle a present!
I was then given a posting abroad, to Germany. It was in March 1952, to RAF Station Altona, an Air Stores Park, and I was in the AOG Section (Aircraft On Ground). It was manned by an RAF sergeant, with seven German civilians, six men and one woman.
When an aircraft was grounded at any of the RAF Stations in Germany, orders for parts were sent to us. It was our job to order the parts from Maintenance Units in the UK and our responsibility to keep the whole of the RAF in Germany flying! Each person was responsible for a number of stations. We also had to deal with orders for less urgent aeroplane parts and for ground equipment.
The problem was that we received hundreds of messages every day, which meant delays in ordering, so we were forever receiving angry telephone calls from Commanding Officers. My sergeant was almost 55, retirement age. I soon discovered that he had no interest whatsoever in the work and left it all to the Germans (it was interesting talking to the Germans and hearing of their World War II experiences). The sergeant was very happy to leave me in charge (an inexperienced 18-year-old, being paid a mere £1 7s 6d – £1.37 per week!).
So, I took control. The first thing I did was to ask for more staff to help clear the backlog. This was granted – and then I suggested changes to simplify the procedure (laid down in Air Ministry Orders) for dealing with the demands. My proposals were sent to the Air Ministry
I came home for Christmas 1952, for two weeks, but on Boxing Day I received a telegram from my Station Commander ordering me back to the station immediately. The Air Ministry liked my proposals and wanted me to set out the new procedures in detail. When I complained to the CO for ruining my Christmas, he said, “Serves you bloody well right for being so bloody clever!” I was later informed that I was the first National
Serviceman ever to have had an Air Ministry Order changed.
My two years in the RAF gave me confidence, helped me to make decisions, taught me how to handle staff and it gave me a new outlook on life. I enjoyed my time in the RAF so much that I almost signed on. But just before signing on the dotted line, we were informed that RAF Altona was to be disbanded and I was posted back to the UK to set up an AOG Section at RAF Grove, near Wantage in Berkshire. There I discovered what serving in the RAF was really like – and I decided not to proceed with my application for a commission
Thank goodness, as I would not have had the wonderful career I had.
Raymond Wood, by email