Chapter 4 .. Just a number.

After a restless night we were awakend by a voice coming from the ‘Tannoy’ system wishing us “good morning” and telling us that it was “ 06.30 hours”. We washed, and some of us even shaved, in a cold and damp building known as the ‘ablutions’ before shuffling off for a fairly decent breakfast, although we were only allowed about fifteen minutes to eat it, and from then on, just like that breakfast everything was ‘at the double’ for it seemed that as we had reported for duty on the Tuesday after a public holiday weekend we only had four days to be kitted out etc. instead of five which was the normal amount of time recruits spent at the reception unit.

The following days all seem a bit of a blur to me now, but I do remember that we were given another medical and that one or two lads were sent home. The only other thing that I recall was a hearing test where we stood facing a wall and airmen medics whispered words into our ears which we had to repeat … “Bollocks” whispered the medic … “Bollocks” I replied … “Big tits” whispered the medic … “Big tits” … I replied, and so it went, and although some boys were shocked, most of us fell about laughing.

The storemen who issued our kit had great fun, because each piece of clothing and equipment had to be stamped with our service number before it was handed to us to pack in our new kitbags, except that they never “handed it” to us. What happened was that an NCO shouted out something like .. “Shirt blue, airmen for the use of !” and the storeman in front of the man receiving the shirt stamped the tail with large numbers in black ink and tossed it over the recruits head as did all the other storemen standing behind the long bench. The line of recruits then had to turn around and guess which was their shirt amongst the pile laying on the floor behind them. This happened with every piece of kit and we spent ages sorting through it all to identify the items marked with our numbers. Right up to the end of my service I still had one or two items with someone else’s number stamped on them.

Around this time volunteer recruits in the RAF were being issued with smart new uniforms made of far better quality material than the ‘surplus’ ones issued to national service conscripts. Which meant that I was issued with two uniforms which had probably been in storage since World War 2. The buttons and cap badges were of the king’s crown design and King George VI had been dead for six years by this time and Queen Elizabeth was now on the throne. Other items of equipment, such as boots, were equally of an outdated design: and, as for the shirts. Well, they were of the detached collar type, which led to hours of struggling with back and front collar studs.

I staggered out of the stores dragging a large kitbag, into which I had stuffed as much as was possible. A small pack was slung over my shoulder containing other strange items which I had ‘swept up’ from the storeroom floor. Everything else was carried, as best as I could, in my arms.

On return to our barrack room we were told to dress in our ‘best blues’ as we were to have a group photograph taken  …..

(1st day in uniform .. I’m the one standing in the centre)

As we were now in uniform we had to learn who to salute, and how to raise your arm when this was required. It had to be ‘snappy’ and “the longest way up and the shortest way down”: and when was the best time to learn this action ?  .. The answer .. on the same day that  your arms were extremely stiff and painful after they had been punctured with inoculations !

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(to be continued)