Days of Old (continued)
It is at this point I must go back a few years, I joined the RAF straight from school as a 15-year-old Boy Entrant in 1955 and at one stage had the distinction of being the youngest aged person in the RAF.
Eighteen months training later, I was released to the RAF in general, but the trouble was that at 16+ years of age, nobody knew what to do with me so they invented a few rules to protect my moral welfare which involved being banned from smoking (unless a chit from one's parents was forthcoming), being banned from the Naafi (and other places of ill repute), kept in accommodation away from other airmen, and a duty NCO certifying that I was in my quarters at 22.30 each evening.
By the age of 171/2, I was eventually allowed to join the mainstream of RAF life, but was soon selected for further training. The end result of all this activity was that in the five years before being posted to Woomera, I had spent 3 1/2 years either training or being bound by weird and wonderful rules. At the same time one must also remember this was at a time when National Service was still active so discipline was deemed the only way to control all those reluctant soldiers and airmen (which of course had to be continued with the rest of the regular armed forces as well). Basically you didn't walk:- you marched. If it moved:- you saluted it. and if it didn't move:- you painted it.
Working with the RAAF was like a breath of fresh air, they didn't march:- they kind of sauntered. The officers seem to become embarrassed if they received more than one salute a day and, "heavens to murgatroyd", they didn't even wear a uniform, just a pair of coveralls and beret(sometimes). I was going to like it here.
As I have previously mentioned, I soon settled into a routine, up at the crack of dawn, down to the swimming pool, followed by a breakfast that would sink a battleship and then onto the transport for work. Lunch consisted of a quick break followed by volleyball, back to work until time for a quick dash to the Jazza for a few beers before the evening meal.
The evening's entertainment became quite a challenge (no TV in those days), the odd trip to the cinema, one night a week soccer training and the rest of week socialising (basically in the Jazza) getting to grips with 'Strine' whilst fully becoming conversant with new words such as :- schooners, butchers, midis, stubbies and more exotic phrases such as drongo, galah, dunny and the old favorite "whinging pom".
Regards
Ed Chapman
E-mail: edchapman571@hotmail.com
(2 January 2003)
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Memories of Woomera |
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