The pupils undergoing basic pilot training at Syerston were a mixed bunch. There were RAF Officers who had already been awarded a flying brevet such as Navigator or Signaller and who now wished to become pilots; and Royal Navy Officers and Midshipmen who wanted to specialise in flying duties. So with a permanent staff of officer instructors and the normal administrative and technical officers together with the officers under instruction there were over 200 officers in the Mess. My job was to run a Ground Defence training programme in small arms training and airfield defence for all the pupils, both RAF and Navy, and also for all ranks of the permanent staff.  To assist me I had a Sergeant and a Corporal.

HQ Flying Training Command had laid down a ground defence syllabus for both pupils and permanent staff but the pupils syllabus was more applicable to new entrants to the RAF rather than serving RAF and RN officers so I adjusted my programmes accordingly and concentrated on shooting practice for them, paying weekly visits to each of two Army 600 yards ranges at Beckingham and Six Hills.

With so many officers living in the Mess the majority of us were accommodated in huts to the rear of the main Mess which is where I was taken on my arrival to find the officer I was taking over from waiting for me. He was on the point of leaving the RAF after two or three years service and, after briefing me about the job, he arranged to pick me up the following morning and take me to see the Station Commander, Group Captain David.

On my first evening in the Mess I was warned to beware of the Group Captain as he had a very quick temper. I was told that he had been a Midshipman in the first World War, had transferred to the RAF on its formation in 1918 and that his present appointment was his last before retirement. I duly met him the following morning in his office and his first words to me were “Do you read AMOs” ? (AMOs being short for Air Ministry Orders which are produced and circulated by the Air Ministry as required and every officer is expected to read them.)   I replied, “Usually Sir but I’m a bit out of date at the moment”
“So you would not have read the latest ones”?
“No, Sir”
“Well you should, because your name is listed as having been awarded a Permanent Commission”
“Thank you for telling me, Sir”.
“I have over 100 RAF Officers on this Station and only two have post war Permanent Commissions, you make the third. I shall expect a very high standard from you”
That was the end of the meeting. There were no words of welcome or congratulations on being awarded a Permanent Commission these did come, however, from the Wing Commander commanding the Administrative Wing. I also received a letter of congratulations from the Air Officer Commanding the British Forces of Occupation in Germany sent to Lubeck and forwarded on to me. A Permanent Commission meant that I would serve until I was about 45 years of age and then retire with a pension.

Within days I had been given a secondary duty as Officer-in-Charge of the Administrative Wing Barrack Block which was a two storey brick building with eight barrack rooms, each housing about 30 airmen, together with toilets and bathrooms on each of the two floors. The 240 airmen accommodated in the block were from all the administrative trades including clerks, equipment assistants, cooks etc. and the Station Commander inspected the block once every five weeks.

All men and women who have served in the armed forces know what barrack block inspections are like - beds to be made up in a particular way, kit neat and tidy, windows cleaned, floors polished and wash basins, baths and toilets spotless. So for the Station Commander’s first inspection following my appointment, and with his words to me on my arrival fresh in my mind, I had the lads polishing and cleaning floors for hours the evening before and they did a good job.

Come the day. I met the Station Commander at the entrance to the barrack block and he was accompanied by the Admin. Wing Adjutant, the Station Warrant Officer (SWO for short) and the Station’s Clerk of Works (a civilian). He inspected the four rooms and ablutions on the ground floor without finding fault. In the first two rooms upstairs he had the SWO move all the personal lockers away from the wall so that he could see behind - no faults. In the third upstairs room he had all the lockers moved and all the neatly folded blankets opened up  -  the place looked a real shambles after that but still no faults were found.  So we came to the last of the eight rooms; all lockers were moved, all folded blankets opened up but still no faults. “Open all the kit boxes”, he said (These were stored beneath the beds and held the airmens webbing equipment).  One kit box was laid out differently to all the others; the Group Captain spotted it and turned round to me with a furious expression on his face. He was a small tubby man and he carried a stick which he waved in my face, at the same time jumping up and down with both feet off the ground. He almost screamed at me “If I find that again I’ll give you an extra seven days Orderly Officer”.  Then he was gone.

I felt a bit disillusioned until taken quietly aside in the Mess by the Admin. Wing Adjutant who advised me that, in future, I should let the Group Captain find something wrong at the start of his inspection. Then, it appears; he fairly nips around and leaves in a good temper. So for all future inspections by him, I placed a cigarette dog-end or such like on the path between where he would alight from his car and the barrack block. It never failed and honour was satisfied.

Later in the year, however, I did get an extra seven days Orderly Officer. There were just five Flying Officers who did Orderly Officer duties, (all the other permanent staff officers were Flight Lieutenants and above who did Duty Officer). The ten Warrant Officers on the Station also carried out O.Os. duties so, with fifteen of us in the rosta, we probably averaged  one week-day duty every three weeks and one week-end duty every three months.

My four Flying Officer colleagues had all fallen foul of the Group Captain at one time or another during the year and each received an extra 7 days O.O. duty but, with the Adjutant who produced the rosta turning a blind eye, we five Flying Officers always shared these extra duties between us. So I waited for my turn and, sure enough, it came when the Group Captain and I both arrived at the Officers Mess for a Mess Meeting at the same time  -  he in his car and me on my RAF bicycle. He looked at his watch and said “You are a minute late. Seven days Orderly Officer”.

You cannot win them all, but it’s nice to win one now and again and the Group Captain himself gave me the opportunity when he asked me to keep my eyes and ears open for poachers who were shooting pheasants etc. in the woods which led down to the river Trent from the end of the runway. The shooting rights on airfields are commonly shared among a small number of all ranks who receive permission to do so from the Station Commander. At Syerston, however, the Group Captain reserved all the shooting rights for himself which was a sore point with many officers and warrant officers, hence the poaching.

I used these woods every week for ground defence training exercises, which is why the Group Captain asked me to keep my eyes and ears open, and the woods continued beyond the side boundary of the airfield onto a farmer’s land over which a civilian friend of mine owned the shooting rights. (This friend, a local bank manager, was also the Air Training Corps Liaison Officer who came to Syerston every Sunday with a party of ATC lads, which is how I got to know him). So I rearranged my ground defence exercises to take place on Saturday mornings (we worked until mid-day) and made one hell of a noise in the woods with thunder flashes and blank cartridges. This drove all the birds from our part of the wood into the farmer’s part and within the area of the shooting rights owned by the ATC Laison Officer who was ready for them.

From rough shooting to target shooting. I had the time and resources at my disposal to raise and train rifle shooting teams to represent the Station in small bore (.22) and full bore (.303) rifle shooting competitions, especially the RAF Championships for full bore shooting held annually on Bisley Ranges. I spent two evenings each week in the Station’s indoor small bore range and two days each week on the Army’s 600 yards ranges where, in addition to those officers and airmen carrying out their annual ground defence training rifle shooting, members of the Station’s rifle team would join us when they could get away to prepare for Bisley.  We took part in the RAF Championships at Bisley in 1949 and again in 1950 in which year one of our team, L.A.C. Spires won the RAF Rapid Fire Championship.

I also trained A.T.C. cadets in .303 rifle shooting on Sunday mornings, either on the Station’s 25 yards outdoor range or the Army’s 600 yards range at Beckingham. The A.T.C. liaison officer (my rough shooting friend) arranged visits to Syerston for 15 A.T.C. squadrons at the rate of three every Sunday. The cadets were very keen and Sunday mornings became as busy as any weekday.

For my own personal sporting and recreational activities during 1949 I took my part as a member of the Station’s Rifle Team; I judged at a number of boxing tournaments; I trained for the athletic season, but I knew by then that I had passed my best; and I played rugby for the Station team and Flying Taining Command, first at Wing Three-quarter and then at Lock Forward in which position I continued to play until I hung up my boots in 1962.

Furthermore, for financial reasons, I used my qualification as an F.A. referee to become the man in the middle with the Four Counties Football League on Saturday afternoons. My RAF pay at that time was 18/6d per day while the fee for refereeing was 17/6d per game plus travelling expenses, which was very welcome.

All officers were rather short of funds in 1949/50 and, of the 200 or so officers on the Station, only five of those living in the Mess had motor cars, all of which were pre-war models. The Accountant (Sqn. Ldr. Dusty Miller) had an old Wolsley and he suggested one evening that the Medical Officer (Sqn. Ldr. Mercer), the Electrical Officer (Nobby Clark) and myself go with him in his car to the Goose Fair in Nottingham. Unfortunately his clutch was not working so, with Dusty at the wheel, we three push started it and he drove around in a circle outside the Mess whilst we scrambled aboard ( the car was old enough to have running boards, which proved helpful). He drove non stop to and through Nottingham weaving and dodging other vehicles and, having arrived at the Fair unscathed, parked the car at the top of a slope from where we were able to push start it for the return journey and jump in. On the way back we homed in on the smell of fish and chips coming from a side street. Two of us jumped out and bought four portions whilst Dusty drove around the block then, as he came back the second time, we jumped back in.

Until serving at Syerston the only parades I had attended, other than squadron parades were Church Parades. At Syerston, however, the Station Commander held monthly parades when all officers and airmen paraded in squadrons and marched past him standing on a saluting base.  This was all good training for the annual Air Officer Commanding’s Parade.

Come the latter part of 1949, after instructing on small arms for over 3 years, I was sent, by Air Ministry, on a Weapon Training and Fieldcraft Instructors Course. I passed out with an A1 result and, on my return to Syerston, I was informed that Group Captain David had retired and Group Captain Heycock was the new Station Commander. With the change of Station Commander there was new spirit in the air which reflected itself in the achievements of officers and airmen alike. I sat and passed my promotion examination to Flight Lieutenant, which would be due in two years time after six years commissioned service, and, at the request of the Senior Ground Defence Staff Officer at HQ No. 23 Group, I ran a Rifle Competition at Beckingham rifle range for competitors from all RAF Stations in the Group.

For all the pilots under training I arranged a two days Escape and Evasion exercise and, in addition to requesting the support of the Nottinghamshire Constabulary, I also asked all the local Territorial Association Units for their assistance. The response was tremendous, ranging from armoured scout cars from the Sherwood Foresters to policemen on bicycles, and all the T.A. Officers and soldiers thought it was great fun.  There were also several Guards of Honour which my N.C.Os helped to train and, as officers commanding Guards of Honour were now being issued with swords for the occasion, I had to find out very quickly how to carry out, and instruct on, sword drill.  So I contacted the RAF Regiment Depot, which was now at RAF Catterick, and, as a result, Warrant Officer “Danny” Gourd visited Syerston and gave me the necessary instruction.

In the autumn of 1950 I attended a Light Anti-Aircraft (L.A.A.) Gunnery Course at Watchet in Somerset and, having achieved a high pass mark, was kept behind to attend an Instructors Course on which, once again, I achieved an A1 instructor’s category. I enjoyed both courses and on Saturday afternoons played rugby for the Minehead Barbarians as a guest player.  Back to Syerston but not for long. The RAF Regiment was being expanded and additional L.A.A. squadrons were needed, so I was posted to Watchet as a course commander to train airmen who would be in these new squadrons.

I left Syerston not only with fond memories of the RAF Station but also of nights out in Nottingham in the Black Boy with my friends from the Mess; the Odeon cinema with its organ; Notts County Football ground with Tommy Lawton nodding in goals; Nottinghamshire Cricket Club, which I joined as an out of town non playing member and, from the members stand, watched a five days Test Match against the West Indies, who were captained by the Notts captain Garry Sobers; and, lastly, the very efficient bus service between the RAF Station and Nottingham, especially on Saturday evenings when nobody was ever left stranded. (I returned to Nottingham for a one day business visit in the 1970s and found a supermarket where the Black Boy stood - it was a mistake to go back.)