RAAF
Showing posts with label RAAF. Show all posts

Life in the RAAF (Part III)

Deepest apologies to RSG, who sent me this piece a while ago (unfortunately in the middle of my graduation thesis period). But anyway--and I know that some of you have been eagerly waiting for this--without further ado, here it is, Life in the RAAF, Part III:

After six months, I was posted to No 6 RAAF Hospital at Laverton RAAF Base (still down south in the state of Victoria). Life here was quite different and rather more formally structured. Whereas at Point Cook, we could walk (smartly) individually to work following morning roll call, at Laverton we formed into a unit squad after breakfast and marched, under the command of the ranking NCO to our workplace. I think there were between two to three times as many female service personnel at Laverton as there had been at Point Cook – and it was also a much bigger base. The Hercules were flying regular runs up to Richmond (north of Sydney) and on to Amberley (near Brisbane) as well as a few Mirages flying in this era. This was also the home of the RAAF Radio School and there was a large RAAF Apprentice School housed at Laverton – all in all, a much larger base than Point Cook. There were also some USAF blokes stationed there. I remember one of my friends married one of the Americans and my civilian boyfriend (whom I later married) and I attended her wedding in the RAAF Chapel on base. I know her name was Mandy, but I can’t remember his name. I sometimes wonder how it all worked out and if they are still together in the USA somewhere, or whether they settled in Oz.

In September, 1965, The RAAF put on a two-day Air Show at Laverton and all personnel were on duty. Some photos of aircraft featured at this event can still be viewed here.

We had a wide variety of entertainment provided on base. There were various clubs (accessible depending upon your rank), a cinema which usually showed most of the recently released films; the ‘Boozer’ or ‘Beery’, which was the on-base licenced premises accessible to service personnel only; the various Messes – Airmen’s, Sergeants’ and Officers’ – which provided us with three good meals a day, seven days a week. We also had Squash Courts, Tennis Courts, Volley Ball and Water Polo teams, and various other sporting teams such as Basketball, Netball, Women’s Cricket, etc. And, of course, there was the ever popular canteen where we could buy just about anything we needed – it was really like a mini department store cum supermarket cum coffee shop – and was a great meeting place, as well as offering an alternate eating place in lieu of the Mess.

My boyfriend lived in Melbourne and I spent most of my weekend leave at his home, his parents having assured my parents that they would look after me on their behalf. After all, I had moved over 1,000 miles from home and, whilst my parents gave me their blessings, it was not without some misgivings for I was their youngest child and only daughter (my brothers all being quite some years older than I was). When I was based at Laverton, he would come down to visit me one night a week and we would have dinner in the canteen with two other couples and then we’d go to the cinema as a group. Afterwards, he would walk me back to the Barracks where we would say a somewhat public goodnight and he would ride back up to Melbourne (on his Vespa motor scooter) to his parents’ home. The RAAF powers-that-be were very concerned with ensuring we were all well chaperoned in this era!! When he came down to pick me up for weekend leave, he drove his MGTD, a classic car that we dearly wish we still had….

Once again, at Laverton, I found myself working in the Orderly Room – this time in Casualty / Outpatients where I would greet the patients and organise their appointments with our Medical Officers. Another responsibility of this job was that of reminding pilots and aircrew that their annual medicals were due. It always surprised me how some reasonably high-ranking officers would baulk at attending their medical – always ‘too busy to do it this week, LACW. You’ll just have to schedule me in for another time.’ After a while I became quite accustomed to politely responding along the lines of ‘Well, sir, I’m sorry, but the MO has asked me to remind you that he’ll be forced to ground you if you don’t get this done by Friday.’ Amazing how quickly they’d find time then – and often with a laugh and a grin when they’d report in.

It was whilst I was based at Laverton that my wonderful civilian (but still an Aircraft Engineer) proposed and we celebrated our engagement at the base Christmas Party which was held in the Airmen’s Mess. I was spending my weekend leave at his parents’ home and I wore my new ring for the first time that night. We received many congratulatory greetings from friends and colleagues of all ranks – which when I think back, reminds me just how much of a family we really were. There was definitely a sense of looking out for our own!

Life In The RAAF Part II


Another great memory from my Point Cook days was when the WRAAF OIC very kindly organised a free flight home for me on a Hercules for the Easter stand-down.  That was an experience I will never forget.  The Herc left from Laverton Base (about 10miles from Point Cook) and flew north to Richmond (north west of Sydney in New South Wales) where we were on the ground for a couple of hours and had lunch there.  Then off we went again, further north to Amberley (in South East Queensland), where we arrived in the late afternoon and my parents were waiting to drive me home to Brisbane.  These huge workhorses carried quite large payloads and the passengers sat in sling back seats along the side of the fuselage.  There was no insulation or pressurisation, so the noise level from the four powerful engines roaring along outside the fuselage was deafening.  We all had earmuff type headsets issued to us (but weren’t allowed to keep them!).

I spent most of the flight praying that the massive pile of equipment in front of me, and that to my inexperienced eyes appeared to be most insecurely secured, wouldn’t land up in my lap if we hit a ‘bump’!  The Loadmaster who was a rather exalted Flight Sergeant and rather crusty demonstrated a somewhat warped sense of humour by grinning at me and yelling that if it did all come crashing down, I wouldn’t know too much about it, so I shouldn’t worry!  Well, it may not have been the most comfortable flight I’ve ever experienced, but it was free (in an era when air travel was still exorbitantly expensive) and it was definitely FUN!  And maybe, more than anything so far, helped me realise that I was actually part of the Royal Australian Air Force.

One of the peculiarities of service life in those days was the requirement that all clothing – from the smallest item to the largest – was required to be folded or hung in a precise and totally inflexible routine.  Woe betide anyone whose underwear drawer was pulled open on inspection evening and who “smalls” were not precisely folded and lined up according to the RAAF law governing all aspects of ‘how thou shalt maintain thy wardrobe’!  Funnily enough, to this day, I still fold my undies in this manner!!  At a recent reunion, a group of us were discussing the aspects of service life that each of us had taken into civilian life – and without exception (amidst much laughter) everyone, male and female, confessed we still kept our clothes exactly as we had learnt during those years.  Of course, I could never convince my civilian husband, or my children, to follow these guidelines….

My children have been both amused and mind-boggled by the fact that we were given a uniform allowance (covering all items – including stockings, socks, handkerchiefs, underwear) and our service number and name had to be clearly marked on each item.  In that era, our winter working day uniform consisted of a navy serge skirt, battle jacket (with buttons, not zips), blue/grey long-sleeved shirt, plain black tie, navy blue cap with brass WRAAF crest, black leather dress gloves, black lace-up shoes, and flesh-coloured stockings – with seams!!!  And, one had to ensure that those wretched seams remained straight all day, too.  Our dress uniform was identical except for the jacket.  We exchanged our Battle Jackets for our 1A dress jackets which sported real brass buttons.  Unfortunately, I don’t have any surviving photos which show these.

We were expected to maintain the exact number of items initially issued and woe betide anyone, come a surprise uniform and kit inspection, whose clothing didn’t measure up.  This was not an issue regarding our uniforms proper, but maintaining the correct number of pairs of stockings and all those unmentionables, all neatly named, was more of a challenge.  Many of us sat up in bed after lights out, stitching name tags on the waistbands of undies by torchlight, hoping the hut NCO wouldn’t notice and come barging in.  Of course, if we all kept everything up to scratch all the time, it wouldn’t have been an issue – but where’s the fun in that???

Life In The RAAF Part I

And so began my life in the Permanent Air Force.  Point Cook, in those days, was the home of the RAAF Academy as well as No 1 Basic Flying Training School (1 BFTS) so there was a lot of basic flying training activity going on and to my absolute joy, Medical Section was located directly opposite the airstrip providing a clear view between two hangars to the strip and surrounding airspace.  I’ve included a link to a site showing two Winjeels flying in mirror image formation – something I saw them practicing regularly from the Orderly Room window:

I had informed the corporal in charge of our Orderly Room that the reason I had joined up was really because I was crazy about aircraft, loved flying, and was rather taken with marching – could have marched around the parade ground all day.  Most people thought I was a little strange when I said how much I loved drill and marching as this tended to be regarded as something of a bind by the majority – something to be endured on weekly CO’s parades etc.

One morning a Flight Lieutenant wandered into the Orderly Room and, to my surprise, asked if I was ACW H—.  When I rather hesitantly acknowledged my identity (wondering what on earth I’d managed to do this time!), he grinned and said, “I believe you’re rather keen on flying?  Would you like a flight in a Winjeel tonight?  We’re doing circuits and bumps with some of the Cadets.”  After I’d picked myself up off the floor, I think my own grin nearly split my face in two.  Would I like a flight in a Winjeel Trainer?  What a question!!  I could hardly ask an officer if he was pulling my leg, so I presumed he was serious, and so he was.

The Winjeel was an Australian designed and built two-seater trainer used by the RAAF for basic pilot training.  After graduating from BFTS, pilots were posted to the Advanced Flying Training School (AFTS) at Pierce, in Western Australia for their introduction to flying jet fighters. 

After gaining permission from the OIC WRAAFs, a pilot herself, I duly fronted up at the flight hut after dinner that night where I was greeted by my friendly Flight Louie and a host of other friendly pilots.  I was given a brief indoctrination into the intricacies of my flight suit – and my parachute!  I was so stunned at having to wear, and be expected know how to pull the ripcord, etc (visions of Ginger launching himself off the top of Bergin Ait in Baltic were madly flying through my brain), that I blurted out,

“Sir, are we likely to have to jump out over Port Phillip Bay?”

The room erupted into laughter and I was kindly informed, “I hope not, ACW, I hope not!”

This is one memory that has never faded – a night of flying (even if it was just circuits and bumps), sometimes in loose formation, sometimes just line astern, with my pilot very kindly explaining the cockpit instrumentation to me, and even, for a few exhilarating moments allowing me to hold the control column while we were flying circuits at a holding altitude above Point Cook.  Hmmm…I wonder in this current age of Workplace Safety if that would ever be allowed…..

Because of its operational and training purpose, Point Cook in that era, had a large number of officers – all of whom, of course, had to be saluted by we humble other ranks.  Naturally, they were obliged to return our salutes….so my friend and I used to return to work after lunch in the Airmen’s Mess via the Officers’ Mess so we could salute (and hence make them return the honour) far more of these exalted beings than normally crossed our paths.  (Everyone, including officers, removed their hats / covers inside Medical Section, so the most they ever received in the workplace environment was a respectful ‘sir’.) 

For some reason, which now escapes me, we thought this was hilarious and engaged in our regular detour via the Officers’ Mess for several weeks until it became rather old hat – or maybe the novelty wore off.  I simply remember that we both thought this was a sufficiently entertaining activity that we would walk a reasonable detour to corner our quarry.  I can now imagine how those poor blokes must have been muttering, “Oh no, here come those two WRAAFs who love saluting again!”  Yes, very young and naïve – but it was fun.

Another link which is of interest is to the memoirs of a former RAAF Academy Cadet who was at Point Cook in the same era as myself.  The author has given permission to include the link and I found this a really interesting read:

Life in the RAAF (Prologue)

Today's post comes from RSG who went from reading Biggles books to joining the Australian Air Force...

When I was 12, I discovered my brother’s Biggles’ books.  That began my life-long love affair with Spitfires and all things aeronautical, including the Air Force – which, in Australia is the Royal Australian Air Force.

Shortly before my 19th birthday I convinced my father that the best thing that could possibly happen for my future would be for me to leave my position as a stenographer at the University of Queensland and join the Women’s Royal Australian Air Force.  With Dad’s blessing, I applied and was accepted into the mustering of “Clerk Medical” and off I flew, courtesy of the RAAF, from Brisbane over 1,000 miles south to Melbourne to begin Rookies’ Course No 147 with about 30 other young women at RAAF Base Williams, Point Cook, Victoria, the birthplace of the RAAF.

Rookies was interesting, to say the least!  Here we learnt all about precision drill and marching; the fine art of spit-cleaning our shoes (the aim being to be able to see one’s face in them); the necessity of keeping one’s quarters not just spotless but so incredibly sanitised that any germs within a mile of the our quarters would have run screaming for the hills in surrender; attended lectures on RAAF history and traditions; differing levels of uniform identification, e.g. 1A’s (best), 1B’s (everyday), Drabs (khakis – for Rookies and general mucking about); the other fine art of polishing brass (uniform) buttons; comparable Australian military ranks across the three services; the privilege of serving our country through the RAAF; and – how to have lots of fun when not on duty!!  Well, maybe that last one wasn’t really on our lecturing officers’ curriculum, but it was certainly on ours. And in the middle of all this was one incredibly enlightening lecture on the ‘facts of life’!! 

Being the rather strange being that I am, I loved Rookies (well maybe not the obsessive inspections) – we marched everywhere.  It was just too much fun!!  But I do remember a few of the other girls thinking I was a bit weird because I couldn’t get enough of drill and marching. 

Four weeks later we graduated and to my surprise and honour, I was the Dux of our Course.  I was then posted to Base Squadron Medical Section at Point Cook, only one of two of our course members to remain at Point Cook – the rest being scattered to RAAF bases all over Australia, depending upon their area of expertise or training requirements.

So much for Rookies….life in the RAAF now began in earnest….
© The Algy Chronicles
Maira Gall