Valley was, and still is, a huge station. It is set out in almost a triangular
format. Along one side would have been a
line of red and white aircraft, Gnats and Hunters and eventually Hawks, where
baby pilots were taught how to be fast jet pilots and where fast jet pilots
were taught how to be instructors. Many
young people might look at a fast jet pilot in their best uniform, probably
with a sword hanging off their hip, the wings emblem standing out proudly on
their chest, and secretly hope that one day they could dress like that. According to the fast jet pilots I knew, the
best thing about being a fast jet pilot was the luxury to leave the top button
on your best uniform open. You may think
this weird, but in a military situation, where everything has to be constant
and proper, this would be regarded as panache.
It was a tradition carried over from the world war two chaps and the Battle
of Britain days. If you know a fast jet
pilot, just ask them if they leave their top button open, and I bet you they
will smile.
Perhaps here is a good place to explain the air force to
you. Don’t worry, it’s me, but there
might be questions later. If you look at
the structure of the air force you will probably think that the whole rank and
trade system could be quite confusing and complicated. Smoke and mirrors dear heart, smoke and mirrors. The air force has two positions, no more and
no less. One position is fast jet pilot
and the other position is failed fast jet pilot. No other trade, rank or position exists in
this equation.
What is a helicopter pilot?
Told you there would be questions.
A helicopter pilot is a failed fast jet pilot. What is a cook? Okay enough with the questions I hear you
say. A cook would love to be a fast jet
pilot with their top button undone, but he, or she, didn’t have enough
educational qualifications making them, yes you’re correct, a failed fast jet
pilot. Now you can begin to understand
the attitude of air traffic control officers who are all failed, fast jet,
pilots and carry a huge chip on their shoulders because of it.
The other important fact you should know is that one function
of the armed forces is to maintain and promote the class system. You will often hear people complain that
Officers have ladies, NCO’s have wives and the other ranks have women. Many officers, especially air traffic control
officers, or failed fast jet pilots as I like to call them, would spend much of
their careers pretending to be posh.
The British class system is not only the most evil social construction I
have even come across, but it is empty, nothing more than pretence.
You can understand
that if you were in that environment it would be very hard to go against it, so
in a sublime way, all officers were sucked in to the illusion. It is a very fascinating subject and one
facet of it that particularly interests me is the use of language. If you’re serious about looking into it then George
Orwell’s essay ‘Politics and the English Language’ is a great starting point. If you don’t believe me then ask yourself how
many people buy a house these days?
Correct, none. Everyone invests
in property. Walk in to an estate agents
office in the UK and say ‘Hello I want to buy a house.’ The grovelling snake oil salesman will slide
up to and ask “And what sorts of property are you interested in investing in
sir?”
So having explained the structure of the air force, and the
British class system, to you, in less than five hundred words, and by the way that explanation can represent
any air force in the world, I shall continue detailing Valley.
Across the airfield was STCAAME, the strike command air to
air missile environment. Here fighter squadrons
would come in and, using Jindivik’s from Llanbeder, would practise firing air
to air missiles. A Jindivik is a remote
controlled aircraft that would tow either a ball of phosphorus flares, for heat
seeking missiles, or a radar target, for radar homing missiles. Jindivik’s were made in Australia and the
word Jindivik is an Aboriginal Australian word meaning ‘the hunted one.’ Some of the more devious fast jet pilots
would wait for the ball of phosphorus flares to go out and then fire the heat
seeking missile at the Jindivik, and you thought I was naughty setting fire to
some gorse bushes, which of course I never did.
I wasn’t even there at the time.
Moving on around to the third side of the airfield you would
find the helicopter squadrons. One was
for training search and rescue pilots, navigators and winch men, while the next
helicopter squadron, sheltered by a big hill, was 22 squadron. The big yellow, search and rescue helicopters
you may have seen. The hill was known as
TACAN hill, because it sported a huge radar dish, the tactical air navigation
system.
Now that I look back, I can see the work of the double top
secret cabal organising my preparation and training to become the world’s
leading Master Candle Maker, Chief of the Clan O Neill and the King of
Ireland. For as you all may be aware,
today, Prince William, the future King of England is employed on the search and
rescue squadron at RAF Valley. What you
may not know is that almost forty years ago, standing on the other side of
Tacan hill was the future King of Ireland, requesting permission to be accepted
as a volunteer on the Desert and Mountain Rescue Service.
Then, its full title was the Desert and Mountain Rescue Service
but as the empire had gotten smaller the teams are now known as the Mountain Rescue
Service, and referred to by the members as ‘The Team’. I was standing before the then team leader,
Jack Baines, asking permission to join his team. He called another fellow over, Colin ‘Pib’
Pibworth, who took me away to a small office and sat me down at a desk. At the time I wasn’t aware, but Pib was one
of the most respected rescue men in the whole of the air force. He had served all over the world, and when he
would pull up a sandbag, he would tell some hair raising stores.
Jim Matthie had given me a good idea of what the teams did,
but Pib was now going to make it very clear to me. “Our job,” he said, being very careful in his
choice of words, “Is to rescue aircrew whether they have been shot down or left
their aircraft.” He was waiting for me
to show that I understood what he was saying.
I nodded. “No matter where, or
when, it happens, we go. Every pilot and
navigator getting into an aircraft understands that if they crash, or bang out,
we will come and get them, no matter what.”
I was nodding away, Pib continued. “Our second duty is to recover or destroy any
sensitive equipment that the aircraft may have been carrying.” I nodded.
Pib spun a form around on the desk so that it was facing me and offered
me a pen. “You will be accepted as a
trialist for six weeks during which time the team will assess your
capabilities. If after the six week
trial you are successful you will be offered a place on the team as a Novice. After about a year, if you successfully
complete your training, and are still alive, you might be invited to join the
team as a full member. Completing and
signing this form states that you understand everything I have just said to
you.”
As I filled out the required fields on the form, thousands of
questions were pouring through my mind but I was able to answer them all, by
myself, all on my own, for I had listened to Pib. To say that I was pumped would have been an
understatement. After the ‘I have the
honour to be your moist obedient servant’ I signed my name. Pib shook my hand and I was taken away to be issued
with my kit.
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