As it was my first time driving from Zeebrugge to Germany I
wasn’t aware of the game that was played by most of the troops returning to
their bases. Any member of the armed
forces stationed in Germany would have a special number plate on their vehicle
which certainly did make them stand out from anyone else. I’m not sure how the Germans felt about it
but for myself it was a bonus to pull in somewhere and see that other members
of the forces were there.
On leaving the ferry at Zeebrugge we followed mainly, what was
then, the E3 motorway which led us across Belgium for about one hundred and
twenty five miles. We would then nip across
the southern corner of Holland for about ten miles which then had us crossing
the border into Germany. The only rule
that we were aware off was that there were no speed limits on the German
motorways, or autobahn. As for the
Belgian or Dutch rules, who knows if they even existed? We suspected that there were some speed
restrictions in Holland as there would be a light show, as cars triggered the
speed cameras, like paparazzi on a drunken starlet, as we crossed from Belgium
into Holland. The good ol boys from back
home would have loved it.
I think the occasional speeding ticket would find its way
through the system but these were generally ignored. I had to apply for an international driving license
which involved going to the local police station in Erkelenz. I do remember the very strange situation of
standing in a German police station unable to speak hardly any words of German. I don’t think the ability to order a beer counted
toward linguistic ability. I was so new
to it all I even entered my address incorrectly on my license.
All the vehicles used by the air force, in Germany, were left
hand drive and as you may expect they made the most out of the changeover. Before you would be allowed to drive a left
hand drive military vehicle you would have to report to the Mechanical Transport
Flight, MT, read a huge book of orders, then sign as having read and understood
them. Now you could take a driving test
with a MT Corporal who if he, or she, deemed you up to standard you would be
issued with a military license allowing you to drive left hand drive vehicles. It didn’t matter that you might already be
driving a left hand drive vehicle and even hold an international license you
still had to drive a little green mini around camp and satisfy the
corporal. You can imagine how someone
who was driving a phantom aircraft might feel about having to undergo such an
advanced test.
In fact even if we went to Cyprus we would have to read and
sign driving orders which was a complete pain for all concerned. I do remember one trip to Cyprus where I was
with the advance party. I went to the mechanical
transport flight and asked if I could borrow a set of their orders and a
signature sheet. I wanted to take them
to the squadron and allow the aircrew to read them and fill out the signature
form rather than have them all traipse up and down to MT Flight. It was a plausible excuse and became standard
for the ops guy on the advance party.
Now of course I would sit outside the mess with a nice beer, an empty signature
sheet, and forge all the aircrew signatures.
My ruse was only ever noticed once. It was as I was handing in the completed
signature sheets to the Corporal at MT when he looked out the window to see our
phantoms arrive. “I take it these are
for that lot?” he asked and I nodded wondering if he was referring to the
squadron in general or the guys driving them.
They were all approved and nothing was ever said. This approach was used for many procedures;
all it took was a little bit of bottle and a big bit of organisation.
But the forces were experts at organising stuff. Take for example the flight simulators. We at Wildenrath had phantoms and therefore
part of the support system included a phantom flight simulator. Most fast jets had simulators. About ten or twelve miles up the road at
Bruggen were Jaguar squadrons and even they had a flight simulator. The only problem was that the phantom
simulator was at Bruggen and the Jaguar simulator was at Wildenrath. Not much of a problem really, unless you were
a newly arrived member of aircrew who needed to use the simulator and hadn’t yet
been issued with your military left hand drive license.
I didn’t mind, for new members of aircrew who had to use the simulator
would have me drive them up to Bruggen and rather than leave me sitting around twiddling
my thumbs more than often I would be put in the back seat and encouraged to operate the radar and weapons system for them. There was no real
need for me to do this as the simulator technicians could have filled in or
operated the system from their control panels.
I think the first fellow was Roy Lawrence who got me to sit in the
back seat and fire up the radar. It was great
fun, rather like a video game and a fun morning at work.
I was quite impressed with the simulators as when training at
Locking, for my electronic career, we went to Brize Norton for the day and
actually had a good snoop around their flight simulator which was for the Hercules
aircraft, or was it VC10, I’m not sure.
In the building where it was situated one wall was covered with a scale
model of the local area, with a camera that tracked all over it, so only the approach to Brize Norton could be replicated
for visual mode. Everything else was a
grey mist and the crews would have to fly using instruments only. Had I continued with my electronic training there
was a possibility I would have ended up working on working on similar systems.
One pilot needed to get his left hand drive license. Tony Couch.
Tony was a young fellow and had recently been promoted to Squadron
Leader. He really did fit the fighter
pilot persona. He was a jocular chap who
spoke with Received Pronunciation, or as some people might say, he spoke with a
dead posh accent. Tony was a dandy. Sometimes his accent would be a little over
the top but there was always a sparkle in his eye and you knew he was putting
on a show. Tony wanted to drive himself
over to MT and get his license but wasn’t allowed; I had to take him over. We went in to the MT control office and an
old, hairy arsed, Corporal sat there ignoring us with deep contempt.
Tony presented himself before the aged Corporal and explained
that he needed a driving license that would allow him to drive left hand drive vehicles. Without looking at him the Corporal slid a
thick copy of orders across the desk and said.
“Read these, and when you have, sign this to show that you have read and
understood them. Then I will give you a
test in that mini you came in.” Tony
turned to me, the accent was in overdrive. “Keys,” he asked, while holding out
his hand. I threw him the keys for the
mini we had arrived in. “Right!” said
Tony, tapping the desk with the keys so that the Corporal would have eye
contact with him.
Tony turned and threw the orders at me. “My man will read these for me and tell me
anything I might need to know; you will come outside now and give me a test in
our little mini.” Tony strode away. The Corporal didn’t know what to do. I wanted to burst out laughing. Tony sat himself in the mini, started it up
and revved the engine waiting for the Corporal, who in a sort of daze, went
outside and gave him his test. When they
returned Tony was still in top gear and came to me asking if there was anything
he should know about. I shook my
head. “Good,” he said. “Now where is this signature sheet Corporal.” He signed the sheet took his new license and
we left. People like Tony certainly made
92 Squadron a great place to work.
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