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Before you decide to buy this book, please don’t expect any hero type action. You will find none. If you’re easily offended then save your money, This is the side of the Air Force you will not read about. Its full-on alcohol fueled antics on and off duty. The highs and lows of military life but also the mad episodes that made up the RAF before PC changed it. You will laugh at the stunts he pulled, sigh at how incredibly stupid he was to throw away a promising career. Be angry at influence over his junior peers, but you will enjoy the trip as you follow him during his six years in uniform and the friends he made. This Air Force has gone as the world changed but the memories are captured in these pages for the reader to enjoy and share his experience.

Sujets

Personal Memoirs

Biography

Memoir

Airman

Autobiography

Life

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Publié par	AuthorHouse UK
Date de parution	23 septembre 2022
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781728375274
Langue	English
Poids de l'ouvrage	1 Mo

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0250€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

MEMOIRS OF AN AIRMAN
SIX YEARS OF DRUNKEN DEBAUCHERY
Terry O’Halloran

AuthorHouse™ UK
1663 Liberty Drive
Bloomington, IN 47403 USA
www.authorhouse.co.uk
Phone: UK TFN: 0800 0148641 (Toll Free inside the UK) UK Local: (02) 0369 56322 (+44 20 3695 6322 from outside the UK)

© 2022 Terry O’Halloran. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 09/22/2022

ISBN: 978-1-7283-7528-1 (sc)
ISBN: 978-1-7283-7527-4 (e)

Any people depicted in stock imagery provided by Getty Images are models, and such images are being used for illustrative purposes only.
Certain stock imagery © Getty Images.

Because of the dynamic nature of the Internet, any web addresses or links contained in this book may have changed since publication and may no longer be valid. The views expressed in this work are solely those of the author and do not necessarily reflect the views of the publisher, and the publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.
CONTENTS
Acknowledgements
Introduction

Chapter 1 RAF Swinderby. School of Recruit Training
Chapter 2 Arrival and new family
Chapter 3 Uniform
Chapter 4 Let the games begin
Chapter 5 Weapons and Ground Defence Training
Chapter 6 Out in the field
Chapter 7 Final phase and senior flight
Chapter 8 RAF Hereford. Trade Training.
Chapter 9 Love and 24-hour pass
Chapter 10 Bar finals and postings
Chapter 11 My first posting. RAF Staff College Bracknell
Chapter 12 Jankers
Chapter 13 SAC Shadbolt and Sgt Lord
Chapter 14 The bandsmen club
Chapter 15 RAF WARMA
Chapter 16 Foster, Davis and walking.
Chapter 17 Functions
Chapter 18 Travel and the night life
Chapter 19 RAF Bruggen (three year piss up)
Chapter 20 New Horizons
Chapter 21 Field Kitchens RAF Wildenrath
Chapter 22 Single living on Bruggen
Chapter 23 Roermond Our Second home
Chapter 24 Piss up with the pilots
Chapter 25 Exercise, Exercise, Exercise. Exercise,
Chapter 26 NATO’s subterranean base Tongeren
Chapter 27 The Falklands April to June 82
Chapter 28 The year is 1982
Chapter 29 Shit gets serious.
Chapter 30 It’s just work and BFBS
Chapter 31 Off duty Fraus night
Chapter 32 HRH Prince Philip
Chapter 33 I am just going out for fags.
Chapter 34 SHAPE
Chapter 35 Time off duty
Chapter 36 RAF Lossiemouth
Chapter 37 Sea, Surf and Deci red.
Chapter 38 RAF Police (Wankers)
Chapter 39 December 1983 Party time
Chapter 40 RAF Waddington 84
Chapter 41 The dark days
Chapter 42 My last few days wearing an RAF Uniform

Epilogue
Glossary
About the Author
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
To my beautiful long-suffering wife Donna, you have always supported me, carried me and been there when I needed someone. You are and always will be my world.
To Paul Evans. (Spudbelly) You are the best friend I could ask for. I know when the chips are down one call, and you will be there for me and my family.
And thanks to Michael McKeegan. You kept pushing me to write this book and without your encouragement I’m not sure I would have written it to reach the stage where it could be published.
INTRODUCTION
I grew up in a small market town in north Wiltshire called Corsham. It was a military town of sort. A Royal Naval leadership school, a large Army barracks, an RAF communication camp and the RAF police (P&SS) so seeing military uniform was as normal as civilian dress. As a child I played football for a local team and on occasion we would get a game organised, a team on the navy base against a team of ratings, or the same versus the army and air force, seeing how good the RAF food and accommodation was may have helped me set my mind on the RAF. But I was determined I was going to join up as soon as I was old enough.
I came from a humble background, from a one parent family (my mother) and three older sisters. My father was in the Army. I was only 18 months old when my parents split up and never saw him as I grew up, so it was not his army career that gave me the idea of joining the military myself. Life growing up during the sixties and seventies was hard, more so as we lived on social benefits in an area of Corsham where we were looked down on as the low life of humanity. Life was tough and, although I was very immature for my age, I did know my only chance to make anything of myself was in the services and watching war films on TV, the glamour of the RAF seemed to strike a chord in me. I was fit as I loved walking, running and swimming so I did not see that as an issue, my education on the other hand was poor and I did worry that this may cause concern.
I left school in August 1977 as a sixteen-year-old, failing my CSE’s so no qualifications, but I already knew I was going to join up and I had my heart set on the RAF. However, due to having to wait on an operation on my left hand for a childhood injury, I was held back until I was almost 18. I was employed in a local factory as an un-skilled machinist for the next couple of years before I received a letter inviting me to Bristol CIO for an interview. I was over the moon. I’d been waiting for this day to arrive since I was fifteen and counted the days till my trip. Once the day dawned, I took a train to Bristol. The interview went very quickly, lots of questions about me and my lifestyle. Do I play any sports? Am I popular? How do I spend my free time? Do I smoke? Have I got a girlfriend? It all went well, and I was told as soon as my paperwork had been processed, I would get confirmation and a start date if I passed the entrance exam and then took the oath. I passed the medical, physical and the entrance exam and was so pleased as I knew then that I could get out of Corsham and do a job that was unlike anything else on civvy street. One downside was that I wanted to be a cook, I was told that there were no vacancies at that time, but I could join up as a steward and remuster, meaning I could change trades later. I was happy with that; I accepted the role of a steward. I went back to work handed in my notice and my supervisor Kim said, if the RAF does not work out, I could have my old job back. That meant a lot to me as it told me I was doing a good job and was valued as an employee. It was very kind of my employers to offer me my job back if the RAF did not work out, but I never wanted to return to Corsham and this life, though I was happy working at JaxPal and the folk alongside me just not enough to keep me in Corsham.
I will be leaving home for the last time in just over a week. It would not take me long to pack as I had so little other than the clothes I was wearing. I bought a shaving kit, wash bag, some underwear and a couple of shirts. That was all I possessed, plus two weeks wages from the job I had just left.
Just before Christmas 1978 I had to return to Bristol. There were just two of us and this was the day we would swear an oath for Queen and Country. We did this and were given our travel warrants and information on what we must take with us, the do’s and don’ts. We did this and arranged to meet up again on the platform to take the train to Lincolnshire together. It was the 2 nd of January 1979. I had my MOD travel warrant for a one-way ticket for six years......(it will unfold as I share with you my six years in the Royal Air Force.) It was my 18 birthday, and I was on cloud nine. I had two weeks wages in my pocket, a packet of 20 Rothmans a lighter, a small bag with some sandwiches and my joining instructions, to me it was a ticket to the world. I just hoped I would not fail and need to return home. Unlike today, yes, we had health and safety but also common sence, no snowflakes or all the PC we have today. We were called names, due to our colour, race, religion or even what part of the UK we came from. It was character building. It it has an “ist” in it it was used. You couldn’t take it, then pack up and piss off. That was the RAF I joined. So, as you read if your offended please join those who did piss off as this book is not for you.
Music plays a big part in all of our lives. I have added the music which through the years that bring back to life those days gone by, the people, places and emotions.
1978 Atom heart mother Pink Floyd, Queen Jass, Heart, Dream boat Annie Police Outlandos d’Amour
CHAPTER 1
RAF Swinderby. School of Recruit Training
W ith my bag packed at 7am on January 2 nd , 1979 my mother and stepfather drove me to Bristol Temple Meads train station. It was still very dark, and a layer of fresh snow lay on the ground. It was also very cold out. We arrived at the station in good time. It was almost 8am but still dark. The light had not yet won its fight with the night-time darkness. I made my way to the booking office with my MOD travel warrant. In return I was given a ticket, to Newark single one way. Good enough for me as I do not plan on a return trip home just yet. I would embark my train on platform one. The platform was very busy as the train pulled into the station and stopped for the commuters and other passengers to climb aboard. The train was not full but at this time of the morning rush hour, the train started to fill up with commuters at each stop on its journey. I had booked myself a seat and went in search of it through the train. As I put my case on the top rack above my head and settled down for my long train journey, a journey for me that would last six wonderful years. I wondered how many other young men like myself would be boarding trains all over the UK.