“This time is is not one of my own ideas, but is based on an adecote from an esteemed member – John Torrington ex: RAF 107 MU. He was mentioned in a special obituary in the August 2013 Issue. As you can see from the excerpt from his letter, it’s about time it was given the “Tex” treatment!”

When I started to shave my grandfather instructed me in the use of the Cut Throat and when I joined up it went with me.

I did my square bashing at Weston and about the third or fourth morning after arriving there I was scraping away when a corporal came into the Wash-house. Then came the cry “Bloody Hell Boy, what have you got there!” – “a razor corporal” I replied. “You can’t use that there thing – it’s an offensive weapon!!” was his response.

He looked around and took a razor from a chap who had finished shaving and I had to finish off with that. I was told to take my Cut Throat to the Flight Commander and was ordered to go to the NAAFI and buy a Safety Razor. My billet corporal was then instructed to ensure that I packed up the open one and send it home.

They must have thought I was a member of a “Teddy Boy Razor Gang” without the DS haircut! When I came out I went back to my open one, it was difficult to get back into the swing of things after three years and some blood was spilt but I kept at it and still use it to this day.

 

I was on day-time Guard Duty, patrolling the perimeter wire from the Treaty Road, Main Gate, to the Airfield. At night this was a three man job – one on the search light and two others patrolling. However, in daylight hours, it was deemed that one man, with rifle, would deter terrorists from breaking into the Unit!

Now all National Servicemen liked a good “skive”, but Guard Duty was not a “skive”, just a monotonous slog – those were my thoughts, until I noticed “The Gantry”. It was a metal monstrosity, 26 feet high, straddling a railway line, inside 107 MU. Laid in the 1940-45 war years, the line was a spur, from the main Suez-Port Said track which ran parallel to the Treaty Road. During the war aircraft parts were delivered and the railway wagons would stop directly under the gantry where a winch and cable from the platform above would lift the huge containers onto motorised transport. Now obsolete, this contraption dared me to climb its vertical ladder to the platform.

Yep, I could have a smoke and a “skive” up there, instead of patrolling up and down continuously – just lie back, relax and scan the whole wire – rifle at the ready of course! I slowly climbed the ladder and at the top discovered the last rung was, actually, level with the nearest girder! Also I would be facing in the opposite direction because I could only cock my left leg astride it, then sitting down, edge my way backwards 8 feet, to the platform!! I stood on the top rung and gradually let go with both hands …. and looked down – wrong move!! My legs locked and I started to twitch. The rifle slipped around my shoulders and seemed to weigh a ton. How did those geezers in the war get up there? Must have had the agility of steeplejacks! ….. “Try again, Tex – get that leg over and it will be easy”. I did try and even stood on the girder, but my hand was tightly clenched on the ladder. Then a subtle idea struck me …. I began to think of Doris Day …. But I still couldn’t get my leg over!! By now I was sweating and had similar pangs to “Gyppo Tummy” Dejectedly, I descended the ladder and looked up at the platform. “You blinking thing!” I yelled. Do you believe me? – you’re right! What a load of ‘cobblers’, but what I did shout in exasperation is between me and “The Gantry”!!!!