RAF FAYID, LXX SQUADRON 1952-54
As Remembered By Gerry Barnard
"Looking Back ....."
… to a time in our young lives that remain vividly with us even though it was more than half a century ago. For myself, I’d volunteered to join the Royal Air Force as I had been fascinated by aviation from a young age, perhaps from hearing planes of both sides above our heads during the War from the indoor shelter in our Surrey home.
In June 1952 I was duly summoned to appeared at the Croydon recruiting office to pick up a train ticket to RAF Cardington in Bedforshire together with a bunch of likely lads, one of whom, Alan Kerr, remains a friend to this day. The few days at Cardington proved to be the lull before the storm for as soon as we had been sworn in we were off on a train to West Kirby where the rude awakening came in the shouting drill sergeants and corporals that were waiting to bring us down to earth and march us to the camp. You’ll know the drill as we have all been through it, but it was a shock to the system at the time.
By the time squarebashing was over even the NCO’s had mellowed having got us into shape and well drilled for the Passing Out Parade. A short leave followed and then it was off to RAF Kirkham for a three months course to train as an engine mechanic before leave over the Christmas period that would be curtailed by a telegram telling me to report to RAF Lytham, which proved to be a snowbound embarkation camp. I think about ten days were spent there in Nissen huts cleverly positioned below the level of the footpath so that snow melt and rain could run down into the huts and cover the floor. It was cold and miserable with little coal for the stove in the hut and so quite a bit of furniture was sen to be used instead to keep us warm. We were told that we would be flying to Egypt and we could only take our RAF issue kit and so civvies would have to be sent home. Of course, as soon as we had posted the clothes home the news came that we would be going by boat after all. That boat proved to be the Devonshire which sailed from Liverpool on January 13th 1953. The RAF bods were assigned to Man Overboard Watch which entailed working in shifts, staring at the sea from astern throughout the cruise, just in case! As it was January, crossing the Bay of Biscay was feared but in the event it was quite calm; only when we truned into the Med did the mal de mer start, due to the constant rolling of the waves, which also caused the propellers to leave the water and then thump back to where they should be. It made me aware of just how big the Med is, or how slow the old tub, as we could go for days seeing absolutely nothing except the sea. Off duty it was back to the mess deck where we lived, ate and slept in hammocks. All part of life’s rich pattern, I suppose you’d say. Eventually we made Port Said and had our first introduction to local commerce with Egyptians appearing on deck, seemingly out of nowhere, to try and sell their wares before being sent scuttling back from whence they came.
From there we travelled by coach taking in the new sights on the way to RAF Fayid where I joined LXX Squadron along with friends that I had made during basic and trading training, including Alan Kerr, mentioned earlier. The Squadron operated Vickers Valetta aircraft which where used for carrying passengers or freight and dropping supplies or paratroopers. We were accommodated in Billet 60 and gradually got to know the other ground crew members of LXX Squadron including those soon to be repatriated at the end of their tour for whom we were the replacements. Of course our pale skin meant that we stood out as the newcomers but working outside on the aircraft soon gave us the start of a tan. Surprising how soon we became accustomed to the sun but it did provide a slight problem when refuelling at the hottest time of the day. This required standing on top of the aircraft wing holding the nozzle in the tank when the plimsolls worn to protect the surface of the wing absorbed all the heat, hence the operation was carried out hopping from foot to foot.
We soon settled into the new way of life where we found that being on a Squadron was akin to being in a family, a unit which made life more tolerable with plenty of banter between flight and ground crew members. Working hours meant that you would be back at the billet early in the afternoon to avail yourself to some of the unappetising food from the cookhouse or have a shower You could rarely do both as either the food would all be gone by the time you had a shower or the water pressure insufficient to get to the showerhead if you chose to eat first. Happy days! In the afternoon, if you were so inclined, sport could be played, dependant on the season. Football and cricket were probably the most popular with basketball a close second. Competitions were a regular thing, played between units on Fayid or against other station teams. The station football team played to a good standard with some members, we were told, playing for league teams back home. These were mainly Scots but we did have on the Squadron one Fred Rolls, believed to have been on the books at Bristol City.
Guard duty came round about once a week when it was either two hours on and four off, up and down a designated stretch of the perimeter fence or, if you were lucky, on the back of a lorry outside the fence on mobile guard. A duty meal was available through the night at the cookhouse but only the hard of stomach could face with relish the stew on offer in the small hours! Even when it was not your turn for guard duty that night one had to keep a sharp lookout at the time the nominated guards were assembling at the Armoury as any shortfall in numbers would be made up by grabbing the nearest erks in sight. Consequently there would be a mad rush to vacate the Squadron billet on the blind side should NCO’s be seen to be coming our way looking for likely replacements.
For anybody not serving in the Canal Zone in those days it would be hard to comprehend the restrictions to normal life and the freedoms that we endured for over two years. The Zone was our World with little chance to travel in Egypt to explore what their ancestors had laid down. For us in leisure time it was either sport or a pastime once work was done and perhaps a trip to the Station Cinema in the evening or to the Station Jazz Record Sessions that took place once a month. Squadron anniversaries were normally celebrated with a 'do' at the Lido on the Great Bitter Lake.
One of the advantages of being on the Squadron was the need to have ground crew on some flights to carry out transit maintenance away from base. Thus it was that I got to visit many places in and around the Middle East that would provide a complete contrast, albeit only temporarily, with life back in the Zone. Hence I saw Nairobi during the period when the Mau Mau were active which meant a curfew and the need to be back in camp before dark (I couldn’t know it then, but I would return to a more settled Kenya in the 1970’s to spend three years working for East African Airways). Normally a trip would be to another RAF base, in which case we were assigned to a Transit Billet there, but should the aircraft become unserviceable at a civil airport en route it would usually result in a hotel bed for the night until help arrived from our main base. All such things helped to make life a bit more interesting than the routine in the Zone.
One of the pleasures on these trips was to have a meal and drink in civilised restaurants, scenes that I can recall still today, be it the splendid dining rooms of the Sudan Railways hotels at Port Sudan and Wadi Halfa while Khartoum is remembered for a meal and drink in a bar near the confluence of the Blue and White Niles which was followed by a visit to the nearby open air cinema where the locals got very enthusiastic and animated following the plot of whichever film it was.
For a boy coming from a simple life back home all this was a real eye opener.
Life back at Fayid changed little when agreement that we would withdraw from the Zone in 1954 was signed but I do recall that a coach trip to Port Said was arranged – remembered particularly as I travelled next to the driver holding a Sten gun – hoping that I would not be called upon to use it. Fortunately, all was well and the trip is remembered now from a photo of sharing a gharri ride with mates of that time. I have never been back, except to transit Cairo, but mental pictures of fello erks, places and situation from that time never go away. Nice really.
If we thought we were hard done for, back in civvy street I found out that
an uncle had served in the Zone with the Royal Engineers in the early 1930’s
and, although there was more freedom then to move around Egypt, the tour was
unaccompanied and lasted five years