Things were going perfectly at RAF Hospital Wegberg. Plenty of cash, owing to the cigarette scheme I had with Herr Puhl; plenty of sports, keeping me ultra-fit; and a dalliance with a young lady WAAF for a short while.
This WAAF was actually going around with another chap stationed here but one evening, after bust-up with him, she came out of the dining hall in tears. We had been on nodding terms and she approached me in some distress. She literally used my shoulder to cry on! I now knew the full meaning of that well-worn cliché. I gently put my arms around her shoulders and just let her get it out of her system, so to speak.
Eventually she calmed down and said she was sorry about her "silly behaviour" and we took a stroll on this pleasantly cool evening. I said: "What about a drink in the nearest café bar?" and she said that would be nice.
We walked for perhaps twenty minutes or so and went into this local café and ordered two drinks: a Steinhager for me (sort of German gin I'd say) and she had something called a Jagermeister, a kind of herbal liqueur. We just sat talking for about an hour when she wanted to return to camp - which we did.
I took her out a few times, once to a dance in Munchen Gladbach, and everything was going very smoothly and I thought a new romance had been born. But no. Her boyfriend had seen the error of his ways and he shortly persuaded her to resume their affair and that was it; we remained "just good friends", but no more dates. Oh well, never mind.
My application for the Admin course at Hereford was approved and within a month I was on my way to Blighty. I spent a few weeks on this new course and naturally the time went by so quickly as I was enjoying every moment of it, especially the many moments I spent with Joan Turner. We were always together in the evenings and every weekend. I got on extremely well with her Dad, the Hereford United club secretary/manager, and with her two older sisters. I didn’t spend much time with the family but they were all highly likeable and pleasant people.
We went dancing regularly; to the cinema too. Country walks on Sunday afternoons were memorable too, because we could find some lovely spots that were devoid of other people. We spent many romantic hours alone in the sweet and pleasant countryside and life was perfect.
Nothing lasts forever and soon I had completed the course and had to say another fond farewell to a tearful Joannie. Parting, as the bard says, is such sweet sorrow.
Joan again watched as the train pulled out of Hereford railway station, weeping and waving until she was no longer in view.
Back at RAF Hospital Wegberg life went on just as before. I'd only been back a couple of months when my boss W.Officer Robinson told me that I was on the promotion list to corporal! I'd only been in the RAF for around two years or so and was soon to be a substantive corporal! More pay and a couple of chevrons on the arm of my tunic - but there was a snag. Yes, there's always a snag. I had to be posted to RAF Bruggen, where the promotion would be confirmed. Hmm ... a bit more in the pay packet but my little black market shennanigans would be at an end! However, it would be new surroundings, new work, and I'd be on a fighter station.
Showing posts with label Wegberg. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Wegberg. Show all posts
Sunday, 7 June 2009
Friday, 5 June 2009
Wegberg, Germany, continued
This is an aerial view of the hospital, with a bit of spillage on the bottom left corner. Such a wonderful place to work in.
One of the best memories is the cafeteria which I always loved at the morning and afternoon tea breaks. I am re-living the atmosphere of that superb café right now, with the welcoming smell of freshly roasted coffee permeating the air as one approached it. I have never tasted better coffee since and it's amazing how the aroma lingers in my memory so strongly. A lovely, lovely haven of delight.
I have now been promoted to senior aircraftsman,(SAC) and am now the proud possessor of a tri-bladed propeller insignia on each arm. I achieved this giddy height in rank by passing the RAF education tests after some evening classes. I found the tests a doddle and the reward for bothering to take them was worthwhile.
I'm looking forward to seeing Joan again when I arrive in Hereford. I took the train to the Hook of Holland and enjoyed a nice meal on the train - which was such a delight. The trains of those days in Holland and Germany put most of the English trains to shame.
Eventually arrived at Hereford rail station and dear little Joannie was waiting for me on the platform. She waves to me as I'm leaning out of the window and it is so good to see her again.
I spend four days with her. We didn't go dancing but did go to the pictures one evening. I recall the film: "Susan Slept Here", with Debbie Reynolds. I say I recall the film, but I do not remember much about it except for the theme song: "Hold my Hand", sung by Don Cornell. I would have to say that this would be "our song" during my stay in Hereford. Most of the time we were in the darkness of this Hereford cinema was spent in kissing or with Joan's head snuggled on my chest with my arm around her shoulder.
We walked in the countryside during the daytime; there are some beautiful gentle hills around the city. A stroll along the riverside, or a visit to the lovely cathedral, or wandering around the city shops and cafés were other simple joys of life then.
The hours and days just flew by and soon it was time to say a touchingly tearful "goodbye" again. Joan watched as the train pulled out of the station, waving with one hand and dabbing a handkerchief to her eyes with the other. She looked rather waif-like standing there in a thin floral dress which was being fluttered by the breeze. I can see her still, although over 50 years have flown by now.
On the train journey from the Hook of Holland through to Munchen Gladbach we were boarded by German police as we came to the border crossing. I had to open my suitcase and the contents were thoroughly searched, looking for contraband coffee and tea. There was quite a black market in such stuff then; what else they may have been searching for I know not. Later in my life I would be making this journey again, but as a civilian on a nostalgic trip back to see Wegberg and my journey would be interrupted by armed border guards ... but that's another story!
Back in Wegberg I resumed my usual duties and was soon back in the swing of things. I entered various sporting events, including cross-country races and some track events. I cannot lay claim to any great achievements in these sports but I enjoyed the taking part. I could never get the "pace" right in track events, especially the mile race. I was too keen in the early stages, often in front for a couple of laps, and then paying the price and running out of puff in the last lap. I didn't mind not winning; it kept me fit and happy.
I also used the gym quite frequently and did a bit of boxing training. There was a good light-heavyweight airman (cannot remember his name) and he represented the RAF in boxing events. He asked me one evening if I would have a couple of rounds sparring with him; I agreed. The first two minutes or so went very well, with me dancing around the ring and him just landing a few blows to the head - but not with any real force.
After a breather of a minute or so we carried on sparring when he suddenly unleashed a powerful right-hand punch just below my heart: wham! My knees buckled and all the breath was shocked out of my body. I dropped to the canvas, gasping for breath; my sparring partner crouched down anxiously trying to help me off the floor. He was repeatedly saying "I'm so sorry ... so sorry..." I soon recovered but felt quite weak still. Had a glass of water and was fully OK, but that was the last time I ever went back in the ring with him. He was a jolly good boxer and the lack of a regular sparring partner was difficult for him and the temptation to "let fly" with a good body-shot was too much for him to ignore. Oh well, never mind - no harm done!
My boss, Warrant Officer Robinson, said that I should consider applying for another Hereford course in administration. He said it would be a further step up the promotion ladder should I pass it. Why not, I thought; nothing to lose - so I applied. It would also mean that I would have more time to spend with Joan again and that had to be an added bonus. The future was looking good.
Tuesday, 2 June 2009
RAF Hospital Wegberg, Germany, 1954
To say this was a wonderful place would be an under-statement. I could not believe how lucky I was to arrive here. It was, of course, virtually brand new, having been opened a few months earlier. Everything about it was clean and bright. No dowdy colours, no stale smell permeating the air - nothing dreary or depressing about the place at all.
I was told that a National Service airman had designed the hospital and that German builders and tradesmen had built the place in something like 3 months, from start to finish! What an achievement and what a superb building it was.
Another bonus was that much of the day-to-day work was done by German personnel, such as groundsmen, cleaners and other tasks. The medical staff were all RAF personnel of course, and excellent they were too. Good surgeons, doctors, nurses and ancillary staff and I was privileged to be working amongst such dedicated men and women.
I found my quarters to be the best ever. Shared with seven other RAF bods, it was nicely furnished and spick and span. Adjoining bathrooms were similarly a vast improvement on my earlier experiences. But perhaps best of all we had all our cleaning done by German Service Orderlies, or GSO as they were termed. These people were dressed in dull green uniforms, complete with early versions of baseball caps in the same colour. The "forman" was a Herr Puhl whom I later became very friendly with. He was a corporal in the SS during the war and he retained much of the firm protocol that existed then. For example, he insisted that all his staff "salute" all RAF personnel when in uniform! He stood no nonsense from any of his crew.
My main occupation was to keep and update patient records, typing up doctors' notes and various other admin tasks. Another of my responsibilities was to issue cigarette ration cards to those who smoked! All military personnel were treated at this hospital, and some civilians too. Any military patients were entitled to a ciggy card if they said they were smokers and wanted one. The thing is, cigarettes could be bought in the NAAFI for one shilling (5p) for 20 Players! I did not smoke, having packed it in just after I joined up, but I still took my card each week. This card allowed you one packet of twenty fags a day. If any new entrant to the hospital said they didn't smoke then I would "issue" a card - but to myself! There was method in my apparent madness.
After a few weeks I would have a nice stack of cigarette cards stashed away. I came to an arrangement with a nice young German girl who worked in the NAAFI. She would let me have sealed packs of 500 in packs 20 of cigarettes in exchange for the cards and the appropriate amount of cash, at 5p a throw! I gave her a couple of packets of 20 cigarettes for her issuing me with far more than was strictly permitted.
I then had another "arrangement" with Herr Puhl, the GSO commandant. He would pay me 1 Deutsche mark for each packet of cigarettes, and as 1 Mark was equal to almost 1/9 (one shilling and ninepence) I was making a full 75% profit on each packet. Herr Puhl took all the risks by taking the cigarettes out of the hospital gates. Anybody who was found to be taking more than one packet out of camp would be fined 5 Marks for every excess pack! This was to stop any "black market" trading, which was rife in post-war Germany. Tea, coffee and cigarettes were the most valuable black market commodities and Herr Puhl was quite an entrepreneur in this field. I used to leave a few of these bulk 500 packs in my locked bathroom; he would personally remove the fags and leave me the cash and re-lock the bathroom with his pass keys. He used to then sell the cigarettes in a Munchen Gladbach brothel for 2 marks a pack! I made 75%, he made 100% - but as he was taking all the risks of the transaction I did not begrudge him his extra markup! Because of my little trade in ciggies I only drew 10/- (50p) on each fortnightly pay parade, having the rest of my pay deposited in the post office savings account I'd set up.
Yes, I got on very well with Herr Puhl; even went to meet his wife and family one evening for a meal - bratwurst sausages and kartoffel salad of course!
Another delight of RAF Wegberg was working for Warrant Officer Robinson, my immediate boss in the hospital. He was offical tennis coach for the RAF team and he was also a fitness freak. He was out running every single day, plus tennis practice and training and other exercises. It was W.O. Robinson who encouraged me to join the hospital athletic team and I did so. I took part in cross-country races and track races, up to 1 mile. We had an excellent sports ground and facilities here. Not only that, he arranged for me to take a fortnight's "continental leave" at a place called Scharfoldendorf, near Hameln, the town from which the Pied Piper of Hamilin was said to have come! This fortnight's leave was ostensibly for hill training; there were plenty of hills in Scharfoldendorf! There was a superb hotel(owned by the RAF) in this place which was all free to me and my colleague who was also here for the same "training" purposes. Other staff were sometimes sent here for convalescence after accident or illness and it was all compliments of the RAF.
But best of all there was a glider station here, and after an hour or so running up a hill and down again we'd have a shower, some lunch and then go gliding over the hills, soaring on the thermals and enjoying the thrill of engine-less flying. The silence of the flight, apart from the creaking of the wings and the rush of the wind as we landed, was absolutely unbeatable. Sheer bliss. The gliders were two-seater jobs and all the navigation and flying was done by the pilot of course, but if I had my way I'd love to have the chance to go solo. It may still happen one day, but then again ... 'tis getting rather more expensive as each day rushes by.
Another much-loved time for all military chaps and chapesses serving overseas was the Sunday midday programme on the radio "Two-way Family Favourites". This was a favourite with countless millions of listeners and a lucky few had their names and family messages read out, followed by their favourite song request. This often had some listeners in tears as they heard messages from their loved ones back home and the sentimental songs could sometimes have the same effect on even those who had not had a personal message from home!
I wrote regularly to Joan in Hereford and managed to book a phone call to her one evening. Apart from two weeks "continental leave" we were allowed two weeks UK leave each year. I'd saved up a nice little bundle in the post office savings book after six months at Wegberg and applied for a week's UK leave in June 1954. The route back was exactly the same as when we first came to Germany, but in reverse of course. Train from Wegberg to Munchen Gladbach then across the Dutch/German border to the Hook of Holland and the troopship to Harwich, with the final leg by train back home. However, I'd no intention of spending more than a few hours in the parental home as I'd arranged to see Joan in Hereford and spend the rest of the week with her.
I was told that a National Service airman had designed the hospital and that German builders and tradesmen had built the place in something like 3 months, from start to finish! What an achievement and what a superb building it was.
Another bonus was that much of the day-to-day work was done by German personnel, such as groundsmen, cleaners and other tasks. The medical staff were all RAF personnel of course, and excellent they were too. Good surgeons, doctors, nurses and ancillary staff and I was privileged to be working amongst such dedicated men and women.
I found my quarters to be the best ever. Shared with seven other RAF bods, it was nicely furnished and spick and span. Adjoining bathrooms were similarly a vast improvement on my earlier experiences. But perhaps best of all we had all our cleaning done by German Service Orderlies, or GSO as they were termed. These people were dressed in dull green uniforms, complete with early versions of baseball caps in the same colour. The "forman" was a Herr Puhl whom I later became very friendly with. He was a corporal in the SS during the war and he retained much of the firm protocol that existed then. For example, he insisted that all his staff "salute" all RAF personnel when in uniform! He stood no nonsense from any of his crew.
My main occupation was to keep and update patient records, typing up doctors' notes and various other admin tasks. Another of my responsibilities was to issue cigarette ration cards to those who smoked! All military personnel were treated at this hospital, and some civilians too. Any military patients were entitled to a ciggy card if they said they were smokers and wanted one. The thing is, cigarettes could be bought in the NAAFI for one shilling (5p) for 20 Players! I did not smoke, having packed it in just after I joined up, but I still took my card each week. This card allowed you one packet of twenty fags a day. If any new entrant to the hospital said they didn't smoke then I would "issue" a card - but to myself! There was method in my apparent madness.
After a few weeks I would have a nice stack of cigarette cards stashed away. I came to an arrangement with a nice young German girl who worked in the NAAFI. She would let me have sealed packs of 500 in packs 20 of cigarettes in exchange for the cards and the appropriate amount of cash, at 5p a throw! I gave her a couple of packets of 20 cigarettes for her issuing me with far more than was strictly permitted.
I then had another "arrangement" with Herr Puhl, the GSO commandant. He would pay me 1 Deutsche mark for each packet of cigarettes, and as 1 Mark was equal to almost 1/9 (one shilling and ninepence) I was making a full 75% profit on each packet. Herr Puhl took all the risks by taking the cigarettes out of the hospital gates. Anybody who was found to be taking more than one packet out of camp would be fined 5 Marks for every excess pack! This was to stop any "black market" trading, which was rife in post-war Germany. Tea, coffee and cigarettes were the most valuable black market commodities and Herr Puhl was quite an entrepreneur in this field. I used to leave a few of these bulk 500 packs in my locked bathroom; he would personally remove the fags and leave me the cash and re-lock the bathroom with his pass keys. He used to then sell the cigarettes in a Munchen Gladbach brothel for 2 marks a pack! I made 75%, he made 100% - but as he was taking all the risks of the transaction I did not begrudge him his extra markup! Because of my little trade in ciggies I only drew 10/- (50p) on each fortnightly pay parade, having the rest of my pay deposited in the post office savings account I'd set up.
Yes, I got on very well with Herr Puhl; even went to meet his wife and family one evening for a meal - bratwurst sausages and kartoffel salad of course!
Another delight of RAF Wegberg was working for Warrant Officer Robinson, my immediate boss in the hospital. He was offical tennis coach for the RAF team and he was also a fitness freak. He was out running every single day, plus tennis practice and training and other exercises. It was W.O. Robinson who encouraged me to join the hospital athletic team and I did so. I took part in cross-country races and track races, up to 1 mile. We had an excellent sports ground and facilities here. Not only that, he arranged for me to take a fortnight's "continental leave" at a place called Scharfoldendorf, near Hameln, the town from which the Pied Piper of Hamilin was said to have come! This fortnight's leave was ostensibly for hill training; there were plenty of hills in Scharfoldendorf! There was a superb hotel(owned by the RAF) in this place which was all free to me and my colleague who was also here for the same "training" purposes. Other staff were sometimes sent here for convalescence after accident or illness and it was all compliments of the RAF.
But best of all there was a glider station here, and after an hour or so running up a hill and down again we'd have a shower, some lunch and then go gliding over the hills, soaring on the thermals and enjoying the thrill of engine-less flying. The silence of the flight, apart from the creaking of the wings and the rush of the wind as we landed, was absolutely unbeatable. Sheer bliss. The gliders were two-seater jobs and all the navigation and flying was done by the pilot of course, but if I had my way I'd love to have the chance to go solo. It may still happen one day, but then again ... 'tis getting rather more expensive as each day rushes by.
Another much-loved time for all military chaps and chapesses serving overseas was the Sunday midday programme on the radio "Two-way Family Favourites". This was a favourite with countless millions of listeners and a lucky few had their names and family messages read out, followed by their favourite song request. This often had some listeners in tears as they heard messages from their loved ones back home and the sentimental songs could sometimes have the same effect on even those who had not had a personal message from home!
I wrote regularly to Joan in Hereford and managed to book a phone call to her one evening. Apart from two weeks "continental leave" we were allowed two weeks UK leave each year. I'd saved up a nice little bundle in the post office savings book after six months at Wegberg and applied for a week's UK leave in June 1954. The route back was exactly the same as when we first came to Germany, but in reverse of course. Train from Wegberg to Munchen Gladbach then across the Dutch/German border to the Hook of Holland and the troopship to Harwich, with the final leg by train back home. However, I'd no intention of spending more than a few hours in the parental home as I'd arranged to see Joan in Hereford and spend the rest of the week with her.
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