Pen Portraits: what happened next
Pen portraits of post-graduation life, as submitted to the 69th Association newsletter over the period 1994 - 2011
Mike Hymers, General Instruments
This is not so much a pen portrait as a confessional. Having avidly read all those brief life histories which have so far appeared in our news letter, I am in total awe and admiration of the incredible attainments achieved by to many 'ex-69ers', reaching high rank, holding positions of considerable responsibility and subsequently becoming pillars of industry and scholastic endeavour in civvy street. I am hoping that, in bringing things down to a more earthly level, I was not the only one to achieve a high level of abject failure.
De Havilland Sea Devon C20 "Gypsy Queen" of the Royal Navy, 1955. © IWM (ATP 27501C)Upon leaving Halton in 1954 along with Roger Pegden and Ken Segal, I was sentenced to three years servitude in one of our primitive northern colonies - Leuchars in Scotland. A spell in the maintenance unit then onto 43 (Flying Cocks) Squadron: the first Hunters and the first jet acrobatic Squadron which resulted in some short European tours.
The mixed Corporals Club at Leuchars proved to be the start of my downfall. It was en excellent training ground for boozing, fornicating and most other pursuits into indolence and debauchery. Lessons which formulated and cemented my, until then, somewhat hazy ideas of a preferable soft life with minimal responsibility and never volunteering for anything.
This grounding put me in good stead for my next posting to Fontainebleu, near Paris. It was then NATO Headquarters and we had a small V.I.P. Communications Flight in the corner of Dassault's airfield at Melun, twenty miles from Fontainebleu. A real sinecure!
When our total force of two Devons and a Pembroke had been dispatched, serviced or stowed in our canvas hanger, the rest of the day was ours in which to sleep, play cricket or whatever, until such times as our aircraft returned or the Flt Sgt I/C decided to open our bar. Several days each week our RAF coach got us back to camp long after a meal serving had finished but well stoked up to continue a late evening session, much to the chagrin of the few more diligent and sober members of the flight.
Our fairly frequent educational trips to the more edifying areas of Paris, such as Rue Pigalle, are another story and not for publication in this erudite document.
Back across the Channel in 1960 to 85 Squadron at West Malling in Kent, which soon after that moved to West Raynham in Norfolk. Apart from becoming quite an authority on the merits or otherwise of all the local hostelries in these areas, this was quite a boring period.
Whilst at West Raynham the 'Powers that be', in either a weak moment of compassion or a slip by the Admin wallers, promoted me to Sergeant. This must have been one of the last 'give-away' promotions because, thereafter, one was expected to pass exams or be highly meritorious to get more stripes. Not that I really wanted it because it meant that a certain amount of responsibility was inescapable.
I was sent to 202 Search and Rescue Squadron at Leconfield in Yorkshire, I/C the Instrument and Electrical section. There, having completed my 12 years plus 2 (having joined at 16) I ventured out into the wide world with no pension and the princely "Golden Handshake" of £172. Soon afterwards I married and was then broke.
International Computers Ltd (ICL) then stuck their neck out and employed me for 27 years until I was "re-structured" onto the scrapheap. During those 15 years in London followed by 12 years in the "sticks" of S.E. England I managed to continue with my basic philosophy of accepting personal responsibility but steering clear of any threatening promotions.
I have generally enjoyed most of my stagger through life but am now probably paying the price for all the good times. When people at our reunions talk of details of our summer camp etc, it brings home to me the damage which has accrued during the pursuit of happiness. I can't even remember going on summer camp, although I must have done so. I can just imagine, after another large scotch, my psyche saying "Whoops! There go the brain cells containing the 'gen' about summer camp, Sgt Brice or whatever."
Recently I fished out one of those Progress Reports sent to our parents. One of the comments at the end by the Wing Co. says: "With a little more "push", he could be a Leading Apprentice'. - Wow!!
When I eventually stand before the Assessor's desk at the Pearly Gates, I know what he is going to say: "Having passed out from Halton in a reasonable creditable 44th position out of 265, you could and should have done better. Send him down!"
- RAF Halton and the Brats
- The Aircraft Apprentices Scheme
- Clubs, Societies and Sports at Halton
- RAF Halton's goats
- Tributes to Halton and the Brats
- The 69th and the Apprentices Network, 1951
- The Presentation of the Queen's Colour, 1952
- Summer Camp, RAF Formby, 1953
- The 69th and the Queen's Coronation, 1953
- The 69th's Graduation Review, 1954
- The Senior Entry - a graduate's letter, 1954
- A full list of 69th Graduates
- Halton days: stories from the 69th
- The 69th's Burmese Brats
- The 69th's commemorative window
- 69th Entry Reunions