You remember the good times

The allure for the Old Dux has been aided by the fact that Duxford seems to have been a particularly happy station during the 1950s – the period the bulk of members are drawn from.

Doreen’s husband Larry concedes that it helps that “as time goes by, you only remember the good times.” But even so, they were good times. “I was drafted straight here from trade training and didn’t realise what a good station it was until other people would come in and tell you. Then you’d realise how special it was.”

He says that a lot was down to the attitude of the officers who ran the place - mostly Battle of Britain pilots and had a lot of war experience. “They knew there was more to service life than being bulled up to the eyeballs and marching - and absolutely strict discipline - they realised it wasn’t necessary.”

Les agrees: “This was a happy station. I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone say anything else about Duxford - and it wasn’t always to do with the station commander. I can remember one in particular that I didn’t like, and I don’t think anyone else did either, but it was still a very happy station.”

Among the memories these particular veterans share are the afternoons in Bet’s Café, sports days on Wednesday afternoons, drinks in the Naafi and card schools in the billet. On rare occasions there might also be the odd dance arranged by the WRAFs.

“You could go into the Naafi, and never having spoken to someone before, could sit down next to them and strike up a conversation. It was a really friendly atmosphere all the time. Never any back-biting or trouble,” says Doreen. “You’d hear from other people they weren’t happy at other stations, but they all liked it here. It was a completely relaxed atmosphere - all the time.”

 “You have to remember that TV was still in its infancy,” says Jim. “So we had the radio. We used to follow traditional jazz and radio programmes like the Goon Show. If anyone had similar interests, you’d naturally stick together and go around with each other.”

Then there were the big events that all the veterans remember, like the visits by Ethiopian emperor Haile Selasse or the Yugoslav leader Josip Tito. There were exchange visits with American servicemen – all driving expensive cars and looking a million dollars, to the extent that few British RAF men could distinguish who to salute and who not to. In the end, they invariably saluted everyone American.

They all remember too the exercises the squadrons used to go on too, such as Fabulous, which meant dawn til dusk flying. Some of the crews were also seconded to the Essex floods in 1953, when they spent several nights bunking down in church halls while they filled sandbags to stop the encroaching tides.

Perhaps these things stick in the mind because there was no war for Duxford crews  to display their bravery. The Korean War was ruled out for them when RAF leaders saw how the Australians fared in their Meteor 8s (the planes at Duxford at the time) against the North Korean Mig fighters. “They were shot out of the sky,” says Les who says that they all volunteered to a man to serve there despite the poor odds of surviving. “The Aussies ended up using Meteors as ground-attack aircraft, rather as fighters,” he recalls.

There were other dangers too. “I’d only been here a matter of weeks when a young RAF corporal was killed on his motorbike,” says Doreen. “That was my first service funeral. We got dressed up in all our best blues. All lined up outside - I found that very sad. There were also two RAF police corporals drowned in the river. I had to get in touch with the families - that kind of job always seemed to fall to me.”

Another death occurred when there was an accident in a hangar. “If you look closely, you can still see a black cross painted on the ground to mark the tragedy as a member of ground crew, having gone up, came down. They could be damned dangerous things if they hadn’t been made safe,” remembers Les.

Mention of rivalries brings the Dux out of their brief melancholy. “There was a fierce rivalry between the two squadrons - 64 and 65. Not that we really had any problems with the other squadron. Although we never used to mix, even in the Naafi. We used nod acquaintances. We were kept separate, not sure whether by accident or design,” says Larry.

There’s a rivalry even today. When they meet up there’s always a lot of ‘Mickey-taking’. New members are asked by chairman ‘Bob’ to stand up and introduce themselves – boos and cheers will invariably come in equal measure.

Another rivalry was between air crew and ground crew, “for their bizarre ways of going on. All their high-jinks…” says engine fitter Jim. “We were about as low as you could get in the Air Force - being in the technical trades. We used to call them all sorts of names. But at the same time, you had keep in mind that they were the people who would have to do it if the time came. And some of them did…”

Jim also highlights an often overlooked aspect of being in the technical trades - the stress of knowing that if an engine failed after you’d worked on it, a pilot could lose his life.

“You had to go out to see the pilot off,” recalls air-frame mechanic Don. “He’d say: ‘Have you done all your checks, airman?’ Then he’d shake all the ailerons and look at the undercarriage. As he got in, you’d go up the steps and strap him in. You had to stay on the airfield until he came back. There’d be you, an engine mechanic and an instrument mechanic. You’d hear the engines roar off and 25 minutes later, he’d come back. If it over-ran you’d be concerned, but invariably it was fine.”