For a bachelor in his early 20s, life in the Officers' Mess
at Royal Air Force Church Fenton was particularly agreeable which was just as
well because that was where we were required to live with no option for outside
arrangements. This was in the days, before the concept of the “military
salary,” when married and single officers were paid differently; married
officers, but only those over the age of 25, of course, attracting a premium to
their salary to reflect their settled status.
My room was in the East Wing at the end of the corridor on
the first floor of the pre-war style Officers Mess. The room was carpeted, large, and spacious
with double aspect sash windows.
Furniture was utilitarian: a single bed with wooden head board, bedside
table, a chest of drawers and a large built-in wardrobe. There was a wash basin but communal
lavatories, showers and baths were located down the corridor. As a Flying Officer, I shared a Batman with 4
or 5 other junior Officers. The Batman
would clean and service the room, make the bed, polish shoes, press uniforms
and be generally indispensable. A
particularly important function was a hot cup of tea with the early morning
call.
The Officers' Mess was the home of the single Officer and
the social club for this that were married.
In those days, married Officers usually lived in Service provided married
quarters which were located alongside the Station domestic accommodation. The
Mess was regulated by Queen’s Regulations administered by a Committee headed by
a nominated president, the President of the Mess Committee or PMC for short.
The PMC was usually a Wing Commander. The Committee were all nominated rather
than elected. Most Officers performed a “secondary duty,” additional to their
primary professional specialisation. Secondary duties were important because of
their contribution to the all-important promotion assessment tool, the Form
1369, or annual confidential report. A demanding secondary duty, performed
well, could make a significant difference to recommendations for promotion. The
Mess Secretary, the executive to the PMC, was just such a demanding secondary
duty which was sought after or avoided accordingly. On the other hand, the
Messing Officer was often populated by the first officer to raise his voice
about the quality of food.
The importance of such general experience in later life was
often underestimated at the time. Thirty odd years later, when I was leaving the
Royal Air Force, I undertook a resettlement course in finding a second career.
We started off by writing a CV and our instructor asked whether any of us had
acquired and relevant commercial experience that we might exploit in our
employment sales pitch? When no one answered he asked whether any of us had
ever served on a Mess Committee? One chap ventured that he had once been Mess Secretary. Our instructor translated this to the CV as “regulated
the operations of a medium sized hotel.”
This was scarcely an exaggeration since the Mess would employ well over
50 Service and civilian staff. This
highlighted a wider truth in that as ex-servicemen we tended to believe that
all the skills we had acquired during military service were, somehow, military
specific. Quite the opposite was true because
the wealth of management and financial skills acquired during professional and
general service provided perfect building blocks for the specific attributes necessary
in a civilian career, as I was to discover to my advantage later.
Living In, as it was called, provided free accommodation and
food although all Messes supplemented their menus by levying a daily charge on
members known as Extra Messing. This
ensured four meals a day beginning with breakfast served by liveried waiters in
the Mess dining room. There were a dozen or more large polished mahogany tables
all seating six or eight but most officers preferred their own company at that
time of day and spread themselves out with the newspaper, avoiding contact with
their fellow inmates. What would now be termed “the full English” was de rigeur
although two eggs, boiled to the second or kippers was not uncommon.
Fortunately, lack of proximity to one’s fellow man avoided any irritation with
such idiosyncrasies. After breakfast ones second cup of tea could be enjoyed in
comfort of the leather arm chairs of the Ante Room across the corridor from the
Dining Room. By which time it was time for Met Briefing, a brisk stroll of all of
150 paces out of the Mess, across the
road that divided the domestic accommodation from the Station, through
the ornate wrought iron gates, passing the Guard Room on the right and the gate
guardian Spitfire on the left, to the briefing room in the middle of the three
hangars bounding the airfield flight line.
After met brief we would change into flying clothing
including, if during the winter, a fluffy white all-in-one romper suit worn
under the green flying suit. Over the
top of the flying suit was worn the waterproof cold weather jacket which would
have been essential in any land survival situation. The cold weather jacket also had matching trousers
but they were not often worn. Two pairs
of thick socks were necessary in the black calf length flying boots. Strict dress rules applied so before making
the return journey to the Mess for lunch, it was necessary to change out of all
the flying clothing into correct uniform. This was a pain.
The bar would be open
at lunchtimes and was usually crowded since alcohol at lunchtime was perfectly
normal. Lunch, three courses, silver service, was much more sociable than
breakfast – spaces on the mahogany tables filled up before a new table was
started and conversation, absent at breakfast, flowed. Coffee was laid out in
the Ante Room to which one could repair with a magazine or newspaper. The Mess
provided a full range of reading material.
As well as the latest edition of the London Gazette, newspapers ranged
from all the red tops to the broadsheets, the Yorkshire Post and the both the Sporting
Life and the Sporting Post. Then a full complement of magazines from Country
Life to Private Eye, all bound in embossed leather covers. The mess staff would
collect discarded newspapers from where officers had abandoned then, carefully,
smooth, fold and replace in neat rows on the Ante Room table, ready to be crumpled
again. Some messes would even iron the
used newspapers but this did not happen at Fenton. There would even be time for
a frame of snooker in the billiard room and, although an adjacent room houses a
black and white television set, there was no such thing as lunchtime TV in
those days. And back to the flight line
for the afternoon programme at 1330 hours.
“Last Landing” was usually 1700 hours or darkness, whichever
came first. It was important not to overrun last landing to avoid antagonising
the engineers and air traffic controllers upon whose support your flying
training tasks depended. And back to the
Mess for tea. Student officers were accommodated in a separate Mess which meant
that meal times were gentile occasions. Tea time in a student Mess was,
invariably, a bun fight and best avoided. For staff, toast, butter, meat paste
spread, and jam would be laid out in the Ante Room along with a hot plate of
tea pots and the days flying plusses and minuses could be discussed enthusiastically
or the finishing touches to the Telegraph crossword applied.
The next event of the day was the bar opening at 1800 hours.
More pronounced than at lunchtime, the sound of the bar shutters rising was
like a starting pistol and those who just happened to be passing the bar door
at the time immediately turned left or right as appropriate. Those otherwise
sitting peacefully in the Ante Room suddenly became restless and similarly made
their way across the corridor. The principle bar staff was a local civilian who
we all called Mr Mac. He was assisted by a serving airman, SAC John Wilson, another
down to earth local who was completely unflappable, despite regular Officers
high spirits (for other ranks, by the way, “high spirits” translates as vandalism).
One was permitted to remain in the bar
in working dress, never flying clothing, until 1900 hours when dinner service
commenced. Thereafter access to the
public rooms was only permissible in regulation mufti. During the week lounge suits were required
although on Wednesdays, Wednesday afternoon was “Sports Afternoon,” there was a
relaxation and sports jackets or blazers were permissible. A lot of people did play sport but equally a
form of Egyptian PT which involved a gentle climb to 2” 6’ and level off was
popular.
Dinner was another silver service three or four course
affair. There were fixed meal times and
popular items on the menu often sold out quickly. Some Officers didn’t seem to mind the doors
open rush whilst others, who had perhaps enjoyed a couple of large Tio Pepes in
the bar, preferred a later assignment.
In this respect, again, it was important not to antagonise the Mess
staff by turning up late. After all, who
was to know what might happen to your food behind the swing doors from the
servery to the dining room. After dinner
one did not linger too long at the table (to avoid antagonising the staff) and
we would repair to the Ante Room for a cup of coffee served in standard pattern
gold-rimmed cups and saucers. At which
stage it was time to decide what to do with the rest of the evening. I’ll write about the social life and getting
on as a junior officer shortly.
Posts
