Boy Entrant; The Recollections of a Royal Air Force Brat (54 page)

As the small party of Air Officers approached, Flight Sergeant Boy Gilkes took the deepest breath he could muster and then called out, “Parade, general salute…pres-ent ARMS!” With the last word of the command still on his lips, he turned to face the approaching party, at the same time bringing his right hand up smartly in salute as the crash of hands against rifles noisily heralded our “present arms”. At the same time, Trumpet Majors Williams and Barber greeted the Reviewing Officer with a resounding fanfare as he stepped up on the dais, turned to the parade and saluted in response.

On completion of this portion of the ceremonial, Flight Sergeant Boy Gilkes marched up to the dais and, whilst saluting the Air Vice-Marshal, announced, “Numbers 1 and 2 Squadrons ready for your inspection, SIR!”

AVM Hutton then descended from the dais as Gilkes gestured towards No. 1 Squadron and accompanied the Reviewing Officer as he headed in that direction, with the two other Air Officers bringing up the rear. As the first squadron endured inspection, the remainder of the parade was stood at ease. Meanwhile, the station band, consisting of a number of accomplished musicians, began playing the first of a number of pieces from their repertoire of “music to inspect troops by.” It was pleasant to listen to and helped while away the time that it took for the inspection party to wend its way along the ranks of 1 Squadron. Every now and then, the Reviewing Officer would stop and talk to one of the boys. He would smile and chat in relaxed friendly fashion, usually in stark contrast to the boy, who would retain his stiff demeanour and stare fixedly ahead as he responded to the officer. Occasionally, someone somewhere on the parade ground would faint and crumple at the knees. No one ever fell full length: that was a cartoon-like caricature. The giveaway came when a person started swaying; before long his knees buckled and then down he sagged, crumpling to the ground in an untidy heap. Medics who were standing at strategic points around the perimeter of the parade always rushed over to get the poor unfortunate back on his feet and off to the side; there he would be allowed to sit for a while and savour a reviving drink of water. Fortunately, none of the fainters fell on their bayonets, which seemed to ridicule the fear I had harboured earlier. Meanwhile, the inspection continued relentlessly.

After what seemed like a very long time, the party returned to the front of No. 1 Squadron at a quick pace. Salutes were exchanged and then Flight Sergeant Boy Gilkes led the group of officers towards our squadron. Sergeant Boy Critchley, who had been watching the approaching party out of the corner of his eye, brought us to attention. Overcoming the stiffness brought on by standing in one position for so long, we responded with a loud reverberating thud of boots on the smooth concrete of the Drill Shed floor.

“No. 2 Squadron ready for inspection, sir!” Critchley announced, as he turned to the Reviewing Officer and saluted.

“Carry on Sergeant Boy,” the Air Vice-Marshal replied.

The same slow inspection procedure was repeated. As the great man passed closely in front of me, he glanced at me up and down, from my head to my toes. I studiously avoided his eyes and focused instead on the ornate white enamelled cross hanging from a crimson ribbon around his neck, to rest on the knot of his necktie—the cross signified his knighthood as a Companion of the Most Honourable Order of the Bath. My tactic seemed to work because he passed me by without stopping, leaving me with mixed feelings of both relief and disappointment: relief that he hadn’t said anything to me and disappointment for exactly the same reason.

The inspecting party finished reviewing “B” Flight and then moved on to “C” Flight until, after another seemingly interminable age, the inspection ordeal finally came to an end. The Reviewing Officer and his party made their way back in the general direction of the dais, whilst Sergeant Boy Critchley detached himself from the group and returned to the front and centre of the squadron, from where he gave us the order to stand at ease. Meanwhile, the small group of Air Officers, accompanied by Flight Sergeant Boy Gilkes, continued walking until they reached the central position at the front of the parade, where they came to a stop. Gilkes turned to face the parade and brought us to attention. Having done that, he swivelled around on heel and toe to face the Reviewing Officer and then saluted him. The Reviewing Officer returned the salute in a more casual manner than the Flight Sergeant Boy’s, while offering a few post-inspection comments that were inaudible to all but that small group of people out in front of the parade. Flight Sergeant

Boy Gilkes thanked the Air Vice-Marshal and then requested his permission to carry on. Permission was granted before Air Vice-Marshal Hutton turned away to lead his companions back to the dais. The worst part of the parade was over and now the proudest and most uplifting moment of the ceremony was almost upon us.

Gilkes drew himself up to his full height, as he faced us. “Numbers 1 and 2 Squadrons, SLO-ope ARMS!”

The rifles were transferred to our left shoulders.

A few more orders followed that had us close up the ranks and then straighten them out. When this was all complete, Gilkes marched resolutely towards the dais and came to a classic parade ground halt just a few feet in front of the dais—facing Air Vice-Marshal Hutton—and saluted.

“Permission for the 29th Entry to march past, sir?” He enunciated in a precise military manner.

The Reviewing Officer returned the salute, “Permission granted. Carry on Flight Sergeant Boy.”

Gilkes returned to his post. Now facing the parade, and pausing briefly to gather his wind, he gave the long-awaited order, “Numbers 1 and 2 Squadrons will march past in column of route, Number 1 Squadron leading. Move to the right in column of threes, RI-ight TURN!”

By rights, this order should have been “in column of flight,” which would have been the precursor to marching past the dais in line abreast, as we had practised day after day on the parade ground. Disappointingly, there wasn’t enough space in the Drill Shed to accommodate the line-abreast march-past and so we would have to march past in the less spectacular column of threes.

With a loud crashing noise that reverberated throughout the Drill Shed, the entire 29th entry executed a right turn. The Flight and Squadron Commander boy NCOs then marched smartly to the head of their flights and squadrons. Gilkes moved forward to take up position at the head of ‘A’ Flight of No. 1 Squadron, in front of Sergeant Boy Foster. On this cue, Corporal Boy Vickers gave the order that would start the march past.

“‘A’ Flight, by the left, quick march!”

Simultaneously, the Boy Entrant trumpet band started playing
The 29th Entry March
as the flight moved off. This piece had been composed especially for the march past by Drum Major Nobby Duff, Trumpet Major Mike Williams and Cliff Thomson.

When the ‘A’ Flight had made reasonable progress, the ‘B’ Flight Commander issued his order for ‘B’ Flight to march—and so it went on, until all flights of the graduating entry were on the march,
en route
to marching past the dais.

That was where the Reviewing Officer now stood, hand resting on the hilt of his sword, waiting to take the salute that we would present as we marched past him.

When the ‘A’ Flight Commander reached a certain marker, he turned his head slightly to his right and gave the order, “‘A’ Flight, SLO-ow MARCH!”

The marchers in the flight immediately ceased to swing their right arms, clamping them to the side of their bodies instead. At the same time, their pace of marching slowed to approximately half speed. This pace forced them to move forward in what appeared to be a series of jerks, instead of the freely flowing movement of the standard marching pace. With the transition into slow time complete and the marchers now within a few feet of the Reviewing Officer, the ‘A’ Flight Commander now gave the order, “‘A’ Flight, EYE-es RIGHT!”

All members of the flight immediately turned their heads sharply to the right, in order to meet the Reviewing Officer’s gaze when they came abreast of him. The exception to this was the Guide in the front rank, whose job was to steer the flight on an unwavering course past the saluting dais. Meanwhile Gilkes, Foster and Vickers all raised their right hands to the peaks of their hats in salute to Air Vice-Marshal Hutton. The Reviewing Officer, having brought himself to attention, returned the salute, whilst his left hand remained resting on the hilt of his ceremonial sword.

Each flight marched past the dais in similar manner, receiving a salute from the Reviewing Officer in the process. It took several minutes for all six flights to complete the march and then return to their former positions, arrayed before the dais. The Boy Entrant trumpet band then ceased playing, creating an unexpected moment of eerie silence, which didn’t last for very long. It was now time for the second major part of our ceremonial.

Gilkes turned and faced the dais once more, taking a deep breath before issuing the command, “Numbers 1 and 2 Squadrons will advance in review order, by the centre, quick MARCH!”

The trumpet band struck up as the 29th entry marched forward
en masse
for 15 paces, at which point Gilkes ordered, “Numbers 1 and 2 Squadrons, HALT!”

We came to the halt as the band abruptly ceased playing.

Gilkes called out his next order, “Numbers 1 and 2 Squadrons, general salute, pre-sent ARMS!

The Station band struck up, with a fanfare based on the first few bars of the Royal Air Force March. At the same time, Gilkes and the other 29th Entry commanders raised their hands in salute for the duration of the fanfare, while we in the ranks brought our weapons to the “Present Arms” position. Air Vice-Marshal Hutton and his fellow officers on the dais returned the salute, while the spectators rose from their seats and stood up as a mark of respect. When the fanfare finished, Gilkes ordered us to slope arms, which ended the salute.

And now it was time for the final act of the ceremony—arguably the best part of the entire ceremony. It began with Flight Sergeant Boy Gilkes advancing once more to the dais, saluting the Reviewing Officer and requesting permission for the paraded squadrons to leave the parade ground—the March-Off. Air Vice-Marshal Hutton returned the Flight Sergeant Boy’s salute and granted permission. Gilkes then made an about turn, marched back towards us and halted when he arrived at his post.

Gilkes now gave us the order to march and simultaneously the Station Band struck up with “Auld Lang Syne”. Gilkes, at the head of the column, wheeled to lead the flight out of the Drill Shed and into the drizzle that had replaced the earlier fog.

All three flights of No. 1 Squadron followed behind in turn, as the supporting entries maintained their “Present Arms” position. A happy grin spread broadly across my face and the faces of those around me that I could see. We were revelling in the same feeling of pure joy that had been visible on the faces of the 26th, 27th and 28th entries when they too had passed this way before us. I also had a good idea of the thoughts that were passing through the minds of the poor sods in the supporting entries, as they were forced to gaze on our brazenly smirking faces—thoughts that ranged anywhere from, “It’s our turn next” to “I wish it were me!” And one day it would come to pass for them, just as it had come to pass for us after much patience and forbearance.

By rights, we should have had a proper Guard of Honour for our send-off, but it was impractical. The limited space in the Drill Shed forced the supporting entries to remain in place, instead of forming up into the traditional Guard of Honour that we would then have marched through, had the parade taken place on the Square. But it was a small loss compared to the major prize—the Passing-Out itself.

The first stop after marching off the parade ground was to return to the Armoury and hand in our rifles and bayonets. That’s where we took the opportunity of breaking ranks to congratulate each other for the first time on successfully passing out of Boy Entrant service.

CHAPTER 13

Manhood Delayed

T
here was time to enjoy a quick “Woody” Woodbine, for those of us who had handed our rifles back in to the Armoury and now waited around for the others to do likewise. Quite a few of us were smokers, as was made evident by several small clouds of blue tobacco smoke that suddenly started appearing all around the exterior of the Armoury. The order to fall in soon came, however, so we got rid of the fags and formed up in our ranks once again, but minus rifles this time. After all the preliminaries of dressing off and turning into column of route were completed, we marched back to the Drill Shed. By this time the supporting entries had left the scene and were on their way towards the Armoury to return their weapons. For them, it was all over with nothing more to look forward to right now but a return to normal duties. Later in the evening it would be a different matter, but happily we wouldn’t be there to witness the ascendancy of the 30th to senior entry status. For the moment, though, it was still the 29th Entry’s day and there were yet more items pending on the Passing Out programme. The first order of business was to partake of some light refreshment, in the form of familiar urns of mess tea and trays of mess tray-baked sponge cake, kindly provided by the Station catering staff. Parents and other family who had attended the ceremony were also invited to join us. Half-an-hour or so passed by as we all stood around munching cake, drinking mess tea from disposable cardboard cups (also kindly provided by the Station catering staff) and answering the urgent call of nature, although not necessarily in that particular order of priority.