"This is what it was like to be in the RAF in the 1980s," writes Sheffield Star community reporter

Sheffield Star reporter Errol Edwards shares his experiences of what life was like for a young man in the RAF.
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April 1983: After giving my oath to Queen and Country at the RAF Careers Information Office (CIO) in Sheffield and a few tears I was bundled off to RAF Swinderby the following day. It’s about fifty miles east of Sheffield but I’d never heard of it.

I began my RAF career at RAF Swinderby Training Base, which is a short journey from Newark train Station.

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The six week training course was a shock to the system – which it was designed to be – to this nearly 18-year-old man.

RAF Mount Pleasant 1987RAF Mount Pleasant 1987
RAF Mount Pleasant 1987

There was a lot of shouting, which we all took our stride, quite funny really apart from when it was directed at you, and even then it could be quite tounge-bitingly hilarious.

This was designed to change young niave civilian men and women into members of the armed forces, and was the most intense training you’d get as a member of the RAF

There was a whole new world of terminology, and the vast majority were shortened to abbreviations which you had to rapidly learn or pretend you knew.

My drill instructor was a man called Corporal Jones.

With my oldest RAF friend Tim JarmanWith my oldest RAF friend Tim Jarman
With my oldest RAF friend Tim Jarman
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Corporal Jones, who will be remembered by many, was a man of great humour, and great delivery.

I spent the vast majority of my time laughing at his many comments or the telling offs which were administered to many trainees, including myself.

After six weeks of slog and laughs, I finally passed out from completed training at Swinderby. This included a big parade in front of local dignitaries, high ranking officers, and a fly past from Bulldog trainer aircraft. But more importantly friends and family were there to share it with me. It was a proud day.

After a very quick one week’s leave it was off to trade training.

A trip up Gibraltar Rock 1989A trip up Gibraltar Rock 1989
A trip up Gibraltar Rock 1989
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This was all the way done in South Wales, a place called RAF St Athens, just outside Barry Island of Gavin and Stacey fame.

This where I was trade trained as I was a MT Driver and gained my ordinary driving licence and HGV Licence.

From there I was posted to RAF Brampton which was a lovely RAF base situated in the small vcillage of the same name.

On reflection, this was an ideal first posting close to the local town Huntingdon – the home of Oliver Cromwell – close to the A1 and in a small village.

Wedding day 1983Wedding day 1983
Wedding day 1983
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So this is my first base with my now wife Elaine and soon-to-arrive first child Lee.

It was not only my first posting, but also my first home and job. And as always, there was a steep learning curve.

I actually met some lovely people, but this was 1983 and well before political correctness (PC) was even mentioned.

This gave way to a lot of language I heard, before it was directed at me because I was the only black guy in the village this made for a highly pressurised atmosphere.

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It meant that it was not really a happy experience even though it was a beautiful and great place to be.

But not for me, I couldn’t wait to get away.

RAF Gibraltar 1989RAF Gibraltar 1989
RAF Gibraltar 1989

Everywhere I’ve been in my life from joining the RAF to working in civilian life there’s always been that one person who made life bearable and always made life feel a lot better.

He never knew this, but Sergeant Bob Williamson was a life saver, with an extremely good sense of humour.

He had a twinkle in his eye, and was a fellow Yorkshire man. He was always happy to give me time off to get home to Sheffield when possible. He made my three years at Brampton a lot more bearable. Sergeant Williamson controlled The MT section with Aplomb.

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In 1986 I was given an interesting posting to RAF Scampton, the home of The world famous Red Arrows.

In July 1986 me, my heavily pregnant wife Elaine and my two year old son Lee moved to Lincolnshire.

Elaine was so heavily pregnant when we arrived that she gave birth to our daughter Jahmaine within two weeks of arriving at Scampton.

I was stationed at Scampton for two years.

I spent two years of watching the Red Arrows nearly every day during the season and three times a day during off seasons.

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Hand on heart, I never got bored of seeing those guys.The Red arrows are the best at what they do.

But it’s not without risk. In January 1988, we as a Station were tasked to achieve “Black Top” which is a phrase used throughout the Air Force to achieve a runway which is clear of snow and ice.

When this is achieved everyone is pleased and happy, and means an airfield is operational which is the most important thing to an RAF Station.

We worked hard from before daybreak to clear the airfield, and achieved this mid morning,allowing the airfield to open.

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The airfield duly opened and the “Reds” went up for practice. We all went for a well earned cup of tea. We could hear them but not see them. Suddenly there was a loud thump,the ground shuddered. Sadly one of the Red Arrow’s Hawks had hit the ground killing the pilot FLT LT Neil Maclachlan.

A very sad day for all associated with RAF Scampton and The Red Arrows.

While I was based at Scampton I was posted (on my own) to The Falkland islands for four months. Thankfully for me this was five years after the actual war. But the military, the army, navy and Royal Air Force still holds a strong presence on the Isles, 8,000 miles away in The South Atlantic.

I can honestly say I would have been frightened to death to have been there in 1982 and fought in ‘the conflict’ anyone saying any different is a liar or “not wired up ryt” as we say in Sheffield.

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After what seemed like a long four months, on my return to Scampton, I was given a posting to warmer climes.

RAF Gibraltar is categorised as “hot posting” due to its meditrainean climate. This looking back was a fabulous posting for me and my young family.. My wife Elaine and two children had a lovely time there. We spent more days on the beach, than not in Gibraltar.

As every base I was posted to elements of the non-PC brigade were also present which did taint the posting somewhat, but this was of its time and I had to live with it, or so I kept telling myself.

For a young lad of 23, 1,500 miles away from family and familiarity, this took away some of the enjoyment of the all year round sun.

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All this year round sun was an ideal opportunity for someone who enjoyed sport. If I wanted I could have played football every evening of the week!

So in the football season it was wall to wall football and in the summer a great opportunity to enjoy athletics.

I was a sprinter, and this was an ideal temperature to indulge in sport.

Gibraltar was my first introduction to Spain which borders Gibraltar with a little town called La Linea de la Concepcion to give it its full title.

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I was looking forward to learning Spanish, because I thought I’d have to learn it as Gibraltarians spoke a version of Spanish and Spain was just across the border.

But it wasn’t necessary because Gibraltarians are bilingual and mainly spoke English,well to the English anyway, so little or no Spanish learnt – and very little needed.

After two years in the sun we were posted back to the UK.

RAF Waddington is a large base, just six miles outside Lincoln. This would be my final and longest posting from 1990- 1995. Waddington was an excellent place for my children to grow up in very safe and with a good school close by.

By this time Lee was six and Jahmaine four, both growing up quickly and I’d been in the RAF seven years and seen some changes.

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The Berlin Wall came down, I’d served through the first Gulf war, but not in it I hasten to add.

I learned the ways of the Force and was quite settled in the Air Force by this point, but as all through my career felt some semblance of isolation due to casual, overt and covert racism.

All the way through my Air Force career I had to listen to comments and remarks you would get dismissed for in most jobs now, with little or no support from people who were charged with your welfare.

Some comments came from people you had to show respect to, which I found this very difficult.

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This did affect me and my life before and after the military. It made me reserved and very reticent, which I suspect my superiors may have viewed as a poor attitude, which may have affected my chances of promotion. Who knows? Maybe I didn’t deserve it. I had many white friends in the Air Force who also didn’t get promoted so we’ll never know.

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