Chapter 11

1961- '63

Missiles, You're Fired!

We soon settled back to the normal camp routine.  There were some bad winters in East Anglia during our stay but it did give us a bit of practice in 'drifting' the mini-bus around corners on the airfield perimeter track where the off-road grass gave us a degree of safety.  This came in handy one dark and snowy night as I was taking some emergency spares to North Pickenham, one of the satellites.  Passing through the main street of South Pickenham after midnight I lost control of the mini-bus and slid gracefully sideways for thirty or forty yards before regaining control at the end of the village.

We had been working under pressure for some weeks since returning from the States.  One evening I fell asleep in the evening and Kath, unable to wake me just covered me up on the settee and slept on an easy chair.  In the morning I was still out cold and the doctor was called.  Still dead to the world I was carted off to the RAF hospital at Ely where I remained unconscious for three days.  During this time, a lumber puncture was done, plus various other tests; Kath and my mother were called in told that I may not recover and if I did would probably end up in a wheelchair.  Luckily, within a week or so I seemed to have recovered and apart from being in a very confused state for a week or two I probably have no lasting physical effects.  Apparently it was some minor form of meningitis.  Over the years I have noticed the odd light headed spell but nothing that has caused any major problems, apart from being a grown man playing with dolls! 

During my illness Kath had been motoring between Feltwell and Ely in the old '39 Morris and on one of the trips another driver shot out of a side road and hit her.  Little damage was done but after giving him a piece of her mind she picked up the bumper and threw it in the back.  A while later the rather shamefaced, offending driver came for his bumper which Kath had assumed was hers.  During my convalescence we decided to go post-war and swapped the '39 Morris for a '55 Ford Prefect.

By mid '61 the new houses were becoming ready for occupation.  They were fairly flat box-like buildings made by putting up huge wooden shutters then pouring cement into these moulds.  Because we had accepted the very basic house previously we were given number 3, Birdview Square (they were within sight of the missiles - 'birds').  This was somewhat unfortunate in that the house - and car - was visible from the site and in the event of an emergency in the evening or weekends when I was not on duty, the jeep would arrive to pick me up (our houses did not even have phones in those pre-mobile days).  The new house took a few weeks to dry out thoroughly and we were all given a couple of tons of coal to hasten the process before the decorators came in for the final coat of emulsion; or was it still oil bound distemper, then?).

Still trying to catch up with my education I decided to take an A level in art.  There were no classes at A level on camp but I talked the Education officer into letting me take the exam. anyway, having shown some examples of 'Course Work' done.  This included the prize winning camp crest, the crests on the missiles and some puppets, one of which had recently been entered in a RAF craft competition.  There were the usual set questions on history of art and various drawing exercises but also a choice of two 'studies' which had to be provided by the Education Section.  One was the 'Music Room' and the other was the 'Science Lab.'  As I was not allowed to know the choices before the exam. both had to be provided but only the science one was used.  It was to be in pencil and included a sheep skull, glass beaker, a yellow duster, microscope, etc.  A choice of painting was given before the test and I chose the story of the "Geese that cackled and saved Rome from the Vandals".  I scraped through in the summer '62 exam.                                     Trial run --->

Although contact was made at last with other puppeteers, it was only through the Guild newsletters.  However, in spite of doing very few shows at Feltwell I was thinking up and making new puppets.  The RAF held regular Arts and Crafts exhibitions with prizes in various classes which I occasionally entered.  I cannot remember the book now but one puppetry book I found in a library made a statement which I have seen repeated in another book.  It was to the effect that the children's baby-doll type leg joint will not work.  Those who make these sort of statements have either never tried or have, more likely, simply copied someone else's opinion.  I also wanted to make a sexy figured puppet as an entry to the woodcarving section, of the craft exhibition.  It had to have a 'swimming costume' type bottom so the usual wire and staple leg joint would be useless; this type of joint requires directoire bloomers to cover all the bits.  It had to be the baby doll joint. 

What the doubters probably did is to look at a child's doll and see that it cannot walk.  Of course it cannot without a waist joint.  Anyway, with a few rough sketches it looked feasible, so I started carving. 

Thigh bones end in a ball joint at the hip.  A man's ball joint enters more or less at right angle like a typical puppet joint whilst a woman's enters at an angle like the baby doll (This is why men, generally, run faster and women's bottoms wiggle so nicely when they walk; it is something to do with, “I’ll go and catch the dinner, you stay at home and have babies!”).  Next find a sock of the right size and before fitting the legs, push her bottom into the toe such that the heel just fits over her bosom.  Put a little glue through the sock onto the wood to hold the sock firm at the leg joints and snip a tiny hole where the leg pegs go and push in the legs.  Make sure that legs move freely before finally gluing (if pegs are a good tight fit, do not glue as you may need to change the costume).

       Perfect belly                      Perfect bum               Nice wiggle     Legs cross when sitting

She walks very well with a seductive sway; she also does a very provocative bum wiggle facing away from the audience and 'walking on the spot' but does not sit easily, having to cross legs but that need not be a problem - just do not sit her down!   Perhaps with slightly different angles at the hip?

Anyway, it was not good enough for first place in its class – she only came second but not bad after only a dozen intermittent years since starting puppetry.

It was about this time that it was Kath’s turn in hospital.  We had been to an ‘Olde Tyme’ dance in the village hall and whilst doing the ‘Gay Gordon’s’, Kath had stubbed her toe.  A little painful with slight bleeding at the toe nail but hardly worth bothering about. However, next morning the red and blue lines were moving up the foot so a trip to the doctor resulted in an immediate transfer to hospital, a removal of the toe nail and three days in Ely Hospital.  I had to take a few days off to look after the children and as it was a school break they were quite happy to go sight seeing after visiting mummy in ‘dock’.  

In spite of the ‘Cold War’ edginess surrounding everything at that time we did have quite a good social life.  Apart from dances and special events at the Sergeant’s Mess we were able to go to the NCO club at the USAF base at Lakenheath.  It was a reciprocal arrangement with the Yanks who were also based at Feltwell and looked after the warheads in underground bunkers.  They could spend evenings playing Bingo at the Sergeant’s Mess and we could go and dance to excellent bands and listen to top singers such as Dickie Valentine and the Beverly Sisters. 

Kath in the middle with me and Nigel either side and two American friends at Lakenheath NCO Club.

By late '61 the cold war was at its height America was looking for longer ranged weapons.  The 1,500  mile Thor meant too much collaboration with other countries and the 5000 mile range weapons were not yet ready.  Until then the USA still had to have the assistance of other countries.  The fixed bases with a twenty minute countdown were going to be replaced with American airborne missile with a few minutes take off time.  Britain would be using these missiles with our 'V' bombers.  This meant fitting US missiles to UK aircraft.  Not an easy task with all the various differences in mechanical and electrical standards.  It also meant more training for RAF personnel. 

This was not to be just a men only, nine month trip but a two year posting of selected people (or as Jimmy Edwards used to say about joining the RAF, "The Cream -  they whipped me in and now I'm just a clot!") with our families in Northern Florida.  We started with our preliminary courses at RAF Newton, near Nottingham in the winter of '61/'62.  An admin. group had been sent out to Tampa, Florida to organise our accommodation, etc., teachers were recruited for our children, an inventory of every item in the mobile homes where we were to live was given to us along with dates and times of flights; we were to arrive in Florida on the 26th June 1962. 

Meanwhile, the winter turned out to be a harsh one.  We took it in turns to drive across country from Newton to Feltwell and back at weekends.  Minor prangs were common on the treacherously icy roads and we even started to travel in convoy for mutual aid.  At one point we stopped for someone in a ditch who told us not to get too close as they were already on top of another car they had stopped to help.  It was not all bad, though.  Uncle Frank (the Guardsman in chapter 1) had a small-holding in Bassingfield Lane, Gamston just south of Nottingham and Nigel ('father' in Wocky) and I spent the odd weekend there helping him with the pigs, turkeys and chickens.  He also had a horse, retired from the Household Cavalry, which he would ride, like the Lord of the Manor, along the lanes of Gamston ( These horses were only allowed to be retired to specially selected homes which were inspected as if royalty was visiting!). 

Although we learned a lot at Newton, the knowledge was not to be used (At least, not then.).  In December 61, Kennedy stopped the British involvement with the Skybolt missile and our postings were cancelled, although we did continue to the end of the Newton course, just in case.  We felt quite sorry for those already in the States who where settling in for a long stay and had bought cars, etc. We technicians really did feel like the cream that became the clots. 

The poetry writing was not limited to America but continued at Feltwell.  The cartoons below were pinned up on the wall of the site crew room and remained after I left but the ones shown here are from a 35mm snap, digitally enhanced with a Lexmark printer, fibre tip and crayons!

With our tails between our legs, we returned to work at Feltwell but they were managing quite well without us and the camp was running down anyway.  After a few months, most of the Skybolt group were given postings and I was to go to Halton, the top RAF Technical Training School, near Wendover, Buckinghamshire.  Again, with much travelling  back and forth from Halton to Feltwell, until we were allocated married quarters, I decided that we were due another change of vehicle so shortly before I left Feltwell we changed the Ford for our favourite car, a 1960 Morris 1000 Traveller.

Learnt: Don't believe every thing you read in puppet books!  Honing the writing skills.

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