Thanks Les and Grounded

Dad was a pilot, on Canberra PR7s on both tours. The first tour 80 Sqn Laarbruch (for only 2 days!) then 17 Sqn, initially at Wahn (from Sep 56) and then at Wildenrath (from Apr 57) until Mar 59. We lived, for quite brief periods I think, at Troisdorf and Wahn, before moving to Wildenrath where we lived at 14OMQ, fairly close to the school. The second tour, all with 17Sqn at Wildenrath, was Jun 62 to Jan 64 when he left the RAF. Unfortunately I accidentally passed my 11-plus just before this 2nd tour and so ended up stuck in a boarding school in Lincolnshire. Still I was able to visit about 4 or 5 times, but it wasn’t like living in Germany.

I’m afraid my memories of Germany and in particular Wildenrath were very childish ones but they were also very fond memories and, although I have traced my family history back to the early 1700’s I realise that there are big gaps in my knowledge of my own early life.

I’m afraid I can’t remember the name of the station CO. SqnLdr B.R. Wade was OC 17Sqn during the first tour. I remember him as being VERY important. The navigators Dad usually flew with were a FltLt Wright (1st tour) and FltLt Jock Bulloch (2nd). I wonder what happened to them?

I remember one day sneaking into the Comms Sqn hangar and climbing into a number of different aircraft including a transport aircraft (did they have Ansons at the time) before being extracted from another (possibly a Vampire?) by a very agitated serviceman until reclaimed by a very angry dad. We also used to cycle around the airfield and I remember many happy hours playing in the front half of a Javelin which from memory was used for fire practice. We also tried to get into the nuclear dump but didn’t get very far!

I remember that you could travel almost anywhere on the base by walking along the large pipes that seemed to go everywhere. And didn’t the ejection seat trainer thingey look like fun (never did get a go).

I remember my first girlfriend aged 6 who was a really great girlfriend because she could ride a bike as good as a boy. Her name was Patricia. Her father was a NZ exchange officer. I wonder what happened to her?

I can remember the sound of the Canberra engines being tested. Why did they they run them up so high and suddenly shut them down? And I remember lying in bed at night during squadron scrambles. What a magnificent sound! I never did get to follow dad’s footsteps (colour blind and short sighted) but many years later I did get my PPL(A). Still, even a whole squadron of Cessna 172s doesn’t quite sound the same.

But above all I remember how proud I was of my dad. Sorry about rambling on. This probably isn’t the right place for sentimental reminiscences – if anyone would like to PM me, please do!