1966 I leave the Royal Air Force

Many blog entries ago, there's a heading: "1957 I Join the Royal Air Force."

So, here are the reasons I left.

I signed on initially for five years but later, wanting to progress, I applied for a Fitter's Course.
Seemingly this required that I sign on for a further 4 years. Suddenly, I wasn't due out until January 27th 1966.

Demob is the slang abbreviation of demobilisation. For reasons now forgotten the RAF let you out, or "demobbed" you, a month early.

Number two son Martin had arrived on November 21st 1965 and a month later I was due for the above mentioned demob. A new baby and looming unemployment must have been a little unnerving but doubtless neither was a complete surprise.

The prospect of getting out of the Air Force must have been very appealing. It hadn't been a particularly happy nine years after all. I'd been posted to six different bases in that time. Of those, four had been on the point of closing or moving when I joined them; one had been the 2½ years posting to Singapore and the sixth and last had been where my time ran out. I think there was very little feeling of "belonging" in the RAF for me. Including training, I spent time on eleven bases in nine years, not to mention a number of 'detachments' from two of those bases.

But, with a five year old and a new-born, the prospect of being out of work, leaving the world we knew, must have had our little family in something of a turmoil.

As it turned out I wasn't to get a choice. At that time the Air Force was going through a period of contraction. Perhaps the cold war had warmed or cooled and world tensions had eased, or maybe the government thought it was short of cash ....... anyway, "they" weren't letting anyone "sign-on". When your time was up: you were out.

An engine fitter who was due out the same time as me had his problems too. Newly married and a baby on the way he pretty well begged to stay in and was turned down. Bowing to the inevitable I went into the interview with my commanding officer and meekly quit.

As the old WW1 saying had it: "by Christmas, it was all over."

I was out. Twenty-five years old and out into the cold world of "civvy street", a new chapter for our little group had begun.