Tony Cunnane's RAF Years

This story was written on 1 January 2010

Midnight on 31 December used to be the time when the RAF promulgated its annual Honours and promotion list. The list used to be sent out just a few hours before midnight in a confidential signal message marked ‘Personal for Station Commanders only’ with the strict instruction that the names were not to be released to anyone, least of all the recipients, before midnight.

In 1965, when I was the Personnel Staff Officer (P2) at Headquarters No 3 Group, RAF Mildenhall, my New Year’s Eve was ruined by the then Air Officer Commanding for whom I worked. New Year’s Eve and New Year’s Day were not public holidays in those days. I was summoned to the AOC’s office late afternoon and told that for some unknown reason the Station Commander at RAF Wittering had not received his copy of the all-important signal.

“Cunnane,” said the AOC, “as my P2 officer you’ll have to make a copy of our signal and personally take it to the Station Commander at Wittering. Make sure you hand it only to the Station Commander at a few minutes before midnight. He will be expecting you.”

The AOC was a two-star ranking officer and I a mere junior flight lieutenant so I did not dare suggest that it might be quicker to tell the Station Commander at Wittering to get a copy of the signal from RAF Cottesmore just six miles up the A1 from Wittering. The AOC read my mind!

“The signal is classified. As you know our own Communications Centre has already closed for the weekend. It is isn’t worth calling out the cipher officer and re-opening the Comm Centre.” Then he added, “Wittering, of course, is having their New Year’s Eve Ball so you’ll have to put your Mess Kit on.”

I guessed that the AOC had learned that I would not be attending the RAF Mildenhall Ball because I was taking my current girl friend to a party in Ipswich and he probably regarded that as a breach of Mess discipline. As I was leaving his office he told me that I would have to use my own car and drive myself to Wittering because “our MT Section is closed for the weekend and I don’t want you to call out a driver just for this little errand!”

In the 1960s the 50 mile route from Mildenhall to Wittering went across the Cambridgeshire Fens, very narrow roads with many right-angled bends and no dual carriageways. It used to take at least an hour each way in daylight and good weather but even before I was ready to set out it was already dark and thick freezing fog was forecast for later. After making my telephoned apologies to the girl friend in Ipswich (she was not totally convinced by my explanation!), I dressed up in my Mess Kit and set off in exactly the opposite direction.

The Station Commander at Wittering was not expecting me and he declined to accept the sealed envelope containing the promotions signal from me. “It’s very good of you to turn out on a foggy night but you needn’t have bothered. I sent my duty driver over to Cottesmore to get a copy of the signal from their Comm Centre.” He pulled the flimsy out of his waistcoat pocket to show me. “However, now you’re here, you’re welcome to stay and have a few drinks before you drive back – you have got a driver haven’t you?”
I stayed at the Wittering Ball just long enough to recognise that one of my friends was there with a previous girl friend of mine and was that very evening announcing their engagement.

It was a long, lonely, sober drive back to Mildenhall in freezing fog.