大象传媒

During the latter part of 1943 I took the first-class Coxswain's course at Corsewall in Scotland and was then posted to Pembroke Dock in South Wales, where the R.A.F. had its biggest flying boat base.
Leaving the railway station, I asked someone the way to the R.A.F. base, and was told to 'follow the wall' - which was very high and very long. When finally I came to the opening and entered the guardroom to report my arrival, I was told by a fierce Service Police Sergeant to sit down and wait for the other arrivals- presumably so we could all be booked in at the same time.
After a few minutes the door opened to allow another airman to enter, but the latest newcomer seemed determined to make his mark. I was to discover in due course that he was also a coxswain in the Marine Craft Section, by the name of Peter Jones - and as subsequent events proved, Peter was an 'Ace' refueller coxswain. Believe me, you had to be an Ace to be in charge of a clumsy heavy refueller, and he was...
Peter threw his kitbag into one corner of the guardroom, his 'goon' bag into another, and his gas mask and rifle on the floor in front of the Sergeant's desk, and then sat on the desk and remarked - to no one in particular - "This is a b.... dump, isn't it?" There was a horrified silence for a few seconds before the Sergeant found his voice. I cannot - And would not - repeat his actual words, but they were to the effect that Peter was a disgrace to the R.A.F., the end of a long line of unmarried people, and a blot on the human race. Two Service policemen of lower rank were called to accompany Peter to one of the cells at the rear of the building, and he spent his first night at Pembroke Dock in splendid isolation. I didn't see him again for at least two weeks...
In my case, I was given an 'Arrival' chit, which called for me to report to all the various sections. The first one on the list was the Medical Section, where I was told I was two inoculations behind - and would I have them now, or come back the following day? Resignedly I accepted my two jabs and staggered on to the next section - the Dental Officer. (Remember I was still burdened by all my equipment, which could not be abandoned.) The D.O. found - surprise, surprise, that I had two teeth to come out - and would I like to have it done there and then, or return the following day? Out they came, and on I went until I finally arrived at the Marine Craft Section Office
The C.O. of the M.C.S. was F/Lt. Merrick but the officer who booked me in was Warrant Officer Broster - a fine N.C.O.
He told me that I would not be sleeping at this side of the water, but at Neyland on the opposite shore, so off I went again to find someone (a bored dinghy driver) to take me across to the landing stage used exclusively by R.A.F. personnel. There I was directed to Brunel House, where most of our lads were billeted - but the canteen was back at Pembroke Dock, where I had just come from. I was too tired to return for sustenance, and having found a spare bed, I undressed and fell into it gratefully...

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