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This story was submitted to the People's War site by Elizabeth Perez of Stockport Libraries on behalf of Bill Stafford and has been added to the site with his permission. Bill Stafford fully understands the site's terms and conditions.

Bill Stafford's Memoirs 1 - A R.A.F. barber at Hooton Park

By L.A.C. BILL STAFFORD.

"I joined the R.A.F. in January 1941 as U.T. Air Crew but due to an accident during my training, which injured my "feet" I was downgraded and not allowed to fly. As a result, 3 to 4 months later I was posted to Hooton as A.C.H. G.D.. My first sight of the camp as I walked towards it from Hooton Lane was of two very large white gates, with a military policeman in all his glory stood outside. He passed me through to the guardhouse which was immediately on the left inside the gates. Opposite the guardhouse stood a number of what were then modern houses, which I later learned were Officers' married quarters. I thought this looks ok, quite nice in fact.

After initiation I was given a billet in a Nissan hut located behind 2 great hangers, belonging to a civilian aircraft firm, and from which emanated a very strong smell of "pear drops". It turned out that this firm was one of the few remaining places where very early types of fabric-bodied aircraft, such as Tiger Moths, could still be repaired using fabric such as linen and "dope" (Cellulose). Tiger Moths were still used for training, which I knew to my cost.

The next day I was given my duties as a "sick bay attendant". At this I felt very disappointed. My adventure was no longer an adventure, Air Crew to this ugh! The sick bay was pleasantly located somewhat to the rear of the Officers' married quarters, and the other people from the M.O. down were great. I made many friends and one in particular, a medical orderly Cpl. Freddie Duck. He played the trumpet. His skills on the horn gave us unlimited entry to local places of entertainment such as Bow Waters Sports Club on Wednesdays and Saturdays. I soon got over my disappointment. Dancing and meeting the local folks, especially the girls, to one of whom I later became engaged, Margery Davies of Straker Ave. She joined the W.A.A.F. It didn't last; my fault, the life we were living was so fast and uncertain, we all felt it could not last, and could be over the next day. I felt that I did not have time to be faithful, silly b.

As I got more settled at Hooton, I made many more friends, and perhaps because of my earlier desire to be Air Crew, a lot of these new friends were pilots, observers, radio ops etc.. I was constantly trying to scrounge trips with them in their "kites" which were mainly Avro Ansons a rather unexciting but pleasant aircraft. My first trip in one of these craft turned out to be not at the invitation of a pilot, but at that of another great friend I had made, who was a pigeon handler. Yes we still used pigeons for carrying messages, mainly from occupied territory etc.. We had a pigeon loft and my friend used to take them out over the sea and release them for training purposes, one of Coastal Command's lesser known activities. We also had on the station a couple of Whitley Bombers, very impressive, reputed to have the widest wing span of any other aircraft at the time. No matter how I tried, I could not get on one of these. Although I did see one loop the loop, which was supposed to be impossible!

Life under Coastal Command then continued steadily until the evacuation of Dunkirk, when we were joined by the remnants of 13 squadron, an Army Co-operation Unit flying Lysanders, a high wing monoplane, very manoeuvrable and used for picking up messages from the ground, the message being tied between two pegs in the earth, the Lysie would then dive to within a few feet, and pick it up with a trailing hook, some nerve these lads had.

The Unit was posted to us in order to re-goup, re-man, and re-train with the surviving old personnel training the new lads. Because of the very nature off this training (diving down to a few feet and climbing back up) the new bods would frequently misjudge and go right into the deck. We in sick quarters became rushed off our feet, we had to set up an operating theatre which was known as the crash room, and where I next took up my duties for a considerable period of time.

Just about when I thought that I was becoming a fixture in sick quarters and the crash room, something happened which changed everything for me and was to stay with me throughout the D-Day landings, the occupation of Europe, and the rest of the six and a half years which I served in the R.A.F.. One morning it was posted on daily routine orders " That anyone who had been a hairdresser in civilian life, and who was not Grade 0ne could re-muster to the trade of A.C.H. barber."

As I had just completed my apprenticeship a few weeks prior to volunteering, this had to be given much consideration. I got no sleep at all that night. Injuries to my feet! They would not let me sit on my bum and fly but I could stand on my feet all day cutting hair!! What a laugh! However I did re-muster and within a week or so, I became the first official barber in the R.A.F.. There was no proper place to work so I was allowed to set up with a table and chair in the N.A.A.F.I. using my own tools which I had always carried with me. Later I was given a room in the Old Priory out-buildings along with the Tailor, the Cobbler, and the Laundry shop/counter etc. and what an opportunist group we were. The main Priory house was used as the W.A.A.F. billets, the entrance to which was directly opposite to mine and the tailor's door. How could we lose?!!

This was to be the start of many changes at Hooton, the compliment of personnel increased rapidly until there was no more room on the camp to house us all, so many of us had to be housed in requisitioned property in the nearby area. Two of the places I stayed were Eastham dance hall and Hooton House which was almost next door to Hooton railway station. Very nice, no guard room, no booking in at night. Wow, we had it made!!!!!

Then the aircraft started to arrive, Gloucester Gladiators and a few other types - what was happening? We soon found out that we were leaving Coastal Command and going to Training Command as a flying training school and the Gladiators were to be used for "circuits and bumps" ( take offs and landings) in the training of new pilots.

It was about this time that I was made up to SNR. L.A.C., it came out of the blue, what a surprise. I felt good, and began to have strange feelings, almost as if the hairdressing room , was "MY" salon and the airmen , other ranks and the officers ,were "MY" customers. I was soon to find out why - another hairdresser was posted to us, his name was Wellington from Shropshire. Within a couple of days, what was his nickname? You've guessed it - he became "Wimpy Wellington" and it stuck with him for the rest of his service.

Then they started to come: Canadians, Aussies, New Zealanders, Poles, Americans (some of whom stayed) even Free French, and Belgiums etc. They came in very large numbers, a boat load at a time, they had nearly all been on board ship for up to six weeks, and hair did not stop growing because there was a war on!! It was now very plain why I needed help.

Each group were Acting Sergeants U.T. Air Crew. They would stay for 4 to 6 weeks, learn to take off, do one trip round the airfield and land. If they passed they kept their three stripes, if they failed, they reverted to L.A.C.. After their 4 to 6 weeks were up, they would leave as fast as they came.

The intervals between intakes were usually only a day or so and life in the camp was all bed and work. The aircraft, Gothas or blood tubs as we called them, were overworked and ground crew could hardly keep up. This pattern was repeated over many months, but in spite of all the hard work, we continued to enjoy ourselves. The Americans who had remained with us proved to be great guys and I had many good times with them in their favourite watering hole The Red Lion at Little Sutton.

It was too good to last, one Monday morning, which was as it turned out to be just a few months prior to D.Day, I was called to the S.W.O.'s office to learn that I had been posted to Wilmslow which was a W.A.A.F. recruit centre with only about 40 to 50 men, but there was also a very large R.A.F. hospital, where my past experience was put to good use.

This wasn't to last either, within a further short period I was on my way up the Juno beach-head in Normandy. I was devastated to leave Hooton Park, to this day I have never seen it again, but I shall never forget it.... "

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