Dave's GSTS Story

GSTS R1/89 General Service Training School RNZAF Base Woodbourne R1/89 Recruit Course – 9th of January 1989 to 23rd of March 1989 Personal Memories
Dave Homewood's Story Getting There The first day of my Air Force career, of my working life in fact, was the 9th of January 1989. And what a day it was. I shall never forget it. It was a day of great excitement, with an air of adventure, coupled with a fear of the unknown and more than a few nerves. This was no ordinary job that I was starting. There had been quite a build up to this day. I think the key point in my life that gave me the desire to join the RNZAF had come in 1987. One day when I was in my form class at school, I picked up a magazine to read whilst awaiting classes to begin. It was the March 1987 issue of North and South. In it's 'Four Corners' section was an article that stirred my imagination. It was about the RNZAF Museum at Wigram, which was to open the next month. This fascinated me, having long been in love with old aircraft. I became more aware of the RNZAF over the next couple of months because with the Museum opening and the 50th Anniversary of the RNZAF being celebrated on the 1st of April 1987, a few documentary specials appeared on television. They were ‘A Shed Will Be Necessary', and ‘The First Fifty Years: RNZAF', two programmes I still have on video. It was truly a golden time for the RNZAF. And tagged on with all the publicity about its past achievements, a grand picture was also painted of the great future the RNZAF had ahead of it. The idea of joining the service was seriously formulating in my mind, and I was actively encouraged by Mum and Dad, who thought it was a great idea. I had previously hoped for a career in the New Zealand army, which I'd wanted to join since I was about 13, but an accident in the gym at school had injured my back quite badly, and the army recruiting Sergeant in Hamilton had advised me that a bad back wasn't welcome in the QArmy. Nowadays I can only look back on that accident as a God-send. I doubt I'd have really liked the Army in the end, and I now know the path I eventually chose was a much better one. So along to the Air Force recruiter I went, in Knox Street, Hamilton. It saddens me a bit that the entire establishment in Knox Street was demolished recently, and a multi-storey office block is now being built on the old historic grounds where the Recruiting Office once stood, and Territorial Army once had its Waikato HQ. So many service people must have passed through those doors when embarking on a new and wondrous career. My recruiter was Flight Lieutenant Kerry Manson, who was always very helpful and very good at guiding me into the right career choice within the service. After giving me several options I whittled down four from the vast trade list that I thought would both interest me and that I'd be capable of. I still have most of the recruiting information that I was given back in 1987 – including the leaflet on ‘RNZAF Pilots and Navigators'. The idea of becoming a pilot never really entered my head because I simply didn't think I was bright enough. These days I kind of wish I had attempted the test anyway, just to see how I'd have got on, because I realise I had a lot more potential than I thought in those days, but I don't regret it. The reason I took the information leaflet was because I liked the pictures! They were of course of the various aircraft our Air Force had in those days, a P3K Orion, a Friendship, two CT-4B Airtrainers and two Strikemasters. These days only the Orions remain in service. The four trades I was considering were: Avionics Mechanic (or aviation electronics, which I discounted because it all seemed too nerdy to me), Planewright ( Or Woodworker. I think I would have been good at this because I was good at woodwork, but I was told that recruits were almost never needed as it was such a small trade), Armament Mechanic (a trade that the recruiter was trying to gently force on me as he needed to fill his quota, but I wasn't keen on blowing myself up) and a trade called Safety and Surface. Now this latter trade really interested me because it actually involved many different trades under one title. The recruiting leaflet lists the trade as involving “Sealants, coatings, corrosion, signwriting, spray painting, parachutes, liferafts, survival equipment.” A lot of it seemed very different from anything I could do in civilian life. To assist in my decision of which trade I'd like to apply for, Flt Lt Manson arranged for Mum, Dad and myself to visit No 1 Technical Training School at RNZAF Hobsonville one weekend in mid-1988. This was a huge adventure for me, but I truly think Dad was more excited than me. We all had a great time. Flt Sgt ‘Sambo' ____ , an instructor from the school showed us around. We looked at the Armourer's classroom, which was filled with guns and other weaponry, the Safety and Surface classrooms, which were very interesting, and then the Machinist training area, which was Sambo's trade. Sadly I found the Machine Shop extremely boring, but Dad, being a Fitter and Turner by trade, thought it was a dream come true. So while I was trying to find out more about service life, here were Dad and Sambo discussing lathes! Despite their best attempts, neither Dad nor Sambo convinced me to be a machinist. But the visit did convince me that Safety and Surface would be the go. I had discovered at 1TTS that even more was involved in the trade than what the recruiting blurb had said. One whole area missed was upholstery, something most people wouldn't associate with the military, but a very valuable skill to have. So on my return home I completed the application form to join the RNZAF. Applying to join the military is a trial in itself, with forms to fill in, interviews to have, and worst of all, the test.
Meeting Alan Howard It was not too long after I applied for the RNZAF that I met Alan Howard, who I got to know very well. We were both 6th Form students at Cambridge High School. He was introduced by a mutual friend, Gary Cross, because Alan had also applied for an Air Force career. Unlike me, Alan was dead set on becoming a pilot. He was very enthusiastic about it, and I soon realised he was bright enough for the job. So when the time came Alan and I were to attend the ‘pre-entry test' together, which took part at the Knox Street barracks on a freezing, damp winter's day in 1988. I have the letter which came a few days before about the test, dated the 20th of September 1988. It reminds me that there were seven tests, these being (I quote): a) General Reasoning A test of basic common sense/thought process b) Basic Arithmetic Simple arithmetic (no calculators) c) English Aptitude Word Association and spelling d) Electrical Information Basic, common sense information e) Mechanical Information Basic, common sense information f) Test of higher level mathematics emphasis on 4 th -5 th form maths (no calculators) g) Clerical aptitude test a speed test This nerve-racking series of tests were carried out in a large building at the Knox Street military complex. From memory there were around 80 applicants taking part, which surprised me a bit. We sat in the cold drafty building at old desks, and in a very limited space of time had to fill in the test sheets. I found the maths and common sense parts easy enough, and the clerical test seemed ok too. But I was very worried about my limited knowledge in anything electrical or mechanical. One specific break I got was in the mechanical section where a question asked what the universal joint on a car did. Till two weeks before that date I'd had absolutely no idea, but luckily I'd seen Dad changing the universal on our car and had for some reason enquired what it did. Thankfully his answer stuck in my mind. If the test was not bad enough, what happened next was worse. After the tests were completed they asked us all to stand outside while the tests were marked. It was cold and damp, and the mood was very apprehensive. After considerable time the recruiter came out and called out a list of names. Those called out were taken indoors again. I wasn't on the list. Considerably more than half the applicants went indoors. Another long wait, and then the recruiter called more names. In this small bunch Alan was asked inside. He was marked in a slightly different category because he had applied to become a pilot. At last the few of us left were asked in. There were about 20 of us or less including the second batch that'd gone in. The first batch of people was gone, probably out another door. We were informed, to our immense relief, that we were the ones who had passed the tests. All those other people had failed the rigorous requirements. I was amazed and very relieved to be among the successful applicants. I remember thinking to myself, “This is it, I'm in. This is the beginning of my career. I'm on my way.” The recruiter asked us all to sign some form that sealed the deal. Everyone stood there like dummies, it seemed they were all as overwhelmed as me. For the first time in my life I decided to be assertive and not wait politely till last, so I stepped forward and became the first to sign up. This was a new beginning. There was of course another hurdle to jump yet, the Air Force medical. This was to take place a few days later at RNZAF Base Te Rapa, just north of Hamilton. On arriving at the base, I reported to the Base Hospital, while Mum waited in the car outside. We had both been amused to see a tall thin building on the base with the sign saying Elephant House. Images of Hannibal's army came to mind. To this day I still wonder what exactly was stored in that building. I will probably never know as the entire base was flattened by the Tainui tribe after the Government gifted this valuable asset to them, and it is now an empty block of land growing weeds! I recall the nerves as myself and several other young potential recruits sat in the waiting room, in nothing but underwear under yellow bathrobes. One by one we were called to various points in the hospital to undergo eye tests, hearing tests, height and weight check, and the nasty fat check where huge pincers were used to squeeze and measure the fat roll on the side of ones stomach. The medic made some remark that mine was slightly too high, which I thought was a bit rude because I was by no means fat. Several months before the recruiter had sent me a chart of exercises to get fit for RNZAF service, which I'd adhered to, as well as going for a run every morning before school. I used to get up at about Six O'clock and run around behind Alan who was on his bike doing his paper round, which was great motivation to keep running. I hated running, I still do, but in those early foggy morning runs where the two of us had the town to ourselves we had a lot of laughs. So I thought I was reasonably fit, and definitely not fat. NOW I'm fat! However, I still seemingly passed that test. The last part of the test was to see the doctor. This is the part I dreaded, the part everyone had pre-warned and teased about, “Turn your head and cough”. The doctor was actually a civilian, who spoke with a broad Scottish brogue. He was very difficult to understand, but I got by, and managed to be sent away from his office without so much of a mention of “Turn your head an cough”. Thank goodness it seemed that old practice had been stopped, or perhaps in my case simply neglected. The most memorable thing about the medical was I recall that when Alan came to visit the same doctor for his medical a day or so later, he too had extreme trouble understanding his accent. Alan reported to me and others afterwards his embarrassment at the point where the doctor said “Stand there and bend down” he thought the doctor said “pants down” (the dreaded turn and cough on his mind too). When the doctor asked why he'd pulled his boxers down and was standing there naked Alan realised the mistake, much to our amusement and his shame! Somehow I had gotten through the medical and passed fit for service, despite my roll of fat that had upset the medic, and despite my back problems, which Flt Lt Manson had warned me not to mention. In fact he'd turned a blind eye when I honestly admitted I had a bad back, and said “Wait till you're in the Air Force before you mention it, and then you may get it fixed.” It was not a bad problem anyway by that stage, but it flared up now and again. Later, while at 4TTS, I was to encounter the problem again, and when I went to the medics two of them, one a Captain with considerable experience, twisted me like a corkscrew on the floor till the back's bones all finally clicked back into place, for the first time in about three years. I've never had a serious back problem again so it did the trick. In mid-October 1988 I was sent a letter from Flt Lt Manson saying I was able to join as a Safety and Surface Worker on either R1, R2 or R4/89. Previously in my earlier stages of joining the recruiter had actually aimed to get me onto R4/88, which would have begun in October 1988. This letter was actually dated the 8th of September, which is crossed out and re-dated the 12th of October. I was so confident of my acceptance once I'd passed the entry tests and medical in September (which had been run during the school holidays) that I decided to leave school. But then things changed, I don't remember if my recruiting officer was trying to cut it too fine to get me into an R4/88 placement, or whether placements on the course for S&S workers were either dropped or filled. But I got a phone call saying I was no longer able to go into the RNZAF in October. So I had to wait till the next recruit course, which would be R1/89 beginning in January 1989. In the meantime I busied myself by painting my Nana's house, both the exterior and interior. Although I lost the opportunity to finish the last few months of my year at school because of the mix-up, I am extremely grateful for that time spent with my late Nana before I went off to the RNZAF. At last Monday the 9th of January 1989 came around. Luckily I made it to Hamilton Airport at Rukuhia all right. There was a chance the day before that it wouldn't be possible. I had gone up to Auckland Zoo with Mum, Dad and my sisters Shelley and Lynda. We had made the special trip to see the two Pandas who were passing through New Zealand on a world tour. On the way home that afternoon a storm had erupted with intense fury, so much so that a huge section of State Highway One actually washed away. We were diverted down country roads into the wops and for some time we had no idea whether we'd even make it back home to Cambridge by morning. I was terribly worried, but luckily Dad managed to find a route through – despite a couple of very hairy crossings of roads that had become deep fords in the flash flooding. We got home very late, and I was very tired, but the excitement of that day would be nothing compared with the next. The First Day By the morning of Monday the 9th of January the storm from the night before had gone completely. We got to the airport with plenty of time to spare, me clutching the airline tickets which the RNZAF had kindly sent me, and my new bag that I'd got for my 18th birthday a month before, which was packed with all the necessities stipulated on an official list of 'things to bring' – including an iron. Also in my bag, according to the ‘Drafting Instructions' I had received with the ticket, were my birth certificate and my drafting order. Hamilton airport was very full, it seems several flights were going out at once. I recall seeing two significant people in the crowd. One was Jim Bulger, then just an oppostition MP, but later to become New Zealand's Prime Minister. The other was a young man who towered above everyone else by about a foot. I was later to learn he was Keith Jenkins, who would be in my dorm and become a very good mate.
Above: Dave Homewood, looking very worried, prepares to board the Air New Zealand Fokker F27 Friendship for Wellington and onto Woodbourne. In the background are Mike Ingram (blue shirt) and Matt Evison (red jumper) 9th January 1989. Photo: Judy Homewood
When the boarding call finally came, the butterflies really leapt about. After saying goodbyes to my family, and one last photo for Mum as I walked out to the tarmac and boarded the Air New Zealand Friendship. Also on board was Alan, and a few other faces that I had seen at the entry test at Knox Street and later at the medical. Two of them are in that photo Mum took, Matt Evison and Mike Ingram. Annie Jones was also on board, who'd also been recruited from Hamilton, and I sat next to another guy on his way to RNZAF Base Woodbourne too, Dave Roe. The flight seemed long, and all sorts of things went through my mind as we gradually headed south. I had never been further down the country than Palmerston North before this flight. Now I'd reached Wellington airport, where we changed planes and were soon on another F27 and crossing the Cook Straight. The approach to Woodbourne was interesting. It was high summer, and the place seemed so dry, almost a desert. These days most of the area is quite different having been planted in vineyards, but then it was just a burgeoning industry and there was a lot of pastureland that seemed in 1989 to have been burned to dust by the summer heat. Upon touchdown the hot Marlborough sun was a shock after the cool air conditioning of the aircraft. We collected our bags and were soon greeted by an Air Force official, who we soon learned was Corporal Crosswell. He lined us up, and walked us through the base, under the tunnel that crosses State Highway 16, and into the grounds of the General Service Training School. Upon being shown which was our dormitories, and told to find our bed spaces, we were left for a short while as the GSTS staff went to greet more planes and more recruits who were arriving from all across the country. I was in F Dorm. So was Alan Howard. I was pleased that I had someone there I already knew, but I soon started meeting others in the dorm and already friendships were forming. After all, we were all in the same boat. I dare say most of the others were probably as apprehensive as I was about everything. Each dorm housed sixteen recruits, and a dorm was broken into four cubicles, housing four people in a cubicle each with their own 'bed space'. In my cubicle already when I arrived was Matthew Hall, who seemed a nice chap. He was from Dannevirke, and when I arrived he was already busy cleaning the floor. I too, along with all the new arrivals, were set to the same task. The floors were linoleum, probably very old lino at that, and they were highly polished. But before we'd arrived it seems the previous recruit course had decided to walk all over the floor willy nilly inteir black boots. There were scuff marks and boot polish marks all over it. We were given a rag and some cleaning abrasive in a tub called Ataway - something I'd never heard of but was soon to come to know well. Guys kept arriving in waves it seemed. The next chap I met in my cubicle was Glen Harcus, who arrived not long after me. He was from Middlemarch, in Otago. Instantly I liked Glen, he was a solid, dependable chap. And he seemed to settle in quicker than some of us to the routine of dormitary life because he had been at boarding school, in Dunedin. The first thing military we learned in that short space of time was if a ranking person walked into the dorm, the first to see him or her would shout "DORM!!!" and the whole dorm would snap to attention on a predetermined spot in their bedspace. The first time this happened, I was attacking a particularly nasty stain on the floor, and was scrubbing away for all I was worth. Cpl Crosswell had apparently entered the dorm, and one of the recruits at the door end, Steve Ingrey, had whimpered out the command "Dorm". Several of the guys down my far end of the dorm didn't hear the call, but most clicked onto what was going on and eventually jumped to attention. Here's stupid me still on hands and knees, scrubbing away with back to the approaching General Service Instructor. At that point I wondered why all had gone deathly quiet, looked round and saw Croz's fuming face. I snapped to attention, but all was lost by then. I got a right bollocking, and he said that from now on I was to be known as 'Speed.' Great. So there it was. The Corporal in charge of our dorm had already singled me out and given me a derogitory nickname. I had been warned about this by my cousin, Brian Homewood, who'd been in the RNZAF in the 1970's. He'd said they look for a weakness and picked on it. And if you were the first to piss them off you'd probably be in for it for the rest of the course. I had also seen Full Metal Jacket, and I began to worry drastically as to whether I was going to last that first day. Anyway, he went away again and we carried on scrubbing the floor. After some time on hands and knees scrubbing the floors - which I have to say was not the first thing that I'd expected to be doing in the RNZAF - the last wave of recruits seemed to arrive, and our fourth bedspace member arrived. Carl Hooker was from Whangarei, and had joined up to become an aircraft mechanic. We had little time to get aquainted though because the shouting erupted again. Mistake Number Two followed soon. We were ordered to parade out on the road on the northern side of the barracks on the double. To get out there you had to exit through the barracks entrances either on the east or west side of the barracks. I followed everyone else, running flat tack as we all were. I ran out the door and was one of the last to exit as I had traveled the longest distance to the eastern exit. A man in uniform was shouting at everyone, I could hear him as I approached the door but didn't register what he was saying. As I exited and headed off with the others he grabbed me. It was this point I realised what he'd been yelling, “Don't walk on the grass!” He decided to make an example of me, despite the fact everyone else who'd walked on the grass had escaped and were now on parade. “Down and give me ten!” I had a fair idea what he meant so instantly got down and did ten press ups, not very impressive ones. As I was doing them he gave me a tirade of abuse for setting foot on the grass, which is, it turns out, illegal in the military! I then attempted to stand up, to meet more abuse, “Did I give you permission to recover!!???” I had no idea what he actually meant, so answered “No Sir!” “Don't call me sir! I work for a fucking living!!” He yelled. “I'm sorry, I can't see your rank from down here,” I said sheepishly. “I'm Corporal Tamariki,” he said. “Now get the fuck up and get on fucking parade!” “Yes Corporal. Thank you Corporal!”, I retorted as I rushed off to join the parade. Who should be addressing the rest of the recruits but Corporal Crosswell. He saw me darting behind the ranks and yelled “You're late on parade! What's your name?” As I took my place on the end of the line I replied “Homewood, Corporal!” He took a better look, and then said “Fucking Speed again!” I felt about three inches tall, and wished I'd had the opportunity to explain it was Cpl Tamariki's fault I was late, but I knew better than to say anything more as it seemed everything I did made things worse. It was a great start. That parade was about hair cuts. One of the GSI's went along behind us and tapped the shoulder of each man who would be expected to go that evening to get a haircut at the base barber, better known to all as the 'base butcher'. I was not tapped, and as I had short hair anyway I assumed that they had decided I didn't need my head shaved. I felt rather smug for the few minutes before Alan Howard explained to me that the piece of the lecture I missed whilst doing those bloody press-ups said that if not tapped, we were to report the following evening, because there were too many people for the barber to cope with in one go. So my hair was to stay for but one more day, then “rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr”, a number 2 buzz cut at the base butcher's. I recall too that on that day we were marched over to the Base Hospital, and given the dreaded innoculations required for military service. As it was a scorching hot day, and and the medics didn't want a load of recruits standing round indoors, we were allowed to stand easy just across the road, in perhaps one of the only shady spots on base that day. They then called us in one by one. It was Croz who did the calling of the surnames, and when it came to Alan's turn he called "Howard!... the Duck". To get his quip you have to be aware that there was a very stupid film out at the time about an alien that looked like a duck, called Howard The Duck. From that single solitary moment to this day, poor old Alan Howard has been known to all his RNZAF mates as 'Duck'. The needles were painful. There was a Tetnus boost, and several other things, one which was a contraption that injected six needles into the arm at once, called a multi-jab. Most of us were a little faint afterwards, due to the effect of the medicine as well as the scorching heat of the afternoon. But on we went, this time to the Dentist, where we had our teeth checked as if we were horses up for sale. The dental assistant who checked mine was rather impressed, and it turned out she had once known my orthodontist, so we got on well. I'm sure it was on that same afternoon, after all the check-ups, that everyone was gathered in the Woodbourne Base Institute to be sworn in officially as Air Force Cadets. I recall there was a little bit of a wait as the proceedings took some time, and I remember meeting Sue Connoly there for the first time, who was sitting beside me, and chatting about what we'd done before joining up. She was from Invercargill, and her sister had apparently known someone from Cambridge so we had a pleasant chat as we waited. The base Admin section had several desks set up at the front of the Institute where they were calling individuals up to the front to go through the administrative processes that would change not only your life but your status as a citizen. Eventually I was called up, and had to swear an oath of allegiance to the Queen and my country, and then sign the forms that meant I was now officially in the Royal New Zealand Air Force, and no longer covered by civilian law. I was now an airman! By the time this ceremony was complete the day was nearly over as far as working hours went. I am sure we must have been set many more tasks and told many more rules that we shouldn't break, but I can't recall now what else happened that day. We must have had our first introduction to the Airmen's Mess at about 5:30pm, which can't have been too thrilling because it doesn't stay in my mind. I do remember a warning from the GSI's not to drink the milk. They said there was something not right with the milk. There was debate about whether it was simply Mess milk - which seemed to sit all day in stainless steel jugs and always taste warm - or whether they meant all Marlborough milk. I learned later that it was both. I don't recall who told me they'd confirmed that Marborough milk was not good, but someone said there was a deficiency in the area that made milk different from the rest of NZ. Please correct me if this is wrong. It may just have been a 'craptogram' (which is an old RNZAF term for gossip!) F Dorm That first night we all began to get to know one another. Half of the males from A Flight were in F Dorm. Starting at the dorm door we had Keith Jenkins, whom I'd seen at Hamilton Airport that morning and had been on the same plane as me. He was the tallest person I've ever met, and a really interesting chap because he grew up in Fiji (though he's a Kiwi). I recall there was a bit of fuss in the first day or so because he was too tall for the bed he was given. They got a chippie in to measure him, and an extension to his bed was knocked up, which was amusing to some, but it must be quite a problem to go through life being too tall for everything. Keith and I would knock about a lot not only on recruit course but much later into our careers too. Next to Keith was Tony Fry from Taupo. Tony, like Keith, was to become an Avionics CT. Tony and I would spend a lot of spare time during recruit course playing pool on the rickety pool table that GSTS had hidden away in one of the recreation rooms. He had quite a witty sense of humour, and I enjoyed his company on the recruit course. The other members of that bed space were Mike Gasson and Steve Ingrey. Both were terrific characters and almost became a double act. I enjoyed the company of both Mike and Steve very much. Mike was from Clevedon, in South Auckland and had also joined to be an Avionics CT. If memory serves it was also revealed during the recruit course that he'd also applied to join the Royal New Zealand Navy as an officer. Part way into the course he received notice in the mail that he'd actually been accepted. He then had to make the difficult decision as to whether he wanted to stay with the RNZAF in the lowly ranks, or leave and join the Navy as an officer. Mike decided to stay with us. I'll never forget Cpl Crosswell asking him why he'd applied to be a naval officer. Mike's reply was he'd always wanted to get married in white! He was joking of course, but that was what he was like, always making the rest of us laugh. 'Gaz' was, and is, a great bloke. Mike is now a Sergeant at Woodbourne. Steve Ingrey, who naturally got the nickname Stingray, was to become an Air Force Chef. He was one of the youngest members in the flight, and definitely one of the most popular. Throughout the recruit course many practical jokes would be played on poor Stevie, from spur of the moment things like downtrows to calculated operations where he was stripped and tied to the lamp-post in the street outside the barracks. I seem to recall his bed being taken outdoors too at some stage (correct me if I'm mixing that with someone else). The thing was he always took it in the very best spirit of humour. He was of course behind many practical jokes too. One favourite joke at GSTS was the short-sheeting of people's beds, so that the top sheet is folded on itself to look like the top and bottom sheet, so when the unsuspecting owner gets into bed they can only get halfway down. In the next bed space were Mike Going, Steve Groom, Alan Howard and Mike Ingram. Mike Going was from Whangarei, and was related to the All Black great Sid Going and all the other members of that famous rugby-playing family. He had previously been in the Air Training Corps as a Warrant Officer, so knew a bit about the RNZAF. This came in handy occasionally as he could tell us things that the GSI's had omitted to tell us. Mike was an Aircraft Mechanic CT, and he later went on to be commissioned. Today he is an Engineering Officer and works at Defence Headquarters in Wellington. Mike was on leave in Bali when the terrorists attacked the bars there in 2002. He was injured in the attacks but luckily survived and continues to this day in the RNZAF. Steve Groom came from Taumaranui where he had previously been a fireman. He was to become an Aircraft Mechanic CT too. Steve was the oldest guy in A Flight, but was only 23. His experience and age did show though as I always found Steve very much a calming influence in situations. I remember he consistently managed to produce the best bed pack in the dorm, which was down to the many he'd already made in the NZ Fire Service. Mike Ingram was from Taupiri and he'd been recruited at the same time and place as me. In fact I realised later there were many familiar faces in my flight whom I'd seen at the recruiting office, at the entry test, at the medical and then on the plane to Woodbourne. Mike was becoming an Aircraft Mechanic. Alan I already knew well of course. He was going to become an Avionics (CT). CT, by the way, stood for Certificate in Trade. They were the ones who did a few extra training courses and would graduate with more qualifications than a normal tradesman, as well as having a trade cert, which in those days the RNZAF didn't give to all trainees. CT's were drafted during the initial selection process at the recruiting office, and you were selected based on your test results and school academic achievements. Very few recruits were offered the privilegde, so to the masses of slightly jealous normal trainees, CT's were known as 'cock-tuggers'! The next cubicle was my one, with Glen Harcus, Matt Hall and Carl Hooker. The last cubicle in the dorm was the bedspaces of Peter Hatley, Craig Hill, Phil Hayson and Andy Hignett. Pete Hatley was a real laugh, always quoting films and doing impressions. One of his favourite films seemed to by Full Metal Jacket and many of the quotes from that and other military films became infectious throughout the dorm. I recall one phrase he enjoyed quoting to people, and to this day I haven't a clue where it comes from, "Pick the peanuts outa my shit!" It seemed very funny at the time. Phil Hayson was also a very funny bloke. He and Pete were always a good laugh. Phil was there for one reason alone, he wanted to join the New Zealand Police but was young and inexperienced as far as a work background went. A police recruiter told him that he should find a job for a little while and then reapply when he had some sort of background behind him. The suggestion had been made that such a job looked favouably on could be bank work, where working with money and the public would look good for his application, or maybe a military recruit course. Phil was the adventurous sort, so he joined the RNZAF. His total intention was to complete Basic Training and leave straight afterwards. He made this clear to us, his fellow recruits, a few weeks in. Many of us tried to persuade him to stay as he seemed a natural. However, he did leave at the end of the course, and I don't think anyone has heard from him since. I'd love to catch up with him and find out how life went for him. Andrew Hignett was from Stratford. He was quite a laugh too but seemed much quieter than his cubicle mates. He preferred to be known as Drew, and definately hated being called Andy. Phil Hayson used to call him Andy all the time simply to wind him up, in a joking kind of way. Drew was to become an Avionics Mechanic. I have heard recently that he was out of the RNZAF and studying at university. The fourth member of that cubicle hated being called by his name even more. Craig Hill preferred to be known as 'Wolfie', or 'Wolfie The Bastard' in full. Don't ask me why, this was not an RNZAF nickname, it came with him from his home of Auckland. In fact it was quite some time before the rest of us discovered what his first name even was. I think someone else actually saw it on a letter addressed to him, and I recall him being irate that we'd all discoverd it. Wolfie was amazing - he sat next to me in the GSTS classroom, and every day I'd notice that when we were all hard at it taking notes, he was doodling amazing artworks into his exercise book. He didn't seem to note down anything we were told. Every now and then mid-lecture he'd tap me and show me the latest completed drawing of skulls or cars ot rattlesnakes. But the incredible thing was when we did phase tests he always seemed to come top of the Flight. He must have had an amazing memory, I just couldn't fathom it. More To Come Soon..... Please send your own memories or feedback to this story

GSTS R1/89

General Service Training School
RNZAF Base Woodbourne
R1/89 Recruit Course – 9th of January 1989 to 23rd of March 1989

Personal Memories

Dave Homewood's Story

Getting There

The first day of my Air Force career, of my working life in fact, was the 9th of January 1989. And what a day it was. I shall never forget it. It was a day of great excitement, with an air of adventure, coupled with a fear of the unknown and more than a few nerves. This was no ordinary job that I was starting. There had been quite a build up to this day.

I think the key point in my life that gave me the desire to join the RNZAF had come in 1987. One day when I was in my form class at school, I picked up a magazine to read whilst awaiting classes to begin. It was the March 1987 issue of North and South. In it's 'Four Corners' section was an article that stirred my imagination. It was about the RNZAF Museum at Wigram, which was to open the next month. This fascinated me, having long been in love with old aircraft. I became more aware of the RNZAF over the next couple of months because with the Museum opening and the 50th Anniversary of the RNZAF being celebrated on the 1st of April 1987, a few documentary specials appeared on television. They were ‘A Shed Will Be Necessary', and ‘The First Fifty Years: RNZAF', two programmes I still have on video. It was truly a golden time for the RNZAF. And tagged on with all the publicity about its past achievements, a grand picture was also painted of the great future the RNZAF had ahead of it.

The idea of joining the service was seriously formulating in my mind, and I was actively encouraged by Mum and Dad, who thought it was a great idea. I had previously hoped for a career in the New Zealand army, which I'd wanted to join since I was about 13, but an accident in the gym at school had injured my back quite badly, and the army recruiting Sergeant in Hamilton had advised me that a bad back wasn't welcome in the QArmy. Nowadays I can only look back on that accident as a God-send. I doubt I'd have really liked the Army in the end, and I now know the path I eventually chose was a much better one.

So along to the Air Force recruiter I went, in Knox Street, Hamilton. It saddens me a bit that the entire establishment in Knox Street was demolished recently, and a multi-storey office block is now being built on the old historic grounds where the Recruiting Office once stood, and Territorial Army once had its Waikato HQ. So many service people must have passed through those doors when embarking on a new and wondrous career.

My recruiter was Flight Lieutenant Kerry Manson, who was always very helpful and very good at guiding me into the right career choice within the service. After giving me several options I whittled down four from the vast trade list that I thought would both interest me and that I'd be capable of. I still have most of the recruiting information that I was given back in 1987 – including the leaflet on ‘RNZAF Pilots and Navigators'. The idea of becoming a pilot never really entered my head because I simply didn't think I was bright enough. These days I kind of wish I had attempted the test anyway, just to see how I'd have got on, because I realise I had a lot more potential than I thought in those days, but I don't regret it.

The reason I took the information leaflet was because I liked the pictures! They were of course of the various aircraft our Air Force had in those days, a P3K Orion, a Friendship, two CT-4B Airtrainers and two Strikemasters. These days only the Orions remain in service.

The four trades I was considering were:
Avionics Mechanic (or aviation electronics, which I discounted because it all seemed too nerdy to me), Planewright ( Or Woodworker. I think I would have been good at this because I was good at woodwork, but I was told that recruits were almost never needed as it was such a small trade), Armament Mechanic (a trade that the recruiter was trying to gently force on me as he needed to fill his quota, but I wasn't keen on blowing myself up) and a trade called Safety and Surface.

Now this latter trade really interested me because it actually involved many different trades under one title. The recruiting leaflet lists the trade as involving “Sealants, coatings, corrosion, signwriting, spray painting, parachutes, liferafts, survival equipment.” A lot of it seemed very different from anything I could do in civilian life.

To assist in my decision of which trade I'd like to apply for, Flt Lt Manson arranged for Mum, Dad and myself to visit No 1 Technical Training School at RNZAF Hobsonville one weekend in mid-1988. This was a huge adventure for me, but I truly think Dad was more excited than me. We all had a great time. Flt Sgt ‘Sambo' ____ , an instructor from the school showed us around. We looked at the Armourer's classroom, which was filled with guns and other weaponry, the Safety and Surface classrooms, which were very interesting, and then the Machinist training area, which was Sambo's trade. Sadly I found the Machine Shop extremely boring, but Dad, being a Fitter and Turner by trade, thought it was a dream come true. So while I was trying to find out more about service life, here were Dad and Sambo discussing lathes!

Despite their best attempts, neither Dad nor Sambo convinced me to be a machinist. But the visit did convince me that Safety and Surface would be the go. I had discovered at 1TTS that even more was involved in the trade than what the recruiting blurb had said. One whole area missed was upholstery, something most people wouldn't associate with the military, but a very valuable skill to have. So on my return home I completed the application form to join the RNZAF. Applying to join the military is a trial in itself, with forms to fill in, interviews to have, and worst of all, the test.

Meeting Alan Howard

It was not too long after I applied for the RNZAF that I met Alan Howard, who I got to know very well. We were both 6th Form students at Cambridge High School. He was introduced by a mutual friend, Gary Cross, because Alan had also applied for an Air Force career.

Unlike me, Alan was dead set on becoming a pilot. He was very enthusiastic about it, and I soon realised he was bright enough for the job.

So when the time came Alan and I were to attend the ‘pre-entry test' together, which took part at the Knox Street barracks on a freezing, damp winter's day in 1988. I have the letter which came a few days before about the test, dated the 20th of September 1988. It reminds me that there were seven tests, these being (I quote):

a) General Reasoning A test of basic common sense/thought process

b) Basic Arithmetic Simple arithmetic (no calculators)

c) English Aptitude Word Association and spelling

d) Electrical Information Basic, common sense information

e) Mechanical Information Basic, common sense information

f) Test of higher level mathematics emphasis on 4 th -5 th form maths (no calculators)

g) Clerical aptitude test a speed test

This nerve-racking series of tests were carried out in a large building at the Knox Street military complex. From memory there were around 80 applicants taking part, which surprised me a bit. We sat in the cold drafty building at old desks, and in a very limited space of time had to fill in the test sheets. I found the maths and common sense parts easy enough, and the clerical test seemed ok too. But I was very worried about my limited knowledge in anything electrical or mechanical. One specific break I got was in the mechanical section where a question asked what the universal joint on a car did. Till two weeks before that date I'd had absolutely no idea, but luckily I'd seen Dad changing the universal on our car and had for some reason enquired what it did. Thankfully his answer stuck in my mind.

If the test was not bad enough, what happened next was worse. After the tests were completed they asked us all to stand outside while the tests were marked. It was cold and damp, and the mood was very apprehensive. After considerable time the recruiter came out and called out a list of names. Those called out were taken indoors again. I wasn't on the list. Considerably more than half the applicants went indoors. Another long wait, and then the recruiter called more names. In this small bunch Alan was asked inside. He was marked in a slightly different category because he had applied to become a pilot.

At last the few of us left were asked in. There were about 20 of us or less including the second batch that'd gone in. The first batch of people was gone, probably out another door. We were informed, to our immense relief, that we were the ones who had passed the tests. All those other people had failed the rigorous requirements. I was amazed and very relieved to be among the successful applicants. I remember thinking to myself, “This is it, I'm in. This is the beginning of my career. I'm on my way.” The recruiter asked us all to sign some form that sealed the deal. Everyone stood there like dummies, it seemed they were all as overwhelmed as me. For the first time in my life I decided to be assertive and not wait politely till last, so I stepped forward and became the first to sign up. This was a new beginning.

There was of course another hurdle to jump yet, the Air Force medical. This was to take place a few days later at RNZAF Base Te Rapa, just north of Hamilton. On arriving at the base, I reported to the Base Hospital, while Mum waited in the car outside. We had both been amused to see a tall thin building on the base with the sign saying Elephant House. Images of Hannibal's army came to mind. To this day I still wonder what exactly was stored in that building. I will probably never know as the entire base was flattened by the Tainui tribe after the Government gifted this valuable asset to them, and it is now an empty block of land growing weeds!

I recall the nerves as myself and several other young potential recruits sat in the waiting room, in nothing but underwear under yellow bathrobes. One by one we were called to various points in the hospital to undergo eye tests, hearing tests, height and weight check, and the nasty fat check where huge pincers were used to squeeze and measure the fat roll on the side of ones stomach. The medic made some remark that mine was slightly too high, which I thought was a bit rude because I was by no means fat. Several months before the recruiter had sent me a chart of exercises to get fit for RNZAF service, which I'd adhered to, as well as going for a run every morning before school. I used to get up at about Six O'clock and run around behind Alan who was on his bike doing his paper round, which was great motivation to keep running. I hated running, I still do, but in those early foggy morning runs where the two of us had the town to ourselves we had a lot of laughs.

So I thought I was reasonably fit, and definitely not fat. NOW I'm fat!

However, I still seemingly passed that test. The last part of the test was to see the doctor. This is the part I dreaded, the part everyone had pre-warned and teased about, “Turn your head and cough”. The doctor was actually a civilian, who spoke with a broad Scottish brogue. He was very difficult to understand, but I got by, and managed to be sent away from his office without so much of a mention of “Turn your head an cough”. Thank goodness it seemed that old practice had been stopped, or perhaps in my case simply neglected.

The most memorable thing about the medical was I recall that when Alan came to visit the same doctor for his medical a day or so later, he too had extreme trouble understanding his accent. Alan reported to me and others afterwards his embarrassment at the point where the doctor said “Stand there and bend down” he thought the doctor said “pants down” (the dreaded turn and cough on his mind too). When the doctor asked why he'd pulled his boxers down and was standing there naked Alan realised the mistake, much to our amusement and his shame!

Somehow I had gotten through the medical and passed fit for service, despite my roll of fat that had upset the medic, and despite my back problems, which Flt Lt Manson had warned me not to mention. In fact he'd turned a blind eye when I honestly admitted I had a bad back, and said “Wait till you're in the Air Force before you mention it, and then you may get it fixed.” It was not a bad problem anyway by that stage, but it flared up now and again. Later, while at 4TTS, I was to encounter the problem again, and when I went to the medics two of them, one a Captain with considerable experience, twisted me like a corkscrew on the floor till the back's bones all finally clicked back into place, for the first time in about three years. I've never had a serious back problem again so it did the trick.

In mid-October 1988 I was sent a letter from Flt Lt Manson saying I was able to join as a Safety and Surface Worker on either R1, R2 or R4/89. Previously in my earlier stages of joining the recruiter had actually aimed to get me onto R4/88, which would have begun in October 1988. This letter was actually dated the 8th of September, which is crossed out and re-dated the 12th of October. I was so confident of my acceptance once I'd passed the entry tests and medical in September (which had been run during the school holidays) that I decided to leave school. But then things changed, I don't remember if my recruiting officer was trying to cut it too fine to get me into an R4/88 placement, or whether placements on the course for S&S workers were either dropped or filled. But I got a phone call saying I was no longer able to go into the RNZAF in October. So I had to wait till the next recruit course, which would be R1/89 beginning in January 1989. In the meantime I busied myself by painting my Nana's house, both the exterior and interior. Although I lost the opportunity to finish the last few months of my year at school because of the mix-up, I am extremely grateful for that time spent with my late Nana before I went off to the RNZAF.

At last Monday the 9th of January 1989 came around. Luckily I made it to Hamilton Airport at Rukuhia all right. There was a chance the day before that it wouldn't be possible. I had gone up to Auckland Zoo with Mum, Dad and my sisters Shelley and Lynda. We had made the special trip to see the two Pandas who were passing through New Zealand on a world tour. On the way home that afternoon a storm had erupted with intense fury, so much so that a huge section of State Highway One actually washed away. We were diverted down country roads into the wops and for some time we had no idea whether we'd even make it back home to Cambridge by morning. I was terribly worried, but luckily Dad managed to find a route through – despite a couple of very hairy crossings of roads that had become deep fords in the flash flooding. We got home very late, and I was very tired, but the excitement of that day would be nothing compared with the next.

The First Day

By the morning of Monday the 9th of January the storm from the night before had gone completely. We got to the airport with plenty of time to spare, me clutching the airline tickets which the RNZAF had kindly sent me, and my new bag that I'd got for my 18th birthday a month before, which was packed with all the necessities stipulated on an official list of 'things to bring' – including an iron. Also in my bag, according to the ‘Drafting Instructions' I had received with the ticket, were my birth certificate and my drafting order.

Hamilton airport was very full, it seems several flights were going out at once. I recall seeing two significant people in the crowd. One was Jim Bulger, then just an oppostition MP, but later to become New Zealand's Prime Minister. The other was a young man who towered above everyone else by about a foot. I was later to learn he was Keith Jenkins, who would be in my dorm and become a very good mate.

Above: Dave Homewood, looking very worried, prepares to board the Air New Zealand Fokker F27 Friendship
for Wellington and onto Woodbourne. In the background are Mike Ingram (blue shirt) and Matt Evison (red
jumper) 9th January 1989. Photo: Judy Homewood

When the boarding call finally came, the butterflies really leapt about. After saying goodbyes to my family, and one last photo for Mum as I walked out to the tarmac and boarded the Air New Zealand Friendship. Also on board was Alan, and a few other faces that I had seen at the entry test at Knox Street and later at the medical. Two of them are in that photo Mum took, Matt Evison and Mike Ingram. Annie Jones was also on board, who'd also been recruited from Hamilton, and I sat next to another guy on his way to RNZAF Base Woodbourne too, Dave Roe.

The flight seemed long, and all sorts of things went through my mind as we gradually headed south. I had never been further down the country than Palmerston North before this flight. Now I'd reached Wellington airport, where we changed planes and were soon on another F27 and crossing the Cook Straight.

The approach to Woodbourne was interesting. It was high summer, and the place seemed so dry, almost a desert. These days most of the area is quite different having been planted in vineyards, but then it was just a burgeoning industry and there was a lot of pastureland that seemed in 1989 to have been burned to dust by the summer heat.

Upon touchdown the hot Marlborough sun was a shock after the cool air conditioning of the aircraft. We collected our bags and were soon greeted by an Air Force official, who we soon learned was Corporal Crosswell. He lined us up, and walked us through the base, under the tunnel that crosses State Highway 16, and into the grounds of the General Service Training School.

Upon being shown which was our dormitories, and told to find our bed spaces, we were left for a short while as the GSTS staff went to greet more planes and more recruits who were arriving from all across the country. I was in F Dorm. So was Alan Howard. I was pleased that I had someone there I already knew, but I soon started meeting others in the dorm and already friendships were forming. After all, we were all in the same boat. I dare say most of the others were probably as apprehensive as I was about everything.

Each dorm housed sixteen recruits, and a dorm was broken into four cubicles, housing four people in a cubicle each with their own 'bed space'. In my cubicle already when I arrived was Matthew Hall, who seemed a nice chap. He was from Dannevirke, and when I arrived he was already busy cleaning the floor. I too, along with all the new arrivals, were set to the same task. The floors were linoleum, probably very old lino at that, and they were highly polished. But before we'd arrived it seems the previous recruit course had decided to walk all over the floor willy nilly inteir black boots. There were scuff marks and boot polish marks all over it. We were given a rag and some cleaning abrasive in a tub called Ataway - something I'd never heard of but was soon to come to know well.

Guys kept arriving in waves it seemed. The next chap I met in my cubicle was Glen Harcus, who arrived not long after me. He was from Middlemarch, in Otago. Instantly I liked Glen, he was a solid, dependable chap. And he seemed to settle in quicker than some of us to the routine of dormitary life because he had been at boarding school, in Dunedin.

The first thing military we learned in that short space of time was if a ranking person walked into the dorm, the first to see him or her would shout "DORM!!!" and the whole dorm would snap to attention on a predetermined spot in their bedspace. The first time this happened, I was attacking a particularly nasty stain on the floor, and was scrubbing away for all I was worth. Cpl Crosswell had apparently entered the dorm, and one of the recruits at the door end, Steve Ingrey, had whimpered out the command "Dorm". Several of the guys down my far end of the dorm didn't hear the call, but most clicked onto what was going on and eventually jumped to attention. Here's stupid me still on hands and knees, scrubbing away with back to the approaching General Service Instructor. At that point I wondered why all had gone deathly quiet, looked round and saw Croz's fuming face. I snapped to attention, but all was lost by then. I got a right bollocking, and he said that from now on I was to be known as 'Speed.'

Great. So there it was. The Corporal in charge of our dorm had already singled me out and given me a derogitory nickname. I had been warned about this by my cousin, Brian Homewood, who'd been in the RNZAF in the 1970's. He'd said they look for a weakness and picked on it. And if you were the first to piss them off you'd probably be in for it for the rest of the course. I had also seen Full Metal Jacket, and I began to worry drastically as to whether I was going to last that first day.

Anyway, he went away again and we carried on scrubbing the floor. After some time on hands and knees scrubbing the floors - which I have to say was not the first thing that I'd expected to be doing in the RNZAF - the last wave of recruits seemed to arrive, and our fourth bedspace member arrived. Carl Hooker was from Whangarei, and had joined up to become an aircraft mechanic. We had little time to get aquainted though because the shouting erupted again.

Mistake Number Two followed soon. We were ordered to parade out on the road on the northern side of the barracks on the double. To get out there you had to exit through the barracks entrances either on the east or west side of the barracks. I followed everyone else, running flat tack as we all were. I ran out the door and was one of the last to exit as I had traveled the longest distance to the eastern exit. A man in uniform was shouting at everyone, I could hear him as I approached the door but didn't register what he was saying. As I exited and headed off with the others he grabbed me. It was this point I realised what he'd been yelling, “Don't walk on the grass!” He decided to make an example of me, despite the fact everyone else who'd walked on the grass had escaped and were now on parade. “Down and give me ten!” I had a fair idea what he meant so instantly got down and did ten press ups, not very impressive ones. As I was doing them he gave me a tirade of abuse for setting foot on the grass, which is, it turns out, illegal in the military! I then attempted to stand up, to meet more abuse, “Did I give you permission to recover!!???” I had no idea what he actually meant, so answered “No Sir!”

“Don't call me sir! I work for a fucking living!!” He yelled. “I'm sorry, I can't see your rank from down here,” I said sheepishly. “I'm Corporal Tamariki,” he said. “Now get the fuck up and get on fucking parade!”

“Yes Corporal. Thank you Corporal!”, I retorted as I rushed off to join the parade. Who should be addressing the rest of the recruits but Corporal Crosswell. He saw me darting behind the ranks and yelled “You're late on parade! What's your name?” As I took my place on the end of the line I replied “Homewood, Corporal!” He took a better look, and then said “Fucking Speed again!” I felt about three inches tall, and wished I'd had the opportunity to explain it was Cpl Tamariki's fault I was late, but I knew better than to say anything more as it seemed everything I did made things worse. It was a great start.

That parade was about hair cuts. One of the GSI's went along behind us and tapped the shoulder of each man who would be expected to go that evening to get a haircut at the base barber, better known to all as the 'base butcher'. I was not tapped, and as I had short hair anyway I assumed that they had decided I didn't need my head shaved. I felt rather smug for the few minutes before Alan Howard explained to me that the piece of the lecture I missed whilst doing those bloody press-ups said that if not tapped, we were to report the following evening, because there were too many people for the barber to cope with in one go. So my hair was to stay for but one more day, then “rrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr”, a number 2 buzz cut at the base butcher's.

I recall too that on that day we were marched over to the Base Hospital, and given the dreaded innoculations required for military service. As it was a scorching hot day, and and the medics didn't want a load of recruits standing round indoors, we were allowed to stand easy just across the road, in perhaps one of the only shady spots on base that day. They then called us in one by one. It was Croz who did the calling of the surnames, and when it came to Alan's turn he called "Howard!... the Duck". To get his quip you have to be aware that there was a very stupid film out at the time about an alien that looked like a duck, called Howard The Duck. From that single solitary moment to this day, poor old Alan Howard has been known to all his RNZAF mates as 'Duck'.

The needles were painful. There was a Tetnus boost, and several other things, one which was a contraption that injected six needles into the arm at once, called a multi-jab. Most of us were a little faint afterwards, due to the effect of the medicine as well as the scorching heat of the afternoon.

But on we went, this time to the Dentist, where we had our teeth checked as if we were horses up for sale. The dental assistant who checked mine was rather impressed, and it turned out she had once known my orthodontist, so we got on well.

I'm sure it was on that same afternoon, after all the check-ups, that everyone was gathered in the Woodbourne Base Institute to be sworn in officially as Air Force Cadets. I recall there was a little bit of a wait as the proceedings took some time, and I remember meeting Sue Connoly there for the first time, who was sitting beside me, and chatting about what we'd done before joining up. She was from Invercargill, and her sister had apparently known someone from Cambridge so we had a pleasant chat as we waited.

The base Admin section had several desks set up at the front of the Institute where they were calling individuals up to the front to go through the administrative processes that would change not only your life but your status as a citizen. Eventually I was called up, and had to swear an oath of allegiance to the Queen and my country, and then sign the forms that meant I was now officially in the Royal New Zealand Air Force, and no longer covered by civilian law. I was now an airman!

By the time this ceremony was complete the day was nearly over as far as working hours went. I am sure we must have been set many more tasks and told many more rules that we shouldn't break, but I can't recall now what else happened that day. We must have had our first introduction to the Airmen's Mess at about 5:30pm, which can't have been too thrilling because it doesn't stay in my mind. I do remember a warning from the GSI's not to drink the milk. They said there was something not right with the milk. There was debate about whether it was simply Mess milk - which seemed to sit all day in stainless steel jugs and always taste warm - or whether they meant all Marlborough milk. I learned later that it was both. I don't recall who told me they'd confirmed that Marborough milk was not good, but someone said there was a deficiency in the area that made milk different from the rest of NZ. Please correct me if this is wrong. It may just have been a 'craptogram' (which is an old RNZAF term for gossip!)

F Dorm

That first night we all began to get to know one another. Half of the males from A Flight were in F Dorm. Starting at the dorm door we had Keith Jenkins, whom I'd seen at Hamilton Airport that morning and had been on the same plane as me. He was the tallest person I've ever met, and a really interesting chap because he grew up in Fiji (though he's a Kiwi). I recall there was a bit of fuss in the first day or so because he was too tall for the bed he was given. They got a chippie in to measure him, and an extension to his bed was knocked up, which was amusing to some, but it must be quite a problem to go through life being too tall for everything. Keith and I would knock about a lot not only on recruit course but much later into our careers too.

Next to Keith was Tony Fry from Taupo. Tony, like Keith, was to become an Avionics CT. Tony and I would spend a lot of spare time during recruit course playing pool on the rickety pool table that GSTS had hidden away in one of the recreation rooms. He had quite a witty sense of humour, and I enjoyed his company on the recruit course.

The other members of that bed space were Mike Gasson and Steve Ingrey. Both were terrific characters and almost became a double act. I enjoyed the company of both Mike and Steve very much. Mike was from Clevedon, in South Auckland and had also joined to be an Avionics CT. If memory serves it was also revealed during the recruit course that he'd also applied to join the Royal New Zealand Navy as an officer. Part way into the course he received notice in the mail that he'd actually been accepted. He then had to make the difficult decision as to whether he wanted to stay with the RNZAF in the lowly ranks, or leave and join the Navy as an officer. Mike decided to stay with us. I'll never forget Cpl Crosswell asking him why he'd applied to be a naval officer. Mike's reply was he'd always wanted to get married in white! He was joking of course, but that was what he was like, always making the rest of us laugh. 'Gaz' was, and is, a great bloke. Mike is now a Sergeant at Woodbourne.

Steve Ingrey, who naturally got the nickname Stingray, was to become an Air Force Chef. He was one of the youngest members in the flight, and definitely one of the most popular. Throughout the recruit course many practical jokes would be played on poor Stevie, from spur of the moment things like downtrows to calculated operations where he was stripped and tied to the lamp-post in the street outside the barracks. I seem to recall his bed being taken outdoors too at some stage (correct me if I'm mixing that with someone else). The thing was he always took it in the very best spirit of humour. He was of course behind many practical jokes too. One favourite joke at GSTS was the short-sheeting of people's beds, so that the top sheet is folded on itself to look like the top and bottom sheet, so when the unsuspecting owner gets into bed they can only get halfway down.

In the next bed space were Mike Going, Steve Groom, Alan Howard and Mike Ingram. Mike Going was from Whangarei, and was related to the All Black great Sid Going and all the other members of that famous rugby-playing family. He had previously been in the Air Training Corps as a Warrant Officer, so knew a bit about the RNZAF. This came in handy occasionally as he could tell us things that the GSI's had omitted to tell us. Mike was an Aircraft Mechanic CT, and he later went on to be commissioned. Today he is an Engineering Officer and works at Defence Headquarters in Wellington. Mike was on leave in Bali when the terrorists attacked the bars there in 2002. He was injured in the attacks but luckily survived and continues to this day in the RNZAF.

Steve Groom came from Taumaranui where he had previously been a fireman. He was to become an Aircraft Mechanic CT too. Steve was the oldest guy in A Flight, but was only 23. His experience and age did show though as I always found Steve very much a calming influence in situations. I remember he consistently managed to produce the best bed pack in the dorm, which was down to the many he'd already made in the NZ Fire Service.

Mike Ingram was from Taupiri and he'd been recruited at the same time and place as me. In fact I realised later there were many familiar faces in my flight whom I'd seen at the recruiting office, at the entry test, at the medical and then on the plane to Woodbourne. Mike was becoming an Aircraft Mechanic.

Alan I already knew well of course. He was going to become an Avionics (CT). CT, by the way, stood for Certificate in Trade. They were the ones who did a few extra training courses and would graduate with more qualifications than a normal tradesman, as well as having a trade cert, which in those days the RNZAF didn't give to all trainees. CT's were drafted during the initial selection process at the recruiting office, and you were selected based on your test results and school academic achievements. Very few recruits were offered the privilegde, so to the masses of slightly jealous normal trainees, CT's were known as 'cock-tuggers'!

The next cubicle was my one, with Glen Harcus, Matt Hall and Carl Hooker.

The last cubicle in the dorm was the bedspaces of Peter Hatley, Craig Hill, Phil Hayson and Andy Hignett. Pete Hatley was a real laugh, always quoting films and doing impressions. One of his favourite films seemed to by Full Metal Jacket and many of the quotes from that and other military films became infectious throughout the dorm. I recall one phrase he enjoyed quoting to people, and to this day I haven't a clue where it comes from, "Pick the peanuts outa my shit!" It seemed very funny at the time.

Phil Hayson was also a very funny bloke. He and Pete were always a good laugh. Phil was there for one reason alone, he wanted to join the New Zealand Police but was young and inexperienced as far as a work background went. A police recruiter told him that he should find a job for a little while and then reapply when he had some sort of background behind him. The suggestion had been made that such a job looked favouably on could be bank work, where working with money and the public would look good for his application, or maybe a military recruit course. Phil was the adventurous sort, so he joined the RNZAF. His total intention was to complete Basic Training and leave straight afterwards. He made this clear to us, his fellow recruits, a few weeks in. Many of us tried to persuade him to stay as he seemed a natural. However, he did leave at the end of the course, and I don't think anyone has heard from him since. I'd love to catch up with him and find out how life went for him.

Andrew Hignett was from Stratford. He was quite a laugh too but seemed much quieter than his cubicle mates. He preferred to be known as Drew, and definately hated being called Andy. Phil Hayson used to call him Andy all the time simply to wind him up, in a joking kind of way. Drew was to become an Avionics Mechanic. I have heard recently that he was out of the RNZAF and studying at university.

The fourth member of that cubicle hated being called by his name even more. Craig Hill preferred to be known as 'Wolfie', or 'Wolfie The Bastard' in full. Don't ask me why, this was not an RNZAF nickname, it came with him from his home of Auckland. In fact it was quite some time before the rest of us discovered what his first name even was. I think someone else actually saw it on a letter addressed to him, and I recall him being irate that we'd all discoverd it. Wolfie was amazing - he sat next to me in the GSTS classroom, and every day I'd notice that when we were all hard at it taking notes, he was doodling amazing artworks into his exercise book. He didn't seem to note down anything we were told. Every now and then mid-lecture he'd tap me and show me the latest completed drawing of skulls or cars ot rattlesnakes. But the incredible thing was when we did phase tests he always seemed to come top of the Flight. He must have had an amazing memory, I just couldn't fathom it.

More To Come Soon.....

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