Boy Entrant; The Recollections of a Royal Air Force Brat by Brian Carlin Page B

impression that was reinforced by what sounded like a strong foreign accent when he spoke. I later discovered he was Welsh, and that his “foreign” accent was overwhelmingly shared by a rather large Welsh population that was spread out for many miles from the gates of Royal Air Force St. Athan. Morgan-Williams, a teacher in civilian life, was in fact doing his 2-year National Service stint by serving in the RAF Education Scheme teaching RAF history, the subject on which he now proceeded to lecture us. We learned that the service had first come into being as the Royal Flying Corps during the First World War, as a branch of the army, but then evolved into a separate service in 1918, changing its name to the Royal Air Force at the same time. Because it was the first “air force” ever to be created as a separate entity, it has always had the distinction of being known simply as “The Royal Air Force” in contrast to all other air forces that have their national identity incorporated within the title.
    The portly little Pilot Officer finished delivering the history lesson and left. Now it was Sergeant Clarke’s time to brief us on more down to earth matters.
    “Pay attention, now,” he called out in his strained manner, as though the very act of addressing us was painful for him. “Tomorrow you will be inducted into the Royal Air Force and you will be asked to take the oath of allegiance.” He paused to let this sink in. “Now, if there is anyone amongst you having second thoughts about going through with this, this is your last chance to back out.” He looked around briefly to see if anyone had reacted to this solemn announcement and then continued, “If you should decide not to continue with induction, the Royal Air Force will provide you with a travel warrant back to your home town and you will be free to return there.” He paused again and looked around, “Okay, anyone who doesn’t wish to be inducted tomorrow, put his hand up.”
    A small number of boys decided to take advantage of this final offer and were politely but quickly ushered out of the room. The sergeant then addressed those of us in the majority who had remained.
    “Following induction, you will be known as the 29th Entry. Your training will consist of three months of initial training here in ITS, followed by fifteen months of technical training after you have passed-out of ITS and go to the Wings. On completion of your technical training, you will pass out of Boys’ service into the regular RAF, with the rank of Leading Aircraftsman.” He paused for breath and then added, “The training you will receive here at the Number 4 School of Technical Training is the finest in the world—second to none!”
    Such a claim could easily be taken as a gross exaggeration, but having personally been the beneficiary of the training he spoke of for the greater part of my life, in retrospect I have no doubt that he was completely truthful in this regard. Of course, he was referring specifically to the technical training we would receive, but in a wider sense his words also included another form of training that came as part of the package. This other training, which also turned out to be second to none, involved the acceptance of discipline and learning to live in an ordered world, whilst developing initiative and the ability to be self-assertive. These were traits that would prove invaluable for successful and productive lives in a future that few of us could have imagined at that particular moment.
    That evening, after eating in the mess, I entered a NAAFI canteen that I had noticed nearby. The ITS NAAFI was a long way from the mess and I needed to buy some cigarettes, so why not use this more convenient NAAFI, I thought? One of the other boys came with me and as we walked up to the counter, the ambient noise level in the place dropped several notches. It was like in one of those Westerns, where the sheriff walks into the saloon to confront the baddies and