Customs and POETS day
Arriving at RAF Gutersloh was interesting, not my first trip there…I was just 3 months of age and my Father (and our family) were posted to Germany with the British Army where he would work in Bielefeld, and so we all arrived via this airfield. I remember we lived in Krefeld Married Quarters at one point, but I am not sure if it was that first trip or a subsequent posting my father had after we had lived in Norway for a few years.
My posting to Gutersloh was with ATsy…(ATSy is Aviation Transport Security in the RAF). We worked closely with the Zollamt ("Zollamt" is the German term for "customs office" or "customs authority.") and dealt with customs duties on their behalf.
In those days RAF Gutersloh was a very busy airport for both military and civil aircraft and Harriers were our resident squadron.
On one occasion, I remember being on the inbound flight desk, checking valid documents on a mixed flight of both military families and several civilians, one of the latter being a known “star”.
I am not going to name the well-known personality, who wandered into the inbound lounge with his sidekick (possibly close protection) that day, but someone most everyone will know by sight.
Anyway, I am at my customs desk as he approaches and then starts to pass the desk chatting to his associate.
“Passport please” I piped up as he began to move passed my desk.
It was one of those moments “Do you not know who I am?”…clearly I did but my duties didn’t allow for facial recognition rather than valid paperwork.
“Yes, sir, I do, but I still need to see both of your passports for you to enter the country”.
They took another step, almost an “I dare you” kind of move…
“Sir, please, your passports!”
With much huffing and puffing the pair of them offered up their passports that I then scrutinized for a couple of minutes.
Handing the passports back, I thanked them and wished them a good day…to say they weren’t pleased is a bit of an understatement, but hey.
ATsy duties had many moments of “downtime”, flight delays, flight reroutes and such, which meant we had many an hour just hanging around waiting…so we found things to entertain ourselves…
…Inbound Lounge Wheelchair races and stunts!
Hmmm…I know, but of course, we had wheelchairs on hand in case passengers required assistance. Over the years many of us perfected some interesting stunts and admirable racing techniques all whilst ensuring we didn’t scuff our highly glossed shoes lol.
Our shifts were 12 hours (or more if there were delays), pretty standard for RAF Police, RAF Medics, RAF Firefighters and RAF Regiment but a good deal of the rest of the RAF generally worked Monday to Friday day work.
So, on a Friday afternoon, POETS day (Piss off early, tomorrow's Saturday”), around 1530hrs, the base became vacant, apart from the bars!
It is worth noting that many squadrons had their own individual bars, somewhere for like-minded souls to gather away from “the others” and not gaggle into the NAAFI bar. The RAF Regiment (The Rock Apes) had their own for sure and we, the RAF Police had our “Pigs Bar” and never the twain shall meet.
In honesty, there were the odd times we would invite the Rock Apes over and vice versa, we had a lot in common in that our duties often merged and we also enjoyed sharing our banter.
Highlighting POETS day, I recall one evening, when our shift was on an off-duty period, myself and a mate were walking down the main drag heading for the Pizza Hut (not the brand, the location that sold pizzas was a hut lol).
As we walked we both noted airmen in varying states of drunkenness, some literally sparking out in bushes or on benches savouring their last drink before they keeled over.
I remember commenting to my oppo, “If the British public could see this advanced state of readiness eh?”
Once at the Pizza place, which also served glorious Gyros, we gathered up our orders and headed off to the Guardhouse, situated at the main gates.
We had bought some extra vittles for the guys and gals who were on shift making our arrival at the gate very welcome.
“Blue Light Taxi, guys?” the Sergeant asked.
“Oh, that would be great…someone heading out our way then?”
“Yes, they’re just doing domestic patrols of Married Quarters for the next 2 hours, get yourselves going and thanks for the tucker”.
So, you will have realised what a Blue Light Taxi is…whether you think that’s a misuse of service resources or not is up to you!
Our ATsy duties were not restricted to just on-base flights, we often got called on to meet aircraft at many civil airports and other military bases around Germany.
One specific off-base gig was at an RAF base up at Jever, which seemed to be manned by more of the American forces than Brits.
The journey from Gutersloh, in our unmarked Vauxhall Cavalier (in Germany the brand was actually Opel), to Jever, around 250km, went well and we were greeted by a throng of American servicemen.
Guess what?
It was POETS day…and many of these servicemen had already started to “wind down” ie had already been drinking and not yet out of uniform!
We had been tasked to meet a C130 (Hercules aircraft) , no expected passengers just documentation to check on behalf of the Zollamt, so quite an easy gig, as long as it was on time…which, thankfully it was.
Job done, we had overnight accommodation booked locally and extra Deutschmarks in our pockets (when working away from base we were allotted extra funds for night stops).
Off to a local bar restaurant for food and a couple of beers! Well, it would have been rude not to eh?
My oppo and I sat opposite each other quaffing a Jever beer (still available I noted recently in a bar in Spain!) and filling our bellies. I faced toward a small television up on the wall in one corner and a table with a couple of local guys sat doing the same as us.
Suddenly one of the German guys waved and shouted something to us…I didn’t catch what he said and half waved back at which point he pointed at the television and murmured something else…he seemed quite agitated.
Looking up at the screen I saw an image of something burning and then a long shot of an airport…
…and an image of devastation…I suddenly realised what it was…
Some of our lads from Gutersloh had gone to Hanover Airport to Police the Airshow there that day (6th May 1988)…it transpired that a Chinook Helicopter had hit a gangway pier with its rotors causing a disintegration of the aircraft cockpit as it reared up from the impact. Several died that day and many were injured, a couple of our mates had injuries and one, we found out later, had a lucky escape as a section of rotor flew passed his head and into a vehicle he was standing next to.
The locals knew this was something we were associated with and offered their condolences and bought us both another beer as they could see the shock on our faces…
A very sad time, just one of several in my military career.
Until next time
Make sure you check out next week’s issue:
“The Wall”
“Operation Desert Shield”
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