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We flew out of Stanstead in August 1953. We had been billetted the previous night at RAF Hendon I think and were then bussed to Stanstead, mightily different then from now because many of the buildings were nissen huts. The flight was delayed for mechanical problems so we were dropped off in Bishops Stortford and left kicking our heels until we eventually flew out late in the afternoon on an Avro York.You never heard anything so noisy in your life. Not surprising since I understand that the York was a civvy version of the Lancaster and many were used in the Berlin Airlift in 1947. Flying time to Malta was 7 hours and we arrived in the middle of the night at Luqa Airport where we embarked on an even more perilous journey across Malta to an Army transit camp to spend the rest of the night. Malta buses have a notorious reputation for no springs on terribly bumpy country roads but even this was superceded by the shocking quality of driving !
I was awakened the next morning by my first encounter with a typical middle eastern fly which crawled all over my face until it woke me up. I then watched as it worked it`s way down the line of beds to initiate everyone with it`s filthy wake up call.
After breakfast we took off once more for the second 7 hour flight from Malta to the Canal Zone and I was able to follow our route over the North Libyan desert by means of a mini pocket world atlas ! One of the most momentous sights were lines of vehicles and tanks in the desert, left overs from World War 2 and the Battles of Tobruk in particular.
After 4 or 5 hours in the air I started to feel very sick due to the up and down flight of the plane caused by the rising heat from the desert but sitting next to a window and keeping my eyes firmly on the ground helped a lot as did studying my pocket atlas and plotting the next landmark. Suddenly, out of the haze in the south, three conical tips appeared and I shouted out loud "the Pyramids". Everyone immediately jumped up and dashed over to our side of the plane to see the sight causing a steward to rush down the aisle shouting "get back, get back, you`re tipping the plane over" !!! We did land safely.
We were taken to the transit camp, RAF El Hamra where we spent our first night in Egypt sleeping out in the open with our greatcoat for a blanket and our kitbag as a pillow !!!
Next day, we were taken down to the Lido on the Great Bitter Lake. The water was very, very salty and dried out white on your skin. I ducked under the water, came up just as someone else did, facing me. "Graham Cox" I exclaimed. Quite a coincedence that, Graham Cox also cane from Irthlingborough and was stationed in RAF Kasfareet working in the cookhouse.
Back in El Hamra, our postings were being sorted out and we all visioned going to perhaps Cyprus, Iraq, Aden, Kenya and other exotic places. Not on your life !!! Just about all of us ended up over the road in RAF Kasfareet for anything from eighteen months to two and a half years, mine being the latter.
