The Infamous 1 Gp Dining-in Night

T'was as a lowly copilot on 27 Sqn, used only to carrying the ration box, that l was ordered to attend the 1 Gp dinner at Waddington in the summer of either 1967 or '68. Not only me, everybody HAD to attend
except those on QRA, even those on leave. We were not best pleased, pay was poor, morale not much better and no one wanted to be ordered to spend money they hadn't got.
The wheels (organising senior officers) decided a practice arrivals would take place in the preceding week. More grumbles as 1000, yes 1000 aircrew climbed on buses to ensure arrival at Waddo was coordinated from Marham, Wyton, Cottesmore, Scampton, Coningsby etc. That went ok, but the lads decided come the night, more drink was needed to ease the pain.
The evening arrived and our Scampton crews aimed first for the bar to ease the journey, loaded some crates on the bus for surely there would be no drinks before the dinner. Wrong. There was unlimited sherry  for an hour which resulted in 1000 officers being in jubilant mood when seated for dinner in this fine and resplendent marquee.
I'll not dare to tell of the resulting shambles, shouts of rage at the speeches and insults afforded to the highest ranks but will just recall two incidents that still bring a smile to this old warrior.
The matron from Nocton Hall (the RAF hospital) arrived with a busload of nurses, she left on her own in an empty vehicle. Love it!!!
Secondly, each bus had a sign depicting the station it was returning to. Some wag swapped all the signs around. The drivers didn't care if it caused trouble for a few 'Ruperts'. The result was that severely hung over officers in mess dress were forced to hitch hike back to Scampton from Cottesmore.
Why wasn't l caught out? I'd had a very uncomfortable drinking lesson at Goose Bay trying to drink with the Americans in the local early warning radar station. Having been carried out, rigid, by by my crew, l was now more careful in my drinking habits.
That 1 Group guest night will always remain one of my outstanding memories of the fantastic aircrew l have been privileged to serve with.
Jon Tye
 
…. and another thing
 
I normally try to steer well clear of adding, or embellishing, stories sent to me for publication. It is not an editor’s job. Having read Jon Tye’s account though, I couldn’t resist adding a few of my own recollections, for I too was there and it was a truly memorable occasion. I say ‘memorable’ in its loosest sense since the passage of some 58 years does challenge even the most forensic of reminiscences. To add that such an event was never repeated, lends credence to the enormity of what became an ocean-going calamity. Our 1 Group seniors and betters had seriously misjudged the pervasive mood of discontent prevailing in squadron crew rooms. A dark cloud had descended on the normally ebullient flock for a variety of reasons, many of which long since forgotten, but Defence Review pronouncements and poor pay certainly featured among them.
 
My own recollection, which stands to be challenged by anyone else who was there, was that there were two enormous marquees erected on the grass in front of the Officers’ Mess. One served as the ante-room, where sherry was served before dinner and the other served as  the dining room itself.
 
I endorse pretty much all of what Jon said. We were not at all happy at being forced to attend the dinner, not because dining-in nights were not enjoyable, indeed they were, but because this one was to be so huge and carried with it a steep price tag. Attendance was mandatory and we had no option other than to pay up and go. Like Jon, I do remember that rumours abounded that there would be only modest amounts of sherry before dinner, to be served during a brief period of about 20 minutes carefully controlled by the wonks at 1 Gp. Come the evening, the micro-managed transport plan went spectacularly awry. Some coaches were delayed by up to an hour and their passengers whiled away the time by drinking from the crates of beer loaded to lessen the pain of what lay ahead. So when they did arrive, their passengers had already achieved quite a lot of ‘flying speed’. These jolly boys were then ushered into the anteroom marquee determined to hoover down whatever sherry was proffered in what they firmly believed would be an alcoholic drought. But, contrary to their worst fears, the sherry kept coming and pre-dinner drinks rapidly became a riotous affair.
 
Finally the unfortunate master of ceremonies yelled above the din that dinner was served and the motley crowd staggered into the dining marquee, desperately trying to understand the seating plan. Hereafter recollections become even hazier. There were at least three courses, all accompanied by wine. Eventually decanters of port were circulated prior to the Loyal Toast. Up until that point I seem to recall that although the massed diners had been very vocal, some sort of decorum prevailed. Among the guests of honour were several very high-ranking officers, most of whom I cannot now recall. I think ‘le plus grand fromage’ was Sir Charles Elworthy, Chief of the Air Staff and destined to be Chief of the Defence Staff. He rose to speak and, although heckled a bit, he did manage to make himself heard. Thereafter things deteriorated badly. Another high-ranker present (I’ll stop short of naming him) was the one of the two who survived that awful accident at Heathrow airport when a very early Vulcan returning from a world tour tried to land in front of the assembled press in marginal weather conditions.
 
During the speeches things really got out of hand. In addition to persistent heckling, the audience decided to liven things up by letting off fireworks. At one point the tent was set on fire, although quickly extinguished by the perpetrator, and I remember clearly the late Jim Walker, a fellow member of OC 44’s crew, stuck in his mouth a firework he thought had failed to ignite, while he rummaged with both hands in his pockets for his cigarette lighter. The offending firework suddenly burst into life and exploded, inflicting painful burns to Jim’s nose and taking with it both eyebrows and a good portion of hair above his forehead.
 
I can remember little of what happened after dinner, other than endorsing what Jon said about the Nocton Hall Matron desperately searching for her nurses, who seemed to have found other distractions more entertaining than a slow and bumpy bus ride home.
 
Shortly after that infamous dining-in night, it may even have been the next day, I found myself a bleary-eyed copilot heading for Bristol Filton airport on some sort of dispersal exercise. We were billeted in less than luxurious portacabins adjacent to our aircraft on the ORP. Soon after arrival a signal arrived with the grim news that on our return to Waddington we would each be obliged to pay a fine to cover the damages done to the marquees and other equipment on the night which has since been subsumed into folklore.
 
I know there will be others out there who were also present at that notorious 1 Group dining-in. If you wish to add your own reminiscences, or indeed want to set the record straight as to my own unreliable memory, please write in.
 
I wonder why 1 Group never had another one!
 
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