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Wed, Jan 07 2004, 0:55:28Login ] [ Contact Forum Admin ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: 12 ]


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Date Posted: 27/05/11 20:17:12
Author: Ron McCole
Subject: Re: RAF Katunayake, Negombo, Ceylon SASF
In reply to: John Cooper 's message, "RAF Katunayake, Negombo, Ceylon SASF" on 4/03/04 8:06:05

I was at RAK Katunayake with the 19th Air Formation Signals Regiment from June 1957 to November 1958.We provided telephone services for the station, as well as telex and repeater services.
If any of you RAF guys remember me, please send me a mail -- it would be great to make contact.

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[> Re: RAF Katunayake, Negombo, Ceylon SASF -- Eddie Kench, 9/06/11 22:36:02

On arrival at the airfield in Ceylon (early 1955) we were bussed to Ngombo, a very pleasant place, lots of greenery, bright flowers and gardens, a comfortable cinema and NAAFI and great swimming pool complete with women. We disembarked at the transit billet and awaited a roll call to determine which billets we were to go to, and where we were to work. At first I thought we were being called in alphabetical order, then I decided it must be according to our service number order and finally in just any old order, but when they had all gone and the sergeant was about to put his pad away I began to feel very lonely. “Who the ell are you airman, and what the ell are you doin ere” asked the oh so polite sergeant. “2730532 AC Kench, Serge” I replied, “Well you’re not on my list so what the ell are you doin ere”. “I’ve been posted to the signals centre serge, look it says so on my kit bag” I said. “I don’t give a toss what it says on your bleedin kit bag you ain’t on my list”, pause “Wait there”, and he departed into a nearby office. After a while he returned and said “you’d better put your gear in transit and get yourself something to eat while we sort this out”. So off I went.
The transit billet was my first introduction to tropical living. A thatched roof with an open veranda all round, no windows only monsoon shutters, and a house boy to look after me. The corporal in charge was very strange. He was accomodated at one end of the transit billet, in a large room decorated with indian rugs hanging around the walls and on the floor. His mosquito net was trimmed with lace ribbon and there was delicate chinaware all around. Carved coffee tables and a radiogram together with leather pouffes and easy chairs completing the scene, very comfortable. I was later warned that he was as queer as a coot (Gay) but he made a good cup of tea and never bothered me.
After settling in and a good meal, I returned to the office to find out if they had any news. “There has been an almighty cock up mate, you shouldn’t be ere you should be at the Singapore Centre of Signals”. “Not your fault, you’d better wait in transit until we can get you a flight out”. Six weeks later there was a CO’s Inspection and I was very foolishly still in the hut. The CO asked me who I was and was not a little surprised when I told him. The following week I was on the HMT Orwell bound for Singapore Island, shame. I had not wasted my time in Ceylon, I was able to improve my swimming and got a good tan so that I would not be a moonie at my next camp. I had also been able to hire a bike and explore the beautiful island and made good friends with the lads in the signal centre and a couple of RAF policemen, always a help especially since both of them were to be posted to Singapore six months later.

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