appeared to have survived the war largely undamaged was the brick and reinforced concrete, slab-sided, Teutonic-looking, Rathaus. It was tall, and it was possible to climb flights of bare concrete steps to a flat viewing area on the roof. The stairwell, as in other German public buildings, absolutely reeked of stale cigar smoke, making it a pleasure to get out into the fresh air. From the top, on a good day, I saw right across the Jade Busen and, to the north, the coast and the nearer low-lying off-shore islands, and the Heligoland Bight beyond. The forest of Jever, and Jever Schloss, were also clearly visible in the flat landscape, but not the airfield. Nearer to, Prince Rupert boarding school for the children of British servicemen was also plainly visible and was one of the larger buildings in the area.
My free time on camp was taken up with my photographic interests, letter writing, reading, marquetry, listening to my radio, or going for walks. There were a goodly number of drinking sessions, or 'thrashes' as we called them. They were a part of air force life. Some of us, and I was one, tended not to indulge in the alcoholic excesses in the way that others did. As a result, I was able to save money rather than waste it buying a filthy hangover. Many was the time when there was a thrash after which some of us would go for a walk in the cool of the pine forest on a fine summer's (or any) evening. Even if there was gale it was quiet on the forest floor, walking on the springy pine needles. This was a favourite thing to do especially after a Dining In Night. We knew our way along the forest tracks even in the dark, and we didn't have to go off camp to do it, so big was the site.
Off camp there were plenty of walks. A popular one was to go across the airfield and out through a crash gate to the Forsthaus pub for a glass or two of Jever Pils. This was a fairly strong lager, somewhat more powerful than a similar quantity of bitter beer at home. I never did like bitter and, at my age, I much preferred the Pils and indeed, still do - when I can get it. On one of these Forsthaus excursions someone locked the crash gate while we were out. I can say from experience that climbing over a high chain-link fence with strands of barbed wire at the top to get into an RAF site is no easy task, even using the bars of a crash gate. But we did it.
Another favourite walk was to go off camp and approximately follow the perimeter fence for a distance through the countryside and back. It was when doing this that we found the Wolf Gibbet where, it was said, the last wolf to be found in that part of Germany was ceremoniously hanged. Not far from there was Heidmühle where there was a working windmill. It was an almost medieval sight watching the sails turning, hearing the machinery inside, and seeing a farmer with his horse and cart unloading sacks of wheat for them to be hoisted aloft into one of the high doors near the top of the mill. Meanwhile, another man with his horse and cart was loading sacks of flour from the bottom door. A memorable sight indeed, one that few will have seen in recent times.
Fg.Off. Fred Maycock of 4 Squadron lived in the top, right-hand, front room of our Officers block, on the corner and diagonally opposite to my room.11 He was a good pianist and also keen on sound and radio receiving equipment. He made and modified his own circuits and adapted older tackle to suit his requirements. His room was like a radio workshop. It was his hobby and mostly we left him to it. However he annoyed us somewhat when, late one evening, he turned his gear up to max volume (several tens of watts power) and deafened us, actually shaking the building with the sound. After remonstrations he reluctantly promised not to do it again and, give him credit, he never did, at least when anyone else was around. One Saturday afternoon I helped him to string up an aerial from the corner of the block near to his room to a tall tree across the road. I climbed the tree, to quite a height, with a line tied round my waist when, to our horror, the CO drove slowly underneath in his
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11 Looking at the photo on page 60, Fred's room was at top, right. 98