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Jever reprise.

My time at Jever had been a particularly comfortable and happy one, migraine excepted. I learned a lot, did a lot, and was even able to save money.
I loved the forest, particularly in the spring when the new growth on the pine trees resembled candles, the quiet walks of an evening with the wind whistling in the tree tops and the calm down below, and the scent of the trees when the sun came out after a shower. But the forest had a disadvantage - mosquitoes. These flew into our rooms through necessarily open windows in the hot summer weather and flew round our heads when we tried to sleep. We became skilled at swatting them with a thrown book when they were perched on the ceiling, or with a damp towel (or anything to hand) when elsewhere, so much so that our walls became littered with stuck-down corpses by the time the first frosts came.
Within my limitations I enjoyed my flying immensely except, maybe, a first flight after a long period on the ground. Apart from a night flight with faulty instruments I was never lost in the air, and could see other aircraft before most other pilots. I had one or two hairy moments, but they were just a part of the risk and fun of flying.
I cannot say that I enjoyed working for Des Browne, but he could have been worse. He placed too much emphasis on the accumulation of flying hours rather than improving the abilities of his less able pilots. To be fair, when he heard that I had passed my promotion exams, and I had been one of the youngest candidates to take them, he phoned me in my office to congratulate me and wish me well. He also wished me well after I was Dined Out when my time came to leave Jever.
The Mess was well run and very homely and my room was well sited and comfortable. My batwoman, Frau Pinnau, was particularly caring and considerate. She willingly did my laundry (provided I supplied the soap powder), pressed my clothes, cleaned my shoes, and polished my buttons. I darned my own socks.
I had no major altercations with anyone. Spats, yes, but nothing that wasn't over in less than a day or two.
The one thing I disliked intensely was having to attend Courts Martial as Officer Under Instruction. I never seemed to be able to follow what was going on. In one particular case the berobed civilian Judge Advocate was a garrulous individual who interrupted any witness, for defence or prosecution, when they were giving evidence, to the point of throwing them off what they were trying to say. I dreaded being nominated to take an active part in any such event. Fortunately, I was not.
The conviviality in the Mess was remarkable. Although I may have given the impression that the RAF was a branch of Alcoholics Anonymous, whilst that may have been close to the truth at certain times and for a few individuals, mostly a glass of Coke sufficed of an evening. A glass of Jever Pils and a hot Bockwurst dipped in Senf (French mustard) and eaten in a long bread roll was also the thing to do occasionally.
I travelled widely from Jever. I would never have seen Holland and East Berlin in such detail had I not played hockey.
I did my job to the best of my ability. I enjoyed Jever and look back on those two years of my life with fondness. Within the acceptable constraints of service discipline I was my own man.
I left there in September 1955.
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