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Germany again.

After being on leave for almost two out of the three weeks allotted to me the inevitable
O.H.M.S. envelope containing my Posting Notice arrived. Just as
Les
Tweed had intimated at Middle Wallop, I was to go back to Germany. This time I
was going to 83 Group instead of 2 Group, and I was to report to 537 Signals Unit at
RAF Borgentreich on Thursday the 8th of December.

I had not the vaguest idea of the whereabouts of Borgentreich. I had never heard of it. My travel documents instructed me to report to the
RTO at Liverpool
Street station, board the Harwich troop-train, and take the troop-ship to the Hook of
Holland. Then I was to board the Red train for Berlin but to leave it at Altenbeken, at
which place I was to catch a local train to Warburg where I was to phone for
transport.

Getting to the Red train was no problem. I had seen it many times in the station
at a platform by the Blue train I used to take to Jever. But where were Borgentreich,
Warburg, and Altenbeken? How long was my journey to be on the Red train?

Fortunately we had an excellent atlas at home which included reasonably large
maps of Germany. After a diligent two hour search, by following the most likely
railway lines to Berlin from Holland, I managed to find Altenbeken, in very small
print. Widening my search circle from there I found, after another quarter hour, the
town of Warburg. Even knowing that Borgentreich couldn't be that far away it took
me another few minutes to locate it.

So it was, that early on Wednesday December the 7th, I set off for this strange place. The journey went well. I arrived at Altenbeken, alighted, and struggled with
my kit across several tracks to where the station timetable had told me the Warburg
train was due to depart. It was already getting dark when I found a seat in a First
Class carriage. I noticed a couple of Airmen board further along the same train. At
least I was not quite alone. I reasoned that they were probably also going to
Warburg and would know their way when we got there. This turned out to be true,
and one of them phoned for transport, using me as an excuse for getting something
better than a lorry to pick us up.

I arrived at the Guardroom at Borgentreich in the freezing cold of an early German winter at after nine o'clock in the evening. I was thankful it wasn't a tented
camp, although, from what I could see as someone helped me carry my kit the short
distance uphill to the Mess, it was a small Unit and the buildings looked new.

On entering the Mess hallway there was nobody about, but there were the
obvious sounds of a Dining In Night in progress. Speeches were being made and it
was apparent that someone was being Dined Out. Not quite knowing whether to
interrupt or not I waited a while and made out my two obligatory Calling Cards,
one for the Commanding Officer, the other for the President of the Mess Committee
and Officers, and placed them on the hall table. I also signed the Warning In book.
After what seemed like an age, but was probably less than 5 minutes, an Officer
appeared from the dining-room. He was surprised to see me. He went back in and
told the
CO, Sqn.Ldr. 'Paddy' Ryan, who then appeared and asked me in regardless
of my unsuitable state of dress. I was hungry and food was rustled up for me. I ate
while most of those present, some of them quite inebriated, continued with the
evening jollifications. The
PMC came to me and told me, to his obvious
embarrassment, that I wasn't expected until a week later and, with the Mess being so
small, there wasn't a bed available for me, not even in the Orderly Officer's room, as
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