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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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