21st February 1958
………The French Air Force blokes in the barrack block opposite ours had a real shaker yesterday. They all arose expecting a normal routine day and looking forward to a weekend at home and nothing more. Last night 28 of them were off on embarkation leave, transferred to the Army as paratroopers and leaving for Algeria next Thursday night! You never saw such a shocked, depressed bunch in your life, and no wonder. Can’t see that sort of thing happening in the British Forces – there’d be a mutiny!
Thursday (no date)
….. Spent an interesting afternoon chatting with Major Klages of the German AF while he showed me his photo albums from the war where he had been a fighter/recce pilot in Russia, then he’d led a fighter/bomber wing leader in France in 1944, and then on Ju88 night fighters with 12 Lancasters, 4 Halifaxes and 2 Mosquitoes as his Staffel’s score! Even gave me a photo of himself in the cockpit of a Ju88 not far from Moscow.
15th August 1958
…….Tom Connollys latest party piece poem (source unknown)
I’ve a cousin who’s a prisoner on Dartmoor,
And the man they hanged on Thursday was my Dad,
And my mother’s making money in a manner rather funny.
And my brother’s at Reform School, silly lad.
I’ve a sister who is married to a forger
He’s an artist in the nicer types of crime
For deserting from the Forces, stealing dogs and doping horses
I have also done a little bit of Time.
But the worst of all my troubles and misfortunes
And the one that brings a blush of shame to me,
Though for years I’ve tried to hide it, and indignantly denied it,
I’ve an uncle who’s a Government MP
Sunday (no date)
We’ve all got a dose of what we colloquially call “the screamers” – we think the fish was off in the Mess yesterday and it’s surprising how few of us have left Block M today – daren’t stray too far from the ablution area. I did manage to dash across to Building 1 and “liberate” a few rolls of officer quality toilet paper which has proved very soothing after the peasants type stuff. Malcolm and I have got our innards nicely synchronized, though, we seem to pass each other in the corridor one coming back, one going – at least it keeps the seat warm……….
25th August 1957
..…Had spent the afternoon in town shopping and visiting a few bars so was feeling quite rosy when I got back to camp for supper in the mess. Went back into Fontainebleau for another few beers at a bar where the toothsome barmaid calls me “ M’sieur Moustache” and then took a taxi to the Cascades Bar about 11pm. Found some of my pals having a celebration so had a few with them and then wandered into the back room to find some of the RAF “intelligentsia”, an educated GI, Air Commodore Tester’s daughter Sandra and another girl all quoting Shakespeare and drinking vin rouge. I then recited the Saga of the Bath which gave me a chance to get at the bottles while they