CAN YOU HELP?
INTRODUCTION

I was now working for Chris Coles, the civilian MEAF Public Information Officer. He had an office in the MEAF HQ building, while Corporal Dave Jones, SAC Alan Birch and myself worked out of 2 small rooms in a nissen hut at JARIC. We had no JARIC duties, nor set hours, but were expected to work whatever hours were required. This was a dream come true. Not only did I have the mobile cinema job, but I was out of the routine of normal RAF existence and doing real photography.

But there was an immediate problem. The only cameras available for me to use were large sheet film cameras. One was an MPP Technical camera, designed for use on a tripod, and the other was a Speed Graphic camera, of a similar design but designed for and widely used by press photographers in the Thirties. These cameras used 4 inch by 5 inch sheet film in bulky double-sided slides and were very slow and cumbersome to use.

I persevered for a while, but it quickly became clear that there was only one solution. As Dave and Alan had done, I had to buy a high quality modern camera myself.

The camera shop in the station shopping centre sold me a new Rollieflex T roll film camera for, I think, £70, allowing me to pay this off over a few months. I consoled myself with the fact that at the time, some 13 years after the end of WWII, the import of new German cameras into Britain was still prohibited. Second-hand modern German cameras, therefore, were eagerly sought after, and I would eventually make a handsome profit when I took it home next year. I also had to buy a decent flash gun, which of course added to my debt.

There were two main aspects to the job. One was to take pictures of RAF personnel at work and play, for publication in the two local English language newspapers, the Cyprus Mail and the Times of Cyprus, or in local papers back in Britain. The other role was recording the comings and goings of VIPs, largely at RAF Akrotiri, which was the nearest airfield to Episkopi.

The VIPs ranged from visiting senior foreign air force officers, through the RAFs own leaders, such as Air Marshal Sir Kenneth Cross, AOC of Bomber Command, to royalty. The Commanding Officer of Akrotiri, Group Captain Humphrey, was always there to greet his guests and often, depending exactly how VIP the guests were, so was the Commander-in-Chief MEAF, Air Marshal Sir William MacDonald.

One morning we set off for Akrotiri, with Chris Coles, without having had our usual briefing. Only on the journey did Chris tell us what was happening; King Hussein of Jordan was making a refuelling stop on his way to Britain. But this was not to be a simple stop to top up the tanks of his De Havilland Heron.

We had to provide blanket coverage of the event. Our cameras took twelve shots before reloading was needed, so as soon as one of us had finished a film another was to take over so that nothing was missed. I went first. The Heron rolled to a stop alongside a line-up of dignitaries. These included the Governor of Cyprus Sir Hugh Foot, Sir William MacDonald, his army counterpart Major-General Darling, and other senior military officers and local dignitaries. This exhausted my film and someone else took over while I leapfrogged to further down the line of aircraft, V-bombers, Javelins, Canberras and a Britannia, awaiting inspection.

While the King was taken for lunch we hurried back to Episkopi to process and print our films for the press and for the album which was to be sent to the King.

Another rush job was when a party of public school careers teachers was flown in to sample RAF life. They arrived early one morning, and we followed them on a tour of inspection of RAF Akrotiri throughout the day. The army printing unit at Episkopi had produced special folders for us for the occasion, and we worked through the night so that on their departure the next morning the teachers could each be presented with a record of their visit.

Much of the work was routine, although far more interesting than working in a darkroom all day. But another highlight was 'Operation Dry Martini'. Only I was involved in this. For some reason the RAF required a picture of a Landrover and trailer being parachuted out of a Beverley. The Blackburn Beverley was a transport aircraft, consisting largely of a capacious hold, the rear doors of which could be removed, with the passenger cabin on top. My brief was to hang upside-down through a hatch in the floor of the passenger cabin and take my shot as the Landrover went out of the back. This was to take place over Derna, Libya, during a joint army/RAF exercise, 'Operation Dry Martini'.

Chris Coles took me to the parachute section at Nicosia for me to be issued with a parachute in case I fell out. Not surprisingly they refused since I had no parachute training, but agreed to give me a long length of webbing instead, so that I could be tied to the aircraft.

After attending the briefing for all those taking part in the exercise, we took off at about midnight in Beverley XP 287, one of several taking part. There was no concession to comfort in the Beverley for me and my paratrooper companions. The walls were bare metal, the seats made of string on tubular frames and there was no soundproofing. As the day dawned over the Libyan desert the paratroopers rose and clipped their static lines to the cable running the length of the cabin roof. A hatch in the floor at the rear of the cabin was opened and the line of paratroopers shuffled towards it and one by one dropped out of the aircraft. I followed them, taking care to stop before I reached the hatch, and took a shot of the last one out.

The aircraft circled round, getting ready to drop the Landrover, while the crew tied the webbing firmly round my waist and tied the other end to the static line cable. The hatch I was using was not over open air, but near the front of the cargo bay, the rear of which was completely open. It was not easy to manoeuvre myself into position, upside-down with my head through the hatch, and I needed both hands to operate the camera. One of the crew warned me that the load was about to go, and slowly the pallet carrying Landrover and its trailer rolled backwards. I pressed the button as it left the lip of the cargo bay, and hurriedly wound the wind-on handle to get another shot.

A short time later we landed at RAF El Adem to refuel. The crew went off to the Officers' and Sergeants' Messes for breakfast. I followed them, but was told that breakfast in the Airmen's Mess was over. I wandered back to the aircraft and hung around, taking a few photographs and awaiting the return of the crew (right in picture)

I was allowed to stand on the flight deck for takeoff and had the run of the aircraft during the flight back to Cyprus. This was spent taking pictures of the other Beverleys flying in formation from  the windows in the cabin, from the astrodome behind the flight deck and from the cargo hold, which was accessed down a ladder from the hatch through which I had taken my photographs of the Landrover. Nobody seemed worried that I might fall out, despite the fact that the hold was open to the sky at the back and the floor was covered with rollers.

The formation flew close to the mountains of southern Turkey before landing at Nicosia, with me taking photographs from behind the driver again. I processed the films as soon as I could, in the darkrooms at Nicosia, and was very relieved that the all-important shot I had gone all that way to take was successful.

A perk of the job occurred because we had social contact with officers and senior NCOs, and access to a 'normal', as opposed to specialist aerial survey, darkroom and equipment. We were asked to attend social functions at the Officers' and Sergeants' Messes to take photographs in a private capacity. This produced a very welcome addition to our income, although we had to use our own materials and to do the  processing in our own time.

One day Chris Coles asked me if I would be prepared to use my ciné camera for a job. He had an official one in his office but it was broken. In return for 'borrowing' my camera he offered me his entire stock of 16mm film, 3000ft of black and white negative film, which was otherwise useless to him since he had no serviceable camera. He wanted me to film a visitor to RAF Akrotiri with the hope of getting some television exposure back home.

JARIC (ME) 1958-1960 web site