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Nice to see that some other members have memories of their square bashing days at RAF. Henesford. To continue my original post, my first meal in the cookhouse, rather taken back by the hoards of bodies and the din, never have I seen loaves of bread disappear so quickly as everyone at the table seemed to be trying to devour everything in sight like there was no tomorrow. But of course there was. I remember the bull nights so well. Cleaning broom handles using a razor blade, and the duck boards in the washroom, Emptying the coal bucket and polishing the inside then replacing the coal. carefully. I recall using a razor blade on the cork of my water bottle to clean it, after so many weeks of this treatment the cork would fall into the bottle. Using coat hangers in my folded sheets to give a nice sharp line, until discovered on inspection, and the verbal blasting that followed, I must have changed my name.