entered a greenhouse, made a sonic attack on the airfield.5 Some glass shattered and fell on 'himself', much to the concealed amusement of the German staff and me. At this instant he declared the inspection complete.
Herr Goldbaum spoke next to no English. My knowledge of German was still elementary but expanding, and dictionaries sometimes had to be referred to, but we managed surprisingly well and with good humour. The names of plants were a problem until we realised that Latin was a common language; that was helpful. Later, towards the time when I was due to leave Jever, I could even understand him when he called me on the phone, even if I did have a job to put together my reply in simple German.
Not exactly market gardening, and certainly nothing to do with the RAF, was the occasion when, walking back to camp one Saturday afternoon, I saw in a field adjacent to the road a heifer giving birth to her calf. One or two people were watching not realising that she was having great difficulty delivering her offspring. Having had experience of this sort of thing before, I decided to help. Climbing the fence, then stripping off my jacket and rolling up my sleeves, I did what was necessary to ease the birth of a healthy calf, right under the eyes of the German onlookers. After wiping as much slime as I could from my hands and arms on the grass, I picked up my coat, slung it over my shoulder, and continued my walk back to camp for a good wash.
Now for a change of subject:
As soon as I had any contact with the wives of married Officers ('Officers' Ladies', to be precise), usually on weekend evenings when they were always welcome to visit the Mess bar or upstairs Ladies room, I found a high proportion of them to be extremely rank conscious, almost more so than their husbands, many carrying it to the point of downright snobbishness. This caused friction on the married patch, in the Families' NAAFI Shop, and on tennis courts. Wise were they who were bold enough to stand aside, for it was extremely difficult to ignore. It sometimes went so far as to disrupt family life, even to cause separation and lead to divorce. In reality, although some would only very grudgingly accept it, no wife had any rank. They were civilians whose husbands had joined the Royal Air Force, and that was all.
Marriage itself was frowned upon until the Officer was well into his 20s, preferably over 24, and then, when planned, had officially to be approved by the Station Commander, not that he could do anything to prevent it. He could, however, in cases where he had very good reason to disapprove, arrange for an immediate overseas posting so that matters could sort themselves out on the basis of absence making the heart grow fonder - or otherwise.
Social contact between Officers' families and those of other ranks was difficult without incurring adverse comment, yet in no way was it forbidden. Many facilities were shared, the aforementioned NAAFI Shop, the PSI Shop, Chapels, married patch sports facilities, Astra Cinema, BFES school, and the bus into town, were all places of contact and necessarily used by all wives, yet this rank consciousness still persisted.6 Separation was generally the norm but never the rule. It must have been very difficult for young wives setting up home for the first time in this artificial environment.
There is another aspect: if an Officer found that a relative or close friend from civilian life, maybe an old school chum, was posted to the same Station, and was not of commissioned rank, Confidential Orders dictated that the two should only meet
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5 By this time we had converted to Sabres.
6 BFES = British Forces Education Service. This organisation ran the schools on Stations where there were families. Teachers had Officer status and, at Jever, lived in the Mess but usually kept themselves to themselves, retiring to the Ladies room for certain occasions.

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