Did a quick search, but couldn't find anything to say this has previously been posted here, so here goes:

I’m the last one left in the Air Force.
I’ve an office in MOD
And a copy of Queen’s Regulations
Which only apply to me.
I can post myself to Leuchars
And detach me from there to Kinloss
Or send me on courses to Cranwell
Then cancel the lot – I’m the boss.

I’m the last one left in the Air Force,
But the great Parliamentary brains
Omitted, when cancelling people,
To sell off the stations and planes.
The result is my Inventory bulges
With KD and campstools and Quarters.
Plus a signed book of verses by Trenchard
Which I keep for impressing reporters.

I’m the last one left in the Air Force
I suppose you imagine it’s great
To be master of all you survey
But I tell you – it’s difficult, mate.
I inspected three Units last Thursday
As C-in-C (Acting) Strike.
Then I swept half the runway at Leeming
And I repaired Boulmer’s best station bike.

I’m the last one left in the Air Force
And it’s not doing a lot for my health.
Station Sports Days are frankly exhausting
When the Victor Ludorum’s oneself.
On Guest Nights the Mess is so lonely
There are times that I wish I were able
To pass the port to the one on my left
Without watching it fall off the table.

I’m the last one left in the Air Force
And it’s quiet – but that apart –
There are plenty worse off, for example,
The only Sea Lord, for a start.
She was called out last Wednesday evening
(Joint Ops with the Army my oath)
But their rowing boat sank in the Channel
Which obliged me to rescue them both.

I’m the last one left in the Air Force
And my kids say I’m never around.
When I’m not flying Hercs or a Typhoon
I’m the lone QRA on the ground.
Or I’m doing sea-survival at Plymouth,
Shooting flares at the crowds on the Hoe,
Or I’m Orderly Corporal at Linton –
It’s an interesting life but all go!

I’m the last one left in the Air Force
I’m ADC to The Queen
I’m Duty Clerk at Brize Norton
I’m the RAF rugby team.
Tomorrow I’m the Queen’s Colour Squadron
Then air-testing several planes
And the day after that I’m in London
To preach at St Clement Danes.

I’m the last one left in the Air Force
And I’m due to go before long
But there’s been no hint of replacement
And I won’t even let me sign on.
I hope to enjoy my retirement
As I’ve put up a fairly good show
And I won’t cut myself off entirely
As there’s always reunions – you know!

Copyright unknown - found on the Net.

Alison

Alison, that was first written in around 1975. This was the original version, differences are in red:

I’m the last man left in the Air Force.
I’ve an office in MOD
And a copy of Queen’s Regulations
Which only apply to me.
I can post myself to Leuchars
And detach me from there to Kinloss
Or send me on courses to MOTU
Then cancel the lot – I’m the boss.

I’m the last man left in the Air Force,
But the great Parliamentary brains
Omitted, when cancelling people,
To sell off the stations and planes.
The result is my Inventory bulges
With KD and campstools and Quarters.
Plus a signed book of verses by Trenchard
Which I keep for impressing reporters.

I’m the last man left in the Air Force
I suppose you imagine it’s great
To be master of all you survey, but
I tell you it’s difficult, mate.
I inspected three Units last Thursday
As C-in-C (Acting) Strike.
Then I swept half the runway at Laarbruch
And repaired Saxa Vord's station bike.

I’m the last man left in the Air Force
It’s not doing a lot for my health.
Station Sports Days are frankly exhausting
When the Victor Ludorum’s oneself.
On Guest Nights the Mess is so lonely
There are times that I wish I were able
To pass the port to the chap on my left
Without watching it fall off the table.

I’m the last man left in the Air Force
It's quiet – but that apart –
There are plenty worse off, for example,
The only Sea Lord, for a start.
He was called out last Wednesday evening
(Joint Ops with the Army my oath)
But their rowing boat sank in the Channel
Which obliged me to rescue them both.

I’m the last man left in the Air Force
My wife says I'm never at home
When I’m not flying Hercs I'm at Manston
Laying gallons and gallons of foam
Or I’m in my marine craft off Plymouth,
Shooting flares at the crowds on the Ho,
Or I’m Orderly Corporal at Luqa –
It’s an interesting life, but all go!

I’m the last man in the Air Force
I’m ADC to The Queen
I’m Duty Clerk at St Mawgan
I’m the RAF rugby team.
Tomorrow I’m planning a guardroom
And air-testing several planes
The day after that I’m for London
To preach at St Clement Danes.

I’m the last man in the Air Force
And I’m due to go out before long
There's been no talk of any replacement
And I won’t even let me sign on.
I hope to enjoy my retirement
I’ve put up a fairly good show
And I won’t cut myself off entirely
There are always reunions, you know!

I guess the chnages in the version you found are because many of the original version's stations (Luqa, St Mawgan, Laarbruch etc) are no more - and the RAF no longer has a marine craft section or a foam laying capability. The earlier version was also rather gender-specific.

Whoever wrote it, it's very good. The reference to the foam carpet at Manston jogged my memory - I remember learning about it on the Fire Officer's course at Catterick in '67. Is there anyone on here who has any direct experience of landing on a foam carpet, or even seeing it used? I think there was also one at St Mawgan, but memory fades :confused:

The sea survival reference reminds me of sitting in a five man liferaft in Plymouth Sound, when a complete Victor crew threw up in turn as we awaited the Whirlwind. :yuk:

TTN, Marham was also well up with all the gadgets: Fido and Foam being just two.

Tanker

"The Unkindest Defence Cut Of All" was written by Peter Wyton who is still going strong. Lots about him on Google.


**********
Three cheers for the man on the ground.


Where ever you walk, you will hear people talk.
Of the men who go up in the air.
Of the dare-devil way, they go into the fray,
Facing death without turning a hair.

They'll raise a cheer and buy lots of beer
For a pilot who's home on leave.
But they don't give a jigger
For a Flight Mech. or Rigger

With nothing but 'props' on his sleeve.
They just say 'nice day' and then turn away
With never a mention of praise
And the poor bloody erk who does all the work

Just orders his own beer and pays.
They've never been told of the hours in the cold
That he spent sealing Germany's fate
How he works on a 'kite', till all hours of the night.

And turns up next morning at eight!
He gets no rake-off for working till take off
Or helping the aircrew prepare
But when there is trouble, its 'quick, at the double'.

The man on the ground must be there.
Each Flight Crew could tell you
They know what this man's really worth
They know he's a part of the RAF's heart

Even though he stays close to the earth.
He doesn't want glory, but please hear his story
Spread a little of his fame around,
He's one of the 'few', so give him his due.

Three cheers for the man on the ground!

Eric Sykes, 1942.

This on is old but still as relevent as the day it was written.


Tommy

by Rudyard Kipling


I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o'beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I: O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's ``Thank you, Mister Atkins,'' when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's ``Thank you, Mr. Atkins,'' when the band begins to play.
I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls! For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.
Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit. Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy how's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.
We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints:
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints; While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind,"
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir," when there's trouble in the wind.
You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace. For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country," when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
But Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool - you bet that Tommy sees!

Tankertrashnav: Is there anyone on here who has any direct experience of landing on a foam carpet, or even seeing it used? In 1976 I saw a Draken land on foam. A duck entered one intake duct but couldn't make the bend to the engine. In the wing it cut the cables to the undercarriage. Fire & Rescue laid 1.500 meters of foam in six minutes. The pilot couldn't see the foam. (Nightflying. The landing lights were on the main gears, that wouldn't come down). He touched just before the foam. The fuel left in the tanks ignited for a second. The dragchute was dropped early. The wind - 30 degrees off at 12 knots - weathercocked the Draken. Foam landings are out of vogue now. atc pal's Photostream (http://www.flickr.com/photos/atc_pal/show/with/4063718583/)

P.S. There was a cartoon in Air International some years ago. The newest fighter has just landed. "Where is the rest of the squadron? What do you mean. This IS the squadron."

PN - I certainly remember the FIDO tanks at Marham, although the system was long defunct. Situated near the threshold of runway 24 they showed up clearly on H2S radar and were of great assistance when doing internal aids approaches. The foam must have gone before my time as well - just as well as I think Id rather trust myself to Mr Irvin than go for a wheels-up landing in a Victor - foam or no foam!

Interesting tale about the Draken NRB - there's a joke about ducts and drakes in there somewhere, but I cant work it out!

foam carpet, or even seeing it used?

Photos from 1965 of a Canberra using Manston's runway foam facility here:

XM244 - Crash Landing at RAF Manston (http://www.bywat.co.uk/manston.html)

Draken foam landing. Finally got my (photo) act together! See post 7 "upstairs". AT-154 went on to fly another 2.500 hours before joining "National Test Pilot School" at Mojave. The Draken was built like a tank - or a Buccaneer? :ok:
NTPS - Welcome To The National Test Pilot School (http://www.ntps.com/)
Note their video of a Draken "super stall"! :eek:

Thanks for the pics and the link NRB and Warmtoast. Yes the Draken looks a pretty rugged bit of kit.

The Swedes have never let neutrality get in the way of producing some pretty useful military hardware for use on land as well as in the air :ok:

Major thread drift here, but....
In 1978 a JP3 had a brake seize on a roller at Dishforth and the whole wheel came off. The first they knew about it was when the wheel hit another JP that was just about to taxy out.
They foamed the short runway (30) at Leeming, starting at the edge and working towards the middle and ran out of foam around about the middle - yes, youv'e guessed it, the missing wheel was on the non-foam side, requiring a landing off the centreline. The JP fortunately hadn't been airborne long and had plenty of fuel to hold off. This allowed all the station hierarchy to get into the tower before the landing. The Staish had someone call the flight safety people and got no reply (it was Friday afternoon!) and he breathed a sigh of relief and said that if they weren't there to give advice, then they couldn't criticise if things went wrong. The 2 on board were students on the CFS course - a Saudi and an RAF guy - on a mutual sortie. When the Staish found out the Saudi was the authorised captain he insisted that they had an airborne change of captain despite OC JP Sqn telling him that the Saudi was held in high regard by everybody.
The pilots asked for advice on whether to land with the seat pins in or out. The answer was "Out". Before landing they told the tower that they had thought about it and were going to put the pins in on finals - presumably in case the undercarriage collapsed. They were also told to fly a practice approach and overshoot before landing - again they went against the advice and said that they could see no point - if they were happy they were going to land.
In the end all went well. I think the aircraft slewed off the foamed area as it came to a halt, but by then the 2 intrepid heroes were on their way out on to the wings and the fire crews were there.

The yarn below is probably apocryphal (I was going to say “almost certainly”, but you never know...). However, as I say below, our Air Force Law instructor did tell it to me and my course mates way back in nineteen sixty-something, and it does more or less touch on the thread title “I'm the last man left in the Air Force”.


KNOW YOUR AIR FORCE LAW

On first joining the RAAF, the trainee pilot has to go through some months of what might loosely be called militarisation before he even gets his hands on an aeroplane. In my own case, this was a very frustrating time, because I can’t remember anyone ever explaining to me how important all the rubbish they were cramming into us would one day be to survive in the bureaucracy of the Air Force.

One of the more boring subjects was Air Force Law. One of my only memories of my Air Force Law lectures was “if in doubt, charge the offender under Section 40 - ‘Conduct Prejudicial to Good Discipline’. If you want to, you can make anything prejudicial to good discipline.” Much was made of never overstepping the limitations imposed on a junior commander in his awarding of punishment. If an incorrect award of a punishment was made, the charged Airman would get off, and we couldn’t have that, could we? For someone who was in the RAAF only to learn to fly, all the thick Queen’s Regulations seemed totally superfluous, and talk of awarding punishments to errant Airmen seemed far away.

However the lecturer did have a story which illustrated clearly the need to know your Air Force Law intimately…

In England, after World War 2, when all everyone still in uniform wanted to do was to get out of said uniform, the demobilisation process was a massive exercise. Some years after the cessation of hostilities, the RAF Legal Branch came upon an incorrect award of a punishment at a remote and somewhat obscure RAF Station. The charged Airman had the right to contest the too-severe award and cause much embarrassment for the RAF. This had to be avoided at all costs, so a Squadron Leader Legal Officer was dispatched to the Station to sort the mess out with minimum fuss and no paperwork.

Expecting to find the normal guard on the gate, the flag flying and neatly trimmed lawns as at any operating RAF Station, he was mystified to come upon a weed-choked, abandoned aerodrome. His paperwork led him to believe that this was a thriving, 500-man RAF Station. Investigating the abandoned Station, a wisp of smoke from one building led him to come upon one very busy Corporal in a paper-choked orderly room.

To cut a long story short, the Corporal was running the busy ‘500-man Station’ all by himself. He was collecting the pay of all 500 men, selling off all the many incoming RAF consumables to local traders and churning out the reams of paperwork any military establishment disgorges daily. He had successfully kept the required reams of paperwork flowing to the Air Ministry until he made the single error in awarding one of his phantom Airmen a too-severe punishment. Had he not made this one mistake, he might have succeeded in slowly running his Station down through a series of ‘discharges’ until he discharged himself and disappeared into obscurity with 500 odd years-long pay packets and the potential in later life to collect 500 odd pensions!

After hearing this story, and probably for all the wrong reasons, we attacked our Air Force Law studies with renewed enthusiasm!