Military AircrewA forum for the professionals who fly the non-civilian hardware, and the backroom boys and girls without whom nothing would leave the ground. Army, Navy and Airforces of the World, all equally welcome here.
I have just got in from the summer ball a lot earlier than I would have liked, because the missus wasn't feeling very well and insisted we go home!! I thought that since I'm not nearly as drunk as I would like to have been, I would turn the computer on and see what was new in the world of PPRuNe. I had a good read and then got to thinking that if it wasn't for the RAF then I might have been in bed ages ago. Now, I'm not an old fuddy duddy but I reckon that no matter what some people may say, we have it pretty good in her Majesty's forces. I, personally, would love to have stayed up alot longer and got a hell of a lot more drunk than I am right now, but I still reckon I had a good night. This leads me to ask one simple question. What is the best night out, that you have had since you have been in the Armed Forces? I am quite drunk and this probably doesn't make much sense and I will probably look at this in the morning and wonder what the hell I was doing, but without descending into the usual inter-service slagging match lets all just tell good old fashioned stories of how great life is in the military!!! For me personally, some of my greatest nights out have come whilst on detachment, but I will wait for some responses before I bother revealing anything! I look forward to your stories and I'm sorry if this just reads like the ramblings of an old drunken fool!!! BV
One of the greatest nights out on any of my many detachments occured during a NATO exchange to Wittmund. I was on the away team and on the first Friday night our hosts had aranged a dining-in, East Frielsand style. Being prepared, and it being a standing order on 56, we had mess kit with us. The dinner was the height of haut cuisine German style, and many a beer was downed. So, as midnight approached we were loaded on buses and still in mess kit, taken downtown to a night club where ladies performed various acts on stage. Naturaly, one of the bachelors was thrown onto the stage to join in and I'm sure he enjoyed his bath, ably assisted by a pneumatic lass.
The night wore on and as the sun came up we were to be found wandering around, aboard a bus, in deepest darkest rural Germany, looking for another beer. At some point the bus came to a halt outside a house. The house holder made a fateful error when he looked out to see what the noise was. The driver was despatched to talk to the man to find out where we could get another beer, and blow me, he asked the whole bus load of us in. We drank his stock dry (and replaced it a couple of days later) before heading back to Wittmund just in time to change into jeans and head out on an expedition to one of the ilsnads where , guess what, we drank some more beer. Outstanding night. As a post script, when we came to leave at the end of the next week, our hosts had installed the pneumatic young lady in to Glen's cockpit. As he climbed the ladder to get in he was greeted by the lady who wanted to go home to England and have his babies. Nice touch from our hosts.
The choice is of course virtually endless but that's what happens when you spend a lifetime on detachment turning money in to memories!
For me the Falklands on Christmas Eve 1984 will always be a special night. We strapped an upright piano to back of the cab of a four tonner and found a schoolie to play it. With the tilt rolled up on both sides and hurricane lamps attached to each upright the ensembled male voice choir of 1435 Flt (aka Wimpdet) started by serenading Hardet and Alberts Landing to gather together the best carol singers in the Southern Hemisphere.
The Bedford Funbus then toured the outposts of RAF Port Stanley, the Hospital, Lookout Camp and down-town Stanley and like a snowball gathered more and more choristers along the way.
I think Peter de le B de le C was still the Military head honcho and welcomed us into his residence and then we continued for mince pies and more at Rex Hunt's house.
Not sure where we finished but do remember checking in for duty on Christmas Day hoping to heck that there would be no need to fly
Many other glorious times and not always when the worse for wear - given my time again I'd do all the same stupid things but sooner and more often - enjoy it while ye can
Location: Quite near 'An aerodrome somewhere in England'
maxburner, I've seen the photos of that little event - and by no stretch of the imagination could that large flabby-uddered fat frau be described as a 'pneumatic young lady! Beer goggles are wonderful things!
Raddled old tart, in my view. But perfect for Glen.....
Best night out? Hmm - could be Moose McGillicuddy's.
Or then again, a most memorable evening and err, night in Bermuda with some delightful BA toasties...... And one in particular
No one particular night really stands out. Just a load of flashback snapshot images of being on the lash with aircrew mates over the years.
Remember being half cut at Fairford with 'me nav and colleague' (having spent a perfectly acceptable 3 hours in some corporate hostility tent surrounded by admiring clacker), and flagging down a big black motor to try and get 'airside'.
Jump in the back to be confronted by Pete Squires and his driver. It's not easy trying to engage a senior officer in polite small talk when you're half-cut and trying to eat your name badge to protect the guilty. Plus the bloody nav was pulling all sorts of stupid faces behind the big fella's back to make me laugh.
After that, we got delusions of grandeur and crashed the VIP bit of the party tent. Bigged it up large until some female Wg Cdr in civvies demanded a game of 1250s with us. To her eternal credit, she was magnanimous in victory and let us finish our drinks before we had to leave. Still a result for us as we managed to get in a "Cooee!" to astonished det mates in the poor peoples' section before being turfed out.
One particular night rings a bell and if you were there I'm sure you'll have memories as fond as I. 'Twas in Adelaide in the winter of '03. Downtown, in kilts, swapping upper garments with ladies of various sizes and shapes. Pretty brave when you consider most of them come from the finest criminal stock the UK had to offer. The following night, crewmate caught licking Hyd fluid and spilled lager off the hangar floor brings entirely different memories flooding back . . .
Location: The land of prince bishops....looking up
Stands out by a country mile
Date: June 1985 Venue: The Shed, RAF as far south as were going to get (Unless there's a war in Antartica)
Instead of the usual 2 or 3 old salts being seen off, this was the Gozzome do for a whole ship full of people (Keren voyage 24 south....IIRC)
Everyone in the Shed was going home, what a buzz when you walked in the door. Much spewies was consumed, the urinals in the ISO container took a beating and were a bit ripe!( I seem to remember the lighting left a bit to be desired) Didn't manage to walk out at the end, was put to bed in a disgraceful state.
Next morning, No apologies, no interviews without coffee. We had character then!
Date: Mar 2000 Venue: Clusters, APOD Kosovo
Post rugby match (versus 7th armoured) beer is flowing, the two can rule is a vague memory. Everyone is getting happy. A shout of "Naked Bar" goes up....who are we to refuse such offers?. Sex Bomb by Tom Jones comes on , we sing with such gusto, the roof comes off the bar....... and right then the next door neighbours (former cold war "Red" forces) decide to get rid of their ill gotten CS gas stocks by burning it.
The prevailing wind being what it was.....well, we really were incapable!
Next morning.......apoplexy! Wouldn't have missed it for the world