SHFNI Stories!
Zic, I was there for the painting..I also remember 'DÖNITZ' D**man pretty much breaking his legs trying to paint it out!!!
The Potcheen party...woke up, banging head, couldn't see a thing, swore I was actually blind, heard muttering and door slamming..cleaner had picked my clothes up along the coridoor and had found me, door wide open starkers with my head under my duvet, kneeling beside the bed..lord knows how many people had walked to work past my room!!!
EESDL if you have a copy of FOLA News, we need it here....
The Potcheen party...woke up, banging head, couldn't see a thing, swore I was actually blind, heard muttering and door slamming..cleaner had picked my clothes up along the coridoor and had found me, door wide open starkers with my head under my duvet, kneeling beside the bed..lord knows how many people had walked to work past my room!!!
EESDL if you have a copy of FOLA News, we need it here....
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Zic & Huey
Same era for sure. Probably TTB in the Triwall. If I recall he almost went over the balcony as well.
Can remember Seve's pinching my name badge and then subsequently getting an unexpected b******ing for going downtown Dungannon on the p*** with the RUC in my growbag!
Also a Comp A with EEDSL over a bank holiday weekend. Horrible night, low-level over the water then abort followed by Decca nav above 8/8ths, only 2 lanes working to limp into Lyneham as everywhere else Red. SVFR tac descent into Heathrow ahead of an increasingly large 747. Tourist route back and then into see the fearsome crewman leader with twitching tash who was Duty Flt Cdr for the weekend and had fielded a number of calls about the antics of a 'strange' Sea King. Happy days and one punter who got to see his mum just in time. Almost missed the field promotion for the very rude crewman who returned the favour by making best use of the snooker table
Same era for sure. Probably TTB in the Triwall. If I recall he almost went over the balcony as well.
Can remember Seve's pinching my name badge and then subsequently getting an unexpected b******ing for going downtown Dungannon on the p*** with the RUC in my growbag!
Also a Comp A with EEDSL over a bank holiday weekend. Horrible night, low-level over the water then abort followed by Decca nav above 8/8ths, only 2 lanes working to limp into Lyneham as everywhere else Red. SVFR tac descent into Heathrow ahead of an increasingly large 747. Tourist route back and then into see the fearsome crewman leader with twitching tash who was Duty Flt Cdr for the weekend and had fielded a number of calls about the antics of a 'strange' Sea King. Happy days and one punter who got to see his mum just in time. Almost missed the field promotion for the very rude crewman who returned the favour by making best use of the snooker table
Last edited by Stupidbutsaveable; 7th Jan 2010 at 16:23.
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Spoof 'Forum' Poster
Anyone remember seeing multiple copies of this appearing around SHFNI Ops/72 Sqn/The Swift in late 98?:
HUMAN FACTORS OPEN REPORTS
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for unofficial use only
THURSDAY 31 DECEMBER 98
21A-98
PIES! PIES! PIES!
ü A Wessex navigator reports....
I had been tasked with a training sortie on my first day back at work after my Christmas day off. This immediately caused a distraction as I discovered to myhorror that such flights no longer attracted a packed lunch or meals allowance, a problem exacerbated by my distended stomach which had been stuffed full of turkey over the festive season. However, as a seasoned professional, I reasoned that, if we got cracking, we should have been back before elevenses. The planning for the trip went ahead, but at the last minute we discovered that the SAR Navigator had gone sick. Yippee! Now I could blag his buttie box and stave off the inevitable hunger pangs which would arise between breakfast and my first between-meals snack. Better still, whilst delving through the crewroom fridge, I found several Ginster’s Pasties, which would also come in handy. With that, I set off to brief, happy in the knowledge that my sustenance needs had been met. After start up, we taxied to the ‘H’, and the pilot took off to the low hover, commenting that the aircraft seemed sluggish. At this point, a nagging doubt surfaced in my subconscious, but a quick bite of Ginster’s finest soon allayed any such fears. We transitioned, and the crewman confirmed that he had checked the aircraft weight in the F700, and that we had a massive 200 lbs disposable. Imagine my horror then, when at the same instant, the pilot reported that he had just pulled 3800 lbs torque, and was landing on immediately. In a sudden rush, it occurred to me that I’d gone one pie too far! What had happened? Well with hindsight, I had clearly been distracted by the overwhelming urge to maintain my blood sugar level, at the expense of a valuable coupling gearbox!
ü A Wessex pilot reports....
Enough said!
Imagine my shock when it turned up in Air Clues 6 months later, and some other git had clearly trousered the £50 reward!
HUMAN FACTORS OPEN REPORTS
forum
for unofficial use only
THURSDAY 31 DECEMBER 98
21A-98
PIES! PIES! PIES!
ü A Wessex navigator reports....
I had been tasked with a training sortie on my first day back at work after my Christmas day off. This immediately caused a distraction as I discovered to myhorror that such flights no longer attracted a packed lunch or meals allowance, a problem exacerbated by my distended stomach which had been stuffed full of turkey over the festive season. However, as a seasoned professional, I reasoned that, if we got cracking, we should have been back before elevenses. The planning for the trip went ahead, but at the last minute we discovered that the SAR Navigator had gone sick. Yippee! Now I could blag his buttie box and stave off the inevitable hunger pangs which would arise between breakfast and my first between-meals snack. Better still, whilst delving through the crewroom fridge, I found several Ginster’s Pasties, which would also come in handy. With that, I set off to brief, happy in the knowledge that my sustenance needs had been met. After start up, we taxied to the ‘H’, and the pilot took off to the low hover, commenting that the aircraft seemed sluggish. At this point, a nagging doubt surfaced in my subconscious, but a quick bite of Ginster’s finest soon allayed any such fears. We transitioned, and the crewman confirmed that he had checked the aircraft weight in the F700, and that we had a massive 200 lbs disposable. Imagine my horror then, when at the same instant, the pilot reported that he had just pulled 3800 lbs torque, and was landing on immediately. In a sudden rush, it occurred to me that I’d gone one pie too far! What had happened? Well with hindsight, I had clearly been distracted by the overwhelming urge to maintain my blood sugar level, at the expense of a valuable coupling gearbox!
ü A Wessex pilot reports....
Enough said!
Imagine my shock when it turned up in Air Clues 6 months later, and some other git had clearly trousered the £50 reward!
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More 850
.....the New Year with Mark D of 72...oh joy!
Oops - sorry about that. Overenthusiasm. 700 x 500 in future.
Last edited by PhamousPhotographer; 9th Jan 2010 at 09:55.
Mid seventies. A call from Lisburn. There is a bottling plant that has enquired whether a helicopter can change over a storage tank. If it can be done the MOD will do it for free as a civic gesture. I will be picked up at Lisburn tomorrow at 10.00hrs.
Next morning I fix up a heli-lift to Lisburn and I take with me our crewman leader, a Flt Lt of Irish extraction. Into BASO’s office and there is an RUC police inspector who is going to take us there and discuss the security implications. Into his car and off to the bottling plant of a major international drinks company. We meet the manager, the police chap already knows him, and over coffee in his office discuss the reasons why they would like a helicopter. After the tank was installed they built a warehouse so that cranes could not get at it any more. We then trotted out to look at the site.
The initial impression was that the tank would just about fit on a 32 wheel trailer with rear end steering. I kept a straight face, walked around it and enquired as to its weight. About seven and a half tons, was the reply. Maintaining a straight face I walked around it again and regretfully informed then that it was slightly outside a Puma’s capabilities.
“Not to worry, we’ll pull the shed down. Let’s go in and have a drink before lunch.”
In his office he had a massive drinks cabinet stuffed with every concoction known to man. He also had the largest collection of novelty and pornographic matchbooks I had ever seen. It had only just turned eleven and lunch wasn’t until twelve thirty so by the time we launched off to the hotel we were already two sheets to the wind.
We didn’t slow down at lunch and we were just finishing off when the police inspector looked at his watch and announced that he had promised to get us back to Lisburn by three, that was twenty minutes. Without further ado we said our farewells and collapsed into the back of his car. He reached into the glove compartment, pulled out a big blue light with a long wire attached and with blinding stroboscopic flashes clamped it to the roof of his car. We then punched off down the M1 at about 110 but four bulging eyeballs looking over the seats in the back but we made it on time.
We enquired about a lift back and we got the news that they were diverting a Wessex to pick us up in ten minutes. Our knees buckled in relief. We were afraid he might have offered to take us to Aldergrove.
Next morning I fix up a heli-lift to Lisburn and I take with me our crewman leader, a Flt Lt of Irish extraction. Into BASO’s office and there is an RUC police inspector who is going to take us there and discuss the security implications. Into his car and off to the bottling plant of a major international drinks company. We meet the manager, the police chap already knows him, and over coffee in his office discuss the reasons why they would like a helicopter. After the tank was installed they built a warehouse so that cranes could not get at it any more. We then trotted out to look at the site.
The initial impression was that the tank would just about fit on a 32 wheel trailer with rear end steering. I kept a straight face, walked around it and enquired as to its weight. About seven and a half tons, was the reply. Maintaining a straight face I walked around it again and regretfully informed then that it was slightly outside a Puma’s capabilities.
“Not to worry, we’ll pull the shed down. Let’s go in and have a drink before lunch.”
In his office he had a massive drinks cabinet stuffed with every concoction known to man. He also had the largest collection of novelty and pornographic matchbooks I had ever seen. It had only just turned eleven and lunch wasn’t until twelve thirty so by the time we launched off to the hotel we were already two sheets to the wind.
We didn’t slow down at lunch and we were just finishing off when the police inspector looked at his watch and announced that he had promised to get us back to Lisburn by three, that was twenty minutes. Without further ado we said our farewells and collapsed into the back of his car. He reached into the glove compartment, pulled out a big blue light with a long wire attached and with blinding stroboscopic flashes clamped it to the roof of his car. We then punched off down the M1 at about 110 but four bulging eyeballs looking over the seats in the back but we made it on time.
We enquired about a lift back and we got the news that they were diverting a Wessex to pick us up in ten minutes. Our knees buckled in relief. We were afraid he might have offered to take us to Aldergrove.
Last edited by Fareastdriver; 10th Jan 2010 at 19:49.
Gentleman Aviator
Well of course Diablo Rouge, The Mill was in its heyday a linen mill. Remember one time I was snowed in there for a couple of days - in weather not unlike today's - and got bored enough to find in the Mess an old book on Bessbrook's History; the Mill and the village.
The Mill's (earlier) claim to fame was that it had produced the table linen for the Queen Mary in the (?) 1930s - good pub quiz question that!
From the same book, Bessbrook (the village) was built as a "model village" for the workers in Victorian times by the owners, a bit like Bournville or Port Sunlight. And as the owners (like the Cadburys) were apparently strict Quakers, Bessbrook (like Bournville) went for many many years without a pub!
The Mill's (earlier) claim to fame was that it had produced the table linen for the Queen Mary in the (?) 1930s - good pub quiz question that!
From the same book, Bessbrook (the village) was built as a "model village" for the workers in Victorian times by the owners, a bit like Bournville or Port Sunlight. And as the owners (like the Cadburys) were apparently strict Quakers, Bessbrook (like Bournville) went for many many years without a pub!
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'The Brook'
Bessbrook (like Bournville) went for many many years without a pub!
The general disappearance of pawnshops has virtually guaranteed their continued absence from the Model Village, but the embargo regarding the police has long been broken, with the first barracks being opened in 1897 or ’98, apparently following a mini riot. It’s now a dwelling house on Church Road within sight of the present station – though budget-related proposals to close the present one have been discussed in mid-2008, while it is probably also only a matter of time before the first ‘Licence for the Sale of Intoxicating Liquor' is granted.
On his death in 1891 John Richardson’s family discovered the offer of a baronetcy from William Gladstone among his papers. Dating from 1882, it was recognition for a lifetime of charitable work, including caring for the linen workers of Bessbrook, but he’d turned it down on the Quaker principle that virtue is its own reward. Wonder what he’d think of the Mill’s condition today?
Sorry for banging on – it’s not strictly a SHFNI story, but the Mill and village has a unique history as well as its helilinks.
In a similar vein to Fareastdriver's tale, as a reward for my efforts at Lisburn, I was invited to a few libations at Knock on a day I was due to travel home on leave. The afternoon wore on rather, and it looked as if I would be unable to get to City Airport in time to make my flight.
I mentioned this to my hosts, which resulted in a blue-light run to the steps of a held flight, and a couple of bottles that we'd been unable to find time to open to accompany me on my onward journey to Manchester and beyond.
Result? I woke up as my train pulled into Middlesbrough, having slept through York.
Happy daze.
Edited to add; worked with MD when he was but a lowly Airtrooper - nice to see the boy done well.
I mentioned this to my hosts, which resulted in a blue-light run to the steps of a held flight, and a couple of bottles that we'd been unable to find time to open to accompany me on my onward journey to Manchester and beyond.
Result? I woke up as my train pulled into Middlesbrough, having slept through York.
Happy daze.
Edited to add; worked with MD when he was but a lowly Airtrooper - nice to see the boy done well.
Last edited by diginagain; 9th Jan 2010 at 16:07.
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More Scenery / Navex
Not one of my sharper efforts, but this north Armagh site was operational in the 1970s and closed, I think, c.1980 / ’81? Anyways, the lake / big house combination should be recognizable to 70s’ crews. En route to Y453 from RAFA with POD, JJ C***y and S** B**d. Not lost, just a slight detour, and I was in the lh seat - properly authed again. 72 was as Mighty as the Wessex!
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Phamousphotograher.....
That last left hand seat shot is probably Castledillon - I spent hours and hours of flying around there delivering ReadyMade concrete to build the refuel LSs. It proved a bloody good refuel site for many years but in the 90's I went back there and found it disused!! What a waste! Incidently I was Crewman on the Wessex which took the very first troops in there at o-dark-o-clock in the very early 70's to take over the house........
!
!
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10/10
That last left hand seat shot is probably Castledillon
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an epocryphal tale from Castledillon......
In the mid 70's Dick L@angworthy (of BN Falklands War fame) was the 'beefer' on the Puma detachment and was looking after a new-to-the-territory new boy pilot before letting him loose solo at the innocent Irish public. I was the crewman and we were tasked together to fly a days' tasking in the Province. Anyway I decided that the 'New Boy' should have as much help as I could give him (cos Dick took no prisoners...)We got airborne from Aldergrove and Dick gave the nav to the New Boy. I helped as much as I could and was eventually told to 'Let the New Boy get on with it'. So off we went across the bloody border!! New boy is feeling fragile. We then landed the troops in a field with bloody great wires across it. On the approach to the field I said 'There are wires across the middle of the field' No reply from New Boy who is now doing the flying (as he can't nav!) and is probably maxed out. No reply from him. We landed on and ground taxiied and stopped slap dab underneath the wires! The troops departed and then New Boy' asks for clearance to lift. No says I there are wires directly above us, I suggest you ground taxi until the tail is clear of the wires. We then decided to go for some fuel at Castledillon. We rocked up there and there were rocket fences all over the place and it was all a bit adjacent. Anyway I talked him to the spot and I got out and supervised the refuel by the magnificent TSW heroes 
and at the finish I rolled up my long lead and boarded the a/c. Secured my monkey harness and said 'You are clear to lift, tail LEFT' What happened? He lifted and swung the tail RIGHT!! DOWN, DOWN, DOWN I shouted and we landed on again just before we would have hit the rocket fence with the tail! I rushed up the front. Dick in the LHS had already got a fag going and he looked round just as I swung a punch at the RHS New Boy and shouted 'Next time listen to what I am telling you!' Or words to that effect! When we got back to Aldergrove Dick bollocked me for striking an officer and the New Boy apologised for being a liabillity all day and promised he would improve - and he did! But he NEVER forgot that first trip tasking in NI.......
and at the finish I rolled up my long lead and boarded the a/c. Secured my monkey harness and said 'You are clear to lift, tail LEFT' What happened? He lifted and swung the tail RIGHT!! DOWN, DOWN, DOWN I shouted and we landed on again just before we would have hit the rocket fence with the tail! I rushed up the front. Dick in the LHS had already got a fag going and he looked round just as I swung a punch at the RHS New Boy and shouted 'Next time listen to what I am telling you!' Or words to that effect! When we got back to Aldergrove Dick bollocked me for striking an officer and the New Boy apologised for being a liabillity all day and promised he would improve - and he did! But he NEVER forgot that first trip tasking in NI.......
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Dick in the LHS had already got a fag going and he looked round just as I swung a punch at the RHS New Boy
Charlie H**e's Mess Cannons were legendary....
R***ie B**ker's were too, must find the photo I have of Seafury Fan's arse in the bubble window whilst in formation....
Dougie H**se going 1st class in the cockpit...almost permanently
N***a going solo at Ballynorth
R***ie B**ker's were too, must find the photo I have of Seafury Fan's arse in the bubble window whilst in formation....
Dougie H**se going 1st class in the cockpit...almost permanently
N***a going solo at Ballynorth