Memories of...
Red Cans.
John the Fish.
Squadron Detachments when the WHOLE squadron deployed.
Senior Officers who backed you up and took the flak, and never gave you a hard time about it afterwards (Mike Dug**d I still owe you a crate of beer, Mike Frankl**d I still owe you one as well, Dave Henk*n I owe you a bottle of good Scotch).
SWO's who tore a new hole in your posterior, and then spent the next half an hour making you feel that you wern't a complete waste of space after all.
Watching the hangar clear in double quick time when the rockape WO and the SWO had the biggest, loudest slanging match in the history of the western hemisphere.
When the plods actually used to go into the NAAFI to clear out the rocks.
When the Orderly Officer went in with the plods.
Singlies Christmas Dinner served by the Staish and all below him.
Food fighting with the Staish and all below him.
When Boatwright was an RAF trade.
When there was more aircraft on an RAF station than cars.
When you got posted to a new unit...and nobody there knew anything about it.
When 'Yes' men were the exception, not the rule.
When Married Quarters were worth having.
When Pontious was a pilot.
camlobe