It was August 1982 I spent 20 days in Ascension, flew 141 hours on six sorties, two were roundtrip with airdrop and snatch, three of them we landed after Port Stanley had reopened, on one occasion we were recalled after nine hours! A normal detachment? Not quite.
After the war, a House of Commons Select Committee was sent on a fact finding mission to the Falklands, once they reached Ascension by VC10 and had toured the base and an aircraft carrier by chinook helicopter our crew were tasked with their onward journey.
The mixed party MPs rotated on the flight deck during the journey especially during air to air refuelling and were thrilled to find an escort of phantom jets up tight and personal to escort us in as we neared the islands. Cue excitement and many photos.
We were all accommodated in the only hotel on the islands The Upland Goose, something akin to a 1950´s Blackpool guest house, this was disconcerting for us to have a group of MPs breathing down our necks. Mainly because we had to be on our best behaviour, and we had a couple of scams going with Des King the hotel owner, mainly over converting our lunch to wine and bringing him fresh produce from the US military in exchange for drinks in the bar.
We got very friendly with a young politician called Chris Patten who spared the time to chat with us over coffee, he told us that Michael Mates MP had borrowed his son James´ (of ITN fame) camera and was unofficial group snapper, only to later discover that the camera had no film in it.
At breakfast the next morning we were eavesdropping on the conversation of two MPs about an intruder in in there room in the middle of the night, they were not sure if they had dreamt it.
I was pretty sure I knew who it was likely to be. Our co-pilot P*** P***t had drunkenly called for more wine at dinner, the captain told him that he´d had enough so he proclaimed at the top of his voice “Don’t worry the Queen she will pay!” Cue many kicks under the table.
He left the dining room, stumbled into the fire extinguisher, setting it off but he was in a hurry to go out with a fighter mate. He got back at about 2am and despite asking Des´s daughter to leave the door on the catch was locked out, but he still invited his mate in for a night cap.
He incorrectly guessed which window was his bedroom, climbed up onto the conservatory and fell through the open window frightening two labour MPs in the process! He did the normal drunken Shhhhh! And then he and his mate stumbled into the corridor where they sat and cracked a few tinnies.
I had to share with my engineer C**** S***h who liked a drink and a fag and could snore for England. Unbelievably this urge meant whilst I was reading a book in bed he was necking a can and puffing a fag, it was then lights out and SNORE. About three am I would hear a match striking and a can opening followed by the big SNORE, this was repeated at about 7am!!
After two nights my captain C***s M**n took pity on me and I moved in with him.
My eng and I also suffered embarrassment the following day when out for a walk around Port Stanley surveying the war damage. We took a stroll down to the racecourse where there were a couple of aircraft wrecks; we had not gone far when a voice screamed at us - “Stop where you are! Go no further; you are walking into a minefield!” Luckily we were able to retrace our steps and then returned to the hotel to change our underwear!
Happy Days!