A winter's tale.
Our RM mates do love to play in extreme conditions and by close association we used to be dragged along. Some places were more enjoyable than others and Harstad in Norway is one. A number of airdrop exercises over the winter months were popular more with the crews than the Marines. Cosily ensconced in the Viking hotel we ventured forth to support our freezing bootneck buddies from the relative comfort of Albert. Launching one evening to resupply the patrols with night drops we were aware of the changeable weather conditions but it was do able. The terrain in north Norway is very high and only suitable for brooding Norse gods. Very much aware of this, the map reading was backed up by calls of where the high ground was and time to the next turn. Rounding a steep sided valley spur after the last drop after dark and in pretty spag vis, we suddenly went IMC. "Heading" said Uncle Bulgaria. "325" says I. "High ground", "Right and left up to 7000ft and time to next turn 3.5 mins" "I'm going to **** myself" quoth the Captain as he sat Albert on its tail and climbed through the thick cloud.
We blasted into clear black sky at 8500ft still going up. "You can level off a bit now" says I "Point me towards Evenes, we're going home" Says he.
Later, in the Red Barn we are drinking coke. Spirits are so expensive in Norway that the Marines had given us a wizard wheeze. We had plasma bottles of vodka under our armpits and IV leads down our sleeves to a cannula which dispensed a shot into the coke with a bagpipe players squeeze.
The following day was fortuitously weathered out so whilst sitting in the hotel reception we observed what we thought was a women's sports team checking in. A group of young ladies apparently from the Lofoten Islands. The usual lounge lizard approach from one of our PJIs met with icy coolness. "Must be lesbians" he said.
Later at the bar they all arrived together in a much more amenable frame of mind. "Why the sudden change of mood?" "We came here today for "control" they said "You know, cervical smear test so we were like nuns"
The evening perked up a bit after that."
The det flying area was carefully controlled by the Norgies. "You may not fly in these areas because of the Rangers" we were told. "Are they part of the exercise?" we asked. "What?"
"The Norwegian Rangers, are they part of the exercise?"
The Norgie briefer placed his splayed hands, thumbs inward to his head and said in his Swedish cook voice
"The reindeers are migrating" .... "Oh"
I love the place
