Great stories - keep them coming, chaps.
Just a pretty ordinary tale..
I was once (just on exercise in mountainous terrain) entrusted with the job of running the helipad.
The Army (B47s) and Air Force (UH1s) of course both had different requirements - but we somehow managed.
It seemed that the Air Force brass had little confidence in their chaps finding the location and assessing the wind.
To assist, I was issued with a quantity of hand smoke flares in all sorts of lovely colours.
These, of course, were not really needed (lengths of toilet paper are an effective substitute) but a chap from the adjacent M.A.S.H outfit was keen to trade any leftovers I might have had for cartons of beer.
Great.
The normal rule was "One can, per man, per day, .. perhaps" - so I was popular with the men for a while.
Until..
A carton of the loose pyrotechnics had been mistakenly left outside their mess tent.
The inevitable happened when, later in the evening, someone seems to have stepped outside and flicked a cigarette butt...
We heard the hullabaloo from about a mile away.
Nothing actually burnt down, but .. have you ever seen an olive drab marquee in psychedelic colours?
Last edited by Stanwell; 17th October 2016 at 23:15.