Funny Things Happen in The Air Force

[SOSL]

I remember some good times and times when I had to laugh. These are just some of them. I hope you guys out there can can help me by adding your own stories. (BTW BEags you rumbled me last time I was on this forum, years ago - see if you can rumble me this time).

It’s the mid seventies. Prestigious Air Defence Sqn based in Scotland, on a station near the most famous golf course in the world, is going to be given a new standard. Youngish, thrusting, high flier just been promoted and posted in as Sqn Cdr decides the standard presentation parade will be the best set-piece of drill ever seen in the RAF. Has the Sqn Warrant Officer drill the troops day and night for weeks until they are near perfect. Early start on the important day. Officers’ married quarters (days when you had to be married to get a quarter) quite a long way from the Sqn HQ so Transit van organized to collect all the officers (troops did it on foot). Sqn Cdr, fully booted and spurred in ceremonial uniform but can’t find gloves (soft brown cape leather). Transit turns up and toots horn, nothing happens. No. 1 Flight Commander calls from the bus window “come on boss it’s time to go”. Still can’t find gloves – losing reason to live - Sqn Cdr calls back “off you go I’ll catch up with you in a minute”. Sqn Cdr, a pipe smoker, suddenly realises that his tobacco pouch (soft brown cape leather) would double for a pair of gloves if folded over and held in his left hand – salvation at last. He leaps on his bicycle and manages to get to the parade with nanoseconds to spare. Sqn Cdr marches on, leading the troops and parade goes as planned. March back to Sqn HQ, dismiss officers, dismiss troops. Sqn Cdr turns to Sqn WO, says “well Mr Smith I think the parade went perfectly and I don’t suppose anyone even noticed that I was holding a tobacco pouch. Mr Smith replies “no sir they didn’t”. Sqn Cdr asks “how can you be so sure, Mr Smith?”. Mr Smith replies “well sir, they would have been too busy looking at your bicycle clips”.

This happened in the days when Kevlar was unheard of and we all wore heavy steel helmets with dodgy linings. Taceval Pt 1. HQ STC distaff have previously briefed Senior Aircraft Man Bloggs that his hangar will be blown up and he will be a casualty. About midnight, hangar is “blown up”. SAC Bloggs writhes on the floor, screaming and loving the fact the fact that he joined the RAF. Very enthusiastic Cpl nurse is despatched from the Med Centre to attend to casualties. Finds SAC Bloggs, pinches his ear, says “can you hear me” and bends down over Bloggs. Bloggs sits up and as he does so Cpl’s helmet falls off and impacts Bloggs head. Bloggs suffers NODUFF concussion. Ambulance summonsed. Bloggs goes to local NHS cottage hospital. Treatment for concussion not administered for about 30 minutes because on arrival at hospital Bloggs had a piece of paper on him which said “broken legs and severe burns”.

Practice parade at RAFC Cranwell. After several manoeuvres - “parade will advance in review order, present arms”. Parade advances 12 paces, halts and presents arms – flight cadet blogs hits his rifle too hard and it falls to the floor and makes a loud noise. Drill instructor marches across the Orange with his eyes fixed on the offender until he gets within a pace at which point he turns and shouts at the cadet next to the offender “you sir do you have an erectixn?” Adjacent cadet says “no sergeant”. Sgt roars “well you should have, sir, because you are stood next to the biggest CxNT in the Brfitish Isles".

Practice Parade at RAFC Cranwell. Drill Instructor (DI) “turning to the right in column of route – RIGHT TURN”. “By the centre quick march......Left Right left Right – swing your arms gentlemen, swing your arms shoulder high front and rear”. Front left hand marker (flight Cadet Bloggs(FCB)), plays number 8 for the college first fifteen, hurt his shoulder in practice the night before. “Swing your fxxxing arms gentlemen”. Short pause then “Squad halt! Into line left turn”. DI marches across the Orange parade square. Hat peak on his nose, pace stick under his arm, quivering with rage, steel studs on each boot biting into the gravel. Marches up to FCB and screams “Mr FCB what the fxck are you doing not swinging your fxcking arms shoulder fxcking high front and fxcking rear on my fxcking parade Sir”. FCB replies “I’m a little stiff from rugby Sgt”. DI replies “I don’t give a fxck where you come from Sir – swing your fxcking arms shoulder fxcking high on my fxcking parade Sir.


Hope to get some input from the guys and gals in the colonial airforces and the brown jobs as well. Happy days SOSL

[BEagle]

Hi Bill!

Great days those were!!





.

[SOSL]

Spot on BEags. Talk to you soon!

[Aerouk]

Mil banter at it's best, cracking stories! :ok:

[NutLoose]

RAF crewroom Raf Brize on Exercise, all the bods not out on guard are in watching TV, Neighbours as it happens, (cringe) one of the bods off duty who has re arranged his guard duty to be in to see his favourite programme is sitting eyes glued to the screen when BANG..

Thunderflash outside the window and in they come..... hands the bod whose TV is now being interupted an Inject. you.... you and you as they point to the rest of the off duty shift are injured, turning to the now frustrated bod at the fact he is now missing his favourite TV programme,
What are you going to do now Airman?? Bod picks up his SLR, cocks it and shoots the lot of them then sits down to carry on watching TV...... Incredulous Di staff look on with that WTF expression, Airman points out, well they would just tie up resources, manning etc and most probaby would not survive so I simply alleviated the problem :D


Bruggen, Jag Squadron, Inject on exercise, the outside of a HAS entrance covered in the old Ruskie anti personnal mines ( the 10 min to arm variety) what are you going to do.... Man hops onto the squadron BR Platform style apron sweeper and promptly hoovers them all up :p

[SOSL]

RAF Robin Hood, when it was a Nav training school. Small, blonde, rather sexy (believe me I knew) WRAF Cpl in Flight Planning is counting out the tea swindle money. Flt Lt QNI enters room (he is a fully qualified txsser), says to WRAF Cpl "can you change a fiver for me". She answers "yes". He counters "dont you mean yes sir". She replies "sorry sir". He says "shall we start again?". "allright sir". "Can you change a fiver for me?". "I'm afraid not sir". I loved her then and I still love her - I wish I'd married her.

[4mastacker]

Bulk Fuel Installation No 7, RAF Gutersloh, very early 70's, Taceval. Distaff hand inject paper to young SAC- "BFI on fire - take appropriate action". Young SAC places inject paper on ground and pee's on it! Awarded 7 days and 200 Mark fine (paid for by a whip round amongst one's fellow stackers).

[Ogre]

During Taceval at a northern outpost of the UK, the line hut was full of lineys waiting for something to do. Suddenly in walks the Distaff, and informs them that in five minutes they will be bombed and they were all casualties. Distaff then hands out wound chits to the lineys, which list their injuries. One of the line Cpls goes round al the wound chits, and picks one that says he has a head injury. Lunch had been delivered some hours previously in the form of Hot Locs (individual round metal tin containing room temperature food which was once hot). Cpl then takes a spare hot loc, empties the contents into a small plastic bag, adds a cup of cold tea, and mixes the contents into a semi liquid consistency. He then hides the plastic back in the neck of his denims, with the neck of the bag held shut by his right hand which was in the vicinity of his left collar bone. He then lies on the floor in a "I've just been bombed" poseThe attack starts, finishes, and the casualty search begins. A number of individuals from the hanger arrived to check the "bombed" line hut, and start assessing casualties. One goes over the line Cpl, rolls him over and asks "whats worng with you then". Line Cpl makes a retching noise and associated movement, and at the same time squeezes the plastic bag causing the semi liquid mess to erupt over the floor/boots of good samaritan, who promptly jumps backwards in disgust.

[Royalistflyer]

Training - everyone's flying from a little used satellite field - Provosts - one instructor in the "pie hut" mobile control tower - students landing on three grass runways - mid-summer dry grass. Instructor sees two students dangerously close but cannot identify them head-on so goes outside and fires very pistol ..... the flare lands and sets the grass on fire .... so now no one can see through the smoke to land.

[beardy]

A bright crisp clear and frosty morning in Lincolnshire. Konsin (sp?) is spread to de-ice the runway. Shortly after dawn the first pair get airborne in full burner. Konsin evaporates, condenses in the cold air and rolls across the airfield in the vortices from the departing aircraft forming an expanding wall of fog which persists for the resy of the day. Pair divert.

[taxydual]

A rerun of a post from earlier days.


Late '70's at an 'aerodrome somewhere in England'.

The Boss (and I mean THE BOSS) was coming to make sure that we were looking after the aeroplanes and other bits and bobs she had loaned us.

The Staish thought it was time for his Other Buggers Efforts and so decided to put on a show. A Royal Guard of Honour came top in his list of bullsh*t.

Joe the SWO trawls the unit for blokes who were 6 feet tall (not 5'11", not 6'1", he wants an Other Buggers Efforts too) to make up the main cast of this performance.

Through an accident of birth, my oppo and myself satisfied Joe's requirements (and being a pair of prats by not hiding or limping ) we found ourselves on a shortlist of 2 to join Joe's Chorus Line.

Now, my oppo was (and still is) a bit of an imbiber of most things alcoholic (he draws the line at Toilet Duck), he also appreciates being allowed to gently enter the world of sobriety in the mornings, no sudden movements etc etc.

To his horror (and to the rest of us) Joe and the Staish decided upon practice, practice, practice weeks before the main event. To make matters worse, the practices were to take place at first sparrow's fart, so's not to deny us the pleasure of a full day at work afterwards.

Oppo did not take kindly to this. His personal time to recover from the reveries of the previous night were severely curtailed. His efforts at the rehearsals for Joe SWO's Royal Variety Performance were not good. His efforts at 'Present Arms' would have made Corporal (Dad's Army) Jones look like a Coldstream Guardsman.

Joe thought he was taking the pi$$, not realising that oppo was recovering from the pi$$.

Slowly it began to dawn on oppo, that perhaps to avoid more severe listening-to's and other threats from Joe and after all, it was for THE BOSS. (Oppo was a great fan of THE BOSS). that he should curtail his nightly intake and perhaps take up cocoa for the duration instead.

The transformation was dramatic!! A figure of immaculate military bearing arose from the ashes, the Staish smiled, Joe SWO smiled, even Joe's dog smiled. Sod the Other Buggers Efforts they thought, this means Knighthoods all round. Arise Sir Staish, Arise Sir Joe SWO. I swear you could see it in their eyes.

Come the final Full Dress Rehearsal. Brigade of Guards, QCS, b@llocks to the lot of you, nobody could beat us, we were good.

So good in fact that the Staish invited the members of the Royal Guard of Honour to have a small alcoholic refreshment (at his expense) to thank us for our efforts (oh, and also to put the fear of God up us just in case it went wrong).

After drinkies and associated small talk 'it's Ma'am as in ham, not Ma'am as in farm' etc served up by Mrs (soon to be Lady) Staish. We were sent on our way to prepare for the Main Event the following morning.

Oppo, now rather pleased with himself, full of military bearing (and two halves of Staish's beer) decides that a pleasant pre-Royal evening in the company of the NAAFI'S finest barmaids is perfectly in order. Thankfully, I had a prior engagement with the future Mrs Taxydual so had to decline his kind offer of an evening of fine wines and glistening conversation.

I imagine, gentle reader, you can guess the rest.

Come the morn, you have never seen anything like it. 6' of military bearing converted into a potato sack. There were no two pounds of him hanging straight. His breath would have killed small children. His eyes had to be seen to be believed. 'There's life, Jim, but not as we know it'.

It went steadily downhill from there on in.

The March-on he stumbled. The Royal Salute he fumbled.

Then the crowning glory. During the Inspection came a barely audible bubbling noise followed an odour of such grossness that no-one could miss it for what it was. Oppo had sh*t himself. The looks of horror on the faces of the great and the good was spectacular. As to THE BOSS, she didn't turn a hair and carried on if nothing had happened. She knew though, oh she knew. I saw, for a fleeting second the look in her face as she passed me. "Tommo's sh*t himself again".

Where are you Tommo? If the telling of this doesn't force you out of hiding, nothing will.

[PPRuNe Pop]

Can't resist this. Just can't, that's all there is to it!

PLEASE keep this going gents - the best stuff for years. Should go into a book. Must go and change me pants! :D :ok:

[Pontius Navigator]

Pre-taceval period but still ficticous sandbags.

"Fall-out warning black"

Off-shift ops officer at Waddo swimming in the open air pool. Duty Plod comes round and tells him to get in the shelter.

"It's OK Cpl, any fallout will wash off." Exit Cpl.

Same exercise, Bomber Controller starts broadcasting location of H-bombs going off all over Britain (odd but they didn't all arrive at once). First one was Waddo.

"Waddington, why are you not reporting fallout?"

"Say again, where was the first bomb?"

"Don' be a fool Batt, it's an exercise now get plotting."

Didn't do Batt's career any harm, made at least Gp Capt Regt.

[Pontius]

I swear the GIs (gunnery instructors[drill instructors]) have got a BIG book of the funniest phrases and comments to be used on the parade ground.

Dartmouth, early 80s and we're on mid-week divisions, practising for the 'proper' show on the weekend. There's lots and lots of marching up and down the square but the equally young and equally green Snotty marching in front of me really couldn't get his act together. It was tick-tocking at its very, very best. Luckily he was going through as an Observer, as I think his lack of co-ordination might have hampered his style as a pilot. Anyway, from the rear of the squad comes an incredulous squeal of 'halt' from the PO GI and up he marches, with pace stick of course and the whitest gaters you have ever seen in your life. Face literally millimeters from the disco-dancing marcher:

'Do you know what, Sir, because you're a young officer and I'm a Petty Officer I'm not allowed to call you a c**t. I am only allowed to THINK you are a c**t. AND do you know what, Sir? I THINK you are a f**k**g c**t. Now double round the ramparts, shouting to everybody what the PO thinks you are, Sir'

The only trouble was we were all laughing so hard that tears were literally flowing and it took a good few minutes before we could even see again, let alone march and, even as we did try, there was still this poor bugger running around the ramparts shouting, 'the PO thinks I'm a c**t', which set us all off again.

H&S wouldn't permit that sort of thing nowadays......as for the bullying, well heaven forbid....:rolleyes:


PS: I know the thread says 'Air Force' but seeing as I spent so long with you poxy crabs, then I get to add Senior Service stuff too :}

[SOSL]

Sorry Pontius I should have included the Rum, B & B Brigade in my original post.

[taxydual]

Finningley, 1975.

0745, a steady stream of airmen walking down the main drag to work.

Joe the SWO appears on the Guardroom Verandah. The cry of "YOU, AIRMAN" rents the peace of the morning.

200 Airmen halt mid stride.

"WHERE IS YOUR HEADGEAR?" bellows the SWO.

199 airmen breath an audible sigh of relief.

From the throng, emerges 1 small LAC minus top cover "I have a chit from the MO, sir". He bleats.

"WELL, WEAR THE F****ING CHIT THEN" is the response.

199 Airmen wet themselves laughing.

[MrBernoulli]

A 'colonial' air force, somewhere south of the equator, in Africa, and there is a war on .......

Officer Cadets on daily parade and drill practise. Gobby little drill corporal (known as 'Klinger' behind his back) taking the parade. Said corporal, during a lull in proceedings, thinking he is being smart, walks down the front row asking individuals, "Does you sister f**k?" Several answers of "Perhaps, Corporal!", "Yes, Corporal!" or "I don't know, Corporal!"

This continues until the corporal reaches a big, burly ex-army chap who is the holder of a gallantry medal:
Corporal - "Does your sister f**k?"
Big Bloke - "No, Corporal!"
Corporal - "Why the f**k not?"
Big Bloke - "Because she is f**king UGLY, Corporal!"
Assembled Cadets crease up, 'Klinger' has a crinkle, and the Cadets all have to take another run around the parade square several times. We eventually 'broke' 'Klinger' so that he didn't mess with us again. :ok:

[seekayess]

I absolutely L O V E this thread!

I have personally spilled the coffee -- mercifully, not on the keyboard!! -- twice already!!


Go for it fellas! This is fabulous!!



:ok::ok::ok:

[SOSL]

Half way through my time in the RAF I had lost the required Juniority to be allowed to work on aircraft and was employed on fulltime duties moving pieces of paper sideways across a desk.

Was summonsed to deliver a briefing to a nearby Gp Capt (unusually for the rank he was actually rather quick witted). He always sat with his back to the window of his second floor office so as I delivered said brief I had a full view of the large sports field.

It was late spring and the groundsmen had just cut the grass, painted the 7-a-side goal thingies and laid them out at the side of the field to dry in the sun.

Back to the briefing - drone, drone, blah, blah. Suddenly loud clattering noise as a Mk 2 Wessex swoops across the sportsfield, heading for the Helo Pad. Grass blows every where and the goal thingies covered in wet, white paint are blown all over the place. I involuntarily exclaimed "What a mess!". Gp Capt looked behind him, understood why I had interrupted his briefing and said to me "Don't worry Bill, the goalposts allways move when the C-in-C comes back from London".

[Cubanate]

OCTU RAF Henlow, late '70s, learning how to polish prototype Lightnings and trying to avoid the cameras filming 'Fighter Pilot'. On the parade ground early one Winter morn, being taught how to march in a big group, things were looking good from my viewpoint at the back apart from a hint of tick-tocking just ahead. Suddenly, 'Left, right, left, right, right wheel, left, right, etc' was interrupted by an explosive, high pitched 'WHHALT!!'.

RAF Regt DI, at a pace that would please the boss of the Carabinieri's Mountain Division, and, yes, with Paystick under arm and slashed peak causing him to lead with his chin, singles out said tick-tocker. Stops, immaculately, millimetres from TT's face and enquires, 'TT, why the f*ck do you want to become an officer in the RAF Regt?!?!?'

TT, loudly, 'Because I like the outdoor life, Flight Sergeant!'

DI, 'Have you ever thought of becoming a f*cking farmer?!?!'

Parade adjourned to re-compose itself.

[sitigeltfel]

Taceval at tiny Yorkshire Group HQ.

Exercise staff throw a smoke canister towards a gaggle of airmen patrolling the perimeter. One of the airmen dashes forward, picks up the smoking canister and hurls it back, scattering the officers. Later while being bollocked, the Sergeant Discipline asks, "What would have happened had it been a real grenade?" The airman replied "I probably would have been standing in front of the Queen receiving a medal instead of getting a bollocking from you Sarge!"

[The Oberon]

Wittering 1966. The SWO had got his usual revenge on Victor Line Sqn. by nominating most of them for Guard of Honour, including an ethnic Nigerian electrician known to everyone as " Joe ".

Having all drawn arms, the SWO sized us into 3 ranks and " Joe " found himself in the rear rank. Enter a young Nav. Rad. who had lost the toss for O i/c GoH. He spotted "Joe" in the rear rank, pointed at him and told him to swap places with the man in the centre of the front rank.

" Tell you what, Sir, I have a better idea " replied Joe, " Why don't you put me on a lead and stand me in front of the band "

[Moldioldi]

As mere civie who has only worked alongside the heros in blue these stories are priceless. I agree with previous poster - please someone get them compiled into a book and sold for a mob charity.

[BlackIsle]

Talkdown Controller Plt Off Dave L, Lightning Pilot Flt Lt Jack B

ACT 1 - The Talkdown

First day of first tour DL leaves Satcos office after arrival interview, " we'll start you off on Talkdown - lets see how good you are - the last one straight out of Shawbury lasted a week!" DL is hastily thrust in the seat and the screen controller gives words of encouragement along lines of " 2 & 1/2 degree glidepath not 3, clearances at 8 & 4 miles not 6 & 3 and dont forget its a bit quicker than a Jet Provost, thats him just coming on at 9 miles".

DL makes a promising start only mildly thrown by the clipped punchy r/t from the pilot unlike the clear relaxed civvy pilots at Shawbury - he overcomes the first hurdle of remembering to announce himself as Coltishall Talkdown and not Shawbury - all he has ever known! First clearance is duly remembered at 8 miles and DL settles into the patter even remembering to begin descent for a 2 & 1/2 degree glidepath. All is going nicely as DL does his best to achieve a good centreline line up. The 4 mile clearance to overshoot is obtained with a hasty prompt and a "tut" from the screen controller. But now the speed of the approach begins to overtake DL who is struggling to keep a rythmic patter going and remember all his half mile range calls, he is working hard to keep up and some stressed breathing adds to his difficulties. " Dont forget the surface wind" urges the tutting screen swiftly followed by "and watch for Decision Height". By now DL's commentary is failing to keep up and the gap between each blip on the fast scanning radar is rapidly increasing! Finally DL utters the finishing phrase "passing Decision Height look ahead and take over visually radar service terminates" by which time the blip has passed off the screen and the jet can be heard roaring past the Tower.
Headset off DL wipes his brow and nervously looks to his screen for reassurance only to hear " the Boss wont be too impressed with this - you need to speed up - best you sit over there and get on with reading the Order Book". Unknown to DL JB had been briefed to cleanup and open up at 4 miles and was probably doing about 300 kts over the threshold!

[Moldioldi]

To add one I was told.
Airfield ATC Simulator excercise with a painted scene of said airfield on one wall. Student has everything under control. WAAF acting as assistant alogside. Testers decide to increase pressure on student by adding more and more urgent and increasingly serious situations interspersed with phone calls to the assistant stating Farmer Giles who owns a field outside perimeter fence needs a word. Student getting more and more harassed keeps telling the WAAF he cant take the phone as he too busy. Testers keep increasing the pressure and make one more call to WAAF - she passes message on that Farmer Giles says he must talk to SATCO as some of his sheep have got through the peri fence and are on a runway. Student now at breaking point stands up glares a painted scene and yells 'I CANT SEE ANY F****ING SHEEP. WAAF disolves in tears and testers rolling about on floor in helpless laughter

[Tricorn]

Sometime mid 70s, on detachment in Germany, FJ eng line controller. One of the aircraft required a refuel so I said to no-one in particular, "What's the number of the refuelling flight?" (mistake of course). Quick as a flash one of my guys comes back with an extension number and I promptly dial. The phone rings for ages and I mutter that refuelling flights are all the same, supposed to be manned 24/7, never answer the phone etc. Then a ladies voice answers the phone with a (very posh) "Hello". I replied that I didn't think I had the right number, especially as I now notice that all the troops are rolling round the floor laughing. The voice continued, "This is the Station Commander's wife and I have just got out of the bath to answer the phone!". Quick thinking, I replied, "Do you know who I am?". "No", came the response. "Thank heavens for that" I replied and put the phone down. At least I had another 'volunteer' for sh!t jobs for the next few days!!

[BlackIsle]

POST 25 Refers -ACT 2 - The Debrief

Talkdown Controller Plt Off Dave L

"Lightning Pilot" Flt Lt Dick D - Atco in disguise and the Producer of the play

DL is sat in the corner of the Approach Room trawling through the Order Book and nobody has spoken to him in the 20 min that have elapsed since the talkdown finished.

In storms "the pilot" DD in a flying suit with some maps stuffed in pockets "Where's the Supervisor - I want to see that ******* GCA controller" The Supervisor says " He's over there ... it's his first day". DD storms over to DL and gives him a severe one way interview about the shocking GCA which ruined his students sortie and which would have to be flown again! DL was left ashen faced with bottom lip beginning to wobble!

10 mins later the phone rings and the Supervisor calls DL over saying " its for you" and DL finds himself speaking to JB who says "My name's Jack B I'm the pilot you talked down and you didn't do a bad job -welcome to Colt mate - see you in the bar for a beer." DL puts down the phone and the controllers and assistants in the Approach Room collapse into laughter. Another brilliant set up from a master of set ups Dick D!

[Lightning Mate]

I knew DDs' name would pitch up here at some point, I just knew.

Flew him in a Frightning at Colt. DD wants gentle aero-type manoeuvres.
Had little bark in bag - felt much better.

Next day me airborne, DD on Approach. First RT response from erstwhile controller: "Carrots over Yarmouth muther?".

....and how about the Beagle Club at Colt.......??

Still, an absolute professional; if ever I met one. With a fire warning at night he answered my Mayday call with "Roger, radar listening out".

Ok, back to the funnies guys.

[XN593]

If memory serves me correctly,
11th November 1973. RAF Church Fenton halfway through the Chipmunk course prior to posting to Linton.
Potential Steely eyed Jet Jockeys gathered outside for ejection seat training (think fireman’s ladder with an MB Mk4 seat strapped to the front, a ratchet on the seat to stop the seat falling back down and a ground operated cable to lower the seat). First student wants to see what the view looks like flying up the ladder and goes for the pan handle. Head back, neck straight pulls handle. There is a slight pause and then nothing. A hush descends. Keep still Sir, don’t move a muscle, it might be a dud. Eventually the cartridge is removed and everyone relaxes. Second go, another pause and the seat leaps three foot up the rails. Wind up seat, disengage the ratchet and wind down. Wait for new box of cartridges and on the third go our hero bangs to the top. Winch the seat up and a call to the student to release the ratchet. There is no answer. Student seems to be frozen. More shouting. Eventually student responds, disengages the ratchet and is wound down. What happened we ask? He replied "I thought I had blacked out. I could hear you all shouting but everything had gone grey". It seems he hadn’t set the ‘G’ lever on his shiny new bone dome and the visor slammed down.
I thought it was funny until it was my turn.

[SirPeterHardingsLovechild]

Late 70's, young Lovechild is in basic training at Swinderby and has been dicked for escort duties on a mate's charge. Standing at ease in the corridoor outside the offices, an hossifer approaches with an overflowing boxfile and more loose paperwork on top. Lovechild snaps smartly to attention...

Well, not quite smartly enough. I had failed to notice that one foot was on the end of a carpet and the other was on the lino. As my feet came together, the carpet got caught and raised up between my shoes.

The Officer tripped, flat on his face, boxfile and papers up in the air.

Thinks 'Bugger me, I've only been in the Air Force a week and I'm in the **** already'

By the time he had regained his composure, and gathered his paperwork, I had managed to straighten the carpet back down to its original position.

I don't think he sensed the terror in my eyes, or the subsequent relief, when he said :

'Oops, silly me'

(Over 30 years ago and my Dad still makes me re-enact this one for his friends)

[Rigger1]

There have been a few like this, this one I actually witnessed ........

Airman stepping out of the mess bereft of headdress. A young shiny acting Cpl policeman about to enter the mess takes it upon himself to take the offender, a rather large old FLM, to task over his attire.

“SAC, Where’s your beret”
”In my pocket”, came the reply, said without even looking up or slowing down.

But the best bit was the young policeman who didn’t know what to do as about 20 junior ranks are now wetting themselves at his expense, he turned round wandered off and wasn’t seen in the mess for weeks.

[SirPeterHardingsLovechild]

'Are your hands cold?'

'No Sir, they're in my pockets'

[SOSL]

See item 1 in post #1. When I was posted in to said station (near golf course etc) I was a newly promoted Flying Officer having spent 3 years as a Pilot Officer.

We used to record our arrival on RAF stations by walking all over the base with an increasingly dog-eared piece of blue card called an arrival chit, which had to be signed by about 20 people in positions of more or less power over you.

One of the more powerful was the Mechanical Transport Officer (MTO). I arrived at his office with blue card, but not knowing that MTO was on leave and MT Warrant Officer was covering for him.

Knock, knock....."come in". Fg Off SOSL opens door and steps in, right foot connects with wooden batten nailed to the floor to stop the MTO's carpet from curling up any more. Fg Off SOSL falls to his knees and utters an expletive. MT Warrant Officer looks up from his paperwork and sees in front of him a Fg Off on his knees holding up his arrival chit. Warrant Officer opines "D'you know, Sir, I think you and I are going to get on".

Happy days - keep 'em coming guys and gals. We haven't had any gals contribute yet.... or have we?

[Tester78]

Kinloss, late '80s.

My first love, the Nimrod, had those intercom/radio tx paddle switches. By flicking it across quickly, one could turn a radio transmission into merely an intercom one in mid-flow, without this being obvious to the rest of crew.

One dark and dirty night, a crew was coming home on a PAR at about 0200. The lead Nav was a guest, and happened to be the Sqn Nav Leader. His wife was an ATCO at Kinloss.

Female PAR Controller: "4nm - check gear"

Flt Lt pilot: "C/S three greens...(flicks paddle switch to intercom)...and any chance of a blowj*b?"

Growl from the back: "Flt Lt ****, my wife does not give blowj*bs"

Flt Lt pilot: "Bad luck, sir!"

Well, that's how I remember it...

[chopd95]

RAFC circa long ago, junior mess parade ground, wind coming from the Urals, Sgt A....o " did you shave this morning sir", " yes sergeant" did you use a mirror" "yes sergeant" "next time use a f.....g razor" !!

[The Oberon]

Goose Bay 1974.

An ageing Cpl. Steward turns up to work in the officers mess. No SNCO steward being on base, I was given the dubious honour of showing him around. A day later I ushered him into the bosses office for his welcome aboard chat. " Sit down" says the boss," I've been looking at your file, and you are just the man we are looking for, I need someone to look after the RAF water polo team during Winter Carnival and I see that before you joined the RAF, you were in the Navy" " Sorry Sir, but I can't swim" says the steward. "What !!, 11 years in the Navy and you can't swim" says the boss. "Yes sir, and it gets worse, I've been in the RAF for the past 6 years and I can't f***ing fly either"

[Neptunus Rex]

SOSL - that tale will be impossible to beat! I roared with laughter, fortunately my drink was not in my hand at the time.

The scene: RAAF Butterworth, Friday 1800, darkish, just landed having taken AOC on a ten hour patrol in a P3 Orion. Crew go to the 'Scruffs Bar' ie on the lawn outside the Mess. Captain Neppie and Tacco called to Ops. Russian Submarine and Destroyer escort in Malacca Straits, so we are tasked to relocate on Saturday morning. Neppie suggests that AOC (ex Knuck) might prefer to see the Reds than his planned inspection of a Barrack Block. PA calls AOC and all is agreed. Neppie and Tacco join crew under a tree behind the Mess, (dark, remember) beers in hand, and Neppie announces to the rest of the crew that tomorrow, we shall have on board the RAAF's highest paid co-pilot. From the shadows under the trees, steps forward said AOC, who graciously said;
"Thanks Neppie, just get me back to the golf course by noon!"


http://www.augk18.dsl.pipex.com/Smileys/ooops.gif

[SirPeterHardingsLovechild]

Two Scaleybrat/NAAFI stories, the second one has 'connotations' but occurred with childhood innocence.

Wyton in the early eighties

My mate's missus in the queue at the Families NAAFI with sprog. Checkout lady exchanging pleasantries with the customer, when the toddler leans forward and says -

'I've got a secret'

'Have you?' says the checkout lady 'But a secret shared, is a secret halved'

'But I've got a secret'

'If you tell me, it won't be a secret anymore, will it?'

Toddler ponders for a moment

'I went downstairs last night and saw Mummy kissing Daddy's willy'

-----------------------------

(Second story deleted by Mods)

[scarecrow450]

Many years ago at a former strike base near Bury St Edmunds Joe SWO shouts at airman walking on the grass 'Airman only 2 things walk on the grass at this station.

Birds and God !






And God has to ask MY PERMISSION !!'

[noprobs]

1. UK Taceval in final nuclear phase. It's a hot day, and sitting in our "NBC shelter" (a barrack block with CPX sandbag labels on the windows) after a long period of NBC black, the sweat starts to pool in the S6 respirators. Having seen no distaff for a long time, we decide to relax the dress regulations, but with 1 man delegated to keep an eye out for anyone important approaching the door. Cleverly recognising a potentially career-altering individual approaching in full NBC kit, our lookout donned respirator in the required time scale, exhaling sharply and shouting "Boss, boss, boss!"

2. RAFG Taceval where OC flying in the field is required to carry a Storno in case of no-duff incident, and so that he can be recognised in NBC kit. Realising battery is flat during particularly hectic phase, said officer goes to Eng Ops and asks "Chief, charge this battery for me, please." CT places battery on desk, wags finger at it, and says loudly "Battery, you're on a fizzer."

[NutLoose]

Certain secret Helicopter base exercise in Hampshire during the 70's

Distaff approaches TSW fuel pillow tank set up, hands inject to bod stating there has been an explosion and to add realism lights a thunderflash and tosses it in the air, thunderflash lazily arcs through the air and lands on said pillow tank.... Distaff then sees exactly what everyone would do..... Run

[Rhayader]

Dartmouth, early 80s and we're on mid-week divisions, practising for the 'proper' show on the weekend......

I had the pleasure of meeting this GI at Whale Island in the mid 70s when I was a baby sailor.

He turned us out at 0300 and doubled us up the hill to above the parade ground and opening a large display casement ordered us to......

'Polish that bleedin gun carriage, dont forget the brightwork'. 'You effin ignorant ODs will not know that Winston bleedin' Churchill was carried on that very institution to his reward.' 'Now, it so 'appens that your Majesty's bleedin' mother 'as 'ad an argument with a bleedin' fish bone and may be on 'er merry way, effin fishes revenge if you ask me, so get it sparklin' me boys.'

0600. Gun carriage sparkling. GI returns with a distinct aroma of spirits about him......

'It seems that 'im upstairs has seen fit to allow old Liz to stay with us, Gawd bless 'er. Fall in. Left turn. Double. Halt. Right then, bath and dhobes, rig of the day, back 'ere at 0700 dont be adrift.'

:}

[Blue Bottle]

Best Pre flight Passenger brief on C130 trip back from the US of A
Captain: Welcome on board for your flight home, you are being flow today by 47 Sqn, and we have a long tradition that in the unlikely event of an emergency the Captain is always the last man to leave the aircraft.
So, should you wake up and find yourself all alone, consider yourself the Captain. The time on route etc etc..

[BEagle]

Remember when cross-country calls involved a series of progressively fainter old biddies chatting to eachother ("Central...click, click, Rothwell Haigh please, dear...click, click...Machrihanish please....click, click...."Hullooo, RAF Machrihanish here....")? And the occasional screech of "ARE YOU WORKING??!!" if you dared to pause for thought in mid-call!

A mate using this system once got pissed off when it well went dead "Ah f*ck it, the bastard telephone's gone t*ts up. Bolleaux!" he muttered to no-one in particular, only to be chastised by some vexed harpy who retorted "There's no call for language like that, young man, I'm trying to connect you!".

Dial-a-mate worked fine in the 80s and 90s. But getting rid of station operators in favour of failed burger-flippers at call centres proved a total disaster.

Thank heavens for cellphones!

May I direct newer PPRuNers to the following:

http://www.pprune.org/military-aircrew/290211-pull-up-sandbag-i-remember-when.html

and

http://www.pprune.org/military-aircrew/48116-i-wish-i-hadnt-said.html

and the famous http://www.pprune.org/military-aircrew/48124-1-gp-dining-night-waddington.html

[taxydual]

Topcliffe, early '80's.

RAF airfield, used to teach RN students to fly, on an Army Barracks

The Scene.

An apron full of Bulldogs preparing to launch the first wave, everything 'burning and turning'.

All being overseen by FS i/c Engineering. (One J*** B****, of that Ilk).

Enter 1 x Army Major (with obligatory dog).

Army Major, unsure how to proceed, attempts to catch the FS attention.

"Staff Sergeant" he calls out.

To be suitable ignored by said FS.

"Staff Sergeant, Staff Sergeant", the Major tries again to no avail.

Taking his life in hands (together with loose dog) he enters the busy apron.

"Staff Sergeant, I have been trying to attract your attention" he declares.

"My apologies, Sir" JB acknowledges "but I am not a Staff Sergeant, I am a Flight Sergeant".

"Ah" replies the Major "In this Regiment you would be a Staff Sergeant".

"No Sir" comes the firm reply "In this Regiment, I would be a Lieutenant Colonel".





After a major moan to the Staish at Leeming (a prat of the first order), JB was 'punished' by having to be Ord Sgt for the next four weekends.

[acmech1954]

Mid to late 70s at a prominant tanker base. Airman leaving the mess after a meal just as an RAF plod drove by in his sparkly new company Ford Escort. Plod sees airman has his hands in his pockets, wound down the window and bellowed at the airman ' get your hands out of your' followed by a loud crunching noise as Escort becomes very second hand against a lamp post at the side of the road. Lots of laughing faces at windows of mess and one very red one in the car. :}
A very senior SAC with oppo on gate guard, a Saturday afternoon, mid summer and the Space Cadets were changeing over. A spotty youth with the uniform of a Pilot Officer(VR). VS SAC checks documents, thanks him and opens the barrier, PO(VR) pulls forward and asked SAC if he did not normally salute officers, the SAC responds with ' Real ones Yes sir ' :ok:
Again Spacie season, in the airmans mess, a long tail of airman and spacies waiting for their food. Enter cocky Spacie sergeant, who walks to front of queue and goes to take a plate, when asked what he was up to he said he was gettig his meal and was jumping the queue because he was a sergeant. At this he was told that he was in the wrong mess and the Sergeants Mess was down the road, at this he put his plate down and headed down the road. He returned some 10 minutes later, at the back of the queue. :\

[Agaricus bisporus]

OK, you've asked for it. This is a Senior Service version of the same.

Picture the scene....

Midshipmen on parade training at BRNC Dartmouth.

CPO Blaine, none other, is inspecting the platoon. Stops before one particular officer under training and looks upward towards the sky. (CPO Blaine was about 5ft 2 inches tall - and wide. The OUT in question was about 6ft4)

An unconventional opening gambit had the poor OUT unsettled from moment one...

"Did you have breakfast this morning, Mr Bloggs?"
"??????WTF???" pause "Er, yes, Chief"

"Did you eat all your breakfast, Mr Bloggs"

"??????WTF???" pause "Er, yes, Chief"

"I WILL NOT TOLERATE YOU LYING TO ME, MR BLOGGS!" CPO Blaine bellowed.

"????WTF????" pause "Er, but, er, Chief, I'm not lying to you...???"

"IF YOU ATE ALL YOUR BREAKFAST HOW COME SOME OF IT IS STICKING TO YOUR TIE, SIR???"


Or the predecessor of the wonderful Colour Sergeant RM who taught my course drill but hadn't learned to control his frustrations...

One morning (at BRNC) he was drilling a squad of what we used to call "internationals" who were renowned for their hopeless uncoordination on parade...
Being a decent Bootie he just wasn't adjusted to this sort of shambles and allowed the pressure to get to him. At the end of the period the bell went signifying three - or was it five minutes for OUTs to get to their next assignment.

Clr Sgt Bootneck kept them at it to ensure they would learn a lesson by being late and get a bollocking from their next class.

As he marched and countermarched this ticktocking shambles about the parade ground a WREN trainee was passing, arms full of books, around the ramps of the parade ground and as any human being would laughed out loud at the antics of the "international" fools .

This flipped the poor Clr Sgt. He called his squad to a halt, turned and bellowed at the WREN in his biggest parade-ground voice,

" I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE LAUGHNG AT MA'AM, YOU'VE ONLY GOT ONE C*** TO LOOK AFTER, I'VE GOT A WHOLE SQUAD OF THEM!"

Inevitably the Commander's window was open, the Jimmy at his desk... The poor Clr Sgt made a brief appearance before that desk and was off the station within the hour. What a waste!

Also---(a second hand story that might be - nay!, ought to be true. I don't know but it was related to me in all seriousness)

A young thrusting helo pilot who was melanistically distinct from the rest of the squadron was aboard one of Her Majesties carriers and relaxing in the Wardroom with his oppos and reading the daily paper. A new sprog middie entered the compartment and proceeded to introduce himself around the room in a rather pompous manner to all present. It was perhaps not his fault that his daddy was an Admiral, but that didn't help. "Justin LeBlanc!" he intoned as he circulated the room, "Hello, I'm Justin LeBlanc!"

He reached our hero and had to stick his hand over the top of the paper, which was slowly lowered..."Hello, Justin LeBlanc" he asserted, and as the Telegraph was raised to its former position a disinterested voice was heard to say, "Hello, Stanford le Noir".

A further story which may or may not be true, but I for one believe it -

Said dark-skinned Officer came up through the hawse-hole, and the story goes that upon reporting to his first ship as a newly sprogged baby-sailor he was led to his new mess by the duty doggie who pointed his way down a hatchway to his mess. Our friend stuck his head down the hatchway and bellowed, "HEY, NUMBER THREE MESS, YOU GOT ANY N!GGERS IN THERE?????"

You can imagine the reaction...

At which he flung his kitbag down the hole, and leapt after it shouting "WELL YOU F******G HAVE NOW!!!"

He was one of nature's true Gentlemen. Still is, I believe.

[SirToppamHat]

May I direct newer PPRuNers to the following:

Wise words Beagle, as I was thoroughly enjoying this thread, it had occurred to me that it should be merged with:

I Wish I Hadn't Said That (http://www.pprune.org/military-aircrew/48116-i-wish-i-hadnt-said.html)

All 3 of the threads you kindly linked to should be compulsory reading for probationary PPruners.

STH

[acmech1954]

At a similar time to the above my wife worked in the Officers Mess as a steward for the evening meals and Mess Events. One evening it was close to clearing up time and most of the gentlemen had left only leaving a table of 4 earthy senior members of the mess. At this time it was noticed that 2 young Pilot Officers were peering through the doors, my wife approached them and they stated that they would like an evening meal, and this they were escorted to the table where the last of the members were sat, the senior officer, a Squadron Leader engineer gave my wife a questioning look but said nothing.
She took the order for their meals, after their starter they both requested Trout, which was duly placed in front of them at the appropriate time, as she was about to walk away she noticed that one of them looking at both of the plates, at this she asked him if there was a problem to which he replied 'his one was bigger than mine', to which my wife replied that =
'that is something you should discuss with your mother' turned on her heels ad departed. Result - explosion of laughter from senior officers.
On another occation another of the girls (C)noticed a man stood by the dining room doors, as she approached he asked if he was on time for a meal, at which she replied that he was and took his hand and led him to a table. The other girls tried to attract her attention, but failed and to hide their laughter turned their back on her. After leaving the table, having taken his meal order C walked to the other girls who where stood shaking their heads, C then asked what she had done wrong to be told - Thats the new Station Commander.
How she kept that job for as long as she did I will never know.

[Krystal n chips]

Late 70's....for those who recall the days of MU's and 71 in particular. En route to either of the RAF's two Cat A stalags ( St.Athan / Brawdy ) from Abingdon it became the custom to stop at the "10p" cafe near Newport..so called because it was run by an ex WO who charged 10p to all serving RAF persons irrespective of the meal. It was also the turn round point for the baby MT drivers from St.Athan..and their instructors.

Now, the ahem, dress code for the MU was "variable" shall we say...and the driving skills minimal...at best. After several meetings with the St.Athan fraternity, much tut tutting and indeed "an exchange of views" the war of attrition reached a head one day when two of the St.Athan grown ups appeared at breakfast...a WO and a cherubic Fg.Off ....names were taken and stern words issued etc, etc...which we thought was a rather uncivilised thing to do over breakfast........

The car park at said cafe had a considerable number of potholes...it rains a lot in Wales.....the two grown ups elected to supervise the departure of the troops CF van by standing to attention in said car park...alas, the J/T driving was somewhat more observant than they...and duly departed at a rate of knots parallel to their location.....think of part of the intro.scene from "Kelly's Hero's " here.....the war of attrition ceased thereafter.

[SOSL]

Wonderful, guys and gals. I have had so much fun reading all the replies. BEags, thanks for the reminder of the older threads - there are some absolute diamonds in there.

There have been one or two comments about "Help for Heroes" - so here's my idea.

Mods I hope you are paying attention! If the three threads, that BEags linked on his last post, were merged with this thread - I know that would become a huge thread and it may not be possible for technical reasons - but if it was I would undertake to research the entire thread, distill it into a respectable looking Word document and send it to Help for Heroes so they can use it to the best effect.

If you can't do that, never mind I'll research them as separate threads and have the same effect.

I'm still looking out for an obvious input from the gals. Please see my first item on post #1 of this thread. Young, feisty, lady you worked for me briefly at a headquarters near Huntingdon about 20 years ago and last time I heard you were something important at said RAF Station. If you are a PPruner you must have some stories to contribute.

Happy days - Bill Kelly - whoops I meant SOSL!

[Wander00]

SOSL - not called "Gail" was she- if so she worked for me at a radar station in Norfolk in 84-86 - got into all sorts of scrapes, and had to be rescued by me or the Stn Cdr - a wonderful woman called Joan H....

[SOSL]

Not Gail, I'm afraid. Would have liked to meet her though! Lady I'm referring to had initials ED - Thats about as indiscrete as I can be. All readers, please send stories - this could be a good input to help for heroes fund raising if we get it right. If any Help for Heroes guys are listening in please advise me on how you would like Word document to be delivered. I know I can Google you but I'm just being lazy.

Rgds Bill K

[SirPeterHardingsLovechild]

Great idea Bill!

I have a much read paperback called 'Policeman's Lot' by Harry Cole. I believe it turned into a series of books. Its basically a collection of anecdotes from the police, mostly half a page or a page long, and it is a cracking addition to the downstairs bog, or holiday reading.

However, get with the times old man, this is the age of the internet (not that I'm quite up with it) we do things online nowadays.

Having said that, if you've got the drive to get this into a paperback then go for it.

Remember that PPRuNe get its funding from these advertising banners, so you'll have to find a way to keep the Mods sweet.

We already have a few apocryphyl..er..urban myths on this thread - they will need to be investigated.

And a bit of translation might be required as well!

PS Why does everything have to be H4H? They've got so much cash they don't know what to do with it. There are Service Benevolent Funds, the Legion, and RAFA etc that are suffering because of this trend.

[BEagle]

Knew it was you, Bill!

KKIA, early in GW1. Waiting to go flying, our planning is interrupted by the inconvenience of yet another Scud attack. Everyone masks up and troops down to the basement; after the usual bang from the outbound Patriot, the all clear is given as another of Saddam's fireworks falls to earth in bits and several dozen folk in NBC kit troop back upstairs.

Sticking out like the Pope's prick at a wedding is one rather worried looking very blunt person in transit dressed, astonishingly and somewhat inappropriately, in standard RAF blues - complete with very smart SD cap.

As we file past this numpty, one of my crew yells "Ah - you must be the f*cking DiStaff - what time's Endex then?".

The poor sod goes even redder, before being invited by the Boss to "Bugger off and find some NBC kit!"

[SOSL]

Thanks, Sir Peter, you have some good points; I have already registered my intention with HfH.

Have been giving to RAFBF etc for 2 centuries and thought we might get with the times.

However, I guess once we get the stories coralled we can then decide on the best way forward; maybe a poll. Editing is my first love (apart from the WRAF Corporal at RAF Robin Hood).

BEags you won't know this but you were the only pilot cadet on the entry that I didn't consider to be an absolute drongo. See my next post!

[SOSL]

I was an Engineer in the RAF, I joined in nineteen canteen and couldn't have had a more enjoyable career and a better pattern of worldwide postings and assignments.

However, my dark secret is that I applied, at the age of 17, to be a pilot.

During the medical, on day 2 of the process, I was shown a booklet with lots of funny coloured dots on each page. The Wg Cdr doctor who showed me this booklet kept asking me what numbers I could read on the page. He was obviously a complete wankxr because there were obviously no numbers on the pages.

After a while he said "why are you applying to be a pilot when you are completely colour blind?". I was devastated, I'd always suspected that other people were generally vague about colours but it hadn't occurred to me that it was my fault.

I may be wrong but I think he tried to cheer me up, he said "It's a shame really, you would have made a good pilot, you have no hand/eye co-ordination and you are colour blind but at least you are a complete tosser.

Happy days Bill K

[SOSL]

Airpolice: Cracking story - so complicated I am still tyring to worki
it out but so funny. Well posted mate.

[twoteapots]

Mid-80s during a maxeval at a a north German base on the German/Dutch border. It's 2am and everything is quiet. All the guards on 'Blue' Sqn are deligently looking out from their sangers that surround the Sqn. Enter one Chinnook into the dark night that swoops in and drops off a ful load of rock aps inside the Sqn area spoiling for fun. Result, utter chaos! Nobody knew which way to turn, mostly everybody was facing the wrong way and the funniest thing was the police landrover that drove up and swithed on it's spot light, to be greeted by a hail of blank ammo fire, only then to drive off in the other direction never to be seen again. The Rock Apes had a merry time. The only problem was the next day, when there was to be a full flying programme as part of the ex, but this had to be cancelled as the whole area was fodded with brass cartridges and all sqn per had to come out of the ex and do a major fod plod. Happy days.:}

[Cubanate]

They're beginning to come back to me .....

OCTU, late '70s. Have learned to polish Lightning prototypes, and, by now, 'Fighter Pilot' TV crew have b*99ered off. Things back to normal. On grass airfield, shown devastating effect of Thunderflash under bin lid, and starting to play with pine poles and 45 gal drums.

Well spoken DS from the Home Counties (DSHC) appoints young Off Cdt from London (OCL) to lead next exercise, which involves much running, adjacent buildings, and said pine poles and drum, and some other stuff.

OCL reads the task, confers with DSCi-staff, and turns to his troops;

'Right Lads, lissen in. The task is ...... pine pose ..... lots a runnin ..... rand the 'Angars ..... back 'ere ...... build a fingumy. Gottit? Any questans?'

DSCH - 'I say OCL, just one moment if you will. Before you move off, I should like to point out that Hangar has an 'H' - it's HHHangar, OCL, HHHangar'

OCL, quick as a flash, - 'Nah Sir, it's 'Angars. There's two of 'em!'

[FlightTester]

A couple that I remember:

A Technical Training Unit in Buckinghamshire early 80's

Morning parade of Electrical Training Squadron and an A/Cpl discip is standing behind me, "SAC M***, am I hurting you?"

"No Cpl, why?"

"Well I should be cos I'm standing on your f*ck**n hair!"

Fast forward a year as I'm leaving as a newly promoted J/T

"Cpl, am I hurting you?"

No J/T M**** why?"

"Well I should be cos I just dropped my pay chit on your foot!"

RAFG a few years later, TACEVAL. Two of us are guarding the base from the Orange hordes when we come under heli-borne assault. A rock ape leaps from the Puma and comes running towards our sangar and the inevitable barrage of blank rounds ensues. About thirty feet from us the rock does the best impression of a Quentin Tarantino "arghhh I've been shot" scene ever witnessed and promptly flies backwards and collapses in a heap. It's only then that my oppo notices the lack of the BFA on the end of his SLR. A brief search of the area reveals the errant BFA right next to the recumbent rockape.

[Wander00]

Then there was the DIOT Flt Cdr wearing DPMs and SD cap, who (allegedly) welcomed the recoursed cadet to his flight (as he shot his elegant cuff links past the cuff of his cabbage-kit jacket) with, "Well Bloggs, anywhere else they would have given you a revolver on a green baize table, but instead they have sent you to me!".

[sitigeltfel]

Manston, early seventies.

A Squadron of RN Wessexs divert in due to fog in the English channel and their unexpected arrival is causing a fair bit of chaos.
A big gruff Lt. Cmdr jumps out of one of the rotors running choppers and bellows something into the ear of one of the airmen who has been sent out to the pan to help. Said airman gives the crewman the thumbs up over the din, jumps into his Landrover and heads back to the ASF. Ten minutes later the airman is back, drops the tailgate on the Landrover and sitting there is a large bucket of steaming hot water, a roll of blue tissue paper and a couple of large bars of soap. A number of the crewmen fall about laughing while the Lt. Cmdr starts to pound his bone dome with his fists.

It turns out he had asked the airman if the ASF had S.O.A.P. which means Spectrometric Oil Analysis Programme, for checking the condition of the engine.

[RetiredSHRigger]

Prior to the building of the metropolis at MPA, when 1310 Flight Wokkas and the RIC were homed at the infamous kellys garden health spa and retreat at San Carlos. I was tasked with ditching the mountain of beer tins from our previous evenings social interactions and told to grab the unimog and take them to America, ''Why is the tip called America'' I asked Because its full of SH*T and over there.:ok:

[scarecrow450]

During a Taceval at Suffolks premier strike base in early 90's myself and a Flt Lt were asked ! if we would go outside, in full NBC dress, to show how to decontaminate our selves in the event. Sgt rockape gave us both bits of tree he had cut up to use as brushes. After a few attempts at hitting each other(to brush us down) we both got the giggles after saying people would pay a lot of money to have this done to them in Amsterdam. By now the rockape was'nt impressed with our p%ss taking and arrsing about, after shouting at us both to take it seriously he firmely told us to sexually go away and he stormed off to jump on another unsuspecting airman.

Think the Flt Lt has just left Norfolk's strike base after being Staish so at least I got to give a Staish the brush off !!!

[SirPeterHardingsLovechild]

Bump!

As a Halton Brat in the late 70's, me and two mates were stagering back to the block, one snowy night, after some rehydration in Henderson NAAFI (28p/pint)

(Earlier on that evening, there had been a massive snowball fight with the DE underachievers, and we had been packing stones in our snowballs and broken over 30 windows in their block, coppers and duty staff were on the prowl.)

We had been to the bar to celebrate.

My mate said, 'I bet you can't hit that lamp post from here' Sure enough, I couldn't, and neither could he.

But it was enough for the Orderly Sergeant to spot us and charge us with vandalism, or 'Throwing Ice-balls at RAF property'

It was that famous EngO who took off in the Lightning that heard the charge. Marched In - £5.00 fine - then a pep talk

'Where are you from, young man?'

'Reading, Sir'

'Ah, you don't get much vandalism in Reading, do you?'

(couldn't resist it)

'Not while I'm at Halton, Sah!'

[taxydual]

RAF Finningley, Freedom of Doncaster Parade 1976?

Pawade Commande..

Who couldn't pwounounce his 'R's.

One week of Pawade Pwactice.

Three weeks to stop the laughter from the guys involved.

The command 'Form Ranks' had a whole new meaning! And as to the 'bweifing about the 'All Wanks Dwinks Party' after the event had the Mayor of Doncaster in stiches.

[Edthedruid]

A cold, wet, miserable 1973 night at a RNZAF base on the mainland of NZ. Cpl Edthedruid is there on his Cpl's Qual course (yes, we did promotion courses AFTER we were promoted). That particular night we were each given two recruits and were tasked to guard Base HQ against intruders. During the evening we were told that somebody had borrowed a Flt Lts uniform and had managed to talk his way in. We were to smarten up our ideas and not let it happen again.

At about 2200, I decided to sneak around the corner and have a smoke, leaving my two recruits to guard the front door of the building. A few minutes later a flustered AC runs round the corner and tells me that someone trying to pass himself off as the Base Commander was demanding access to the building. One recruit had stood in front of this chap's car while the other one went to the window and asked him for his ID card. The driver became quite irate, said he didn't have his card on him and started edging his car forward until it was pushing the young AC standing in front. It was at this point they decided I should be fetched.

I marched up to the car, stuck my head in the window and said" Good evening sir, could I see your ID card please". Then the rant started. Having had enough, I drew myself up to my full five-foot-six, looked this chap who was dressed for gardening , if anything, straight in the eye and said loudly "The effing Base Commander would have more effing sense than to drive around base without his ID card, now eff off!". At that point a F/S GSI strode up, saluted smartly and said "Good evening,sir". Yes, it WAS the Base Commander.

I was told the next day that His Lordship wanted me in Ardmore (think Colchester) asap. What he didn't want to happen to me wasn't worth hearing about. Then our dear old W/O instructor looked him straight in the eye and asked "Well, where IS your ID card sir?" Subject closed. Turned out he was known for coming down hard on anybody found without their ID card. Heard no more about it.

[Edthedruid]

A different mainland RNZAF base in the mid-80s. Monday morning base parade. Base W/O marches up to a tall, gangly, scruffy corporal. "Corporal Blah, that uniform looks like you slept in it!". "I did sir". Yes, under the Corporals' Club bar where he had inadvertently been left when they locked up the night before. He had been on jankers, which was why he had turned up at the club in his best (No.3) uniform.

Same parade ground some weeks later. Full-dress rehearsal for a big parade, with the Base Commander carrying out the inspection. The good Group Captain, an engineering officer, was not known as Hardnose for nothing. His bark was bad, his bite was downright nasty. Parade's all ready to go, Hardnose starts his inspection and stops in front of an LAC. "I hope you've got a better pair of shoes than that, laddie?". "Yes, I have sir". "Well, why aren't you wearing them?". "Oh, I keep those for parades sir". "WELL WHAT THE EFFING HELL DO YOU THINK THIS IS?. BASE W/O, SEE TO THIS HORRIBLE LITTLE OBJECT!". Turns out he was saving his good shoes for the REAL parade!

[NutherA2]

In the late 1950s the Commandant at Halton was Air Commodore T N (Punchy) Coslett, himself an ex-brat and former RAF heavyweight boxing champion. At a practice AOC's parade, I had the easy post of "commanding" No 1 Flight of No 1 Squadron; No 2 Flight being led by a mate, Pete E*****s.

All went well until the march past, when Pete set his troop in motion out of step with my lot. Punchy's shout drowned out the band as he ordered us back to the starting blocks with the instruction "Will the Commander of 2 Flight set off in step with No 1 Flight"

The restart was no improvement; Pete still hadn't got the hang of it. After sending us back to the start position again, Punchy's next shout was "Flt Lt E****s start off IN STEP WITH NO 1 FLIGHT".

Sadly, the third attempt was no more successful; this time the Air Commodore simply halted us and roared "Flt Lt E****s come here". As Pete stood smartly to attention in front of him, Punchy drew his sword, pointed it at Pete's chest and the whole parade heard his final words "Flt Lt E****s, if you do that again I'm going to run you through".

Happily for Pete it was fourth time lucky.:ok:

[Wander00]

RAF Much Stn Alerts in the Night in NE Lincs, 1980. Returning to the RAF after an 11 year holiday in civvie street and with the TA, I was given as one of my secondary duties O i/c GoH (Stn Rock was a Fg Off, and my 2 i/c). "Hmm" said the much loved Staish, "in my day that job would go to an ex Cranwell Cadet". "It has this time, Sir", I reminded him.

Final dress rehearsal of AOC's Parade for Sir Peter H..., AOC 11 Gp. I have just done my bit at the far end of the pan for the "practice" AOC when the SWO' s Runner comes legging it down the pan. "From the Staion Commander, Sir. Please moderate your word of command. The sation parade is following your orders, not his."

Smug (very smug) grin, and several beers bought for me that night.

[SOSL]

During first term at RAFC Cranwell, junior entry lived in 6 man huts (AKA South Brick Lines). Weekly hut inspection by Flight drill instructor (see post #1 story no. 4).

Flt Cdt SOSL unwraps and places brand new Gilette razor blade in his ceremonial (cere) razor. During inspection Sgt R.... finds thumbprint on razor blade, charges Flt Cdt SOSL. SOSL defends himself by claiming it was a brand new razor blade and any thumbprint must have been caused during manufacture. 14 days jankers for calling a reputable British manufacturer into disrepute.

Same Sgt R.... while extremely eloquent on parade square, sometimes forgot words off the square. Hut inspection: he found scrapings from rugby boots under one of the beds in hut 150. Had temporarily forgotten the word for mud. Inspection report read " Hut 150. Bed no. 2 - loose ground found on floor".

[Roadster280]

SOSL - "Sorry Sir, I do not accept your award, I request trial by Court Martial. The Sergeant has stated a falsehood in evidence. Gillette is demonstrably an American company, and is therefore inherently of questionable repute :}".

[McDuff]

Young Jag pilot (YJP) in the late 70s at the Strike Base of the time: detailed to lead a pair of Jags on a demonstration scramble (taxi-through) from a single HAS to impress visiting senior officers from other NATO nations accompanied by Harry the Staish (HTS). These 2 Jags were always loaded at weekends with 4 x CBU in case the balloon went up etc ...

With 2 Jags in a HAS the front one had to start its right-hand engine and move out of the HAS before No 2 could start his engines in the HAS.

YJP is briefed by flt cdr, one Joe W, to make it snappy, move out of the HAS quickly and let No 2 start without delay. YJP gets quickly into Jag (as it's only a taxi-through) and might have skimped on his checks. He starts RH engine quickly and moves snappily out of HAS. As he does so, he sees HTS turn away from the scene and spend a minute or 2 looking the other way ...

Both Jags manage to taxi and "hide" on the southern parallel while dignitaries and HTS finish their tour and head off in motorcade. On return to the Sqn, YJP is told by flt cdr that it was a good snappy exit, but that a ladder behind his Jag had risen on the jet blast and hovered near the tail of the other Jag, crashing to the ground behind it. Couldn't understand how that had happened, but no damage, so no UI. Phew!

YJP accosted by one of the linies in the Sqn the next day:

"Sir, that taxi-through yesterday?" "Yes, what about it?" "I noticed that your engine had a sort of blue flame coming out of the back!" "Ah! Thanks! Perhaps we had better not mention that again."

The Jag had part-throttle reheat, y'see. The switch was meant to be off, normally, something you checked before climbing aboard ... under normal circumstances, anyway.

[SOSL]

Thanks for your advice but it would have got me 28 days for insulting the colonies!

Thanks to all posters this is going well. I have spoken to Help for Heroes and they don't publish stuff so I will have to see who is interested in publishing our stories. I have already got about 20 pages on a Word document - still some way to go!

If anyone has any ideas ......?

[RETDPI]

SOSL,
If you remember, several D.I.'s were allegedly posted to RAFC in a (Failed) attempt to make Sgt R. look intelligent.
Not difficult when , for example, Sgt R. was persuaded that the map of the hunting area for the Cranwell Beagling pack that was posted up in the Junior Mess was, in fact , a map of Arabia.
The response was almost predictable:

"Of course I knew that!'......... I was stationed there you know!......What you lot don't realise ..etc...etc...."

[air pig]

Waddington 1981, Air Cadets on annual camp and allowed to work in the sections and if they could all week. Young Yorkshire cpl cadet, working with RAF Police, and they had him on the main gate of the evening of the 'O' Mess ball. Large black car plus flag arrives at main gate and small cdt cpl smartly salutes and asks Harry Staish for his 1250, RAF police cpl seen disappearing into the distance ' seen and heard nothing honest' when said senior officer states, Haven't got it. Luckily Staish takes it in good part and goes home for it, much hilarity all round.

[ewe.lander]

RAF Odiham 1975 - AOC's parade, large number on parade with GSM NI medal, due to heroic SHFNI Wessex & Puma.

AOC asks junior Joe 'how did you find Northern Ireland?'

'I went to Liverpool and turned left Sir......'

SWO screaming, cell door clanging......;)

[BEagle]

RAF Finningley, Freedom of Doncaster Parade 1976

And you celebrated that.....:uhoh:


Bill and 'Speedy' - 'Uncle Les' R***a wasn't perhaps the sharpest tool in the box, but had a heart of gold. At the end of Term 1, the idle taxi drivers from Sleapit had left several of us in the lurch and in danger of missing our trains....

Until, that is, Les gave us all a lift to Grantham and wouldn't take a penny for his kindness.

In Term 2, he would willingly allowed himself to be distracted by the Block batmen with the odd tot of rum (or few) on our weekly inspection days, so they were always far from onerous.

All part of the RAF 'family' of those days!!

[DX Wombat]

And you celebrated that.....BEagle, Why not? I thought ANY excuse was a good excuse for a party in the RAF. ;)

[Squirrel 41]

DXW - Pardon, you need an excuse?

Ok, Treble One's Mess Cannon a couple ago (ineptly fired by Flt Lt P*** N**d**) was rubbish! 43's design much better (had it worked....)

S41

[TurningFinals]

I'm enjoying reading all these stories - keep them coming!

Also may prove to be useful as I'm joining the RAF and this seems to be a good "what not to say" guide!

[airborne_artist]

If anyone has any ideas ......?

You could sell it on Ebay with 100% proceeds going to H4H. You can get CDs copied in bulk at pretty cheap rates.

[mhod]

Benson AOCs parade dress rehearsal.
Staish: Airman, haven't you got a better pair of shoes than those?
Airman: Yes Sir
Staish: Well why aren't you wearing them?
Airman: Cos they are brown sir.

Next day at the parade proper, AOC asks ginger F/O Nav
Are you enjoying your tour here?
Nav: No. I will be out of the RAF in a couple of weeks.
AOC: And what will you do then?
Nav: Cartwheels up the blxxdy A1 sir.

[SOSL]

Many thanks to all, it's going great - I'm cutting and pasting all the stories into a word document which I will make available to a military charity. I won't make a penny from it but if any of you don't want your story to be published please let me know. I will take NTR as agreement to publish.

RETDPI - see BEags latest post. Sgt R...a did indeed seem to be as thick as 2 short planks but I wonder.. He certainly did have a heart of gold under his crust. BEags do you remember the 13 year old air cadet who ran out of money on summer camp because of the slot machines in the Cranes Club?

[SOSL]

I guess you weren't on 43 when they flew Phantom FGR2's and lived in 2 Hangar (No HAS in those days). Eng Wing stole the live Bantam cockerel that lived in a coop outside the hangar and replaced it with a frozen Buxted chicken. Sqn aircrew thought it was mildly amusing - Sqn SEngO went ballistic. BTW the cockerel wasn't harmed.

[Wander00]

Test of the mettle of an IOT flt cdr was generally reckoned to be "how far will you let a cadet march in the wrong direction?". SPTA, night, flight has just been thrown out of a helicopter. "Which way, Bloggs?", I asked. Bloggs, who wanted a career inthe RAF Regt, replied "South, Sir", and duly set off in a northerly direction. "What's that up there?" from me after about 10 minutes. "Star, Sir". "Bright isn't it", I hinted. Rest of flight mutter in Bloggs's ear. "Norf Star", says Bloggs brightly, and is about to set off north again. "Where is the North star in the sky?", I hint again. Muttering in the flight. "Sorry Sir, we need to go the other way". We start retracing our steps - "What's that Bloggs", as a very bright light appears ahead. "'Nuver star, Sir", replies Bloggs. "So why is it making that bloody noise?" as Bloggs realises he is about to lead the flight under a landing helicopter. No, he did not reach "the standard required for commissioning".

[BEagle]

SOSL, no, I didn't have much interest in 13 year old space cadets.....:suspect:

Valley 1975. Friendly Gnat student spots 2 lads in blue wandering around the 2 Sqn Ops area looking a bit lost. "Hi chaps, my name's W**t*n. You must be here on Summer Camp - which ATC sqn are you from?"

"Err, no. Actually sir, we're from GRSF and are here to fix your Hadley Box!"

Ooops!

Sadly W**t*n later Cat 5'd himself in a Hunter at Brawdy - probably after becoming disorientated following a low level abort into cloud.

Just to keep lurking spacies happy, someone once asked how to spot the difference between an older ATC cadet and a young airman. The answer is easy - the ATC cadet will be the one with the smarter turn out...:\

[4mastacker]

During a heightened security state, gate guards at a secret HQ just outside Huntingdon were given a mirror mounted on rollers which could be pushed under a vehicle to see if there was any unwanted "cargo" attached to the vehicle. Our orders were to check every vehicle entering the camp.

Up rolls the Padre with Mrs Padre in the passenger seat. 'Good morning Padre. Sorry, but we have to check under every vehicle". "No problem" he says "Go ahead".

Phil C*******n, from the ever-so-secret photography place that hid in a corner of the camp, slides the mirror under the car. He has a long, slow look under the vehicle.

Then he taps on the passenger's window, which is then wound down. "Good morning ma'am"" he says to Mrs Padre. " Do you realise you've got chewing gum on the sole of your shoes......and your seams aren't straight". Look of red-faced horror appears on face of Mrs Padre as she tucks her skirt under under and draws her feet and knees together. Padre see's the joke, laughs out loud, pauses, looks at wife then says "Thanks lads, I don't think she'll be dragging me down to many more coffee mornings".

[SOSL]

OK - I tell you. Young ATC cadet on summer camp at RAF Cranwell gets into the Cranes Club on the first night. Has never seen a slot machine before, loses his entire weeks spending money in about half an hour. Later that evening Sgt R...a found the lad crying in a corner of the club and asked him what was wrong. Cadet explains and to cut a long story short uncle Les gave him fiver (lot of money in 1969) to get through the week so long as he didn't go near the slot machine again.

Happy days - SOSL

Sorry - off thread - not a funny story. mea culpa

[Cubanate]

Second hand story which might need verifying, although I knew pilot and was based there. RAFG Premier Jaguar Wing, early '80s. Young Jag pilot, recently arrived and working up to CR on an early sortie, runs in and breaks to land. Liney watching and there in HAS on shut down.

Liney: 'Blimey Sir, that arrival looked a bit quick! What speed were you doing?'

YJP: 'Dunno, I was too f*#%£@g scared to look'

[shandyman]

Just a wee while ago at an airshow on the south coast, one young and punchy FS aircrewman has just finished showing 30 ATC cadets around his steed. Having done this in time that could have been spent in the bar, he was feeling particularly pleased with his sense if 'Espirit De Corps' . . .and stuff. Not however impressed by the RAuxAF Wg Cdr in charge of said cadets who then approached and said " Thanks for that F/S, oh, and by the way . . .your boots, little dusty aren't they.
" Boots operational, NOT decorational . . .Sir " . . . How I larrrrfffed.

SOSL, I'm sure the RAFBF would be intersted in your suggestion. I can provide contacts should you need.

[SOSL]

Thanks Shandyman please pm me with details.

[theredbarron]

Have you considered publishing it via BLURB.COM ? You can download their publishing software (free) and design the whole thing yourself. Upload it back to them, they'll price it for you, you then state the price you want to sell it for and they will list it for you. They then pay you the difference in price between cost and your selling price. You can also purchase copies for onward sale.

When its available, put a link to its listing on BLURB on here and wait for the sales to roll in. Although my blue suit days are long since past, I for one will be buying.

[theredbarron]

Many moons ago..........we were off for some adventure training at a rather run down ex POW army camp near the Faslane Navy base on the Clyde. Choice of catering, either RAF Turnhouse supply the raw nosh and we come up with our own cook, or leave it all to the army. Well, who would you choose? Last minute cock-up; we've no cook. No worry though, we've got an F/O with us who can do everything and cooking in a nice warm dry cookhouse looks to him like being preferable to getting cold and wet in the Argyllshire hills. Said F/O does walk round of cookhouse with resident army cook and signs for all of the CBS windows (that's Cracked Both Sides for those of you who don't know), cleaning materials and all the other odds and ends that the army are kindly donating for our welfare.

Lunch is supposed to be cold meat but with the weather typically West of Scotland (i.e. f*****g awful) we persuade F/O Cook to convert some of the spam into spam fritters as us occifers need something warm inside us. Flour is duly fetched from the army flour bin and the batter is mixed. Fat is heated, first battered fritter is lowered gently into hot fat, batter disappears off fritter faster than snow off a dyke in summer. Add more flour. Try again. Same result. At this point the army cook is seen walking past and is summoned to give advice. He dips finger into batter and tastes. “Where did you get the flour” asks he, to which F/O Cook replies “the flour bin over there”. “Sir, responds army cook, that bin is scouring powder, the flour is over there”. Never mind, Vim fritters were never on the menu anyway.

[BEagle]

SOSL, yes, that would be a typically kind 'Uncle Les' thing to have done.

We were so lucky to have such people to introduce us to the RAF way of life!

theredbarron, brilliant story!

[grandfer]

I think I'll get rid of me telly , the best comedy script-writer in the world couldn't write stuff like this !!
Keep it coming , brilliant stuff !!
Cheers , Grandfer :ok::D:D:)

[Squirrel 41]

SOSL, no, indeed not - I was watching the more modern iteration of the chicken abduction contest between 43(F) and the Essex-Wide-Boy-Militia of One-Hundred and Eleven Squadron... :ok:

Something about chicken bbqs Treble-One?

S41

[SOSL]

Thanks Theredbaron, I'll bear it in mind when I've got something worth publishing. Glad I didn't have to share your highland cuisine!

You're right BEags we were lucky.

Some years ago, it seems that a tortoise leaving HQ SC was mugged by a gang of snails. There was a big fuss and the RAF Police were called in. They interviewed all the witnesses but no one could really help them because it all happened so fast.

[Ogre]

The joys of MT

Being shown how three people can drive a landrover, the one in the drivers seat working the pedals, the one in the middle of the front bench seat doing the gears, and the bloke behind the driver leaning over his shoulder doing the steering.

In the landrover going to duty supper, the armourer driving quietly sets the hand throttle and asks the young LAC in the front seat to hold the steering wheel while he blows his nose. Once the LAC had the wheel, the armourer opens the drivers door and climbs onto the roof while the rover is doing 25 MPH, with the LAC wondering how he is driving the rover.

Finding out how many people you can get in an MT chevette estate - 8.

Pulling up outside the mess for duty supper, and watching all 8 people get out of the chevette estate to the astonishment of the copper standing by the mess door.

Asking the fairy chief why he's in the WO's bad books, then him admitting he had a bit too much to drink at the last beercall, was intercepted by a RAFP dog handler on his way back to the car park, and showed his ID card to the dog!

[rock34]

Freedom of Lincoln Parade during the mid noughties. Everything is going well, rousing tunes from the band, everyone in step, the sun is out and a fairly big crown watching. The 'Eyes.... Left' for the dias is given and smartly carried out by all as the fly past goes overhead right on time. :ok:

But why is OC Eng Wg taking the salute? Where is Harry and the Mayor? :confused: Who knows! 'Eyes.... Front' and carry on up High Street towards Ann Summers.

Suddenly, near Marks and Sparks and out of nowhere comes the order 'Eyes.... Left'! Again smartly carried out by all who then see 1 x flustered looking Mayor and 1 x seriously :mad: hacked off Harry returning the salute. 'Eyes.... Front', carry on and off we go back for the all ranks drinks in the Naafi. It wasn't long till Harry came in to tell us all that the Mayor had been too busy getting some drinks down range, and despite Harry's repeated warnings had fubar'd his timings spectacularly. Cue 1 x hand written apology note delivered to the Stn that same day.

[mhod]

Winter in Germany. Lineys build snowman which RAF Police knock down with Landrover. This was repeated a couple of times. The next snowman was built round a water hydrant...and yes, they did.

[BEagle]

Aaargh - Freedom parades....

Some years ago, long before the pongos got their hands on Wattisham, I was volunteered to 'command' a freedom march through Ipswich. There would be the RAF, some RAFA, ATC etc all following my sword-toting stroll through the streets.

Come the day and the weather-guesser said that there might be the odd spot of slight drizzle, but nothing worse. So, Plan A was to get out of the bus at the drop-off point, meet the old timers and cadets, then march down to the god-shop. Plan B (if pissing down) was to take the bus direct to the god-shop.

The 'slight drizzle' began to look a little more than 'slight'; in fact distinct raindrops could be seen on the road. But nothing short of a cloudburst or thermonuclear war was going to persuade the old buggers of RAFA to take the bus. So off we all went....and, somewhat predictably, at about PNR the heavens opened!

We arrived at the god-shop pretty well soaked, then steam came off our uniforms as we did the stand up and pretend to sing, kneel down and mumble, daydream through the god-botherer's sermon routine. Then we fell in outside looking rather less than pristine in crumpled No.1s which by then smelled like a pack of wet labradors.

Off we squelched, with a copper on a motorbike keeping our path clear. After marching past the dais, some tosseur on a pushbike decided to make some sort of 'peace protest' by riding across my bows holding up a 'peace salute'....

"F*ck off right now, or this sword goes right up your ar$e", quoth I, somewhat sutto voce.

"And I won't see anything", said the copper.

So f*ck off he did!

We finally made it to the RAFA building bordering on hypothermia. But the old boys had loved it, they'd marched through the town with medals clinking and were as proud as Punch. So they pressed copious libations on us until we finally poured ourselves back on the bus and made our way back to the station!

[Madbob]

OCTU at Henlow in the late 1970's. My flight included a couple of Nigerians and on one of the early field exercises (might have been to STANTA) the officer cadet leading orders the flight to take up "All-round defence" in the middle of nowhere.

Nigerian cadets' response "where de fence, I doan see no fence!"

Rest of flight collapse laughing....

MB

[PPRuNe Pop]

This was told to me by Lt Cdr the one only Pete Shepherd, longtime ardent beer drinker and super Sea Fury display pilot.

It seems that a young Prince Charles was invited aboard Ark Royal, then with Sea Vixens and Buccaneers (Pete did a brilliant display in the SV too!), and was invited to join Pete as the duty DLO. He told HRH that some Bucs were due anytime and the landing deck was a place that could be 'nasty.' He then proceeded to explain to the young prince that when an aircraft approached the carrier is was all "guess work" and "chance." At this time they were standing very close to the escape chute and began his lecture to HRH on what happens "if an aircraft gets in trouble or a cable breaks" and then proceeded thus; "Sir, if something nasty does happen you must jump into that chute and get out of the way ASAP." Then followed with "now, your mummy must have told you that you are first in line of descent, but I am here to tell you its wrong, I am first and you follow me."

Great guy was Pete.

[Airborne Aircrew]

Ahhh... Freedom Parades.

Scene: Durham in the early 80's. No. 2 Squadron RAF Regiment for whatever reason is set to march in the Freedom Parade. Back then, (they've probably "improved" it now), the road up to the Cathedral was surfaced in nice shiny cobbles.

The parade started at the very bottom of the hill and arrived, uneventfully, at the Cathedral and the Sqn. sat through the ceremony inside. Sermons etc. over the squadron reformed for the march back down the hill and all the dignitaries and their old biddies lined the route down to applaud and watch the spectacle in awe.

The Acting WO at the time was a true gentleman named Dave B****t, (RIP), who, through "unofficial channels" had manage to acquire himself a nice shiny set of AP boots... the ones that are almost all metal on the soles :ok:. Dave was a big man with a big voice and, for those who remember Windsor Davies, they could have been brothers - right down to the moustaches. For those of you unfamiliar with Durham, the hill generates quite a sweat on the climb up such is the incline. Off we march with Dave duly offset to the side calling cadence. As luck would have it, right in front of the oldest and most frail of the dignitaries and their biddies Dave's boots began to slide out from under him on the cobbles. For a full five seconds his feet kept slipping out from under him only to be replaced, quite remarkably, by the other foot like a frantic ice dancer. This entire gyration was accompanied by Dave, in his finest Drill Pig voice, saying "OOOOOOHHHHHH FUUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKK"... This was immediately followed by a fluttering of hankies and much muttering and whispering behind old hands.... It was all we could do to reach the bottom of the hill in step... ;)

[Pontius Navigator]

faster than snow off a dyke in summer.

Would that be a Russian lady with comfortable boots or a Cumbrian dry stone wall?







hat, coat, gloves

[Pontius Navigator]

One dark night in the middle of Salisbury Plain we were acting as hunter force against a group of senior nav studes who were supposed to be evading.

Naturally we were all hiding revealed only by the white moon glow from so many clean faces, all that is except for our two Ghanian studes. All that could be seen of them, if you knew where to look, was the slight lightening of their dark slate-grey flying jackets.

Then one of the distaff, sotto voce, "Awuvery, where are you? Smile you bastard, smile." Where upon a brilliant white light became visible :)

(Couldn't get away with that today)

And the Senior Nav Studes? Well one method of evading capture was to leg it as fast as possible before hunter force was deployed. Well not this lot. Leg it they did, but straight off the plain to the local hostelries in Warminster. No idea what the locals thought with the boosers filling up with a bunch of officers all in scruff order camouflage. :)

Distaff were 100% unimpressed. We thought it a great scheme.

[Fortissimo]

Late 70's, a young Fortissimo was participating in very wearisome TACEVAL at famous Anglesey training base. Despite exalted position as FJ student filth, was detailed to do control of entry to ops building...

Given that said base was part of the then Support Command, the operational focus was a tad blurred and most of the staff had not seen the front line for several years. So Fortissimo is now looking out of the entrance hall at some lovingly crafted rectangles of white tape on the ground, marked 'CPX slit trench', while clutching a broomstick bearing the label 'CPX rifle' - we clearly could not be trusted with the real thing (or more probably, they didn't want to go to the trouble of breaking out the weapons as it was only TACEVAL).

After sufficient time on shift for boredom to have become a real issue, OC Ops ( a genuine poison dwarf) arrived at the door to liven things up. I asked him for his ID and got the classic "Don't you know who I am?!!" snarled reply. "Yes, Sir." quoth I.

Poison Dwarf: " So if you know who I am, why do you want to see my ID card?"

Fortissimo: "Because I have been told to check everyone's ID."

PD: "And why do you think that might be?"

I looked meaningfully at the sign on my CPX rifle (which was of course pointed in a safe direction) and said: "Because there is every chance that you might be an inflatable replica, Sir!"

Cue explosion of unusually eloquent vitriol from PD. But it was worth every day of the extra SDO duties!

[SaddamsLoveChild]

Flt Lt walking to work with dog off lead and trundling behind, cocks leg on MGR wall at Oxfordshire base and scents (dog not the officer). SWO on seeing this asks said Flt Lt to stop his dog pissing on MGR wall unless he wants to undertake an Ord Officer and clean it with the airman on restrictions. As Flt Lt and dog amble off to work the SWO advises the good officer that he hasnt finished and would like a word with the dog, SWO bends down and in a quiet but firm tone says to the sitting Jack Russell 'Tell your Dad to get his f*cking hair cut'. Straightening up he salutes and says 'carry on sir'. It still makes me laugh whenever I think of it. God Bless Mr Robertson one of the last of the professionals.

[PARAFFIN PARROTT]

During the mid-ninetys, a certain Naval Air Squadron was deployed to DJ Barracks, Split......... During a rather late drink in the JR's bar, 2 Red Caps decided to pay a visit, wanting to know why the bar was still open and who was in charge.... Que voice from the back.....
Matelot.....'I am'
Red Cap....'who are you....?'
Matelot..... 'I'm the SMR....!!!!'
Red Cap......' SMR....???? whats that.....?'
Matelot.....'The same as your RSM but spelt differently....Now f@?! off...!'
2 rather red faced red caps beat a hasty retreat....... Happy days......!!!!

[FlightTester]

RAFG - early 90's. It's always the armourers.... SAC armourer going a tad too quickly through the HAS site, clips the grass skids and flips the Landrover (luckily fitted with roll bars so no one seriously injured). Subsequent radio traffic goes...."Crusader Eng, this is XXXX, I've rolled the rover over, over!"

[virgo]

AOCs parade in the late 60s at Kinloss.

At the head of the WAAF contingent was the famous Warrant Officer Sue Cassidy who was a legend in Coastal Command and about to retire from the RAF.
The Man, who knew Sue Cassidy as an Operations Assistant in 1943 when he was a young F/O on Sunderlands, approached her and stopped.

"Hello, Warrant Officer Cassidy", he said, "I understand you're soon leaving the service............what are you going to do ?"

Looking straight ahead she replied, " I'm going to Tangiers sir, to open up a brothel .........and any time you're passing through Sir, you can have one on the House !"

Look of horror on AOCs minions and broad smile from AOC as he continued with inspection.

[dkh51250]

Late 70s Rockape Central North Yorks. Tasked with provision of light blue presence for Durham BoB parade accompanied by RAFA, Air Training Corps, Air Scouts etc.

Do the religious biz fall in outside Cathedral for Sunday afternoon amble through city centre with Band of the RAF Regiment to keep us in step. Close behind band our parade commander (BPGH) The plan is to follow the band who will then peel off down a side street and play as we march past them.

All goes well until the moment the band veer off down the side street. BPGH instead off leading us straight ahead follows the band into the "cul de sac" Bands are extremely well versed in the art of countermarching, sadly the same could not be said of us. As BPGH faced the man with the mace leading the band he realised his error.

Cue rapid invention of new drill movements which to this day remain unwritten. The band in five files march through our three files opposing each other. We in turn having shuffled round approach them from the rear (a naval movement I believe) and our three ranks now pass through their stationary ranks emerging the other side to the amusement of those members of Joe Public who knew how these affairs should be conducted.

Regrettably D**** B*****t was unavailable that day to provide guidance and words of wisdom to our parade commander.

As penance BPGH was "offered" the opportunity to enhance his drill skills by commanding parades for the forseeable future.

[sisemen]

In the mid 80s I was a flt cdr at DIOT. We were out on STANTA with the Camp 2 for one of the IOTs. Also there was a detachment of the Queen's Dragoon Guards with their Scorpion tanks.

Camp 2 for the cadets culminated in a set piece attack and defend on nominal "base camps" at dawn. Having had a few beers with the Dragoonies we thought we would set up a bit of a surprise for the following day's excitement.

The cadets were briefed on the exercise and off we all went in the dead of night to get into position for the dawn attack. All were in position when mysterious rumblings and sqeakings and clankings could be heard from behind which got louder and louder and then stopped. And dead silence apart from the odd pheasant calling.

The cold grey light of dawn finally arrived and, at the appointed time, the cadet in charge gave the order for the "attack".

At which point 4 Scorpions opened up with blanks just behind them.

It was estimated that at least 75% of the cadets had to change their underwear. :eek:

[shack]

Back in the 50's I was briefed for a Casex with some of the Grey Funnel line's finest and as a special treat had HRH DofE as a passenger. All went well until we arrived on scene, not a ship in sight, the ASV was off but the Nav was certain that we were in the right place. We were about 250+miles off the coast of Sardinia so climbed a bit and dumpted the ASV, a fix on the land confirmed our position so up pipes the Tac Nav with "trust the f**cking navy to be a) late and b) probably in the wrong place. HRH was sitting in the right hand seat plugged in and sat there with a wry grin on the royal visage. The radar also picked up what could only be the frigate that we were waiting for going balls out to get to the area and a few minutes later a submarine surfaces obviously also p*ssed off with waiting. After landing "Sir" said I shall have a few words to attempt to find out what happened, so I imagine that there was one frigate captain that went without bikkies!!:=

[4mastacker]

During a tour at MPA we had a SWO who was "a bit eccentric" -- he left a life-size photograph of himself at the main gate of his parent unit in deepest Buckinghamshire to remind folks "he was still keeping an eye on them".

He used to 'patrol' 12 Facility during the early morning melee, looking for airmen who weren't properly dressed. One morning, he must have thought it was Xmas - a young lad had no rank tabs on his DPM. He homed in on the lad like a missile and bellowed "You there, and what f*****g rank are you today?"

"Private, Sir" came the reply from the young Sherwood Forrester.

[air pig]

Hey SLC

Is that the same Mr Robertson who was Cranwell college Warrent Officer who was a Rock, do not what he did to others but he scared me to death. 175 SERE took him out to dinner at the end of the course as an acknoledgement of his skills in turning a group of unco-ordinated plonkers into a flight who could shuffle along in a straight line and even wheel around. Nice guy though off station.

Air pig

[RETDPI]

IIRC all CWWOs (AKA the Cobbly-Wobbly men) were experienced and highly respected Rock WO's.
However, I would not be at all surprised if even that hallowed position might not have have been minced down a lot later on - under the "NU Officers" MFI flatpack furniture inspired system.

[WIDN62]

April 1976 and RAF Little Rissington is being closed to save money (code for giving it to the Army).

As Commandant of CFS, Her Majesty The Queen Mother is coming to pay her last respects. We studes are fingered to line up in a hangar to meet TQM. At the practice we get the usual briefing about calling her "Your Majesty" and then if she makes small talk, call her "Ma'am" as in meat and not orange jam.

We are also briefed that on the day we will know she has arrived by the reaction of the mascot - a pelican normally kept at Birdland who cannot stand TQM.

On the day, we all line up next to the cage which contains a remarkably calm pelican. Sure enough there is one helluva commotion as the pelican spots TQM - squawks, flapping wings and guano all over the hangar floor - it must have been the pastel lemon clothes that set him off.

Anyway I am standing next to our token Foreign and Commonwealth QFI - a lieutenant from Malaysia. He is absolutely thrilled to be meeting TQM almost to the extent of being overwhelmed by the whole occasion. As she is moving down the line towards us, he mutters to me "WIDN what do I say", I mutter back "Your Majesty and then Ma'am". "OK" he says and I can hear him going through it over and over again.

TQM arrives and CFI introduces me to TQM. She asks me where I am posted to and I say "Leeming" and she says "Oh yes, I have had to go to Aberdeen because they are resurfacing the runway there". How do you tell TQM she is having a senior moment and that Leuchars is probably the airhead for Balmoral? Anyway after some confusion she moves on.

"Your Majesty, may I introduce Lieutenant xxx of the Royal Malaysian Air Force"
"How do you do, Lieutenant"
"How do you do, Your Majesty"
"I do think Malaysia is a beautiful country, don't you?"
"Yes , Sir"

[Papa Whisky Alpha]

I was on detachment to Canada for three months during 1967 which was the 100th Anniversary of Confederation. The Canadian forces had of course many ceremonial parades that year. Many of the Canadians had served on U.N. Peacekeeping duties for which they had been awarded the UN medal, not many bothered to sew on the ribbon. It was promulgated on orders that all, repeat all decorations will be worn on the rehersal for the "big one".
When the day dawned an elderly Corporal in either the Engineers or RCEME appeared looking a little like a Ruritanian Admiral. It transpired that he had been a pilot in the Luftwaffe with a few exotic decorations, had then defected to the Russians and flown for them - more decorations and then been captured. After the war he had emigrated to Canada and later enlisted in the Canadian army.
What to do with him, the Iron Cross was ruled inadmissable, but there was doubt about the others (including I believe, Hero of the Soviet Union). In the finish he was excused the parade.

[MATELO]

That Papa Whisky, that has gotta be up there with the best of them. I can see it now......

[BEagle]

Papa Whisky Alpha, that takes me back to a certain graduation at RAFC Cranwell. A Royal Personage was due to be the Reviewing Officer, so the flunkies of Officer Training Wing sent round a questionnaire to establish who amongst the graduating officers had a suitable pedigree to Meet The Royal during pre-lunch drinkies... Questions such as 'Where did you go to school?' and 'Did your father serve in the war? If so, in which rank?'

They even held a practice 'standing around in formal groups' session, so that all we plebs knew our place.

One graduating mate wrote 'Yes, my father was in the army during the war and served as a major until he was taken prisoner in North Africa in 1943'. The oikish Flt Cdr seized on this as perhaps an opportunity to worm his way into the Royal Circle and summoned the graduating mate to his office. "Right, Bloggs, which regiment?", was the next question...

"Eighth Panzer Regiment, Deutsches Afrika Korps, sir!"

"You're taking the p*ss - GET OUT!"

"But sir, if I'm half-Kraut, I'm probably a distant relative of the Royal!"

"GET OUT!!"

[acmech1954]

1979, on a Target Towing Squadron useing old bombers, we had a rigger Corporal due to retire at age 55, he had actually flown in Lancs as a tail gunner early in his career. AOC was due a visit and 90% of the station personel were due to parade on the day, so many practices were carried out, reguardless of the cost.
The day finally arrives and every one is in best blue and medals, as these were days before recent altercations in sandy places, and most uniforms were rather plain, a few GSMs, mainly for NI, the odd Jubilee, and some undiscovered crime medal on others, not our Corporal he has a good 2 rows of colour and bright metalwork.
The AOC is 'inspecting' Squadron by Squadron at a fairly good speed until he passed our Corporal, he actually overshot him by 2 airman until he realised what he had seen, he back paces to stand in front of him and has a chat while looking at the medals. At last he moves on after saying

'Well done Corporal, you have got medals there that even I havent got' :ok:

[scarecrow450]

Many years ago at TTTE(for the younger ones a joint training unit for Tornado aircrew, Brits, Germans and Italians(and Saudi's)) a fireman decided to take a TACR(little range rover fire engine) for a drive at night amongst the Torn line. He has an accident, turning the TACR into a convertable!! and causing thousands of damage to a German Tornado.
German instructor on hearing of the damage and punishment for the fireman says
' why are you worrying ? 40 years ago he woud have got a f***ing medal !!'

[brakedwell]

Circa 1970. Westbound Britannia crew on the Changi slip arrives in Bahrain and drops into the transit bar to enjoy a few re-hydrating beers before heading for the Britannia House Hotel in Manama. Out WRAF ALM, a very attractive girl with a wicked sense of humour, begins to undo the front buttons of her pale blue tropical dress as the air conditioning loses it's battle against the rising summer heat. An hour later the crew of the resident US Navy Convair 440 walked into the bar. The captain, a Lt Cdr who I knew slightly, came over to say hello. As I introduced him to our glamorous loadmaster his eyes locked onto the revealing gap down the front of her dress. "Pleased to meet you maam," he said, shaking her hand. "And what is your position on the crew?"

She smiled sweetly and replied: "Normally, flat on me back - sir!"

It was the only time I saw a US Navy officer blush!

[Wander00]

DIOT early 80s and yet another search for savings. As a somewhat long-in-the-tooth re-entrant flt lt am invited by DDIOT (RMR, he of the ready grin and the dog that eat cadets) to make suggestions on savings - "Easy, Sir. You know that the staff wives open a secret book after the "Meet and Creep" on who in the husband's flight will graduate. It actually has about a 95% correlation with the actual results. So we could have the meet and creep, get the wives predictions, announce the results on Wednesday and have the Graduation on Friday. Saves 17 weeks training!"

Rapid exit stage left, with RMR threatening all sorts of retribution.

[chopd95]

Malta circa '73, officers beach Kalafrana (now a container port), Squadron Leader performing military breaststroke with moustache barely wet, shout from shore "what's it like N.......n", response "jolly nice but f@@@@@g cold". on beach, holidaying mother of lancastrian Flt Lt RAFP "ee, dunt it sound better said posh" !

[Jamma]

RAFG late 70's, close to the Dutch border, home to the Last British Bomber, Avionics Centre rover is en-route to Singly Strasse for some menial task, (possibly something like sheet change I don't remember that bit too well). Said task is completed and our 3 chaps are looking for something a little lively to brighten up the day, a brief discussion and it is decided to attempt some bondu bashing via a shortcut track through the woods which ended up back close to the avionics centre. Driver sets off with some gusto in the firm belief that he had the driving skills of Colin Macrae and the SWB landy was deserving of some harsh treatment from time to time....that's what it's for is'nt it ? Well, at the subsequent enquiry the RAFP were at pains to understand how the vehicle could possibly have been travelling at only around 20-25 kph, by our own admission,.........in 4th gear. Unfortunately when the said perpetrators had buried themselves deep enough, the plods then produced the photos, wheel tracks, then nothing, then wheel tracks, then nothing........then the rover in close conversation with a big conifer tree. Fortunately no-one was seriously injured, the driver ended up with various one way interviews and a dent in his LOA, never did him any harm as he ended up with a very successful career as an Air Eng on C130's, wonder if you read these PG? the rover, sadly a write off. Ah, those WERE the good old days.

[Wander00]

About 9 months after post 132 I have been told I am posted and promoted to be OC Admin Sqn at a small Norfold Air Defence radar unit (Hence first words after receiving the news to the now Mrs Wanderoo "How would you like to live in Norfolk?" - response - "Why would I want to live in Norfolk? Is that a proposal?"). Phone call from my predecessor - "Station Commander wants you here next week for a Taceval exercise as Ground Defence Commander and you are to be dressed as a sqn ldr. It's been fixed with you boss" (I bet the rank tabs hadn't!). So there I am an hour into the exercise not having even seen the perimeter except the gate, when the tannoy goes "Exercise, exercise - fire at the transmitter site". "Where's that?", I asked - Stalham 4 miles away. We have one fire appliance, staffed by MoD civilians. Simples - won't be a real fire, and the main asseet is the main site - so "CPX call civilian fire servivce to deal with exercise fire at Transmitter site" goes in the log. Almost immediately an irate woman smoking and wearing gp capt's rank badges bursts into the GDCC - "Squadron leader - when there is a fire on my station it has bxxxxxy flames coming out of it - send the fire engine to Stalham NOW!"

A sheepish "Yes, Mam", and a mumbled introduction followed, and I wondered where I would be posted instead.

A few hours later I was told to give the ground defence brief at the shift change. I eventually found the briefing room, and listened to 15 minutes of a foreign language, or so it seemed. My turn came and I mounted the rostrum - "Station Commander, ladies and gentlemen - so far I have not understood a word. I hope I do better." Joan H roared with laughter, and I guessed, correctly, that my posting would stand. It did, and I, and we, had a very happy 21 months there

[goudie]

Circa early '70's Brize Norton. Streaking was all the rage and one night a chap dashes through the crowded Sgts Mess bar, wearing nothing more than a paper bag over his head. ''Who the :mad: was that?'' cried someone. 'Dunno'' replied a female Sgt. Load Master ''but he's not on 99 Sqdn.'' Silence as everyone turns towards her, begging the obvious question.

[Wander00]

MPA, Jan 86. Just posted in as first OC SSS, with main job of taking over £400m worth of facilities and open RAF Mount Pleasant on 1 May. First building to be taken over is the police dog compound. Building looks OK, everything works, so looking good, then we look at the exercise yard. Brow of FS policeman i/c police dogs darkens. "There's a problem, Sir", he says. "I have two dogs that could clear that wire in one go. Also the weldmesh had lots of sharp edges that would shred the dog's paws". Out come the drawings - and we realise the problem. Some show the concrete posts as 6ft plus the turn in at the top (the bent bit), others show 6ft including the turn-in. Guess which has been built. My simple solution - de-slab the weld mesh and then put plastic-coated chain link across the top to stop the dogs escaping. Horror on the face of the main PSA man - no money, not in the drawings, etc, etc. "Cheaper than knocking it down and starting again", I said. "The problem with you service people" says Mr PSA "is that you do not realise this place is built to 75% of UK training scale" (which explains why when I took over SHQ a month later we could get me or a desk in my office, not both). "Fine", I said, "get me 3 legged police dogs". End of argument, and a few days later the Tri* flew down a roll of green plastic chain-link!

[WIDN62]

RAF Stanley 1983. We are working from tents, living in the Coastel when not on QRA, building our own Portacabins and generally everybody mucking in and getting the job done. For example if the Q F4s were scrambled the Herc Tanker had to go as well, and sometimes could be airborne for hours - we never got airborne without rations because the guys from the field kitchen would be at the aircraft with sandwiches, sometimes before the crew got there. (They got a lot of flights on our mail drops to South Georgia!) The army truck driver who had a puncture just alongside where we were preparing the ground for our portacabins, and who felt he could not possibly change the tyre with all those stones from the quarry on the truck, got a flight to South Georgia as well.

Unfortunately the blunties started to try to "normalise" the place and one day we got a memo along the lines of "With effect from Monday 1 May, Supply Squadron will only be open from Mon - Fri 0830-1200 and 1300 - 1700".

This was followed the next day by a memo from OC PhanDet (maybe 23 Sqn by then) which said "With effect from Monday 1 May, Phantom Air Defence of the Falkland Islands will only be available from Mon - Fri 0830-1200 and 1300-1700" - brilliant!

One day I had some problem which, unfortunately, could only be solved by OC Admin. I went to his office (tent) and stamped on the wooden pallet outside which was our equivalent of knocking on the door. He said "Go away, don't you know it's Sunday". I said "No". "What do you mean, No?" "I've just landed from a 3-hour sortie and I've got another flight in a couple of hours - one day is much like another." At least he had the good grace to back down and let me in!

[Papa Whisky Alpha]

Christmas 1963 Khormaksar.
Shortly before Christmas it was decreed that 5004 Squadron ACB should be moved to a partially completed camp near the eastern end of the main runway adjacent to our work site. On the morning we were standing down for the Christmas break we went from section to section having the odd 'bevvy' but eventually the beer ran out. By this time everyone was fairly inebriated, nevertheless we were still thirsty and decided to visit the Camel Club at Khormaksar. The Squadron Commander removed his rank badges and he and the survivers (numbering about 20) climbed aboard my LWB and of we went. On the way the O.C. who had somehow found a carton of milk poured it over my head whilst singing "I'm dreaming of a white Christmas". We drove straight through the entrance to Khormaksar without stopping and made for the Camel Club.
The Orderly Sergeant saw us coming and tried to get the shutters down but several of our group grabbed the OC and heaved him over the bar, the O/Sgt promptly thumped him and heaved him back. However by this time we had gained a foothold and after negotiations got a few cases of beer in exchange for "permitting" him to close and disappear.
When we finally left we "borrowed" the piano and took it with us as we had no entertainment in our half built accomodation. (The piano was eventually returned under a twelve hour amnesty a few days later, after a number of fruitless searches by the RAF Police)
I decided to "borrow" the LWB and we ran it as a shuttle over the Christmas period and eventually I was charged with the unauthorised use of service transport. Before the hearing was arranged I asked the "Adjt" if I could call witnesses to speak on my behalf and presented him with a list which included the OC and the Adjt (who had been on the Rover). and reminded him of the carton of milk incident.
The OC, MTO, my Flt.Cdr, the Adjt, old Uncle Tom Cobley and All went into conference. Following this I had to see the OC and was bawled out but the decision was that it was in the Squadron interest to keep it in house, much to my relief.
I still wonder if this had any bearing on my being sent up country the following week !!!

[but sir]

More years ago than I care to remember, there I was, a shiny new tech at my very first posting. I got all my gear squared away in my barracks and headed out to introduce myself and meet my new boss. The moment I stepped out onto the street, a Staff Car came sweeping around the corner and screeched to a haul in front of me. The passenger door swung open and a very large, red faced, and completely overpowering Base Warrant Officer stood with his finger pointed in my direction. In a voice better suited to quieting Grizzly Bears, he demanded to know why I had failed to salute the Commanding Officer's car. My quivering reply sent his bloody pressure into the high danger zone, and the officer in the back seat choked. "But sir. I didn't know it was the CO's car! There's no pendant flying!" The Chief looked at the front of the car, turned yet another shade of crimson, and reached inside. Once he had affixed the missing pendant, he climbed back into the car and it drove off to the sound of hearty laughter coming from the back seat. By the way, said Chief learned my name and for as long as I was at that RCAF Station, I was assured of regular attendance on CO's Parades . . . and other Station Duties.

[NutLoose]

The line at RAF Brize Norton used to man the gate that lead onto the airfield instead of doing the main gate duties.

One day E***s was manning the gate at rush hour when the Station Commander turns up, Smart salute and out he goes,

"Morning Sir, can I see your ID and Airfields driving permit please" Documents produced,

"Thank you Sir, unfortunately your Airfield driving permit is expired",

"Do you know who I am airman?" asks the CO

"Yes Sir, the Station Commander" replies E***S,

"Then you know that I Issue the Airfield driving permits"

" No Sir, you authorise their issue, but with out a valid one you cannot enter"........

By this time a large queue of vehicles has formed behind the CO'S car and realising something is up the occupants are grinning from ear to ear...

"Are you going to let me in?" Enquires the CO

"No Sir" replies E***s who moves off to wave all the other traffic to back up so the CO can turn his car round and leave.

15 mins pass and back he comes, having been to get his permit renewed at which point he is allowed onto his own Airfield. :p

[Cyprus countrybred]

Bump...

This thread is too funny to be allowed to fall off the front page just yet... come on chaps, gotta be a lot more funnies out there....

cc :)

[RETDPI]

Wildenrath mid 70's . Happy Hour.
Station Commander is engaged in conversation with a Flt. Lt. whom he only knew as "Jim" - having had a senior moment over said officer's surname.
Jim slips out of bar to go to the loo.
Seizing the moment, Stationmaster quietly asks nearby WRAF air trafficker if she could remind him of Jim's surname,
.
.

" Er... um, Jim who?, Sir"

[SirPeterHardingsLovechild]

4mastacker:-
During a tour at MPA we had a SWO who was "a bit eccentric" -- he left a life-size photograph of himself at the main gate of his parent unit in deepest Buckinghamshire.........

That same welshman, Dave Lunnon ('Lovely boy, lovely boy, do you play rugger?') was a Corporal Discip i/c the Direct Entrants at the same time, and the same snowfall of my post #69 story. Halton. Late 70's.

On Henderson parade square, the DE's were formed up in front of us, with him out front. We were therefore behind, with our Cpl Discip, also later to be a SWO.

As the few cheeky snowballs started to come from our ranks, he could be heard muttering under his slashed peak -

(Baritone welsh accent - Windsor Davies style)

'Steady Boys, steady. Hold your ground, steady now.'

Then someone knocked his hat off...

[taxydual]

Mid '70's. I was a Corporal.

It was F6442 time (the Airmens Annual Assessment).

I knew that I had had a cracking 12 months. I knew I had performed well. I was a star. I knew my Assessments would be brilliant

Summoned to the WO's office, discreet tap on his office door and entered when duly invited.

I then suffered 10 minutes of the biggest dressing down I had ever received (up until that point in my career).

I was idle, scruffy, lazy, a disgrace, needed to buck my ideas up etc etc.

Totally stunned, I signed the form when ordered to and was dismissed from the WO's office with "NOW GET OUT AND SEND 'TAXYDUAL' IN".

"But" I bleated in reply "I am 'Taxydual'".

An outbreak of WO embarrassment followed.



To this day, I have no idea whose F6442 I was debriefed on.




Two things followed.
1. I starred on my real F6442 debrief.
2. I vowed to know (and did so) all the guys and girls who came under my subsequent command.

[12 twists per inch]

On a tanker aircraft heading for MPA, the engineers were indulging in a game of the newly released DVD version of 'Who wants to be a Millionaire' and invited the cabin supervisor to join in the fun.

Come a difficult question and the inevitable 'phone a friend', our beloved was found hollering "What countrys' flag is......" into the DVD player! Bless!

Another queen of the air, after landing in Egypt, was directed to the brightest star in the sky.....only ever seen here and very, very rare...........the fabled star of cairo. Off she shot to get her camera to record the momentous moment.

Hope she hurrys up, says the engineering guru.....it's about to land! :ok:

[airpolice]

I think it was my paperwork the boss was reading from when he was talking to you.

[FantomZorbin]

Then there was the Station Execs. meeting at a MU (the one that went up and down with the tide!).

The Station Commander asked for AOB before winding up a rather fractious meeting, when an only slightly less senior exec. said that there seemed to be a communications problem ...

The Station Commander responded with "Communications problem!, communications problem!, WHAT COMMUNICATIONS PROBLEM? ... NOBODY HAS TOLD ME ABOUT IT!!!!!"

[Ali Qadoo]

A young Plt Off Qadoo, fresh out of Sleaford Tech has moved down the road to start BFT on the mighty JP5 and, as bad luck would have it, has drawn a Friday night for his first ever time as Orderly Officer.

One of the OO's jobs was to accompany the Orderly Sergeant and supervise the closing and chucking out from the Cranes' Club, so I toddled along to the guardroom at the appointed hour in order to meet up with him.

Now, the Orderly Sgt, being a wise old owl, gave me a brief not disimilar to the Pythons' Centurion & Pilate sketch and which went something along the lines of, "I really wouldn't if I were you, sir.... I know what it says in your orders, but please take my advice and leave it to me, if the lads catch sight of you, well...."

I didn't reply, "Weally, Sergeant, I'm surprised that you let yourself be wattled by a wabble of wowdy webels," but it wasn't far off and the results weren't dissimilar either. As soon as I hove into view outside the club, the inevitable abuse and catcalls from not very sober junior airmen began and the enormity of my stupidity began to sink in, so I retreated as bravely as I could to the shadows, whereupon an extremely attractive young SACW made her way over to me.

Charming, polite and seemingly not drunk, she apologised on behalf of her nasty rude colleagues and we got chatting. Being far too green and unsuspecting, I never even suspected I was being wound up, and it wasn't until she suggested rather loudly that we go back to her room in the block, proposing a series of activities that I didn't even know were physically possible, let alone legal, that my courage finally failed and I fled the scene as fast as my legs would carry me, accompanied by a barrage of laughter and derision from her oppos who'd been standing just out of sight.

Bless his cotton socks, the following morning during the OO handover, the Orderly Sgt didn't say a word...he didn't need to.

[shandyman]

Probably heard before but an old Nimrod tale. Very rightious skipper and not so rightious ossie rad op. Aircraft airborne
"Captain - radar"
"Go ahead radar",
"Cap-radar, the radar is f****d".
Indignant thought bubbles from flt deck.
"Radar-capn would you like to say that again"? . . . .
"Cap-radar, the radar's f****d"! . . . .
"Radar-capn, once again would you like to say that again"?
Ossie rad op cottons on and replies . . .
"Cap-radar, tha radar appears to be be unserviceable at this time".
" Radar-Capn, that's better, thank you, now what appears to be the problem"? . .
"Cap- radar . . . .The F***ing F***ers F***ed!!"
Some are winners, some are losers.

[Lightning5]

There I was, young aircraft mechanic on a mechanic's course at RAF Weeton(near Blackpool) middle of winter in 58. In those days we had to work Saturday mornings and one saturday in the month was CO Parade day . Now winter 58 was a little harsh in temperature, freezing every night. So a cunning plan was hatched, and on the Friday night before the said parade, copious amounts of water was deposited on the parade ground, making it a superb ice rink!! Parade cancelled, job done! Senior powers never clocked that the Friday night had been free of rain!!!
Way too go!!:ok:

[bspatz]

Early 70s at Laarbruch when RAFG was obsessed by Tacevals and life on the station was dominated by a seemingly endless round of maxevals, minevals and hyper sensitivity whenever the grapevine detected that the NATO Taceval Team had “left barracks”. The result of this focus on being instantly ready was that every eventuality was covered albeit some more realistically than others. One of the ubiquitous preparatory measures was the sandbagging of windows which as achieved by simply placing a notice on every window stating that “this window is sandbagged”. An expedient that seemed to satisfy the Taceval umpires but I suspect would have failed to defeat the Warsaw pact. My role during exercises was mobile defence commander which allowed me the freedom to roam the station in a 3 tonner with my team of trained killers from the avionics centre; normally arriving 5-10 minutes after an incident in time to see the umpires disappearing in the opposite direction for the next planned event. On one such occasion the incident that we narrowly missed was adjacent to one of the RAF Regt 40mm bofors gun emplacements which had the distinction of being the only sites on the station that were actually sandbagged. On arriving I was amused to see that in a neat reversal of what was to be found everywhere else on the station a sign inside the emplacement stating that “This sandbag is a window”

[dkh51250]

In much the same vein as the previous post.
Careers Information Office in Bomber County 198X We are blessed with a visit by some WW2 aircrew who are on a pilgrimage to their old stamping ground.

According to them, at the outset of the war they were tasked with dropping leaflets over Germany. (Nickel raids I think?) Printed on them in German were the words "This is a leaflet not a bomb" After a very short time they became bored with this and replaced leaflets with housebricks marked "This is not a leaflet"

[Samuel]

A very large Thorneycroft Crash/Fire vehicle driving towards the crash bay at Cottesmore, where the taxiway is ever so slightly downhill, there was ice about, and it was just about to make the turn in by the tower when the steering developed a mind of its own and became completely useless.

The vehicle did a very slow, ballet-like, 360, and finally ran onto the grass and stopped, and up in the Tower the DATCO and all the staff are lined up clapping!:D

[dragon166]

Mid 1980s - Busy evening at a Job Convention in Slough, with lots of enquiries to write up, the CIO Sgt is head and down and engrossed in paperwork. A voice from behind him says "excuse me sir, do you take SIKH people?

Without a moments hesitation, or looking at the speaker, the Sgt fires back "No mate, you have to be fully fit to join the Royal Air Force".

[NutLoose]

Raf Odious late 70's a new all singing all dancing electric gate has been installed to replace the MK1 hand driven version with a elevated heated building to sit in....... Station Commander whose normal mode of transport is U/S and has been issued with a black mini as his staff car complete with flag arrives at the gate, Airman crouches down to check the driver is the C/O stands back up salutes and opens the barrier, Staish drives through the gate and because he cannot see the guard due to the box being higher than him thinks he has not saluted him, guard presses the down button on the barrier as the Station Commander reverses back under it to ask the airman why he never saluted him, all thankfully watched by the SWO walking out to the guard hut as the barrier gracefully lowers onto and crushed the mini's roof.... :p

[diginagain]

Just to prove that funny things happen in the Army too, especially when it comes to barriers...........

They never gave us electrified barriers in the days when I was a lowly Airtrooper. In fact, you needed both hands to hold the counterweights down, as a young Rupert discovered one morning when he insisted on receiving a complement from me.

Then there was the morning the Padre returned my salute mid-gearchange. In the resulting confusion he managed to stuff his Mini into a tree.

[Fareastdriver]

at the outset of the war they were tasked with dropping leaflets over Germany.

Apparently at the time a question asking what the leaflets had printed on them was raised in the House of Commons. The MP was informed that he could not be told because the contents were secret.

[The Oberon]

Sorry to include another Army thing but on the initial advance during Gulf War 1, a Challenger tank was seen crossing the border, on the back was a notice reading "How's my driving, call 0800.........."

[Sgt.Slabber]

Side-kick to Sgt "Paddy the Blanket" when I was on HAFW -something something- '76.

Early summer weekend away, dodgy BR buffet sandwich on the train back on Sunday evening. Early hours of Monday morning and SAC Slabber has made a number of calls on the big white telephone.

Reporting sick routine requires a visit to the flight office to tell "them" of the intention to report sick. SAC Slabber opens outer door of office to go in just as Cpl Lunnon comes through inner door on his way out.

SAC Slabber informs Cpl Lunnon of his intention to report sick... then barffs on his shiney boots.:E

SAC Slabber reports sick.....

[NUFC1892]

Way back in 1977 Benson was a wonderful first posting for a young man who had only recently been introduced to the delights of alcohol and the fairer sex. TCW and 244 Sigs Sqn had just moved to Brize and SCSHQ had moved up from Medmenham with a wealth of beauties. At the time I was mostly working out of a warehouse in Watlington alongside MCSU and it really was pretty idyllic.

Unfortunately from time-to-time I was reminded that I was actually in the RAF, equally unfortunately it didn't happen quite often enough for me to remember - then came the 2 weeks from hell. Now I was never what could be regarded as a bad person but I did seem to have knack of not quite getting in right. So week 1 started with a bull night, fair enough, every week started with a bull night but this time I forgot to empty the ashtray next to my pit (those were the days!) and that resulted in my first charge of the week and me being £10 lighter at the end of Tuesday. In 1977 £10 was a hell of a lot of beer chits. On the re-inspection on the Wednesday morning the Sgt noticed that I had failed to conform to the directive not to hang posters on the wall using cellotape - 2nd charge of the week and by the Thursday lunchtime I was pressing my No1 Uniform ready for that nights "jankers" inspection. Now by this time I had become a little preoccupied (and more than a little hacked off that I would be missing the Thursday night "bop") so when the same sgt who had already charged my twice that week told me to pass a message on, and I forgot, can you guess the result? That's right, charge No 3 of the week and a total of 8 days jankers to take me up to the following Thursday night. And just to be sure I was getting the message I was put on Duty Storeman for the weekend, to start the day after jankers finished.

So, we get to the Friday night and me desperate to do something right to get this guy off my back - some hope! After everyone had knocked off for the weekend I was wandering around securing the Sqn when I noticed a load of pallets containing 25 ltr drums of a non-flammable liquid with a long name (that, on reflection I really should have read) that needed to be put into stock. Hmm.. thinks I, getting that lot put away (about 150 drums or so) would be sure to impress him. Now previously I had been allowed to drive forklifts but my licence had been taken away after I tried to go cross country on one and went through some paving slabs covering the drains etc. As it required the use of a crane to get the forklift out the hole it was a difficult one for me to hide and the MT WO at the time suggested that maybe a re-think on my licence was required. I seem to recall he suggested a few other things as well, but the exact detail escapes me.

So, anyway, everyones gone home and there is a fully charged forklift just waiting for me to play with it. The first couple of pallets, stacked two (or is that too!) high went in nicely and my confidence was growing………….many, many smartie points must be on the cards here. As my confidence grew so did the speed of the forklift and as I was taking the last pallet into the store the screeching of the tyres as I came to a stop was outdone only by the noise of 10 drums falling about 10' to the ground - and splitting wide open. Now fortunately the store had a fire hose in it, so what could be easier than hosing the whole mess out of the door and down the drain and then striking the necessary number of containers of stock charge - who would know? Do you have any idea how much mess is made indoors when you add water, under pressure, to 250 ltrs of fire fighting foam? Take it from me, it's quite a lot! So there I am, foam up to my ankles and progressing rapidly towards my knees, the sgts office and the sqn T Bar - it was at that point I got to wondering if the RAF were allowed to send LACs to Colchester. I am not too sure whether or not I slept that weekend but I do recall that by the Sunday afternoon I had managed to just about remove all trace of the disaster, except that is for a water mark about 6" off the ground that I cleverly disguised by judicious use of dust, dirt and removing the light bulb!

By some miracle this weekend of furious activity, the culmination of 2 fairly testing weeks in the life of a 17 yr old was never detected. But I have always been curious as to why nobody ever questioned how a pallet of Kimwipe, in a relatively small store, disappeared over the course of a weekend.

[The Oberon]

1975, DCIs giving details of an outward bound course.

" The course will consist of 3 weeks canoeing, climbing and terkking"

If you haven't tried it, don't knock it I suppose.

[PeterHai]

1976 Norfolk Tanker Base, middle of a 10 day TACEVAL and everyone getting a bid hacked off, but at least we could go and have a few drinks at lunchtime before we started a night shift couldn't we? Anyway a couple of us were tasked to guard the back gate by the golf course so off we trot with our pick axe handles, not allowed SLRs during an exercise, and man the gate. Later that night nature works its course and my fellow guard needs to relieve himself rather desperately but the only problem was we still had another 30 minutes on guard. Easy solution I keep eye on gate while he trots off into the trees by golf course and starts to relieve himself. At which point there is an almighty scream and a camouflaged figure jumps up from the undergrowth. Turns out the intruder had been there for a few hours waiting for his moment to head out across the airfield and didn't expect "rain" that night. Needless to say we were heroes that night, but decided to ease off on the lunchtime sessions.

[cornish-stormrider]

Pah, your intruder was obviously not one of "Them". Everyone knows part of selection, after killing the dog, is to be the victim of a shower of sh*te.

[bspatz]

As a member of a MAMs team in the mid 70s my role was to be ready to deploy at short notice wherever required which included some highly attractive worldwide locations but for exercises generally meant somewhere in Northern European. Thus it transpired that during a station TacEval that my team together with another couple of teams was tasked to deploy to Macrihanish as part of the Herc force’s horizontal disperse to survive. However, real world demands meant that we would only simulate deployment and our actual deployment was to the MAMs crew room where some 15 of us sat swopping stories drinking tea and coffee whilst listening with bored disinterest to the frequent tannoy messages warning of air raids accompanied by the sound of thunderflashes as the umpires simulated yet another Warsaw Pact attack on Northern Wiltshire. All of a sudden the door burst open followed by a Flt Lt RAF Regt umpire who was obviously so appalled by our flagrant disregard of the exercise rules and failure to wear NBC suits, helmets or respirators that he was barely coherent with incandescent rage. He informed us that not only were we all dead, killed by the last attack but that he would report our unacceptable behaviour to the station authorities at the earliest opportunity. Once he had stopped his tirade, our explanation that, whilst we appeared to be at Lyneham , this was actually an apparition as we were in fact at Macrihanish (poised at instant readiness ready to move HM forces wherever needed to stem the flow of WP aggressors) and “would he like a cup of tea ?” failed to restore his equilibrium and served only to increase his anger. He was last seen storming towards ops to establish the veracity of our story. We meanwhile continued to drink tea and enjoy our simulated Macrihanish deployment until endex.

[Dark Helmet]

NUFC1892 - Priceless! I would have loved to have seen all that foam!

[Pontius Navigator]

bspatz, you remind me of my Taceval deployment to Gibraltar, aka OMQ at St Eval. Now it was a Part 1 Taceval and having been out of UK the previous 4 years I didn't know anything about Part 1s.

Anyway, enjoying my second unexpected day at home, and no telephone in those days (too expensive), I didn't find the note through the front door later that night "Where the hell are you?"

No one had told me the exercise had finished the day before. :}

[taxydual]

Early '90's, I had an SAC in my flight called Colin Andrews (I've changed the surname but not the first name). He was universally known as Col.

Now Col was a slightly out of the ordinary SAC. For a start, he was in his early 30's and, although he looked like a sack of spanners in uniform, his civvie dress was always immaculate. Blazer, flannels, military tie etc.

It came to pass that Col was selected for a 4 month tour in the Falklands. So come the day, Col presents himself (immaculate in MUFTI) at Brize for onward transportation to all points South.

As it happened, also travelling South that evening was the roulemont for the Resident Infantry Unit. The DAMO had been informed that the CO of the pongoes was turning up at Brize to see off his guys. The CO was a Colonel Andrews.

Enter SAC Colin Andrews with his carry-on briefcase marked 'Col Andrews'.

I think you can guess the rest.

To give Col his dues, he managed to bluff his way through a considerable quantity of G and T in the VIP lounge before being rumbled.

[RETDPI]

I know of a certain mature Flying Officer RAF who was wined and dined in Washington by a certain American Agency, who thought he was a Naval Flag Officer. He quickly realised and pulled it off all the way through.

[Belle and Sebastian]

At a secret training base near W*-S*-Mare in the mid 80s, we had the usual round of morale boosting weekly bull nights in the 18-man rooms. As long as our rooms were 'generally' clean, we were allowed to put up posters on the wall. There was, however, one rule in that topless models could be shown but pubic hair could not be seen - it was long before the PC brigade got involved...

Young Belle decided to put up a picture of a young lady 'sans bush'. I was given a quiet chat by the block SNCO after inspection and that I was taking the pish and that the poster was to be removed and I was told that no female genitalia was to be on show. The following week, young Belle was goaded into putting up a picture of a gentleman 'sans bush' (no, I cannot recall where I got it from). At this point, the OIC of the block decides to have a chat with me and offers me the chance of cleaning the Flowerdown Centre for the next 10 years unless I started playing the game. The following week and young Belle puts up a picture of a chimpanzee with a huge tadger and choking his chicken. For some reason, this was followed by several weekends of cleaning the Offrs' Mess kitchen.

[Papa Whisky Alpha]

In the early sixties I had the doubtful privilege of being detached to Beihan whilst serving at K****aksar ( I do not wish to embarass anyone). Every so often we used to be sent back to 'K' for three days R & R.

In typical service manner they used to put us on patrol duties the first night back (B*stards (B@stards)!). On one occasion we were in one of the hangars being briefed for our nights duty. The Guard Commander was a Flt.Sgt from the base, I was the Deputy G.C. plus about a dozen personnel. In those days the guard were equipped with 303's. The drill was to have a magazine with five rounds in your pocket, the magazine was only placed on the weapon if attacked.
The G.C. had the guard in a circle and made ready using the following procedure -
1. Five rounds in a clip
2. Magazine on the rifle, charge the magazine
3. Close the bolt
4. Remove the magazine
5. Clear the action

You may have noticed that actions 3 & 4 were carried out in the wrong order. No one said a word, but were very careful to point their weapons into the air. Thunderous burst of fire. The G.C. was somewhat suprised but went through the same procedure again - with the same result.

Alarms sounding - attack imminent - Guard Commander departs under a cloud - RAF has the world's largest pepper pot!

[Pontius Navigator]

topless models could be shown but pubic hair could not be seen -

Young Belle decided to put up a picture of a young lady 'sans bush'. I was given a quiet chat by the block SNCO after inspection and that I was taking the pish

no female genitalia was to be on show

young Belle putting up a picture of a gentleman 'sans bush' .

Belle and Sebastian. Mmm. Which side you your dress :)

[Wander00]

1986, MPA about to become RAF Mount Pleasant. Departing Tri* has on board members of the Falklands' Families Association, and is taking off in a substantial cross wind. Loud bang, plume of flame and the jet stops on the runway, just. Taxies in on 2 engines and the BA Station Engineer leaps up a ladder and announces the surged engine is siezed - until someoned gently suggests turning the compressor, rather than the static bit at the front (inlet guide vanes?)!

That evening and the "cross wind" is now a gale. Aircraft is parked at upwind end of pan for a ground run and OC Eng takes the left hand seat and starts the "seized" engine and starts running up to full power. Cue Duty Supplier in the freight shed who sounds the attack alarm, claiming bullets are coming through the walls of the freight shed. No, it's not bullets, it's gravel propelled by the Tri* engine at full thrust, followed by a severely bent mains electricity pillar and bent walls to the freight shed. Exit very quiet OC Eng, and there was not even a UI!!

[Wander00]

Funny at the time, but in retrospect rather sad - 9 IOT students walking across Salisbury Plain early one very clear frosty January morning. 20 or 30 metres in the rear, one student carrying 2 pine poles and a load of 40 ft lashings - unfortunately it was his "lead"

[November4]

1985/6 time and a young SAC N4 was on on the Base side of UKBags. 4 day Minival is about to called. Part of the Base shifts war role was to reinforce the grown up side of MAMS and deploy to meet the invading hordes. I was looking forward to 4 days of gas masks / NBC suits etc / compo sausages in the mess but was told to come in for the ex with my kit packed as I was being deployed. So thinking it would be like Bspatz's deployment - as far as the MAMS crewroom, I came in with minimal kit to be told that we were off to Gib....GIB!! Well a quick dash back to the block grab more appropriate kit then DPM and Tin hat (shorts / T-shirts) and 3 of us spent 4 days enjoying the sub in Gib. Even more so when the Movers out there said they had no idea what we were doing there as they hadn't asked for reforce and especially as they had no more aircraft through until the one we were due home on.

[Geezers of Nazareth]

Distantly related to 'Pontius Navigator' and

Anyway, enjoying my second unexpected day at home, and no telephone in those days (too expensive), I didn't find the note through the front door later that night "Where the hell are you?"

No one had told me the exercise had finished the day before. http://images.ibsrv.net/ibsrv/res/src:www.pprune.org/get/images/smilies/badteeth.gif

A mate of mine (called Steve) worked at the 'not very secret ATC centre' in West London. Every year or so they would have a exercise for a week, when the ATC bods were expected to dress-up in green, wear respirator masks, carry a 'bang-stick' and play-pretend at being guards. Steve had done this once, and hated every minute of it, especially when the Hereford Hooligans showed-up and didn't play by the rules!
The exercise brief was that they would be on stand-by for the whole week, and on one 'unannounced day/night' they would have to take part in the exercise 'proper'.
Now Steve had a girlfriend, who had a brother who lived in the housing estate directly opposite the base. Every house in said estate had a hand-delivered notice saying that on Wednesday evening/night and Thursday morning there would be a major exercise involving guns and explosions, and that they were not to 'phone the Police, etc, yada, yada. So Steve knew when the exercise was due to start, and how long for.

On the Wednesday evening, heads home after a day pushing blips around the sky, and then goes out and stays with his girlfriend that night. At about 8pm they start the exercise, and phone-up everyone to come back to the base and play at being soldiers.
Except Steve ... he lodges at a friend's grand-mother's house, who's a bit of a doddery old bat at the best of times. When they phone-up, she says Steve is not there, and she will take a message, and leave it for him where he will read it in the morning. This is all pre-mobilephones, so there's no other way to contact him.

The following morning Steve goes to work by bus in his normal 'blues', and is met at the gate by everybody in 'green' and wearing respirators and carrying guns. The Sgt grills him about his uniform, and lack of exercise kit, and asks if he had received the message. 'No' says Steve, 'havn't been home since yesterday!' The irate Sgt says that he will have to go home and get them, so Steve walks out the gate, and in full view of the Sgt stands at the bus-stop outside. After 10 minutes the Sgt comes and asks him what he's doing ... 'Waiting for a bus Sgt, you sent me home to get my kit. Should only take about 2 hours, can you wait for me?'.

[November4]

CO's Cup Swimming Event, local swimming pool near to a Hercules base 1988.

Everyone not on task on the day finds themselves down for the event. Apparently you got a point "just for turning up and we need as many points as possible" says Flt Lt A*** F********th, the MAMS Ops Officer. So everyone will go and "I don't care if you say you can't swim, I've heard all the excuses..."

So on the morning 35 or so movers assembly and catch the bus to the pool accompanied by one of God's gifts to mankind otherwise known as the PTI. Arrive at the pool - 1 point each in the bag - time to go back. Oh no says God's gift PTI you have to swim.

After the 5th mover being pulled out of the pool by God's gift for swimming as effectively as brick, he starts to realise something is not right here and ask if the assembled movers can swim - No not a stroke says half of them.

So why are you hear at a swimming event says he - ordered to and we did say we couldn't swim but....

Flt Lt F********th took part in the competition. His entry into the water assisted by God's gift and a number of others. I always thought you were meant to swim in trunks not tracksuit and complaining that his watch was ruined....

[Samuel]

It was hilarious at the time but...... In 1959 there was an RAF Leave Centre on the beach at Kilindini, Mombasa on what is now a very expensive piece of tourist real estate. It was run by the Naafi, but staffed largely by a bunch of WVS ladies of indeterminite age, [but probably late 30s!] who were an absolutely formidable bunch.

Three airmen getting a panic tan on the white sand, when a loud scream came from the direction of the "bashas' accommodation, shortly after which a fourth airman arrives and spreads out his towel.

"What was the screaming about?" he's asked.


"WVS lady cornered a snake apparently"

A bit of a pause followed by the comment: "How's the snake"?

[Rigex]

- just to prove that our transatlantic friends can do everything bigger/better, have a look at this;

YouTube - Fire Foam Test Goes very Wrong ! (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RhdzjNg0PH8)

[scarecrow450]

Working on a Bird Control Unit did get a bit boring so to liven things up we used to find uses for bird scarer cartridges other than scare birds. At this base, Rutlands finest Tornado base, I fired a scarer into a rabbit hole, not expecting a shower of rabbit droppings to expel themselves out of the hole at a great force of knots straight at me, as the scarer exploded deep inside the hole.

On another accassion I decided to reinact the Dambusters but without a dam or bomb, except that we had noticed the we could bounce the scarers off the runway so the small fishing lake the other side of the wire was going to be my target. So drive up to fence, have quick look around line up the target and bang, perfect ! 3 or 4 bounces before it exploded. Just about to fire no 2 and a voice from infront and below shouts 'OY What the :mad::mad:' Dumb old me did'nt see the fisherman under his green tent and umbrella and his head was about 2 feet from the scarer when first fired ! Cue me driving like hell and hoping he did'nt report me. Guess I must have scared him as I'm still waiting 23 years later !!!!

[Cubanate]

As told to me by an ex-Army colleague................

Scots Guards RSM in recruiting office to potential officer recruit (POR) who has listed his preferences as follows:

1. Scots Guards
2. Parachute Regiment

RSM, 'Does your daddy own half of Scotland, Sonny?'

POR, 'N-no Sir.'

RSM, 'Parachute Regiment!......Next!'

[brakedwell]

After 130 guardsmen from the Household Brigade boarded a Britannia at Lyneham an air movements corporal ran up the steps clutching a next of kin form and headed for the OC Troops, a young subaltern who's chin was rather challenged.
"Sir", said the corporal, "I am afraid you have not filled in your next of kin details."
'Pardon?" said the young officer.
"You have not specified who your next of kin is."
The OC Troops looked puzzled.
"I can complete the form for you," the corporal said helpfully, "if you tell me your next of kin."
"Daddy of course!" came the shocked reply.

[NutLoose]

Wonderful wilds of Salisbury plain and continuation training held by Flt Lt O/C RAF Regt, every one walking round bored out of their tiny's thinking, God please make this short, next demo by O/C Regt on setting trip flares, flare set up and really over emphasising the point on the need to get as low as you possibly can when pulling the pin out of the flare in case of mishap when out over the top of the bored witless throng gently arcs a branch that lands perfectly on his trip firing his lovely flare and showering his best DP with lots of little sparks burning holes in it...... End of Exercise and generally agreed by all assembled as a damn good moral booster. :E

[Old Photo.Fanatic]

Not so funny at the time but there is a sort of humour in the event.
Yours truely, 16 year old Boy Entrant in 1957 Cosford. Fulton Block

A Wednesday afternoonn "Sports Afternoon".

Mid afternoon prior to last Tech training session of the day.
Started to feel very ill, Letting loose at both ends!!!!!!!
Said to the lads I cant make it , I'm going special Sick.

Normal procedure was to get a "Chit" from the decip. office to be allowed to go special sick.
Problem, Sports afternoon no one around to issue said "Chit"
Feeling really very ill and in pain, lower stomach area.

Eventually I decided to make my way to the Sick Quarters about a mile away.

It took me ages to hobble the distance to the Sick Bay.
By the time I got there I was doubled up and could hardly walk.
Rings bell, Orderly arrives, quote "Where's your Chit", can't go special sick without Chit.
Explained how bad I felt but still said go back and get a Chit, still insisting on a Chit even though no one available to issue the "X%&+ing" thing.

By this time I was literally laying down on the doorstep in agony.

He was just about to close the door when a voice from way back inside said
in a bored/irritated fashion "oh, you better come in and I will look at you".

MO takes less than one minute to diagnose accute appendicitis.
PANIC stations, rushed to the hospital at Cosford , on the slab within 30 Mins.
told afterwards it was near to Bursting.

The saga didn't end there, wound went sceptic, they should have put a "Drain" in, discharged with 2 weeks sick leave. again could hardly walk
due to pain of infection.
First night at home woke up to pure bliss "No Pain" but bed covered in blood.
The wound had opened up and discharged all its muck.

So again rushed to Local city hospital (Bath) where they fixed me up , but not without a big confrontation with the RAF Medical bods at Cosford!!!!!!!.

Final outcome was a total of five weeks out of training so had to be Backclassed to catch up .
Often wondered what my life would have panned out like if I had passed out with my original entry, different first posting etc etc etc.

OPF

[Wander00]

IOT - Camp 2 on Salisbury Plain. End of "Top Dog" and all are taking a breather at the top of the ridge just beyond one of the "Battalion DZs". Excited buzz growing in a flight containing younger brother of a Jaguar pilot (you know who you are!). Clearly, "something" is about to happen. At the far end of the DZ apears a Jaguar at "200ft" (oh, yeah) going fairly fast in our direction. What pilot does not know, and brother cannot tell him, is that at our end are the Commandant and DDIOT. The Jaguar smokes over the top of us to rousing cheers. "Did you see that?", says the AVM. "What?" replied Robbie Roson, with one eye shut.

[Gary Lager]

Enjoying the thread. Found this today; anyone want to own up?

Not Always Right | Funny & Stupid Customer Quotes When Judgment Is Clouded (http://notalwaysright.com/when-judgment-is-clouded/5455)

(We give weather forecast information for Royal Air Force aircrew officers for fast jet flying.) Caller: “Hi this is flying officer [name] with [squadron]. I need the weather for 5 hours time on the west coast.”
Me: “So that’s the forecast pressure, wind and cloud cover?”
Caller: “No, I don’t want the forecast conditions. I want the actual weather for 5 hours ahead.”
Me: “I can only do actuals for what’s happened, but I can give my best forecast.”
Caller: “No, that’s not good enough. I don’t want forecasts. I want to know what’s going to actually happen!”
(Someone else takes the call.)
Caller 2: “Hi this is [squadron] navigator. Sorry about that. Can I get the forecast conditions for him, please?”

[larssnowpharter]

The scene:

RAF Guterloh was closing. The Army was moving in and about to change all 5188ft of runway into a parking lot for 3 tonners or something.

We are at the guardroom. SAC Snooks is on duty. An Army Staff Car flying a pennant rolls up:

Snooks: May I see your ID please, Sir. Politely.

Top Rodney: Don't you know who I am? Officious

Snooks: No Sir. If I knew who you were, I wouldn't have to ask for your ID now, would I sir? Still a polite tone.

Top Rodney: Do you know this place will be Princess XXXX Barracks in 3 months? High handed tone of voice.

Snooks: Yessir!

Top Rodney: Well? Expectantly

Snooks: Sir?

Top Rodney: Are you going to let me in? High handed tone of voice

Snooks: I think you had better come back in 3 months, Sir when this place is XXXXXXXXXXXXXX Barracks

[4mastacker]

Newly promoted Cpl 4mastacker was on shift on a large Oxfordshire airbase which operated some large, shiny, new aircraft numbered in the 'XR' and 'XV' series and some older ones in the 'XL', 'XM', and 'XN' series. He had drawn the short straw to accompany the new OC POL on his weekly dips. The new OC POL was keen and, with rapid career progression ambitions, had obviously listened to, and taken on board his fuels training and was meticulous, nay, obsessive, about water detection checks. Every dipstick and tape had copious amounts of water detection paste applied during the course of his checks. On this particular occasion, each tank was dipped and water checked without a problem until we reached an old aviation fuel installation that had been converted for the storage of other bulk liquids.

As one of the team lowered the dipstick into a tank, OC POL shouted "Cpl 4ma!! There's no paste on the dipstick". "We don't use paste on this one sir, it's...". " I want detection paste on every dip stick". " But it's.." " Don't argue Cpl, I said I want detection paste on every dip-stick". "Very well sir, as you direct"

Cpl 4ma applies a small amount of paste and lowers the dip stick into the tank. Out comes the dipstick and, lo and behold, the paste has changed colour. "Water!" exclaims the OC POL "Cpl!! There's water in that fuel". "Yes, sir" says Cpl 4ma in a resigned sort of tone. "Put more paste on the dip stick". "But, sir..." " Cpl I've already told you once, do I have to repeat myself? I want detection paste on that dip-stick". Cpl 4ma complies with the instruction and puts more paste on the dip-stick. This process is repeated until the whole bl**dy dip stick is covered in the stuff and OC POL is bordering on having an apoplexy. "We are not allowed any water in the fuel and according to the dipstick, that tank is full of water!! There is obviously a very serious problem here".

" Yes Sir, there is a problem here. Now Sir, if I can be allowed to explain. The tank we are dipping is not fuel, it is what is known as a miscellaneous fluid. To be precise, sir, it is AL28, which is also known as Water Methanol…. there is a clue in the description…....Sir". Did he learn??. Only after he decided to do a water detection check on a pressurised, pre-heated black heating oil tanker and found himself standing in a group of one as the rest of us departed, rapidly, to a safe distance. Afterwards, the FS POL conducted a closed door, but very loud, WTF-type de-brief with OC POL giving him a good listening to.

Many, many years later, the now FS 4ma is tasked to brief a visiting a group of students from a training base near Sleaford, led by... you guessed it, his former OC POL who, after a scintillating career in the RAF, had now reached the rank of Flt Lt.

[chiglet]

RAF Patrington [Master Radar Sation....near Hull] 1965.
SAC Chiglet has just returned from Borneo. It is a bright, warm summer day, when F/O bloggs RAF Reg decids that as we are "going on the Range" next week, we will learn how to use the then "New" [to the RAF] SLR
In a typical Wodney voice, he starts to describe how to strip said SLR, but SAC Chiglet "learned" how to use the weapon with the Army in Borneo.
As Wodney starts to ramble, my SLR is in its component bits....and I mean bits. Wodney goes ballistic..."You follow my instructions, airman"
"Yessir" says I, rapidly reassembling the SLR [Scene from "Carry on Sergeant" springs to mind]
It turns out that all he wanted was for us to clear the weapon. :confused:
However, on the Range, I did have a jam, and couldn't clear it, the "Official" way. Wodney had a rant, but he couldn't clear it, neither could the RAF Reg Sgt. Turns out that it had a defective round extractor..
Could I have sorted it? Prolly not. That's why I was an ADO :ok:

[exgroundcrew]

Circa 1964 a 90 Sqn Valiant XD863 was in the hanger at RAF Honington being subject to a major service, I was replacing a faulty Orange Putter cable that ran from the cockpit bulkhead right up to the tail. This involved removing numerous panels each one held in place with wirelocked bolts, a job that was anticipated to take about two days. The Crew Chief was the infamous Gerry “Effing” Goddard and Gerry told me to take a break and go for a coffee. I willingly agreed and went to the hanger coffee bar, quite a number of groundcrew were already there, playing cards or reading newspapers. I had just picked up my coffee when in stormed our Gerry shouting words to the effect “ I told you blank blank lot to get out and work on the blank aircraft”. This was combined with Gerry snatching up the playing cards and newspapers and throwing them out of the window, rapidly followed by the crew rushing into the corridor towards the hanger.
I assumed Gerry did not mean me, so I stood my ground only for a hand to grab the collar of my overalls, then another on by behind, I was spun round and ejected into the corridor and landed up against the wall, next second same hands, same grip, I assumed I was now to be propelled into the hanger, only to be spun round and thrown back into the coffee bar with the words “sorry wrong one”.
Gerry may have been somewhat hard on us but just a couple of days later we were stopped by Gerry’s wife who asked how was Gerry acting at work, we told her he was a bit grumpy at the moment and she just nodded. The next day Gerry called us all together and said “ Look chaps whatever happens at work don’t tell the wife, she’s giving me hell!”

[Fox3WheresMyBanana]

IOT Cranditz, mid 80s. Drill. Prospective WRAF PTI unable to do "stan dat ICE" properly due to big thigh muscles and tight skirt. After nth attempt, Rockape FS shouts "Don't you know what 12 inches looks like, Miss H...?".
"OH, YES!! Flight Sargeant". Only time I've seen a DI lost for words.

Brawdy in deepest Welsh Wales, late 80s. BIG party at Air Show (e.g. 2 F16s invited, 16 show up. 2 Tornados became 8, etc). Rummage around in 234 Sqn loft has turned up WWII gun camera film, rapidly converted to video for backdrop at Aircrew P*ssup. Much amusement for all, including Luftwaffe/Marine FJ types, until a German Transall crew turns up. Captain sees video & stomps off, demanding all his crew follow. Dutch F16 dude shouts "Can't take a joke - shouldn't have started it!"

Location joke: Try explaining to a German policeman, in French (my German's rubbish), why a Norwegian pilot in a British flight suit is hanging upside-down from a lamp-post 20 foot off the ground singing rude songs, at 2am. Talk about looking after your wingie. Arrests avoided.

[tu chan go]

Late 90's.....an airbase somewhere 'just' south of Iraq

We were there on ops but the Regt Section decided that we didn't live under enough stress so we would have a practice Scud attack. Our boss decided that rather than all suit up and mask up, we would just hide in the 'Snake Pit' - an underground air raid shelter converted into a recreational facility complete with TV, games console etc. Junior navigator was posted at the bottom of the stairs leading down to Snake Pit to warn of approaching Regt snoopers.

The 'All Clear' was sounded and a Regt Sgt appeared in the shelter.

"Right, now you need to send someone outside to do a sniff test and see if its safe to go outside"

The boss says "You go and do it, Sgt"

"No, no, Sir. You need to send one of your men outside"

The boss pulled himself up to about 4 inches shorter than the Regt Sgt and said.....

"F**k off, Sgt. All my aircrew are much more expensive than you so you go outside and do the test. Come back and tell us if its safe. If you don't come back, we'll assume its not safe and we'll stay here and watch another episode of Coronation Street"

Regt Sgt quickly left the room....reported boss to Base Detachment Cdr who told Regt Sgt to wind his neck in.

[Cpt_Pugwash]

It’s just possible that some on this site may relate to this tale….

30 MU, RAF Sealand, early 70’s, E&I Wing workshops were 50-50 service/civilian manned, ruled with a rod of iron by WO Triggs and FS Mick Thurston, with the civvies either ex-RAF ( e.g. Chris Clynes, Paddy Howlett, Ron Howell) or, like the writer, graduates of the on-site MCCTTS* . This integration also extended to the social activities such as the Expedition Club, which organised an annual Scottish trip using the Auchallater bothy near Braemar, administered by RAF Leuchars.
On this particular occasion, the trip had been arranged by Cpl. A., but he found himself unavailable to lead the trip. At the final briefing on the Thursday before the Friday departure, Cpl. A. handed the lead over to Cpl. B., a relatively new member of the Exped. Club with the assurance that all arrangements had been made, and a signal sent to Leuchars with an ETA at the Guardroom for collection of the bothy key. His parting comment was “ Hey, Pugwash, you’ve done this trip a couple of times, you can act as 2i/c, and BTW, the Nuffield minibus is not available, so I’ve booked one from MT”
Now, the cunning plan was to depart after work at 16:30 on the Friday evening, and drive to Leuchars, with a fuel stop at RAF Carlisle, arriving in Fife in the early hours of the morning, collect the bothy key, then head off to Braemar to get some sleep.
The MT J2 turned out to be a heap of junk, but loaded with JT’s, civvies, rucksacks and compo ration packs, we set off for Scotland, arriving at Leuchars about an hour and a half after our notified ETA of 01:00.
Cpl. B. enters Guardroom to obtain bothy key, and returns empty-handed, then asks me to return with him to explain to duty dog the routine for key collection. Having done so, the duty dog confirms that the key is not available at the guardroom, then helpfully suggests that the Phys. Ed officer could issue it. Despite our protestations, he then proceeds to ring up said officer ( at 02:40hrs) , and when eventually it is answered, he has to hold it at arms length for a short while. Having hung up, he says that the Phys. Ed officer wants to see us in his office at 09:00 later in the morning, so we all crashed out in the Guardroom until then.

As was the civvy fashion in the 70’s I normally had my hair rather long ( think Cavalier King Charles spaniel) but shortly prior to this trip, I had been to a family wedding, so my locks were unusually shorn, almost passable as a servicemans.
Anyway, Cpl. B. and myself made our way to gym office at the appointed time to see Flt. Lt. C. and were immediately subjected to a tirade of abuse and invective, being made aware in no uncertain terms that the Flt. Lt. was not at all happy for his slumbers to be disturbed in the early hours. When the rant eventually wound down, Cpl. B. very quietly said “ I haven’t done this trip before, but Mr. Pugwash has, so I have asked him to accompany me to explain”.
Cue long pause while Flt. Lt does a good impression of a goldfish. You could almost see a thought bubble “ Mr.???? This spotty oik is much too young to be a WO …..Have I just b0ll0cked a civilian?”
Then, “ Both of you get out of my sight, and think yourselves lucky I am letting you have the key” .

Well, we found it funny, and the rest of the trip was fairly uneventful.

Oh, the reason the key was not available at the Guardroom, ---- Cpl. A had indeed sent a signal to Leuchars, but it said ETA was 1 o’clock Saturday, not 01:00 Saturday.


* Maintenance Command Civilian Technical Training School

[Rossian]

...Andy you might want to review what you actually posted.

The Ancient Mariner

[NutLoose]

RAF Deci, the pimple of Italy,

Tasked to go out and defuel Hotel so the Armourers with their manual crux bars can remove the droptanks off the Mighty Jag, Job done, and out go the armourers to remove the tanks for the fun and games..... almighty bang as they decrux the tank and it hits the ground at warp factor 9 splitting open and disgorging its full contents all over the apron......
One Irate Armourer Chief suddenly in front of my face after passing through the sound barrier when he sees my location, wh"*&!)*$*"()( F(£*"$ you ")$*$! told you to defuel Hotel "(£$**&$&% etc etc etc... Not a happy chappie

"I did" I replied, "but why are you are taking the tanks of Juliet?, that is full"!

And then it sunk in... :p

[Jumping_Jack]

Late '80s out on Feldon Moor, North Yorkshire just a stones throw from the RAF Regt Depot. It was a very cold rainy November night, just perfect to be on Feldon (...not!)! We had returned from a lengthy night nav ex, cold and wet looking forward to getting a brew on. As we entered the harbour area we found some fellow studes had already made it back and were busy trying to warm up. One stude attracted our attention as he has hunched over his Hexi stove desperately trying to light a small white block, with damp matches, in the pouring rain. Gradually we gathered round, offering advice on how best to light said block and trying to provide some cover. To one side was a RAF Regt Cpl intructor who watched with some interest for about 10 minutes before stepping forward, reached down and picked up the white block.....which he promptly put in his mouth and chewed! It rapidly became apparent that our unfortunate 'brew meister' had been trying to light Kendal Mint Cake for some 20 minutes.....:D

[RETDPI]

As one who once fished out a piece of chocolate from his DPM's on a wet and windy night - to then find he was trying to chomp a chunk of hexy, I can assure you the latter process is no less humiliating.

[12 twists per inch]

After a towing 'incident', a ground power unit (houchin) appeared outside the line, battered and bruised and awash with tufts of grass and mud.

F731 (serviceability form) stated: "Turns over but will not start!

[goudie]

The first task we did when on detachment to Sylt was remove the underwing tanks from our NF11's. The procedure was for four guys to hold the tank and on command, the guy in the cockpit activated the appropriate switch.
In a fore runner of Granddad and the chandelier as we all held the starboard tank the port one fell to the ground!

[GreenKnight121]

Here is the link andyjor forgot:

USAF bad air drops:

YouTube - Bad Air Drops (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FkGxAdCRGcA)

music: Creedence Clearwater Revival (http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FkGxAdCRGcA#) - Bad Moon Rising

[hedgester]

While at Lossie in the 80's an associate of mine on the nearby Nimrod line up the road recited an exploit of his :- While racing two Houchin's up the taxi-way on a weekend, one of them became detached from its rover :\ jacknifed :sad: and flipped over several times!
The poor power set was righted and left outside GEF with a 731 one on it reading....... "turns over - won't start!" ;)
I still larff over 20 years on!

P.S. I think WO GEF is still in orbit now :E

[NutLoose]

A secret Wiltshire base many moons ago and an SAC borrows the gliding clubs landrover at night on guard and rolls it, part of his punishment was to use our Rover on the weekend and work all weekend towing their gliders about...... never having done this before he promptly hooks the first glider up to recover it back to the winch at the other end of the airfield and sets off....... hearing a lot of commotion he looks back to see the said unmanned glider flying along behind him above roof height attached to the back of his Rover :E

[LFittNI]

1971, and the Commonwealth Prime Minister's Conference is being held in Singapore. Myself and Charlie C are downtown from Tengah for the evening, in the Orchard Road "Pig's Bar" (the Hilton).

We chat to an English civilian at the bar, who turns out to be a diplomat from the High Commission, and he is looking for some UK expats to attend a reception at the Presidential Istana. Sounds good--drinks, food, girls etc.

On the day we roll up with invitations, dapper in our tropical lounge suits, and have a high old time, circulating and getting to chat to Ted Heath, Lee Kuan Yew et al. All as advertised--drinks, food, girls.

Gravitate eventually next to a group which has AOC FEAF, his ADC, the Tengah staish.....and our CO. Grinning winningly, we start having a good conversation with the AOC, who is in official-reception-chat mode. Charlie and I, who are both ex-minor-public-school, can at least "talk proper" and have half decent social skills.

I remember answering the AOC (truthfully) that we were "aviation engineers" when he asked us what we were doing in Singapore, when our CO starts to twig and thankfully gets a twinkle in his eye and starts to smile. Still grinning winningly, we sidle gracefully away.

At the end, the AOC spots us and invites us to guest at the Changi OM "as it's near to where you are at Payar Lebar". Our CO, by now highly amused, gently suggests the Tanglin Club as an alternate, so off we go for an hilarious couple of hours getting pi**ed.

The next working day, the CO calls us in. Still greatly amused, he congratulates us for not embarrassing the AOC or the staish, and "gently suggests" that we keep absolutely schtum about the evening.

I wonder if today's crop of hoccifers would have the good heartedness to act as he did!

[WannabeCrewman]

Helping out the local AFCO with running some stands in the middle of an "undisclosed" city as part of a recruitment event. Theres the front of a Tornado done up with a cockpit (A few LEDs and a TV screen showing some low-level flying), and a few UAS studes to garnish it with flying suits and aviator-ish talk - our instructions were "leanr how fast it goes, how high it flies, and how much it drops - that should be enough". Basically, show the kids around, talk to the parents and flirt with the totty. Brilliant crack and a good weekend.

RAF Regt are also there with a couple of stands, and of course, hate the fact that a bunch of students in grow-bags are getting the attention off the skirt which is out enjoying the mid-summer sun. Queue the hatred mill running at full capacity.

Day rolls on, WannabeCrewman and a couple of mates (One of whom I shall name "Dave") are chatting to a Flt Lt on the AFCO, when an old, and slightly batsh*t crazy woman, smelling strongly of cat p*ss and twigglets, walks over to us. "How old do you have to be to join up? I really fancy joining!"

Flt Lt detects the potential for very good banter, and directs one of our lads to take her over to the RAF Regt lads so she can have a crack at the SAT range and a look at some of their nice shiney new gats.

He walks her over then comes back crying with laughter.

10 minutes pass, and angry RAF Regt Cpl (with major short-bloke syndrome) steps out of the stand, as the old dear toddles off, looking like thunder. He points out my mate from across the square and tells him to come over. Dialogue continues as follows:

Regt Cpl: Are you taking the f**king piss!?!? Do you think that was f**king funny?!
Dave: Well, yeah, we all did to be honest Cpl.
Regt Cpl: Stand to attention when you talk to me! UAS c**ts!

Mate raises an eyebrow, slowly gets into the most slobbish attention you ever did see. We (UAS lot) all had tonnes of respect for serving bods, regardless of rank, but not when they were acting like complete kn*bs.

Regt Cpl: Are all you UAS lot complete c**ts? Or is it just you?
Dave: No Cpl, we just thought it'd be a good bit of banter, as did the rest of the AFCO guys - if your lot cant take a joke then thats fair enough.

At this point the Regt Cpl is hitting critical mass and about to give my mate a thorough interview without coffee - in the middle of the square of this busy, mid-saturday-afternoon city shopping centre. Until the AFCO Flt Lt strides up.

Flt Lt: Cpl, whats the issue?
Regt Cpl: That old woman that this tw*t bought over, that wasnt called for sir, these UAS lads are taking the p*ss.
Flt Lt: Actually Cpl, I told him to bring her over, thats what we're here for, to put on a good show for the public and all that.

Regt Cpls face drops. He looked like England had just lost a Semi-final on penalties

Regt Cpl: Oh, ur, right sir.
Flt Lt: And I dont think giving this lad a dressing down for all the public to see is terribly professional, do you?
Regt Cpl: No sir.
Flt Lt: Good. Now... F**K OFF.
Regt Cpl: Yes sir. (Promptly scuttles off)

Ends up that "Dave" isnt allowed to go anywhere on his own for the risk of him being jumped by several pissed off Regt lads, who spend the rest of the afternoon directing visual venom at us.

Quality weekend.

[Jig Peter]

Back in the Roaring Fifties, Celle and Fassberg had a good cannon-"exchange" going, until Fassberg's Stn Cdr threw a wobbly when Celle also 'alf-inched his Coronation Coach (which was duly returned rather quickly).
Happy, happy days, with the great Don Kingaby (DSO, DFC, triple DFM) as Wingco Flying ...

[Squirrel 41]

Wannabe...

Was this an ESUAS triumph by any chance...?

S41

[rusty_monkey]

Before budget cuts and anti fun patrols destroyed Red Flag I managed to be a liney on the gleaming grey dart of death one man one fan....... Anyway, great morale on the Sqn at the time and an excellent rapport between ourselves and the crews until one fateful night in New YorkNew York casino.
The RAF's finest were most definitely hogging all the talent (it does help having the I am a pilot chat-up line) and the lineys were feeling just a little left out, as every bar we had been in had at least a couple of pilots in it all surrounded by top notch skirt. This culminated in the one of the biggest gatherings of both in the aforementioned casino. Us orrible blunties and gingers looking on with envy as the group of young pilots do tequila body shots off the chest of the most stunning Vegas show girl, being cheered on by a bevy of ladies.
"right that’s it, I've had enough of this time to level the playing field" Armourer Cpl saunters over to harrier mates and in a very loud drunken whisper says:
" Err Steve is that old fighter pilot chat-up line still working, I told you those fake IDs would finish the scam. Who would have thought a group of pissed up builders could get so much totty in Vegas"
Much spluttering and great deal of laughter from lineys, girls make excuses and leave.
The crews snagged the jets relentlessly for the next couple of days so I guess all is fair in love and war.

[chiglet]

Your story is pathetic, not funny.

Sorry wwyvern, it is funny...It's called "Black Humour" ALL services[including Civvies...Police Fire etc] have it...:rolleyes:

[sisemen]

Maybe it's the way I tell 'em. Yes it was black humour. It was persisting down at the time and whilst we noticed the parking under the wing the snowman effect wasn't noticed until after the damage was done.

However, I have removed the post to save any more offence.

[rusty_monkey]

On my first Battle of Britian dinning in night I was lucky enough to be training at Halton and with it the joys of living in HHOM. One of my fellow Fg Off was duly nominated as Mr Vice and Fg Off "C", breifed on his duties by the PMC and informed that the after dinner speaker was going to be one of the last surviving pathfinder crewmen from the war.
Fg Off "C" duly impressed informs PMC that top table bit at the end of the night will be based around his grandfather who was also on bombers in the war.
The night goes well superb fly past at the rear of HHOM by the BBMF spit and myself and my course mates are anticipating our fellow Fg Off entertainment after the grown ups leave.

"Mr Vice the Top Table is yours"
"Sirs, ma am ladies and gentlemen tonight we have been priveliged to have had a WW2 veteran entertain us with his experience and advice; If it wasn't for people like him I would not be here today for my own grandfather was a bomber pilot himself, and if gentlemen like our distinguised guest hadn't shot him down over Biggin Hill then he would never have settled in the UK after his interment and I would like to add my thanks to that of the PMC...."
Silence ensued and the distinguised guest is heard to murmur something about standards of junior officers these days.
Fg Off "C" had a very interesting chat the next day (without coffee) and was reminded that it is traditonal for Mr Vice to wait until after the Stn Cdr and guest have left before dropping a b*()£$k.

[Manandboy]

Late 70s at Suffolk's premier strike base - airfield BLACK under snow, target study & sims all up to date and only so much Uckers a man can take! One of the sqn navs had recently been admitted to RAF(H) Ely with recurrence of an old back problem, so a push was organised to visit/bring cheer/scope out the nurses. A team eventually struggled through the slush in a J2 (that's another saga!) and arrived at Ely. Somebody hid in the middle of the group with the slab of McEwans concealed under a coat as we were directed to a 2-bed room where our colleague was in traction to try to ease his discomfort. Having been involved in some MT engineering on the journey, I popped out for 5 minutes to scrub the hands, and returned to find a great party in full swing, with everyone clutching tinnies, the traction weights replaced with 2 cans of McEwans, the bedside radio at full volume and healthy banter flying in all directions. Even the occupant of the second bed, a tall youth who also had a bad back (admin officer at the same base, but nobody had ever seen him before - consensus was that he'd damaged his back hunched over a desk all day) had been given a can, but was left to drink it on his own as we listened to our mate's (frankly unbelievable) tales of suffering at the hands of drunken medics.

No-one paid much attention when the tall kid in the other bed got up unsteadily, staggered to the door and slurred that he was "going for a p*ss", before exiting wearing only his paper Y-fronts. Until, that is, the door was flung open and the ward sister stormed in, looked at the empty bed, looked at us and the empties and stormed out again (briefly). She came back dragging the giggling wreck of the kid from the next bed, still in his paper trolleys, shoved him into bed again and then read us the riot act. She was only just over 5ft tall (still is, I saw her the other weekend), but it was one of the best collective bollockings I ever heard in 35 years! Basically, the beer the kid had consumed had reacted badly with his medication and we were all totally irresponsible, disgraceful conduct, etc, now clear up this mess and get off my ward...great stuff, exit junta slightly abashed with empties clanking, traction weights replaced.

After we'd gone, our colleague was given the third degree to find out why he hadn't reacted to the beer like his cellmate, because he was on pretty much the same medication. It turned out that he had been carefully washing his painkillers down the sink so that he could enjoy the "lemonade " being smuggled in during nefarious evening visits - oh, there was a lot of trouble.....how we laughed!

[Wander00]

Back in the late 80s/early 90s I was a Trustee of the Red Arrows Trust. A former RA Manager had trademarked various designs based on the team's formations, and the Trust licensed these to manufacturers for a fee, which went to charity. Someone suggested a RA teddy bear, red suit, white helmet and all. My son Will was then 2 or so, so got the job of Intensive Teddy Bear Trials Unit. Around that time the Team was coming up to its 25th anniversary, but the RAF was not prepared (financial constraints even then) to mark the occasion with an official event, so the Trust and the Team organised a one-off. "teams only" event at Scampton. Most of the European teams came for the day, and the Reds finished the day off. In the course of the event, with my in-laws and Will we came across the then Manager, a very serious officer, and dresed in his red flying suit. Will, never one to hang back (then or now at almost 22) grabbed the front of the Mange's red suit, saying - my teddy's got "one of those" - never quite sure if Will (being not much over 2 and quite little) got a handful of suit, or something more sensitive, but it went VERY quite for a second or two.

PS: That teddy bear, still in his red suit, is now living in Copenghagen with my grandson, and last year at Copenhagen Airshow met the current RAFAT Manager. Elliot is still talking about the red aeroplanes and the man in the red suit.

[ian16th]

Dishforth Jan 1959. Early AM hours on a bitterly cold night shift. Centralised servicing. Faries working out of ARSF, Rx phone call, 'Pre-flight on XX-XXX, destination XXXXXX Xtal fit to be xxxx."

The 'flight line' is unused cross runway.

As NCO i/c night shift I send of radar and wireless bod's.

They come back querying the a/c serial, a/c serial checked and found correct.

We all go out with torches looking for said A/C and fail.

Eventually get to the 'Office' where all other trades are chasing chiefy about the phantom a/c.

Eventually found in ASF Hanger!! Someone on day's had 'forgotten' to tow it to the flight line.

[Pilotinmydreams]

Farnborough Air show on press day back in the late 80s and there was an Antanov AN-225 (I think) on the ground being closely guarded by a very large Russian with a big gun. My I remember my father asking if it wold be flying today to which Ivan sternly replied 'No. My Dad, being the diplomat he is just said 'oh, is it broken then?'. I'll never forget the feeling of thinking "bloody hell Dad's going to get shot"

[Samuel]

At a well-known RNZAF Station in the 1960s, two Air Traffic Controllers, one going off duty , the other coming on, managed to collide head-on at the gate....where the road was one-way!:D

[mhod]

Leeming, 1973.
F4 pilot requests homing and gca.
ATC What is your position?
F4: You've got the radar, you find me.
ATC Roger. I'm changing frequency. You find me!

[QWIN]

Mid 1970's on detachment in southern Germany. Scene: downtown bar where pornography was projected as "moving wallpaper" and star of the show was a particularly well endowed gentleman. Boys enjoying supper and a few beers when voice from the corner is heard to say:
"My god if I had to fill that with blood I'd f*****g faint."

[Green Flash]

My dad did his NS in the mob and told me of a rather hairy trip from somewhere in southern England to Boscombe. A rather active warm sector was over the route and even the ducks were walking. Still, they got the old girl into the air (just) and lurked over the hedges, through the long grass and around barns and sheep and into BD. It was agreed it would have been just as quick and probably safer had they just taxied all the way.

Pursued by a convoy of Post Office vans.

Who eventually removed hundreds of feet of telephone wire from the legs .....

[Wyler]

No flying so everyone is crammed into the crewroom watching Ladies Day at Ascot.

Sqn Boss walks in and asks 'Has anyone seen my wife, she is there today'?

Pint sized first tourist Fg Off replies 'Don't know Sir, what's the jockey's name'?

Oooooh, how we laughed. You could hear the bollicking 4 rooms away.

[Wyler]

CRC Neatishead mid 90's. Big AD exercise.

3 first tourists on telebrief, one for CY, one for LI and one for LU. One turns to another, callsign list in hand, and asks:

'Who the f*ck is CDR12'?

His mate replies:

'It's you, you c*nt'.

All well and good except that the telebrief lines are 'open mike' so the conversation was transmitted across CY and LI. Rumour has it the CO of LI fell off his chair laughing.

[Pontius Navigator]

"Roger, adopt callsigns Stupid One and Stupid Two."

Edited as Pure Pursuit has the proper story.

[Pure Pursuit]

It was Scampton and, it was a little worse than that...

First half of a 4v4 split freq USAF sortie gets up & checks in as 'Getsum 11-14'

Second half, not 10 minutes later, checks in as, you've guessed it, 'Getsum 11-14'.

The allocator shouted something along the lines of, "f**king useless banjo playing red necked *****" and immediately telephones the sqn Top 3.

'ah, ah, yep, really? Ok sir, get the second lot to rename as Stupid flight'

They did, without hesitation and even went to the tanker with it before coming back to Scampton. The eventual handover to Lon Mil was greeted with, "Did you say Stupid 11 flight?"

"Yes, they're Americans."

"Fair enough, let me grab a strip..." :ok:

[Pure Pursuit]

Or...

The day 4 F15Es (not USAF bashing here, just telling it as it happened!) free called Buchan whilst very much inside Y70.

'Deadly check...2! 3! 4!'

Buchan...'5'

'Er Deadly, check...2! 3! 4!'

'5'

Kept at it until they had cleared the airway & then replied with the usual 'good morning blah blah blah'.

When asked why he had done it, the WC told the crew room that he had no idea what else to do with a/c free calling inside controlled airspace!

You can only imagine the poor guy in Deadly 11 who must have heard '5!' and then looked over his shoulder and counted his hens, twice!

[but sir]

Alas, time has passed, and probably with it the individual involved. But years ago, we had a rather rough Corporal who had the unfortunate happening as to be smacked on the head by a Harvard prop. The result was a long stay in hospital and a steel plate installed in his head. He was good for a single drink at the Mess. On downing the second, he would climb up onto the nearest object higher than the floor and wave a very tatty bit of paper, announcing loudly, "I can prove I'm sane. What about the rest of you b*****ds!"
His other rather quaint ability was that he would be standing there talking with you and suddenly, with no warning, fall asleep. Eyes closed, and rigidly upright, but asleep. He would be out for up to a minute when he would snap back awake and continue with the conversation like he had never left. If the conversation was with a group, he would jump back in right there. Frightening!!
One day some new Admin Clerk put him on a C.O.'s Parade. He just smiled and showed up. Everyone got all fell in and the Parade Commander was standing directly in front of our Corporal. As he started to give the required order, he noticed that our Corporal was asleep. There was a distinct pause until the Corp opened his eyes again. Then the parade continued. The Corp never was on another parade . . . but the Admin Clerk was.

[Jig Peter]

This is from pre-history (to some) ... like that very cold November of 1949.

National Service fly-boy hopefuls on the parade ground at RAF Padgate for Initial Training while waiting for Aircrew Selection are being instructed in "Parts of the Rifle" (Lee Enfield .303). Corporal X has covered most bits and comes to the bit that rests against your shoulder:

"Now this is the butt.
It is made from lignum vitae.
This is a very resistant wood.
It is used for piles for piers.

And I do not mean haemorrhoids for the haristocracy".




I seem to remember that nobody even smirked ... :hmm::hmm:

[Wander00]

My OC Police Flt was detached, so OC Regt was acting as Stn Sy O. Came to see me about a police report of an investigation into the importation of pornographic videos by service personnel. It is almost impossible to describe how boring an RAF Police report into pornography could be. However, despite my fairly broad education, the meaning of one word which obviously described a deviant sexual practice had me foxed. OC Regt did not know, and got a flea in the ear for not having found out. So I sent him to find out what it meant. A day later he returned with an embarassed smirk -like "I've got you boss, and how will you explain this to the Staish (who had a reputation for being a bit straight laced)", and explained in a slightly stilted falsetto.

So off I trotted to see the boss, who read the report, and as time passed I began to realise that he ws not as straight laced as was thought. Eventually, of course, he came to the difficult word. "What does this mean?" he asked. My reply had him rolling in the aisles, so to speak. "Well, Boss", I said. It's what you and I suffer from from Group and Command every day -it's being p****d on from a great height", but we decided it would be fun to get OC Regt to explain it to him face to face!

[J52]

RNZAF air show at Ohakea - aircraft maintenance squadron has stripped down A4K on display. Flt Sgt in charge of static displays wanders over and starts berating the baggies that visitors will not understand what they see unless there is some signs and words. 10 minutes before the gates open the signs are finished and in place. Flt Sgt wanders in 1 hour later with happy face at large crowd milling around A4K, some obviously pointing at the signs. Not so happy when he gets closer and reads them. Tail skin repairs, middle skin repairs, foreskin repairs. Local lasses loved it. 14 days jankers for all involved but worth every minute of it.

[Still Wee Jock]

Staish's car approaches the main gate, guard looks to see who's in the back, it's Mrs Staish so he raises the barrier and waves driver through. Car stops, window descends, "Compliment!" shrieks Mrs Staish who thinks she is Harry Staish when in his car. Guard smiles and replies "I like your hair!"

:D:D:D

[cornish-stormrider]

Fess up Jock, twas you was it not.....?

heh heh heh but should it not have been a comment on the clothes?

A word of advice to the young sprogs. When on gate guard ensure you have prior knowledge of who Harry Staish's daughters are and what they drive, it saves mucho umbridge, embarrasement and a little chat sans coffee n biccies.

[Pontius Navigator]

A word of advice to the young sprogs. When on gate guard ensure you have prior knowledge of who Harry Staish's daughters are and what they drive, it saves mucho umbridge, embarrasement and a little chat sans coffee n biccies.

And not so young :)

MSW at Waddo, Cpl Policeman on the door (a real one not a made up one). Mrs Wg Cdr arrives at window:

"I have come to see my husband."

"Pass please"

"Sorry I don't have a pass, I am wife of . . . "

"No Pass, no entry."

"But don't you know who I am?"

"Yes Mam, but no pass no entry."

Next day,

Barrier up, barrier down

"Morning Cpl, come out for a breath of fresh air?"

:}

[BEagle]

Good for the lad on the door! She should have known better.

Fortunately, those "Don't you know who I am" wives are probably now a thing of the past. During my short time in the V-force, one Sqn Cdr was known as "The husband of Mrs OC 44 Sqn" (aka "The bloke sitting in Wally's chair")....:\

[wub]

As a young airman I was on gate guard on a particularly nasty wet day. An officer's wife drove up to the barrier and I spotted about two feet of expensive dress hanging out of her car door. I checked her pass and said "Do you know your dress is trapped in the car door and is getting wet?" The reply was

"Don't be impertinent airman" :ugh:

[Still Wee Jock]

'Fess up Jock, twas you was it not.....?'

Er, no, cornish, girls didn't do gate guard when I was in the mob.

And her husband once charged a gate guard for the heinous crime of having a hole in his glove.

[charliegolf]

those "Don't you know who I am" wives

.. invariably take it badly when the response is a loud, "Anyone recognise this old dear, she seems a bit confused, and can't remember her name. Don't worry dear, someone will recognise you soon."

CG

[goudie]

the heinous crime of having a hole in his glove

Did he not explain that it was to enable him to put his hand in said glove?

[brakedwell]

That's better than having a hole in his pocket. :}

[Still Wee Jock]

Or a hole in his....whatever.

[Still Wee Jock]

So where were we...

OC something was pissed off with Bloggs, ordered him to his office NOW!
So he did, with a large step ladder and a lot of crashing about.
Post bollocking, OC something says to Sgt i/c, what on earth did you say to him....sgt says get in the boss's office now and take BIG STEPS!....

[Selwyn froggat]

As recounted to me

A USAF Nightingale aircraft (DC9 to the unitiated) stopped for fuel at a very cold Thule in Greenland.
the pilot is in a hurry as there is a weather front on its way in and he doesn't wish to get stranded there for a few days. The fuellers finish and the only thing holding him up is the " Honey Wagon" which is slowly removing the contents of the toilets. The pilot exorts the airman operating the honey wagon to hurry up but the surley looking airman just shruggs and sinks deeper into his parka coat.
This is the final straw for the pilot, who makes it clear that if he doesnt get a move on he's going to be in line for some serious "Disciplinary action!"

The obviously fed up airman replies,
"Sir you may have surmised that I am based here in Greenland. as you can see I have no stripes at all on my arm, its presently Minus 20 degrees out here on the flight line, and my job in life is to empty the S**t out of visiting planes."

"Now would you please explain how you propose to punish me?"

[Cosfordflyer]

Sat in an office of mixed blue suits and my civilian colleagues at a well known training base in the Midlands, with the students away being used and abused at RIAT, the banter often turns to war stories and funny happenstances. One that comes to mind is:
An experienced SAC posted into a Mighty Hunter squadron in the Med many moons ago is walking past the guardroom when he is verbally accosted by the SWO. "Airman, that badge on your tie is illegal" Quick as a flash the young SAC replies " No, sir. It's a seahorse!" (The Squadron emblem). In the ensuing pregnant pause said airman disappears rapidly before any further onslaught.
When any more stories are forthcoming I will post them.:ok:

[Lightning5]

There we were, mid 70's at the high altitude pursuit ship base in north Lincs on QRA. Scrambled we did at 2am in the middle of winter. Aircraft lands, crew go to sleep. We refuel at about -10 deg C and then put the aircraft to bed and then we go to sleep. As duty boss, normally get up and make sure the aircraft are ok and all is well. Going into the Q shed I am now up to my ankles ( maybe slight exageration) with fuel. Because of the heat in the Q shed, our baby had started venting fuel everywhere!! Now we have 2 inches of fuel in the shed and my thoughts were "S**T, please do not scramble as we would have the Q shed in re-heat!!!" Luckily the reds did not invade our airspace, and we swept the shed (very clean floor by this time) and the jockeys slept through it all !!! Happy days.

[Bags of Biff]

I was on the GRSF team at Laarbruch from 1974-77.
Definately the best days of my service career.
One day while driving the Section wagon
(you know the one with the custard stirrer for a gear stick)
up the taxi way towards CADF, I noted the arrival of a Charlie 130
on a pan near the ILS array. Being the concientious tech I
paced out the distance and found the aircraft to be seriously
infringeing the quarantine guidlines. So effectively the ILS
was now out of calibration. I alerted my boss to the infringement,
possibly C/Tech Buck, who then passed the info on to SATCO.
The result was that the aircraft handlers decided to back the
aircraft further on the pan. It might have helped if they had
used someone to properly marshall the manoeuvre as the C130 port wing
made contact with a pine tree and rippled the wing. Oh yes,intitialy
SATCO tried to blame me.

Does anyone remember the day when all the copies of
Laarbruch Listener hadto be censored with a craft knife, when a picture of airmen in and on a MT Mini was printed. Just how many airmen were invovled in the game we'll never know.
As the numbers game went wrong when the body shell buckled and the
vehicle had to be written off.

[It's Not Working]

BoB
You have personal mail

[chopper2004]

sitigeltfel (http://www.pprune.org/members/172127-sitigeltfel),

That RN Wessex SOAP story reminds me of a mate and former colleague at my old helicopter company who was in the FAA as a mechanic on the Sea King and got roped into being a batman for an incoming flight. He hadnt been trained as a handler.

Anyhow after a brieef brief, and matey struggled but got the hand signals right, once the wheels had touched he kept signalling the aircraft commander to power down. But the A/C was mimicking a drinking motion with his hand as in drinking a cup of tea. Another few minutes passed and rotors still spinning and matey kept insisting he powers down.

So the visual dialogue contineued till matey managed to call over one of his colleagues to come over and asked him to kindly make a cup of tea for the a/c. Soon enough a boiling cup of hot tea was brought to the aircraft and handed over to the the pilot.

Thereafter drink was consumed, and laughter and smiles from the crew, then handed back to said sailor ran back to matey and said "The pilot says thanks for an excellent cup of tea but what he wanted was his helo to be refuelled". Then it dawned on matey that the a/c what the hand movements meant :):):ugh:

Anyhow back to this topic, when I was in the CCF and in the RAF section, went on easter camp 1991 to Church Fenton and amongst other schools CCF such as Shipwreck school and another school from London. Anyhow throughout the camp, especially to section visits we were constantly reminded 'we don't want any paperwork' as in try not to get injured or killed especially from the visit to the fire station. The SAC crewmember said if theres an emergency out on the runway they crank up the engines and move on out regardless of who or whats in the way and then fill in the paperwork afterwards :cool::\

Then the night exercise near the runway where cadets versus cadets in stop and search and apprehend under the direction of an RAFP Corporal but we kinda got out of hand physically and got threatened to be arrested and locked up in the guardroom for the night :ugh::cool::eek:

Also when we were visiting the tower, an F.3 crew decided to give us a nice display as in a couple of circuits, with landing gear down and then not even touching the runway and then gear up a few times around the tower then finally, after the third or fourth pass, they accelerated away at full afterburner :)

Though the week was fun we were all ushered off base for an orienteering exercise around the countryside as on a sad day was the funeral of a Tornado pilot who had been shot down during Desert Storm, and it was held in Tadcaster as his family was from there. His squadron had a flypast of GR.1 during the late morning, early afternoon.

One lucky cadet won a competition to go up in the new Tucano as the rest of us ended up going up on AEF Chippie :(

[Tashengurt]

I guess we know now why the thread's titled "funny things happen in the AIR FORCE."!

[Airborne Aircrew]

I guess we know now why the thread's titled "funny things happen in the AIR FORCE."!

I think he hit the single post character limit and is still typing the funny bit... :rolleyes:

[Blacksheep]

Junior Magician "'Orrible" Orrick had changed the pressure transmitter on a Whirlwind 10 hydraulic system and was squatting on the platform under the rotating blades when it sprang a low pressure leak. He put his thumb over the leak to staunch the flow while the engine was shut down. Unfortunately the oil was at about 90 degress C, so jerking the scalded thumb away and putting it in his mouth, he simultaneously placed his other thumb over the leak. End result was two weeks on Tea Bar duty with enormous bandages on both thumbs. Nickname change required...

[Halton Brat]

RAF Valley, early 1980's; tall, fair-haired Stn Cdr (& ADC to HMQ) is driving to airfield, past the Troops barrack block site. Still the eagle-eyed fighter pilot of his youth, gets a visual lock on RAF's most horrible SAC, who is supporting MT bus-stop sign with his manky body.

Stn Cdr is piqued by lack of erect posture & snappy salute in response to the pennant-bedecked limo; he pulls over (always drove himself), & beckons oik over; Stn Cdr prepares to deliver industrial-strength rollicking & appointment with the SWO (Danny McCarthy).

Stn Cdr's plans are thwarted by oik, who deftly hops into front passenger seat, declaring " Ah thanks Sir, I've missed the bleedin' MT bus to work".

Stn Cdr is totally disabled by the charm of the oik, who clearly had more neck than a jockey's bolleaux, and he delivers him straight to the main entrance of Gaydon Hangar, just as OC Eng Wg is arriving. Oik graces Wg Cdr with snappy salute & brisk "good-day Sir". Fork-lift truck req'd to reposition OC Eng Wg's jaw. Stn Cdr admits defeat & retires to his office. Oik's standing amongst fellow troops much enhanced by performance.

(I know, because I was there.........)

HB

[airpolice]

Halton Brat, Fantastic!:ok:

[matkat]

HB that brings back memories, Danny McCarthy was my DI Sgt. at Swinditz in 1976.

[matkat]

Halton 1983, Marching down the hill apprentices, Goat, band and Fitters the DI Corporal (Cpl.Death to those that were there) said shout you there airman with the hat on fall out, approx 300 personel 'fell out'.

[Old Bricks]

Smooth wg cdr walking back to his office after light lunch in OM. Admin cpl, who has been trying to find him to deliver urgent message: "Sir, sir - I missed you at lunchtime."
Smooth wg cdr replies: "I missed you too, Cpl Smith, but we mustn't let this take over our lives!"

[Finningley Boy]

Phone call received by Flt Sgt Eric Forsyth at Spadeadam, caller requests permission to borrow our Anemometer, which is sat on top of towering permanent fixture outside. Eric's reply "OK give us 2 years and we'll get straight down to you!".

FB:)

[Lukeafb1]

I may have posted these on a much earlier thread.

Early 60s and I was a Halton Brat.

The SWO was a keen gardener and occasionally could be seen at the weekend pottering around in our flower beds. Some joker who had had a run-in with the said SWO, observed him happily digging and rang the guardroom anonymously.

“There’s a tramp stealing the plants in 2 squadron’s flower beds”. Puts down phone.

Five minutes later a police Landrover careers round the corner, two snowdrops emerge and promptly arrest the ‘tramp’.
Much cursing and swearing from the SWO, because he never did find the culprit!

Many years later on a squadron detachment to Sharjah.

I’m Duty Officer with nothing better to do, so I amble over to the Twynam hut which served as our squadron office. Duty Corporal and I are having a cup of coffee, feet on desk, when the door opens and a British Trucial Oman Scouts officer appears in full Lawrence of Arabia gear, complete with Kunja knife in his gold belt.

“F**k me”, says the Corporal “Its Peter O’Toole”.

Army officer has apoplexy and promptly has the Corporal put under close arrest.

It took me and the Boss all night to get him released from the TOS guardroom. But he had to be sent home for his own protection!

Happy days!:D

[Marham69]

No intention of passing judgement on the Good Lady deceased but we must have encountered her or her Staff on an 'Off' day....

In the days of annual 'Royal Visits' to RAF Stations, the West Norfolk Citadel had the honour. Sqn Ldr AS (later Station Master) was el honcho of the overall organising committee. Always had a great rapport with that fine Scottish gentleman (replaced him as Nav Plotter Crew 10 No 55 Sqn - Jock Carroll's lads - and was delighted to entertain Al and the ever gracious Sally to Dinner in late 1990s Harbourside Sydney) so, for my sins, was roped in as deputy organiser or whatever. Down to St James Palace we went.

Well, I never. Cigarette packets had to be positioned at all points of the compass. And only a particular American brand would do. I distinctly remember the Lady lighting up before the 'starters' had been served at the Mess Luncheon.
Lots of similar stuff. But the outstanding request from the Palace was that a particular loo had to be installed in the OM - into which no wummin had performed a christening ceremony. A brand new effort. I am sorry to say that the usual aircrew miscreants, having checked that the area was wummin free, tested the the holding veracity of the said device prior to the official visit.

There was a lot of under table activity at that lunch - not quite as outstanding as the Bomber Command disbandment lunch... but getting close.

Happy Days. I fear our modern compadres (all Hail to them) will never experience such in these days of uber PC stuff and nonsense.