OK IT'S APOCRYPHAL STORY TIME

[Wholigan]

Start with:

Long time ago at Chivenor on Hunter OCU. Student from one of our oil-rich states takes jet off the end of the runway into the bundu.

Crash kit and many others bowl up to jet to find cockpit empty. Major search for injured/memory lost/etc pilot instigated and after a very long time nobody found!

Meanwhile, back in Officers' Mess, said pilot of empty jet found in civvies in ante-room reading paper.

Question asked by senior instructor: "What the hell are you doing here, instead of reporting in after going off the end of the runway?"

Answer: "Not me Sir, I've been here all day."

Instructor: "No you haven't, you just went off the end of the runway in your jet!"

"Not me Sir, I haven't flown at all today!"

"Follow me mate" .... takes back to squadron.... asks "So this isn't your signature in the auth sheets and the 700 then?"

"No sir, not mine, I haven't flown today."

After much toing and froing with "Oh no I didn't" ... "Oh yes you did" .... said foreign gentleman quietly despatched back home.
___________________________________________

NEXT a well known oldie:

Two foreign gentlemen flying helos on cross country navex. First one decides needs to pee desperately and lands in field, leaving engine running. Rushes off into trees and has major liquid dump.....

While having said relieving visit to trees, helo (no brakes on) decides to roll away and dump itself sideways onto some rocky outcrop.

Meanwhile ..... next foreign gentleman sees damaged helo and lands to see if he can help his mate.

Whilst searching in wreckage area for mate, first genteman, now feeling much better strolls back to helo parked where he left his, climbs in and buggers off.

Must be true --- heard it so many times.


MORE PLEASE :) :) :) :)

[This message has been edited by Wholigan (edited 28 September 2000).]

[BEagle]

Yup - heard both of those, mate. As well as the story of a Shacklebomber crew who decided to try an approach on one of Uncle Spam's finest flat-tops. Not having any idea of the radio frequencies, they flew over, dropped the gear and flaps and joined the pattern. Unfortunately the Spams thought that they were in an emergency so the next thing the Shacklebomber mates saw as they flew down the approach were splashes in the water as the Yanks frantically cleared the decks by pushing F4s/A4s/whatever over the side!! No-one ever knew who the crew were - but lots said they knew someone who did!

[MrBernoulli]

Er.......BEagle.........you still in civilisation? Or are you already in the windy climes of places far off to the south?

[BEagle]

Temporary stay of execution - shall be leaving very soon. Perhaps I'll be leaving something else fairly soon following this triumph of IiP!!

[supermunk]

This story first appeared about 20 years ago and was supposed to relate to a 1FTS JP landing wheels up at Dishforth. The foreign pilot vacated the cockpit and hid in the grass where he was nearly run over by the fire engine (green grass, green flying suit). He was subsequently found relaxing in his room in the Mess at Linton denying all knowledge of the incident, and claiming that his signature in the F700 had been forged.

[Wiley]

Now I swear this one is true, or fair dinkum as we say in the Antipodes… (But aren’t they all?)

Mid fifties, when the RAAF used the Wirraway, (the Aussie version of the Harvard) as their primary trainer - which was a bit like taking your initial driving lessons in a Mack truck.
Cadet Bloggs was ready for his first solo and his instructor was, shall we say, just a little overweight.
They taxi back to the threshold, Sir unstraps and climbs, not without difficulty, up into the ‘Pie Cart’, (the mobile tower positioned at the threshold when massed first solos were on the programme).
Bloggs approached for his first solo landing, a touch and go. However, on the ‘go’ part of the T&G, he ground looped.
Now there are ground loops and there are ground loops. This one was a doozey. The aircraft’s wing tip dug into the ground, the tail rose and the aircraft rolled sideways, completely destroying the wings, propeller, and tail. With bits of airframe flying in all directions and the whole scene swathed in a growing pall of dust, Sir leapt from the Pie Cart, and with his bum pack parachute banging against his buttocks, sprinted - for the first time in at least ten years - to where the remains of the aircraft were finally coming to rest.
On arriving, he was confronted by a very battered fuselage becoming visible as the dust settled. Inside the shattered cockpit sat Bloggs - completely unscathed. Fearful of fire, Sir extricated him from the cockpit and led him away from the aircraft.
Adrenaline fast draining, Sir’s body at last got the message through to his brain that three-minute miles were a bit beyond it, thank you very much. He promptly collapsed exhausted upon the ground beside his rather bemused student.
At this moment, the Fire Engines and Ambulance screeched to a halt beside the two pilots, and taking in the scene in a moment - the injured pilot lying on the ground, pulled from the wreckage by his heroic colleague seen running to the rescue - the Medicos went into their act. As they lifted the still panting instructor onto a stretcher, he went into a creditable outboard motor impersonation (“But, but, but...!” ;).
However, knowing the dangers of shock, the doctor injected him with a sedative, sending the already exhausted body quickly into a narcotic sleep.
Cadet Bloggs meanwhile was left standing among the chaos of fire hoses, foam, and disappointed Firemen. (Disappointed? I hear you say - the aircraft hadn’t caught fire.)
As the crowd gathered, the CFI joined the throng. Espying Cdt Bloggs, he realised that if the kid was given any time to think about what had happened, he’d almost certainly baulk at ever getting into an aeroplane again. After ensuring that he was unharmed, the CFI got him into another aircraft immediately, took him up for a circuit, was happy with what he saw, and sent him solo - again.
Most people on the base that day agreed that the events of the day were a little extraordinary. After standdown that day, all retired to the bar where Cdt Bloggs was plied with many congratulatory drinks by all. After all, it’s not often a young man goes solo, totally writes off an aeroplane, and goes solo a second time, and all in under two hours!
By around 9 pm, the instructor had at last recovered from the well-meaning attention of the Base Medical Section, and been able to convince them that they had the wrong body in their hospital. It was SOP to keep an accident victim in hospital overnight for observation. Consequently, at 9 pm, the doors of the Mess bar swung open as two stretcher-bearing medical orderlies trotted into the bar, grasped the by now very rubber-legged Cdt Bloggs, lay him upon it, and took him off to the Sick Bay for the night.

[Mister B]

Weather closing in at base...duty bod in tower starts recalling studes and trying to prioritise recovery sequence.

Asks obligatory foriegn stude (nationality unkown) "FS001, what's your endurance?"

FS: "xxx Tower this is FS001, say again".

Tower: "FS001, I say again, (slowly and clearly) what..is..your..endurance?".

FS: (After long pause)"Sun Life of Canada".

Another:

V-Bomber crossing spamland for deconfliction asked by ATC:

"Rafair 617, say altitude"

"zzz control, Rafair 617 - 'Altitude'"

Pause.

"Rafair 617 this is zzz control, say 'Violation'".

Gulp.

[This message has been edited by Mister B (edited 03 October 2000).]

[oldbeefer]

second story true, but wasn't anyone of a darker hue, just the good old AAC with their Bell 47s on Trudos in Cyprus. Makes you wunder, dunit?

[R O Tiree]

Back in the good old days, when BFT was done on Harvards, there was one instructor whose favourite trick was to unscrew his control column from its socket in the floor, poke the stood in the back of his comedy skid-lid and shout "You have control, Bloggs!" One enterprising young lad smuggled a spare stick into the front cockpit and, when the instructor whacked him on the bonce, he picked up the spare stick and passed it back to the instructor saying, "No, Sir, you have control!" Just to make things ineresting, he then gently put the ac into a spiral dive, snigering the meanwhile at the huge number of new and interesting expletives coming from the back cockpit.

(Yes, I know I have spelt snigering wrong, but you try it - all you get is s******ing. This software is cuddly, touchy-feely PC.)

[This message has been edited by R O Tiree (edited 08 October 2000).]

[Gash Handlin]

Anyone know the one about the stude who didn't fancy flying in the dark so he taxied to a secluded spot, turned all his lights out and made radio calls at the appropriate times?

Sounds a bit far-fetched to me but I'm sure someone knows different.

[Roland Pulfrew]

Gash

I remember the story, but can't recall whether it was Linton or Fenton. Story goes a F&C stude (Nigerian?) was afraid of flying in the dark. On his solo night navex he allegedly taxied out making all the correct calls but taxied behind a hangar and sat with all lights off but engine running. He then proceeded to make all the turning point calls at about the right times and then rejoined the circuit and 'landed'. He then taxied in and shut down. Apparently only found out when the groundcrew went to refuel his JP. Instead of the usual 1500lb refuel they only had to put in some 300lb!!!!

[BEagle]

I heard that it was back in the days of the Piston Provost. It seems that the truth only came to light when some local farmer asked the CFI at the Bobbers Cockers P why an aircraft taxiied over to a remote part of the aerodrome and sat there for over an hour in the dark, engine running and lights out!!

[SlimJim]

Heard this one a while ago, it's too improbable to be true (or is it?):
Helicopter of Russian make is equipped with auto-hover and crew decide to use that capability for what it was actually meant for. They decided to put the aircraft in the hover a few feet above the surface of a lake to let the crew in the back have the opportunity to swim in the refreshing waters. Crew in back take off clothing, fold it up and stow it in the back of the aircraft (subsequently jump into water). Cockpit crew really envy crew in water and have a lot of faith in the auto-hover system. They also take off clothing, fold it up and stow it and get good results from the Russian jury for their artistic water entries. After enjoying refreshing swim crew decides to get back in aircraft, however: aircraft has climbed another few feet due to unknown reasons (one would think that Russian engineers were smart enough to design a system that keeps the helo at the same height for prolonged periods of time). Unable to climb back up, crew swims ashore and sits there watching the helo burn all of it's fuel and subsequently sees it elegantly crashing into the water. Crew think up brave story about them executing a text-book EOL after Terrible Things have happened to their helicopter. Lack of clothing raises suspicion of their commander, therefore wreck is salvaged complete with four sets of clothing neatly tucked away under seats in back of aircraft...

[SATCOS WHIPPING BOY]

The above tale reminded me off the one about the Russian transport aircraft moving live cattle from A to B when one of the bulls decided break out of it's pen. Soviet loadies manage to open tailgate and oik the beast out the back and thus save the plane.
Two miles below a lone trawler is fishing in the Caspian Sea, it's captain on the bridge-wing trying to work out what was going MoooooooooooooooooOOOOOOOOOOO. He glanced up in time to see a couple of tons of living beef crash through his boat and set it sinking. Luckily he and his crew survive but, as he is the only one that saw the bull, no one will believe what happened. Without a boat, insurance money or any credibility, he later dies.
His claim, with his dying breath, that a falling bull had ruined him was dismissed as the ravings of a drunken madman.

It is only many years later that documents relating to the flight outline the dumping of a rampant bull, somewhere east of Tblisi, inorder to save the aircraft!

Do not believe all you read......
[This message has NOT been edited by SATCOS WHIPPING BOY (NOT edited 12 October 2000).]


[This message has been edited by SATCOS WHIPPING BOY (edited 12 October 2000).]

[This message has been edited by SATCOS WHIPPING BOY (edited 12 October 2000).]

[UKAR]

A very experienced ex-mil pilot (Spits, Vampires, Meteors, Vulcans etc. etc.) friend of mine once told me a tale of when he was flying in a Lanc.

They were on a cross country nav exercise. The navigator instructed the pilot to turn 90 degrees right, then soon after 90 degrees left, then 90 degrees left again and finally 90 degrees right.

The pilot said to the navigator, "What was all that about?"

The navigator replied, "I've just navigated you around a bean, I dropped my lunch on the chart!"

[FJJP]

Re the stude afraid of the dark (SAOD). It was a JP stude from CW who landed at Waddo without lights and without using the radio. An RAF Police landrover nearly clobbered him on the taxiway and complained to ATC. ATC naturally queried the sanity of the plod, because they knew for a fact that nothing had landed. However, duty plt went onto the tower balcony and heard the distinct noise of a JP variable noise constant thrust machine whining away in the background. Although the area wasn't lit, the local controller could just make out the silouette through his binos.

DP calls his counterpart at CW to discuss. All parties agree to do nothing. Meantime, SAOD was making all the right turning point calls on CW approach. CW controllers plotted the single bearing trace and confirmed that all of them came from Waddo. At the appropriate time SAOD taxys and gets airborne, again without lights or r/t.

Loved to have been a fly on the wall when he debriefed his instructor when he got back!

:) :)

[HugMonster]

A big lump of (optical) machinery needed transporting across the water. Enter 1 Herc plus crew. Machinery looked a little lost hiding in a corner of said Herc, so an unnamed Neddy decided to send a bunch of things that go bang as well.

Arrive on the shores of Lough Neagh, land, taxy in.

The mystery men are waiting for their lump, and lorry drivers for their ordnance. Ramp at the back goes down, out trots the (female) loadie. She explains to the head mystery man that he'll have to wait until the fireworks are unloaded, turns to the other waiting customer, and says:-

"Oh - here are the pins" and hands him 20 pins all with pretty streamers attached.

"WTF did you pull them out for?"
"Well, the streamers say 'Remove Before Flight' so I did!"

Customer turns very pale. Sends for armourer who turns up, has situation explained to him, gives loadie a withering look and, trying to prevent knees knocking too much, enters Herc and (very carefully) reinserts pins.

No doubt the flight crew are by this time very very pleased it was a good landing!

As I heard the story, the loadie was merely "retrained", having not been trained to deal with this sort of cargo, and is still flying.

[Schadenfreude]

I’ve got one I heard in the bar a few years back. Back in the early 80’s a young lad had been chopped at the end of his JP course at Linton. Much against his better judgement he opted for ATC and ended up at Shawbury doing the ‘flying prevention branch’ course. At the time Marshall’s still operated a number of JP’s around the skies of Shropshire for ‘live’ controller training flown by ex-servicemen of considerable vintage. One afternoon, during a lull in the early part of his course, the young ‘chopped’ mate is sent across to fly in the right hand seat of a Marshall’s JP. He pitches up, in his ‘old’ flying suit and after a fairly cursory brief they walk out to the jet, strap in and get airborne. Old Marshall’s pilot isn’t known for his wit and repartee, so not much conversation takes place as the JP cruises gently around Shropshire with the old fella’ virtually doing it in his sleep – as usual. Eventually, he asks the young lad if he fancies a go, completely unaware of his flying background - sure says the young lad and grabs the pole. Anyway, the old fella then sits back and lets the youngster fly gently around the sky, remarking briefly that he’s got quite a bit of natural ability – young lad still says nothing about his background. Eventually, the sortie is coming to a close and the old pilot asks the young lad to point the jet back at Shawbury, which he again does successfully. As they cross the threshold the old pilot, now clearly very impressed with this ‘ab-inito’s’ flying ability, tells the young lad he can turn downwind as well. Young lad reverts to training - whaps the JP into a 3G turn downwind – blacks out the old pilot – does the checks, calls finals and greases the JP onto the runway. Old pilot comes to as they taxi down the runway!!

[EGAC]

HugMonster that's a great story and I'd really love to believe it but there are no air weapons ranges on my side of the water and HMG hasn't yet authorized us to start bombing the bad guys - more's the pity!

I hope the story's right and it's just the location that's wrong.

------------------
Safety is no accident

[HugMonster]

EGAC, I heard it from said mystery man from the hangar just down from the mexicans' wiggly tin...

It wouldn't surprise me at all if I have the location wrong, but I've met the loadie concerned (before I'd heard of this incident!)

PS - Also heard it confirmed from a former role equipment mate. Any crabs care to confirm or deny?


[This message has been edited by HugMonster (edited 15 October 2000).]

[TwoDeadDogs]

Here's two from Texas.
Told to me by an ex-sergeant engineer(Marine); His Skyhawk squadron were in joint training with a Far Eastern country's A-4s,at a base near Dallas,the detail being bombing.Whilst he was having a cuppa in the canteen,a call came from an irate farmer,who wanted to know what the hell two big silver tanks were doing on his land.all crumpled and smelling of kerosene.Our hero sends a runner down the flight-line to check "his" A-4s,fresh from the range.They all sported the requisite tanks.He despatched his underling to check the other guys'line of A-4s,just back from the range.Lo and behold,a gang of armourers were strapping on a set of tanks,whilst a very sheepish young looie was getting a great deal of verbals from his CO.....A Marine F-4 called in ,that it had had an engine fire(fahhrr in Texanese)and had shut down the offending noisemaker and was returning,hotfoot,to base.Not long after,the dreaded phone-call..a householder,wondering if the Muh-reenes knew anything about a mangled,smoking jet engine now resting in a garden,was one of theirs...the pilot,who had landed and taxied in as if everything was normal,was led around to the back of his craft and shown the large gap where the back end of his J-79 used to be.Apparently,a vital nut had not been properly torqued and the turbine had simply unscrewed itself and taken the afterburner with it.
regards
TDD

[Hydraulic Palm Tree]

Hugmonster and EGAC

Story completely true. Don't forget that Shorts don't just make crap trg aircraft. Before someone asks why the ac didn't go into City, I guess its because the movers are at 813 and possibly because there is another factory outside the city centre.

HPT

[FJJP]

Hug -

Way I heard it was a VC10 down to the FI - loadie 'removed pins before flight' as printed on the side of the missiles.......

:)

[SATCOS WHIPPING BOY]

Orderly Officer takes a low-flying complaint from a rather irate elderly lady.
iel - Sonny, there is a helicopter in my back garden!
OO - Now then Madam, please may I take some details?
iel - I said there is a helicopter in my back garden and I would like you to move it!
OO - Yes madam, OK, does it have any markings on it.
iel - Wait a minute and I will have a look....

Off she hobbles and OO waits patiently.

OO - Dum Dee Dumm Dumm Dumm (Why me etc raving loonies etc red star on side I suppose etc etc)
iel - It says 'NO STEP' is that any good?
OO - Oh £U{K.............

[Marine]

Two Soldiers

To their surprise, UN soldiers found the badly mangled dead body of an Iraqi soldier in a ditch along the road. A short distance up the road, they found a badly mangled American soldier in a ditch on the other side of the road, who was still barely alive.

They ran to him, cradled his blood-covered head and asked him what had happened.

"Well," he whispered, "I was walking down this road, armed to the teeth. I came across this heavily armed Iraqi border guard. I looked him right in the eye and shouted, "Saddam Hussein is an unprincipled, lying bastard!" He looked me right in the eye and shouted back, "Bill Clinton is an unprincipled, lying bastard!"

"We were standing there shaking hands when the truck hit us."

[oldbeefer]

Kiwi leading vic of Lightnings (I think. He ended up as Cmdt CFS). Running in for display called "reheat, reheat, GO! - 3, 2, 1 NOW! The rest needs little imagination....

[jkb]

The crusty old commander was leading a flight of four on a deployment. He briefed his gang to 'tuck it in tight' on arrival and impress their hosts with their superior formations skills.

Coming up initial at @ 400 KIAS:

"Lead, this is three."

"Go ahead, three." (Laconically)

"Four just hit me!"

Slight pause, then even more laconically...

"Four, quit hitting three."

Savoir faire, or what!

[Nil nos tremefacit]

Hugmonster

I heard the story about the pins on ASI back in the mid 80s. Believe it was something to do with the conflict down south.

The NO STEP story originates from ODI in the late 80s - believe it was a Chinook.

Hearing the story of the 'bull' reminds me of one in Belize. Those who have done the jungle survival course in Belize will remember the hangi (Maori bbq)demo that requires SAS man to kill goat. It was decided to deliver the goat for one course on a Puma. The goat got more than a little stroppy and broke free in the cabin. Loadie sensibly decided to let it out of the door from 2000'. I still have this mental picture of goat running at loadie who, in the style of a bull fighter, side steps and pulls the door back like a cloak! The Lord alone knows what the goat thought at 2000' in free air!

Belize is greatly missed. The Army PMC banned the RAF from celebrating HH on a Friday and had the bar closed until 19.00. At 19.00 the Army officers turned up in planters rig to find a group of drunken RAF officers still in uniform surrounded by a lot of empty tins and bottles. HH was reinstated the following week.

In Belize there was a 'swing fog' man at Airport Camp. Each dawn and dusk he would swing a machine around and a DDT smog would emanate from it to kill the mosquito eggs. Young pilot had the occasional cockroach in his room. He asked if he could borrow the 'swing fog'. He then followed a couple of cockroaches back to the holes in the wall from which they emanated. He sprayed as much 'fog' into the holes as he could muster and then went to dinner. On return his room was full of pi**ed off cockroaches who had left their homes to get out of the fog! (Apparently the bu@@ers can survive a nuclear attack!).

They all look alike to me! Without being racist this is a comment white people often make of coloured people. Guess what - Gurkhas all look alike to black Belizeans! In Raoul's Rose Garden (a place off limit to officers for some reason) the girls used to charge for their services. I am told you can buy them by the half-hour. In the smoke and darkness a young Gurkha would procure a girl and go back to her cubicle. After a 'quicky' the Gurkha would retire for a pee to be replaced by his mate. Girls would frequently find themselves servicing 3 Gurkhas to the usual one squaddie. Raoul had to get more girls in because some of the regulars couldn't cope.

[reynoldsno1]

This apparently happened at a certain "unlucky" Canberra squadron on a small island S of Europe many years ago...

CFS trappers had arrived for their annual visit, and the Sqn CO and Chief Trapper renewed and old friendship. Chief Trapper briefs CO in the bar that he wants a free hand in checking out crews...none of this nominating your best pilots, etc, etc. No problem says CO.

Next morning, Chief Trapper turns up at Sqn and goes to crewroom. Only one occupant in a flying suit sitting reading magazine. Trapper introduces himself and says we should take T4 and go and do some general handling, couple of approaches. Okey Dokey... Aircraft departs and some general handling is done and a single approach and landing.

Chief Trapper starts debrief and describes the check ride as the singular, most awful flight he has ever done with any pilot. "What did you think you were doing?" ...."Well sir, I do normally sit in the navigator's seat..."

[1.3VStall]

In the 1970s a well-known RAF station in Germany (now closed) hosted a NATO Sqn Exchange. The visitors were from an Italian F104 Sqn. To avoid any language problems with, and to try and keep control of, the visiting pilots the hosting Sqn Boss had appointed an "Officer I/C Italians", who professed to having a smattering of the language. He was not finding his task particularly easy.

Picture the scene in the bar one evening when the regulars were supping their "Charlies". In rushed the said Officer I/C looking a tadge ruffled and asked nervously "Has anybody seen the Italian officers?".

The German barman (who was well known for having served in the Wermacht during WWII) didn't look up from his newspaper, but merely shook his head slowly whilst replying "Yes, sir, vee had ze same trouble in ze vohr!".

[droptank]

It's always sad to 'ruin' an apocryphal tale by making it definitively true or untrue, but.....!

The 'Remove pins before flight' story is true, took place on ASI ('Widdywacky Field') in 1982 during the FI 'conflict' and involved a VC10 and pins from 4 Sea Skua missiles. The pins were reinserted by the AT Det Cdr, under the supervision of a Harrier armourer who had never seen a Sea Skua before but put his fingers in his ears just in case!