Parade Speak
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From a DI at Swinderby in late 1978, after Williamson dropped his rifle during an order arms.
DI. How would you like me to stuff that rifle up your arse Williamson.
AC Williamson. Ooohh, gently cpl.
DI. How would you like me to stuff that rifle up your arse Williamson.
AC Williamson. Ooohh, gently cpl.
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Parade square, FS doing the rounds, a very scruffy Off Cdt Jones stood there looking like a shower of sh!t. FS looks at him in disgust, pokes him in the chest with his Pacing stick and is heard to say
"Jones, at the end of this stick is the biggest c*nt in the Air Force"
To which Jones quickly and stupidly replies
"Which end Flight Sergeant"
"Jones, at the end of this stick is the biggest c*nt in the Air Force"
To which Jones quickly and stupidly replies
"Which end Flight Sergeant"
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Swinderby 1989 (I think it was on 1 Sqn): 6 foot DI, with legendary waxed handlebar mustache and huge barrel chest, has been giving a drill lesson for over 2 hours in the evening. One AC (name I cannot remember, but he had jam jar glasses) was performing poorly. Extremely annoyed DI delivers following 1 liner:
AC Crimp...have you been sent by the Russians to p*** me off?
Short pause... then f*** off my parade square!
AC Crimp...have you been sent by the Russians to p*** me off?
Short pause... then f*** off my parade square!
r1 on Sleaford Tech parade in the early 70's waiting for CAS on the parade ground. Very senior officer arrives and strolls up and down the ranks, then stops and speaks to r1. Nobody had done this before:
CAS "How long have you been here?"
r1 "About twenty minutes, sir"
End of conversation
CWO - in a 1m trail behind CAS - "You're f*ckin' charged..."
Friend at another training establishment by the name of Nelson (friend that is, not the establishment):
DI inspecting: "You, do yer top button, up. Who the f*ck do you think you are - Napoleon?"
Nelson (innocently): " No sir, Nelson, sir"
DI, at volume: "Very funny, you're f*ckin' charged"
Nelson: " But , but, but......."
CAS "How long have you been here?"
r1 "About twenty minutes, sir"
End of conversation
CWO - in a 1m trail behind CAS - "You're f*ckin' charged..."
Friend at another training establishment by the name of Nelson (friend that is, not the establishment):
DI inspecting: "You, do yer top button, up. Who the f*ck do you think you are - Napoleon?"
Nelson (innocently): " No sir, Nelson, sir"
DI, at volume: "Very funny, you're f*ckin' charged"
Nelson: " But , but, but......."
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Basic training early 90's in NZ. Marching up and down the Square with Cpl 'Not the sharpest tool in the shed' W.
'If your going to muck me around in my time, then I'm going to muck me around in my time too!'
Beautiful.
'If your going to muck me around in my time, then I'm going to muck me around in my time too!'
Beautiful.
Flossie again....
SWO berating airman for everything bar breathing.....
"Well what have you got to say for yourself"
Airman quick as a flash flips open packet of cigs and makes like the packets a radio...
"FFS Scotty I said beam me up!"
SWO berating airman for everything bar breathing.....
"Well what have you got to say for yourself"
Airman quick as a flash flips open packet of cigs and makes like the packets a radio...
"FFS Scotty I said beam me up!"
Cunning Artificer
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Not strictly parade stuff but along similar lines.
A 44 Sqn Vulcan visits Gibralter and the crew chief is for some reason, accomodated in the army's Garrison Sergeants Mess. He leaves the dining room after breakfast and wanders back to his room on the opposite side of the square, beret in epaulette and reading a newspaper as per SOP in Bomber Command. The army's Garrison Sergeant Major turns puce and screams at him "Colour Sergeant!!!" Chiefy carries on wandering. "COLOUR SERGEANT!!!!". No reaction. GSM doubles round the square to intercept him at the other side. A comical sight indeed, as you may imagine.
"COLOUR SERGEANT, WHEN I SHOUTS, YOU ANSWER!!!"
Chiefy explains "I'm not a Colour Sergeant, Sir. I'm a Chief Technician" "If you was in the army you'd be a Colour Sergeant!!!" "I don't think so. If I was in the army I'd be a bloody Colonel!"
[I believe Lofty eventually made Squadron Leader on a Branch Commision, so he wasn't far wrong.]
A 44 Sqn Vulcan visits Gibralter and the crew chief is for some reason, accomodated in the army's Garrison Sergeants Mess. He leaves the dining room after breakfast and wanders back to his room on the opposite side of the square, beret in epaulette and reading a newspaper as per SOP in Bomber Command. The army's Garrison Sergeant Major turns puce and screams at him "Colour Sergeant!!!" Chiefy carries on wandering. "COLOUR SERGEANT!!!!". No reaction. GSM doubles round the square to intercept him at the other side. A comical sight indeed, as you may imagine.
"COLOUR SERGEANT, WHEN I SHOUTS, YOU ANSWER!!!"
Chiefy explains "I'm not a Colour Sergeant, Sir. I'm a Chief Technician" "If you was in the army you'd be a Colour Sergeant!!!" "I don't think so. If I was in the army I'd be a bloody Colonel!"
[I believe Lofty eventually made Squadron Leader on a Branch Commision, so he wasn't far wrong.]
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Aspersions have been made in another thread about Art Fields vintage, I am beginning to think they are correct. On page 4 he states
"After three months of a freezing Lincolnshire winter at the ITS at Kirton Lindsey in 1957"
My recollection was that '57 was a mild winter except when it was an early morning trip to Scunthorpe pool, and '47 the cold one
At aforementioned establishment that spring, it must spring its still light and flag has been lowered. However "Blue 6" is still continuing its drill in a corner of the Square despite the rest of the camp starting to stroll back to quarters. W.O. Murphy standing some 10 yards in from the corner of the Square is seemingly observing us whilst in conversation with perhaps Sgt Latham. Suddenly an almighty bellow of "AIRMAN", whole camp comes to a stop. We all breath a sigh of relief at least the call was not CADET! Pace Stick points at a group of three on the road diagonally across from the Square. All three start towards him and upon arrival are greeted with "You do not walk across MY Square you walk smartly round it". Sent back to far corner to repeat exercise. When they return he lifts the hem of one airman's trousers off his boot with the pace stick to reveal very light blue socks. Standard conversation follows.
What amazed us was the power of his eyesight in failing light!
"After three months of a freezing Lincolnshire winter at the ITS at Kirton Lindsey in 1957"
My recollection was that '57 was a mild winter except when it was an early morning trip to Scunthorpe pool, and '47 the cold one
At aforementioned establishment that spring, it must spring its still light and flag has been lowered. However "Blue 6" is still continuing its drill in a corner of the Square despite the rest of the camp starting to stroll back to quarters. W.O. Murphy standing some 10 yards in from the corner of the Square is seemingly observing us whilst in conversation with perhaps Sgt Latham. Suddenly an almighty bellow of "AIRMAN", whole camp comes to a stop. We all breath a sigh of relief at least the call was not CADET! Pace Stick points at a group of three on the road diagonally across from the Square. All three start towards him and upon arrival are greeted with "You do not walk across MY Square you walk smartly round it". Sent back to far corner to repeat exercise. When they return he lifts the hem of one airman's trousers off his boot with the pace stick to reveal very light blue socks. Standard conversation follows.
What amazed us was the power of his eyesight in failing light!
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I heard a story from an old ex-ranker when I was on IOT but this might just be an urban legend.
Apparently an airman was sauntering across the parade square after breakfast, hat off and so on. A Warrant Officer spies him from way over the other side of the square and shouts “AIRMAN!!!”
The airman looks round and, seeing how far away the warrant is, shouts back “WARRANT OFFICER!!” and runs off!
Legend.
Apparently an airman was sauntering across the parade square after breakfast, hat off and so on. A Warrant Officer spies him from way over the other side of the square and shouts “AIRMAN!!!”
The airman looks round and, seeing how far away the warrant is, shouts back “WARRANT OFFICER!!” and runs off!
Legend.
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I might have told the story and I'm not that old. However, I do know the airman concerned and they were on opposite sides of a barbed wire fence. Said airman ran into the block and hid in a locker. Last time I met him he was a SNCO rigger at Lossie. The SWO was Joe Overall, a legend in his own lifetime. Many more stories about him but not enough time at present.
Retard
Retard
In 1968, at a sunny day camp known as Fort Wolters, the US Army's location for the Pre-flight and Primary Flight instruction for fledgling helicopter pilots, Warrant Officer Candidates (WOC's) were issued a "Red Book" that contained anything one needed to know to survive the military conduct portion of the course. It had very detailed drawings on wall locker contents, foot locker contents, rules and regs that set forth the way of life for the inhabitants of that sunny glade day camp.
Amongst the many rules....was one that said something along the lines of...."Upon entering the Regimental Area, each officer shall be rendered the Hand Salute and Greeting of the Day. The part left out was the words that said "as set forth by Army Regulations". Needless to say...the Regimental area was quite large....being Texas and all that. As blind obedience to rules and regulations was the desired conduct....and most of us being smarter than the minders (Warrant Officer Pilot candidates had to have higher qualification scores than did commissioned officer candidates.....but that is another story)....we could find ways to upset their cart for them and do so exactly within their rules.
Said officer crosses the boundary of the Regimental area....about three hundred yards away....a single candidate observes said officer....and at the very top of his most military voice...shouts out..."Sir! Candidate Fartsnyder....Good Morning Sir!" and renders the hand salute......after the third shouted greeting...said officer understands it is he who is being saluted. Army tradition being what it is.....he is obliged to return the salute and greeting.....at the top of his less than military voice.
When told by the cadre what an idiot the candidate was being....rendering a hand salute at 300 yards rather than at no more than 12 paces....a rebuttal by referring to Section II, page 6, paragraph 3(a) of the Candidates Guide cleared up the mis-conception.
Hats On! About Turn....Quck March....leaving a very red-faced Tactical Officer to consider his retribution....which was rapid, to the point....and worth every pint of sweat.
Amongst the many rules....was one that said something along the lines of...."Upon entering the Regimental Area, each officer shall be rendered the Hand Salute and Greeting of the Day. The part left out was the words that said "as set forth by Army Regulations". Needless to say...the Regimental area was quite large....being Texas and all that. As blind obedience to rules and regulations was the desired conduct....and most of us being smarter than the minders (Warrant Officer Pilot candidates had to have higher qualification scores than did commissioned officer candidates.....but that is another story)....we could find ways to upset their cart for them and do so exactly within their rules.
Said officer crosses the boundary of the Regimental area....about three hundred yards away....a single candidate observes said officer....and at the very top of his most military voice...shouts out..."Sir! Candidate Fartsnyder....Good Morning Sir!" and renders the hand salute......after the third shouted greeting...said officer understands it is he who is being saluted. Army tradition being what it is.....he is obliged to return the salute and greeting.....at the top of his less than military voice.
When told by the cadre what an idiot the candidate was being....rendering a hand salute at 300 yards rather than at no more than 12 paces....a rebuttal by referring to Section II, page 6, paragraph 3(a) of the Candidates Guide cleared up the mis-conception.
Hats On! About Turn....Quck March....leaving a very red-faced Tactical Officer to consider his retribution....which was rapid, to the point....and worth every pint of sweat.
Alba Gu Brath
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Well known ATC WO at Gutersloh, late 80's, early 90's, had a habit of bellowing at airpersons and officers wandering twixt car and bank sans hat. The added bonus for him was he could stick his head out of the door at the top of the tower and the recipient couldn't see who was shouting at them.
Anyway, one bright, sunny, rather quiet afternoon, WO G glimpses a likely victim exiting his car minus his headgear. Door opens and without checking to see who it was bellows "With the respect of the Stn Cdr, get yer bloody 'at on sir!"
It was a rather startled Station Commander who looked skywards searching for the source of the disembodied voice from above!
In fairness to the man he did come up the tower and apologise to Mr G afterwards.
Anyway, one bright, sunny, rather quiet afternoon, WO G glimpses a likely victim exiting his car minus his headgear. Door opens and without checking to see who it was bellows "With the respect of the Stn Cdr, get yer bloody 'at on sir!"
It was a rather startled Station Commander who looked skywards searching for the source of the disembodied voice from above!
In fairness to the man he did come up the tower and apologise to Mr G afterwards.
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Not first hand, but bloody good and an urban myth....
Sandhurst with the inevitable cadet struggling with drill, Colour Sergeant loses his cool and orders said cadet to march over to the statue of Queen Victoria to tell her the errors of his ways and to beg as to the appropriate punishment.
When the cadet returns he marches up to the Old College steps, sits down and lights a cigarette. The Colour Sergeant completely loses the plot and screams at him as to what he thinks he is doing.
He quickly responds that the Queen said that helooked rather tired and stressed and he should take a 5min smoke break!
Sandhurst with the inevitable cadet struggling with drill, Colour Sergeant loses his cool and orders said cadet to march over to the statue of Queen Victoria to tell her the errors of his ways and to beg as to the appropriate punishment.
When the cadet returns he marches up to the Old College steps, sits down and lights a cigarette. The Colour Sergeant completely loses the plot and screams at him as to what he thinks he is doing.
He quickly responds that the Queen said that helooked rather tired and stressed and he should take a 5min smoke break!
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During annual General Duties Training at RAF Laarbruch, we were told by a Regt Cpl, with a dead pan face, that the flash of a nuclear explosion is so bright the Japanese still walk around to this day with their eyes half shut in a squint!
ERB
ERB
Scene....Paris Island Marine Recruit Depot, South Carolina
Location: Rappelling Tower
Instructors: GySgt Charles Smith, GySgt Bulldog Grunt
Subject: Rappelling Techniques
A platoon of young Marine Recruits being trained by the two instructors.....after a days work on the tower....with all the safety drills being followed to the letter. Rappeler calls out his name....Belayer calls out his name...then rappell is done.
GySgt Smith decides to demonstrate the Australian Rappel
GySgt Grunt is to be belay....but fails to get the word.
Smith leaps off the tower on rappel....whizzes to earth....lands face down in the sawdust raising a large cloud of dust and making a very loud "OOOOMPH!" sound.
Heard from the rear of the platoon...."GySgt Smith on Rappell....Paris Island on Belay!"
Wherever old Charlie is today....God Bless him! He was a Marine's Marine! Not much of a rappeller but one heck of a Marine!
Location: Rappelling Tower
Instructors: GySgt Charles Smith, GySgt Bulldog Grunt
Subject: Rappelling Techniques
A platoon of young Marine Recruits being trained by the two instructors.....after a days work on the tower....with all the safety drills being followed to the letter. Rappeler calls out his name....Belayer calls out his name...then rappell is done.
GySgt Smith decides to demonstrate the Australian Rappel
GySgt Grunt is to be belay....but fails to get the word.
Smith leaps off the tower on rappel....whizzes to earth....lands face down in the sawdust raising a large cloud of dust and making a very loud "OOOOMPH!" sound.
Heard from the rear of the platoon...."GySgt Smith on Rappell....Paris Island on Belay!"
Wherever old Charlie is today....God Bless him! He was a Marine's Marine! Not much of a rappeller but one heck of a Marine!
Greetings From Hell's Dark Heart
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Not in the same league, but still...
Young Darth at Sandhurst, learning how to march in line and swing his arms without counting, stuff like that.
We had a Welsh DI, a nasty little bustard from the Queens Own Foot and Mouth, who was clearly upset with his lot in the world, being:
- short
- ugly
- in the army
- Welsh
Worse, he had the sort of sing-song Welsh accent that any comedian would envy. So he's busy explaining the defects of one of my fellow cadets, when something he said struck me as humorous. I swear the little sod heard my lips twitch from 8 feet away.
"So, Mr. Darth, you think I'm bl@@dy funny, do you?" (said like a character in a bad film about the Army)
Now how do you answer a question like that?
The only sensible way -- silence, stare off in the distance, try not to think of Benny Hill, oh b@gger...
"You are a heap of sh!t, Mr. Darth. What are you?"
Silence.
"Answer the question"
"A heap of sh!t, Sergeant" (slightly quivery tone)
"I can't hear you -- speak bl@@dy louder"
So young Darth spent some time standing at RMAS yelling "I am a heap of sh!t" until the deaf bustard had had enough.
Ah, happy days.
Young Darth at Sandhurst, learning how to march in line and swing his arms without counting, stuff like that.
We had a Welsh DI, a nasty little bustard from the Queens Own Foot and Mouth, who was clearly upset with his lot in the world, being:
- short
- ugly
- in the army
- Welsh
Worse, he had the sort of sing-song Welsh accent that any comedian would envy. So he's busy explaining the defects of one of my fellow cadets, when something he said struck me as humorous. I swear the little sod heard my lips twitch from 8 feet away.
"So, Mr. Darth, you think I'm bl@@dy funny, do you?" (said like a character in a bad film about the Army)
Now how do you answer a question like that?
The only sensible way -- silence, stare off in the distance, try not to think of Benny Hill, oh b@gger...
"You are a heap of sh!t, Mr. Darth. What are you?"
Silence.
"Answer the question"
"A heap of sh!t, Sergeant" (slightly quivery tone)
"I can't hear you -- speak bl@@dy louder"
So young Darth spent some time standing at RMAS yelling "I am a heap of sh!t" until the deaf bustard had had enough.
Ah, happy days.
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Pom Pax, I have to admit that, after doing some research, March 57 was an exceptionally warm month so AL 1 reads "two freezing months". Anyway Lincolnshire seemed damn cold to a softy southerner like me. The mention of Scunthorpe brings back memories of the Oswold on a Saturday, novel entertainment for young innocents.
Since the wind in that art of the world goes Siberia - North Sea - Lincolnshire with barely a pause, the 'exceptionally warm' March of 1957 probably meant that it might have reached 40 deg F at some stage.
I reckon your first post was probably quite accurate, Arters!
But the biggest chill to hit 1957 was that infamous Defence White Paper from which the RAF and the UK aviation industry has never recovered.
I reckon your first post was probably quite accurate, Arters!
But the biggest chill to hit 1957 was that infamous Defence White Paper from which the RAF and the UK aviation industry has never recovered.
Two classic statements from DI Sgt Rose, Halton, early '80's.
The parade formed up in blocks to march down to the sheds. Some hairy ar^*ed SAC decided to pass a knot of wind whilst on parade.
Rosie: "Who's that!",
a voice squeaked; "Please Sgt it was Block 110";
Rosie;"Block 110 is an inaminate object, it cannot fart, I WANT A NAME!"
Standing in front of a baby rigger who hadn't yet mastered the black art of beret shaping Rosie bellowed; "Station Standing Orders clearly stipulate that kitbags are not to be worn on the head!"
The parade formed up in blocks to march down to the sheds. Some hairy ar^*ed SAC decided to pass a knot of wind whilst on parade.
Rosie: "Who's that!",
a voice squeaked; "Please Sgt it was Block 110";
Rosie;"Block 110 is an inaminate object, it cannot fart, I WANT A NAME!"
Standing in front of a baby rigger who hadn't yet mastered the black art of beret shaping Rosie bellowed; "Station Standing Orders clearly stipulate that kitbags are not to be worn on the head!"