Taceval Tales
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
Phone call - you are for Gibraltar Ops. Stay at home - simulated flight to Gib.
Two days later, phone call. Where the hell are you, the exercise finished yesterday?
How was I to know at St Evil
if no one tells you. Brill.
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Back in the 80s I was a member of the TA version of the balaclava-wearing moustached organisation, and we had been given BH as a location to test during a UK-wide ex. Rules did not allow any offensive action.
One of our number was 35, but looked much older. A general's uniform (from WW2, complete with some WW1 medal ribbons) was procured, and a car-dealer member produced a shiny black Granada from his lot, and it was adorned with a 2* plate borrowed from a contact.
General is driven up to gate at BH, and out hops his "ADC" (ex RGJ Captain, now a Cpl, but the uniform still fitted) who explains that the General was just passing and wanted to look in on how things are going. Much bowing and scraping, General and ADC ask to go for a leak - ADC opens briefcase and leaves pseudo PE4 in waste bin.
More bowing and scraping and off they go.
OC guardforce most upset to be told by umpire his unit was now toast.
Later I'll tell you about the time when we appeared from the back of a Chin**k, one of our number wielding a running petrol-powered angle-grinder..
One of our number was 35, but looked much older. A general's uniform (from WW2, complete with some WW1 medal ribbons) was procured, and a car-dealer member produced a shiny black Granada from his lot, and it was adorned with a 2* plate borrowed from a contact.
General is driven up to gate at BH, and out hops his "ADC" (ex RGJ Captain, now a Cpl, but the uniform still fitted) who explains that the General was just passing and wanted to look in on how things are going. Much bowing and scraping, General and ADC ask to go for a leak - ADC opens briefcase and leaves pseudo PE4 in waste bin.
More bowing and scraping and off they go.
OC guardforce most upset to be told by umpire his unit was now toast.
Later I'll tell you about the time when we appeared from the back of a Chin**k, one of our number wielding a running petrol-powered angle-grinder..
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Hahn end of 88 at the re-taceval
At the re taceval after Threeputt's rogue F16 I was part of the Taceval Team checking the ops and was playing the shot down pilot. Dropped off at the Golf course next to the Glow in the dark bunkers. Proceeded to dump parachute and run away.
Was specifically briefed if challenged only to react to official wording of "stop stand still or I fire" Also was informed that people in yellow Day-Glo were live armed.
Large gentleman in camouflage shouts "freeze mother F%£$%r". This being nowhere close to briefed standard, continued moving away. 3 rounds of LIVE 55.6 over my head brings instant brake application!!!
Was specifically briefed if challenged only to react to official wording of "stop stand still or I fire" Also was informed that people in yellow Day-Glo were live armed.
Large gentleman in camouflage shouts "freeze mother F%£$%r". This being nowhere close to briefed standard, continued moving away. 3 rounds of LIVE 55.6 over my head brings instant brake application!!!
At ISK in late 80's after 10 years of participating, I was in the hallowed postion of observer during a minival; we had a Norwegian P3 as the defecting aircraft; it had parked up on the northen pan of the airfield and the crew was disembarking. F/L F**d H*n**y was the AEO Stn Int and was starting to deal with the crew. One of the uber-fit norgies decided he did not want to be interviewed by F**d and sprinted towards Findhorn foundation. F**d being keen took chase; well, a six foot 25 year old racing snake of a Norgie, shouting 'catch me' being chased by a 50+yr old F**d whose handlebar moustache was wider than he was tall shouting "come back, I want to talk to you!" is a sight,that could not be made up and still makes me laugh today.
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
In those days Taceval dress was blues or come as you are.
Self, in blues, to FS also in blues "Who are you?" or words to that effect.
FS "Who are you?"
"Come down"
"No you come up here"
Armed as we were in those days with words and bugger all else it was a bit of a standoff until someone told him to stop b*ggering about and come down to get arrested.
Or all those pieces of paper stuck to windows "Sand bagged"
Re; the second post (SH Taceval)
I was the crewman!
Me and "spiny" Norm were sat on the step when someone ran across the field, we "shot" them but, said the DI-staff, they managed to place a timebomb under the wheel!!
OK says "DB" lets fly-away, this was when that door incident took place.
The DI-staff man insisted that "the paperwork" was completed!!!!, it was.
Once airborne we were called back to take the casualty to Rinteln hospital, doorless of course!
Obviously I shall have the good taste not to mention the incident with the farmers daughter and the NVG's!!! "Guten abend"!
lsh.
I was the crewman!
Me and "spiny" Norm were sat on the step when someone ran across the field, we "shot" them but, said the DI-staff, they managed to place a timebomb under the wheel!!
OK says "DB" lets fly-away, this was when that door incident took place.
The DI-staff man insisted that "the paperwork" was completed!!!!, it was.
Once airborne we were called back to take the casualty to Rinteln hospital, doorless of course!
Obviously I shall have the good taste not to mention the incident with the farmers daughter and the NVG's!!! "Guten abend"!
lsh.
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When I was a young LAC at RAF Locking I was 'lucky' enough to be stitched with being on the station Incident Response Team.
With Locking being a training unit and the main threat seemingly being those nasty reds attacking us with chemicals to kill off the replacements in training our version of a taceval was slightly toned down.
It turned out to be us poor sods on the IRT living in the basement of the building the commcen was in for a week, occasionally poking our heads outside the 'CLOPRO' (lines marked on the floor to represent the different areas) to carry out nerve agent checks, fill in pretend bomb damage and having to walk to the mess in 3R for meals, after decontaminating in another 'CLOPRO' up there of course.
NATO's front line we were.
With Locking being a training unit and the main threat seemingly being those nasty reds attacking us with chemicals to kill off the replacements in training our version of a taceval was slightly toned down.
It turned out to be us poor sods on the IRT living in the basement of the building the commcen was in for a week, occasionally poking our heads outside the 'CLOPRO' (lines marked on the floor to represent the different areas) to carry out nerve agent checks, fill in pretend bomb damage and having to walk to the mess in 3R for meals, after decontaminating in another 'CLOPRO' up there of course.
NATO's front line we were.
In those days Taceval dress was blues or come as you are.
Last edited by cynicalint; 25th Jan 2007 at 21:04. Reason: confused DPM and DMS !
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
Nothing quite so less warlike than a grumpy chf tech with blue woolly pully with saggy neckline over an enormous beer belly, DPM trousers two sizes too big and DMS shoes which had not seen a brush since basil died!!!! picture completed with a beret that was worn like a heli landing pad, which led to the phrase of a 'Chf techs beret' to describe a badly worn piece of badly designed slopp cloth on a badly coifferd head (along with copious amounts of dandruff if you were unlucky)...Glad we've moved on????
Professional trained killers
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Urban myth? Dunno, but here goes .....
Late '80's in Germany, the Harrier Force is out camping and it's being Taceval'd. Two herberts at the control of entry point to a flying site. It's dark. It's cold. Very cold. And it is absolutely hissing down. As the rain drips off the end of noses and muzzles our two heroes are well into a sense of humour failure and still alot of stag to go. In the darkness the only sound is of the ice cold deluge and the growing sound of many large deisel engines getting closer. This was a German Panzer unit arriving to take over the range the following day. One of them has become detached from the pack is blundering about the pitch black sodden forest. It's getting much closer now, trees can be heard snapping in the dark and the driver is playing tunes on the gearbox. Closer the beast comes, the woods are filled with roaring engine. Suddenly, with a scream of tortured metal, a Leopard MBT lands on the track in front of our two. It sits there for a minute, the rain hissing off the exhausts. Slowly the turret hatch opens and a head carefully emerges. 'Halt, Airforce' says our man, pointing his SLR whilst looking up the barrel of a bloody big tank gun. 'Ah, Britisch', says matey on the turret, & then looking at the rifle, 'but I think mine is bigger than yours!'. I suppose you had to be there.
Late '80's in Germany, the Harrier Force is out camping and it's being Taceval'd. Two herberts at the control of entry point to a flying site. It's dark. It's cold. Very cold. And it is absolutely hissing down. As the rain drips off the end of noses and muzzles our two heroes are well into a sense of humour failure and still alot of stag to go. In the darkness the only sound is of the ice cold deluge and the growing sound of many large deisel engines getting closer. This was a German Panzer unit arriving to take over the range the following day. One of them has become detached from the pack is blundering about the pitch black sodden forest. It's getting much closer now, trees can be heard snapping in the dark and the driver is playing tunes on the gearbox. Closer the beast comes, the woods are filled with roaring engine. Suddenly, with a scream of tortured metal, a Leopard MBT lands on the track in front of our two. It sits there for a minute, the rain hissing off the exhausts. Slowly the turret hatch opens and a head carefully emerges. 'Halt, Airforce' says our man, pointing his SLR whilst looking up the barrel of a bloody big tank gun. 'Ah, Britisch', says matey on the turret, & then looking at the rifle, 'but I think mine is bigger than yours!'. I suppose you had to be there.
Not a personal experience, but one that was related to me by an ex Gp Capt from his first days out of the factory.
Said (then) JO rocks up at his new unit, then the second best radar unit out of 2 in the RAF, keen and eager to impress. The Stn Cdr decides that it was about time the Stn's wartime response plan was tested and gave it to our hero as a project. The time and date was set, all that was required was an enemy force.
After much pondering on how he could make things go with a bang and get his new boss' attention as a first rate chap, things weren't going too well, but one night in the bar got chatting to a visitor to the Mess. Apparently the visitor was in the Marines and claimed to be able to help our hero out. Phone numbers were duly exchanged and a couple of days later our hero got a phone call asking if a couple of chaps could pop over to the unit to do a recce. On arriving, a couple of long haired chaps who looked as though they had stood about a foot too far away from their razors in the morning got out of a car. The fact they were wearing the then equivalent of North Face jackets, boots and jeans should have started alarm bells ringing but it didn't. All our hero could think about was getting these scruffs off the Station before the SWO, let alone the Stn Cdr saw them.
In the end, the recce took less than an hour and all they seem to be interested in was did the Guard Force have dogs. Again, alarm bells should have now been ringing loudly, but our hero, being fresh out of the factory still thought he was on to a winner.
The day before the exercise, he pops into see the Stn Cdr; everything is sorted, an enemy force has been arranged, the exercise will start at 0700 tomorrow morning. Only our hero and the Stn Cdr knew what was going on.
By 0650 the following morning, the Stn Cdr and our hero were stood on the highest point in the unit waiting for the off. 0700 comes and goes. Nothing. The Stn Cdr turns to our hero and asks what is going on. By 0705, the Stn Cdr is getting annoyed and our hero is starting to panic. He needn't have.
By 0715, the exercise was over. The Stn had fallen to enemy hands, the Stn Cdr had been shot and the rest of the minions gassed, shot or taken prisoner.
What our hero hadn't realised when he was organising the exercise was the provenance of the enemy he had arranged. The Marine he was chatting to in the bar was in fact stationed at Arbroath along with his long haired North Face wearing chums, the signficance of which our hero failed to appreciate. So just after 0705 when the Stn Cdr was starting to get really impatient with our hero, and as both were looking in the wrong direction, neither noticed the flight of Sea Kings loaded up with SBS coming in over the coast about as low as you could go without stripping the paint off the bottom of the cabs. The first thing anyone knew was when one cab put down in the Car Park next to HQ, stormed SHQ and the nearby accommodation whilst the occupants of the other cabs were busy neutralising the Stn Guard Force and securing the perimeter.
On the plus side, they managed to avoid the usual tedium of exercise injects that make no sense whatsoever. On the minus side, the AOC was none too impressed and I believe they had to re-do the exercise a few weeks later. Mind you, the Stn Cdr had second thoughts about getting our hero to organise that one!
Said (then) JO rocks up at his new unit, then the second best radar unit out of 2 in the RAF, keen and eager to impress. The Stn Cdr decides that it was about time the Stn's wartime response plan was tested and gave it to our hero as a project. The time and date was set, all that was required was an enemy force.
After much pondering on how he could make things go with a bang and get his new boss' attention as a first rate chap, things weren't going too well, but one night in the bar got chatting to a visitor to the Mess. Apparently the visitor was in the Marines and claimed to be able to help our hero out. Phone numbers were duly exchanged and a couple of days later our hero got a phone call asking if a couple of chaps could pop over to the unit to do a recce. On arriving, a couple of long haired chaps who looked as though they had stood about a foot too far away from their razors in the morning got out of a car. The fact they were wearing the then equivalent of North Face jackets, boots and jeans should have started alarm bells ringing but it didn't. All our hero could think about was getting these scruffs off the Station before the SWO, let alone the Stn Cdr saw them.
In the end, the recce took less than an hour and all they seem to be interested in was did the Guard Force have dogs. Again, alarm bells should have now been ringing loudly, but our hero, being fresh out of the factory still thought he was on to a winner.
The day before the exercise, he pops into see the Stn Cdr; everything is sorted, an enemy force has been arranged, the exercise will start at 0700 tomorrow morning. Only our hero and the Stn Cdr knew what was going on.
By 0650 the following morning, the Stn Cdr and our hero were stood on the highest point in the unit waiting for the off. 0700 comes and goes. Nothing. The Stn Cdr turns to our hero and asks what is going on. By 0705, the Stn Cdr is getting annoyed and our hero is starting to panic. He needn't have.
By 0715, the exercise was over. The Stn had fallen to enemy hands, the Stn Cdr had been shot and the rest of the minions gassed, shot or taken prisoner.
What our hero hadn't realised when he was organising the exercise was the provenance of the enemy he had arranged. The Marine he was chatting to in the bar was in fact stationed at Arbroath along with his long haired North Face wearing chums, the signficance of which our hero failed to appreciate. So just after 0705 when the Stn Cdr was starting to get really impatient with our hero, and as both were looking in the wrong direction, neither noticed the flight of Sea Kings loaded up with SBS coming in over the coast about as low as you could go without stripping the paint off the bottom of the cabs. The first thing anyone knew was when one cab put down in the Car Park next to HQ, stormed SHQ and the nearby accommodation whilst the occupants of the other cabs were busy neutralising the Stn Guard Force and securing the perimeter.
On the plus side, they managed to avoid the usual tedium of exercise injects that make no sense whatsoever. On the minus side, the AOC was none too impressed and I believe they had to re-do the exercise a few weeks later. Mind you, the Stn Cdr had second thoughts about getting our hero to organise that one!
Last edited by Melchett01; 25th Jan 2007 at 22:05.
Avoid imitations
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Re; the second post (SH Taceval)
I was the crewman!
Me and "spiny" Norm were sat on the step when someone ran across the field, we "shot" them but, said the DI-staff, they managed to place a timebomb under the wheel!!
OK says "DB" lets fly-away, this was when that door incident took place.
The DI-staff man insisted that "the paperwork" was completed!!!!, it was.
Once airborne we were called back to take the casualty to Rinteln hospital, doorless of course!
Obviously I shall have the good taste not to mention the incident with the farmers daughter and the NVG's!!! "Guten abend"!
lsh.
I was the crewman!
Me and "spiny" Norm were sat on the step when someone ran across the field, we "shot" them but, said the DI-staff, they managed to place a timebomb under the wheel!!
OK says "DB" lets fly-away, this was when that door incident took place.
The DI-staff man insisted that "the paperwork" was completed!!!!, it was.
Once airborne we were called back to take the casualty to Rinteln hospital, doorless of course!
Obviously I shall have the good taste not to mention the incident with the farmers daughter and the NVG's!!! "Guten abend"!
lsh.
"Guten abend" indeed! I'd forgotten that one! MALM "AT" was involved in that, if I recall correctly?
Wasn't that the 'A' Flt barn location, when a certain Beefer saw a rat running in the hay and made the mistake of showing how scared of them he was? We spent a long time on shift that night, squeaking like rats in the dark, to various expletives and torchlight from said Pilot!
The same site where I landed in RT silence to the sight of everyone else in full NBC kit; we had heard nothing about an increased NBC state. I then received a message via a piece of paper held to my window by Sgt Caffyn in S6 respirator which said: "DO NOT LAND - YOU ARE CONTAMINATED!"
We took off again vertically and scattered the entire contents of the TACEVAL team leader's file into the adjacent trees! We arrived back half an hour later to see them still trying to poke sheets of classified A4 out of the tree branches with a long stick. Ooops.
Oh, happy days!
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Urban myth? Dunno, but here goes .....
Late '80's in Germany, the Harrier Force is out camping and it's being Taceval'd. Two herberts at the control of entry point to a flying site. It's dark. It's cold. Very cold. And it is absolutely hissing down. As the rain drips off the end of noses and muzzles our two heroes are well into a sense of humour failure and still alot of stag to go. In the darkness the only sound is of the ice cold deluge and the growing sound of many large deisel engines getting closer. This was a German Panzer unit arriving to take over the range the following day. One of them has become detached from the pack is blundering about the pitch black sodden forest. It's getting much closer now, trees can be heard snapping in the dark and the driver is playing tunes on the gearbox. Closer the beast comes, the woods are filled with roaring engine. Suddenly, with a scream of tortured metal, a Leopard MBT lands on the track in front of our two. It sits there for a minute, the rain hissing off the exhausts. Slowly the turret hatch opens and a head carefully emerges. 'Halt, Airforce' says our man, pointing his SLR whilst looking up the barrel of a bloody big tank gun. 'Ah, Britisch', says matey on the turret, & then looking at the rifle, 'but I think mine is bigger than yours!'. I suppose you had to be there.
Late '80's in Germany, the Harrier Force is out camping and it's being Taceval'd. Two herberts at the control of entry point to a flying site. It's dark. It's cold. Very cold. And it is absolutely hissing down. As the rain drips off the end of noses and muzzles our two heroes are well into a sense of humour failure and still alot of stag to go. In the darkness the only sound is of the ice cold deluge and the growing sound of many large deisel engines getting closer. This was a German Panzer unit arriving to take over the range the following day. One of them has become detached from the pack is blundering about the pitch black sodden forest. It's getting much closer now, trees can be heard snapping in the dark and the driver is playing tunes on the gearbox. Closer the beast comes, the woods are filled with roaring engine. Suddenly, with a scream of tortured metal, a Leopard MBT lands on the track in front of our two. It sits there for a minute, the rain hissing off the exhausts. Slowly the turret hatch opens and a head carefully emerges. 'Halt, Airforce' says our man, pointing his SLR whilst looking up the barrel of a bloody big tank gun. 'Ah, Britisch', says matey on the turret, & then looking at the rifle, 'but I think mine is bigger than yours!'. I suppose you had to be there.
"Fall back be b*ggered" he replied in perfect English ,then tapping the side of the turret, " This machine is going to Berlin!"
Its something in the genes I think.
Gentleman Aviator
In those days Taceval dress was blues or come as you are.
"But I've binned/sold almost all my uniforms!"
"Come in in what you've got" ...... a shelter marshal in No 1s is quite impressive.
.....and I think I remember AA's "angle grinder out the back of a wokka" story also.....
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Grave Defender
Not quite TACEVAL but . . . During Ex Grave Defender (1988?) I was a guard on the entrance to the ops site at Boulmer, in my concrete tube sangar covering the RAFP doing the main gate. A car full of people pulls up at the outer gate and is let in. The second barrier was an electric pole one about 15-20 yards inside the outer gate.
Our snowcapped hero goes up to the driver's side and his mate has already started to raise the inner barrier now the outer gate is closed (I didn't say they were members of MENSA). as soon as the inner barrier starts to lift the car speeds up as the members of the OPFOR in the car can't believe their luck. Snowdrop 1 pulls out his (empty) pistol takes careful aim and clicks to his heart's content whilst shouting 'bang'. OPFOR are by this time through the second barrier and laughing at the diminishing shouts of 'bang' coming from behind them.
Snowdrop 2 is having a 'fed' moment trying to work out which button is the 'down' one while Snowdrop 1, is f'ing and blinding, and in sheer frustration throws his pistol at the (now) fast receding car. Unfortunately Snowdrop 1 forgot the lanyard around his neck that the pistol was attached to. He remembered it just after it had travelled out the full extent then swung violently into his wedding tackle.
A temporary truce ensued as Snowdrop 1 was on his knees throwing up in the middle of the road and his 'mates' tried to wipe the tears of laughter away, the hysterical laughter from OPFOR's car only rubbed salt into the, now swelling, wound.
Our snowcapped hero goes up to the driver's side and his mate has already started to raise the inner barrier now the outer gate is closed (I didn't say they were members of MENSA). as soon as the inner barrier starts to lift the car speeds up as the members of the OPFOR in the car can't believe their luck. Snowdrop 1 pulls out his (empty) pistol takes careful aim and clicks to his heart's content whilst shouting 'bang'. OPFOR are by this time through the second barrier and laughing at the diminishing shouts of 'bang' coming from behind them.
Snowdrop 2 is having a 'fed' moment trying to work out which button is the 'down' one while Snowdrop 1, is f'ing and blinding, and in sheer frustration throws his pistol at the (now) fast receding car. Unfortunately Snowdrop 1 forgot the lanyard around his neck that the pistol was attached to. He remembered it just after it had travelled out the full extent then swung violently into his wedding tackle.
A temporary truce ensued as Snowdrop 1 was on his knees throwing up in the middle of the road and his 'mates' tried to wipe the tears of laughter away, the hysterical laughter from OPFOR's car only rubbed salt into the, now swelling, wound.
At Lyneham in the early 70's, and "AIR RAID WARNING RED" came over the Tannoy so all personnel were ordered to take cover in their slit trenches.
Said trenches did not actually exist, but were realistically simulated by white tapes on the grass. Shortly afterwards a bemused TACEVAL umpire enquired of a bunch of tired, cold and generally pi**ed off techies why they were standing on the volley-ball court.
On the same occasion, a couple of Lightnings were sent over to make lots of noise to add 'realism' to the scene by simulating an enemy air raid. Unfortunately, the weather was so c**p that they had to request a GCA appraoch to locate the target!
Said trenches did not actually exist, but were realistically simulated by white tapes on the grass. Shortly afterwards a bemused TACEVAL umpire enquired of a bunch of tired, cold and generally pi**ed off techies why they were standing on the volley-ball court.
On the same occasion, a couple of Lightnings were sent over to make lots of noise to add 'realism' to the scene by simulating an enemy air raid. Unfortunately, the weather was so c**p that they had to request a GCA appraoch to locate the target!
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Again, a not quite TACEVAL, more a snow clearing in Germany moment. Bruggen in the Jag days. It snowed as it does and all the little beasts ares stuck in the HAS due to the depth of snow. Snow clearance on the Sqdn in question is by the one broom / one shovel method and forced labour.
Enter the cunning plan to end all cunning plans c/o a certain BEngo. Position Jag "x" ft from HAS, start engines and bingo ! snow will vanish. Great in theory,,but just one tiny glitch. Jag is duly positioned and all the troops attend--this being deemed compulsory to remove Air and Ground crew from the comforts of their respective crew rooms of course.
Jag starts up---mighty Adours perform and snow melts into slush and pools of water. Spec reps all round you might think----er, no.. The little glitch was an OAT of around -13C---hence, no sooner had the snow been melted, then we had a surface of corrugated ice which, er, ensured said Jag remained in the HAS in question for a lot longer than, cough, "was anticipated "!.
We could only marvel at the German efficiency the other side of the wire as the Elmpt to Roermond road was, er, free from snow and ice.
Enter the cunning plan to end all cunning plans c/o a certain BEngo. Position Jag "x" ft from HAS, start engines and bingo ! snow will vanish. Great in theory,,but just one tiny glitch. Jag is duly positioned and all the troops attend--this being deemed compulsory to remove Air and Ground crew from the comforts of their respective crew rooms of course.
Jag starts up---mighty Adours perform and snow melts into slush and pools of water. Spec reps all round you might think----er, no.. The little glitch was an OAT of around -13C---hence, no sooner had the snow been melted, then we had a surface of corrugated ice which, er, ensured said Jag remained in the HAS in question for a lot longer than, cough, "was anticipated "!.
We could only marvel at the German efficiency the other side of the wire as the Elmpt to Roermond road was, er, free from snow and ice.
Coningsby, an F4 squadron getting tacevaled, generation phase. The boss was away on leave. The Flt Lt on ops turned to the taceval man and said that he had the boss's contact number and could recall him if required. What did Mr Taceval want?
'Do what you would do for real.' was the instruction.
'I can't get a nine mil round down the phone line!' was the memorable reply.
The whole ops room fell about laughing.
'Do what you would do for real.' was the instruction.
'I can't get a nine mil round down the phone line!' was the memorable reply.
The whole ops room fell about laughing.
Wader,
I regret that I lost contact with the gentleman and have no knowledge of the rank he finally achieved.
He was the one, however, who announced to the whole squadron that Wg Cdr XXX is dead. Mrs XXX was very surprised when messages of condolences arrived. Wg Cdr XXX was alive and well.
I regret that I lost contact with the gentleman and have no knowledge of the rank he finally achieved.
He was the one, however, who announced to the whole squadron that Wg Cdr XXX is dead. Mrs XXX was very surprised when messages of condolences arrived. Wg Cdr XXX was alive and well.