In Flight Rations-US Guide to Boxed Nasties
On trails it often fell to the tanker to organise the in-flight for the recievers. The prize for the best (spoof) fast-jet butty box must go to the one that contained a can of coke, a hard boiled egg, and a pot noodle.
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What...an in flight thread that without kipper fleet thread creep.
circa early eighties...
Honkers
4 tins stewing steak (or 4 tins compo sausages)
4 tins baked beans
4 tins mixed veg
4 oxo cubes
4 tablespoon worcester sauce
4 teaspoon tabasco sauce
"Galley Flight Deck", "Go Ahead", "This honkers tastes odd"
On checking use by date on the Tabasco Sauce......1971. Oops.
Note for non kipper fleet readers...we used to store all the unused sauces, pickles etc in an old bag, in the crew locker alongside stolen sonobuoys and vintage porn.
Happy Days
circa early eighties...
Honkers
4 tins stewing steak (or 4 tins compo sausages)
4 tins baked beans
4 tins mixed veg
4 oxo cubes
4 tablespoon worcester sauce
4 teaspoon tabasco sauce
"Galley Flight Deck", "Go Ahead", "This honkers tastes odd"
On checking use by date on the Tabasco Sauce......1971. Oops.
Note for non kipper fleet readers...we used to store all the unused sauces, pickles etc in an old bag, in the crew locker alongside stolen sonobuoys and vintage porn.
Happy Days
Presumably back before the days of the Mighty Muncher, Sunderland and Shacklebomber crews used to need less 'ready to eat' rations?
Some eggs and seeds outbound, then harvest and slaughter on the way home?
The hard-boiled egg. Ugh. Horrible things... One V-bomber driver always thought it was a merry jape to crack the shell on his co-pilots bone dome. Until one day the Nav Radar switched it for a raw egg.... The co-pilot was less than amused!
My nominations for 'worst things in S1 boxes' are:
3rd place - Serco sandwiches...
RAF in-flight ones were much better!
2nd place - Mr Kipling cream cakes with advanced penicillin cultures visibly evident....
But 1st place must go to:
Ta da!!
The Robirch pork pie. A small cylinder of case-hardened pie crust, containing a fossilized pig. Or rather, part of pig. Not sure which part, tail and snout, probably. If you shook an in-flight Robirch pork pie, you could hear the pig part rattling around inside like a dice in a cup...
Although to be fair, I did once see a fresh one - but it was being devoured by a Wg Cdr at the time, so I guess RHIP?
Some eggs and seeds outbound, then harvest and slaughter on the way home?
The hard-boiled egg. Ugh. Horrible things... One V-bomber driver always thought it was a merry jape to crack the shell on his co-pilots bone dome. Until one day the Nav Radar switched it for a raw egg.... The co-pilot was less than amused!
My nominations for 'worst things in S1 boxes' are:
3rd place - Serco sandwiches...
RAF in-flight ones were much better!2nd place - Mr Kipling cream cakes with advanced penicillin cultures visibly evident....
But 1st place must go to:
Ta da!!
The Robirch pork pie. A small cylinder of case-hardened pie crust, containing a fossilized pig. Or rather, part of pig. Not sure which part, tail and snout, probably. If you shook an in-flight Robirch pork pie, you could hear the pig part rattling around inside like a dice in a cup...
Although to be fair, I did once see a fresh one - but it was being devoured by a Wg Cdr at the time, so I guess RHIP?
Now way past my sell-by date, as aircrew or the blunty I became later, I am constantly amazed by the continuing threads on aircrew rations. Point was even made in the TV programme on the RAF in Afghanistan that the flying programme did not match the mess meal times, so it was "find your own".
Back in the sixties we were constantly being told to eat proper meals, no chips, and don't live off sandwiches. Point was that a 3+ hour sortie launching at 0930 got you back too late to be changed into No 2 for lunch - and no aircrew feeder then either! Guess what - sandwiches in the crew room AGAIN!
It seems little has changed. Clearly the establishment does not provide enough mess staff to keep the messes open to meet operational requirements, and in-flight rations have not moved up the scale much either.
Best in-flight rations EVER were when flying Canberras for RRE out of Pershore (where that? the youngsters ask). Sortie profiles always gave you 20 mins below 10,000ft mid-trip, when the soup, fantastic sandwiches, and coffee (inc plasic cups) came out. Also had electric socks for the B2 (Mod) we were flying because they had the early cabin heater (which heated very little).
Perhaps Jamie Oliver should be made a hon Gp Capt and asked to sort it all out.
Back in the sixties we were constantly being told to eat proper meals, no chips, and don't live off sandwiches. Point was that a 3+ hour sortie launching at 0930 got you back too late to be changed into No 2 for lunch - and no aircrew feeder then either! Guess what - sandwiches in the crew room AGAIN!
It seems little has changed. Clearly the establishment does not provide enough mess staff to keep the messes open to meet operational requirements, and in-flight rations have not moved up the scale much either.
Best in-flight rations EVER were when flying Canberras for RRE out of Pershore (where that? the youngsters ask). Sortie profiles always gave you 20 mins below 10,000ft mid-trip, when the soup, fantastic sandwiches, and coffee (inc plasic cups) came out. Also had electric socks for the B2 (Mod) we were flying because they had the early cabin heater (which heated very little).
Perhaps Jamie Oliver should be made a hon Gp Capt and asked to sort it all out.
Anyone else here remember the programme where TV chef Gary Rhodes flying on a Fat Albert to Akrotiri in the late 80s. He cooked the Crew a meal in flight in the oven (warmed up some pies?) on the way there, and was then supposed to be filmed cooking kebabs with Chris the kebab man down on the strip. Except that he got so w@nkered on brandy sours in the Officers Mess at happy hour, he couldn't even boil an egg. So they filmed him ''avin a laff" with the crew in Chris' Kebab House instead.
I gather the scene where he made a pavement pizza was cut from the final version!
Also, does anyone else remember the packets of "Benson's Crisps" without a sell by date in the bimble boxes provided in MPA? I think I still have some stuck between my teeth ten years later.
I gather the scene where he made a pavement pizza was cut from the final version!
Also, does anyone else remember the packets of "Benson's Crisps" without a sell by date in the bimble boxes provided in MPA? I think I still have some stuck between my teeth ten years later.
Ah yes, Dan - but do you remember the crisps at ASI? Still had some world kev-ball logo on them some years after the contest had ended...
Pavement pizza after a session in Chris Kebab? It must have been a bad batch of halloumi!
Has anything changed in the kebab houses these days? They really did epitomise the fun times of the RAF before fun detection became so obsessive.
As I once posted:
Biz Class travel and posh hotels are all very well (eh Dan?), but the ambience of the true Cyprus kebab was something special!
Pavement pizza after a session in Chris Kebab? It must have been a bad batch of halloumi!
Has anything changed in the kebab houses these days? They really did epitomise the fun times of the RAF before fun detection became so obsessive.
As I once posted:
You'll be telling me next that you actually have to pay for kokkinelli these days.....
"WHO HALLOUMI, WHO LIVER??!!" "Yes sirs, I bring more tahini and nose warmers pretty damn quick........ You one-oh-one tanker wanquerres, not one hundred squadron poofs?"
I do actually miss that....
A bit.
Now and again.
Unfortunately I haven't been able to sample the joys of the kebab and kokkinelli culture for a while now. But, if memory recalls correctly, the waiter normally asks "You full kebab or half kebab. Who halloumi, who liver. Everyone sheesh? Village salad?" in that quiet, polite voice so reminiscent of the days of "WHA' IS YOUR DME SITIA?" bellowed by Greek Air Traffickers from an echo chamber.
The first point is that some readers unfamiliar with a 'proper' kebab - might think that we're discussing a donar kebab. Not so!! The Cyprus kebab is a multi-course pig out involving much noise, abuse from both sides, copious kokkinelli and often ends in the early hours with the sound of hurried footsteps on an urgent mission....
One first needs a few jugs of brandy sour to get into the mood. Then, around the time that the Mess dress rules change into boring mode, one sends a chum to order taxis. These will often be sorted through Chris, son-of-Chris, friend-of-Chris, no-problem-I-fix friend-of-son-of-Chris, or others. Who know Chris. A large black Merc will then turn up and the game of 'how much to the village' kicks off. At breakneck speed the limo heads off and after slowing down to just subsonic to avoid flattening the lads on the gate, it soon deposits the happy kebab fans at a 'restaurant' consisting of breeze blocks, metal tables and chairs, a TV playing loudly to itself in the corner, an old grey haired wizened chap sitting in the other corner, numerous bondhu cats investigating the mysterious disappearance of their brothers whilst avoiding bottle tops thrown at them for them to play with - and various long-suffering waiters dressed in the traditional black trousers and white shirt. An argument then begins over how many tables and chairs are needed; much dragging and scraping of furniture then ensues until finally, much to the chagrin of the locals, a table for about 15 or so is constructed. Drink is then ordered - invariably Keo beer, kokkinelli and Sprite (to weaken the kokkinelli. On no account should the Sprite be consumed on its own - that would be Against The Rules.....). Bowls of salad, pitta bread, tahini, tatziki, olives, lemons, yoghourt etc appear with incredible speed - and cries of "Oi, Stavros more nose-warmers" soon follow as the pitta bread is woofed in the first 2 minutes. Then comes the interrogation "Who full kebab, who half kebab?" The full kebab is usually something like sheftalia, sheesh, liver or halloumi (hence the "Who halloumi, who liver?" question), racing chicken and pork chop. Served at around 10 minute intervals, during which time the kokkinelli arrives, is consumed at the rate of at least 1-2 bottles per head (because we NEVER fly the next day. No, dear me no. Never indeed...) and is replaced. The half kebab can be more selective but causes more difficulty for the waiters. Personally, I'd go for sheftalia, sheesh, halloumi and lountza and wouldn't bother with the racing chicken or pork chop. Yet more nose-warmers, salad and tahini, then the coffee decision and silly jokes about "Turkish- oops, sorry, I mean Greek Delight please". If none of the party have been sick on the table, fallen into their plates or behaved too outrageously, then you might be lucky and get free Ouzo as an after dinner treat - or if you're luckier, Filfar. Then, after the 'who had what - ah, to hell with it - £7 Cyp per head'll do' accounting game, it's time to accuse the taxi drivers of not turning up on time or attempting to rip you off before another high speed drive back to the block. One hopes that one's crew will keep quiet at the main gate to allow the most sober person present to show ID to the gate mate and vouch for the rabble in the back.
Then after a few litre bottles of Keo or Carlsberg as a night-cap, one finds one's pit. Not long after the bed starts spinning, an urgent communication from the lower intestines prompts the first player in the bog sprint competition, repeated at regular intervals by other competitors.
Come the next day and, miraculously, all is well with the world.
Or not.
At least, not until about Elba. And you can always blame the headache on attempts to get the weather on HF!
"WHO HALLOUMI, WHO LIVER??!!" "Yes sirs, I bring more tahini and nose warmers pretty damn quick........ You one-oh-one tanker wanquerres, not one hundred squadron poofs?"
I do actually miss that....
A bit.
Now and again.
Unfortunately I haven't been able to sample the joys of the kebab and kokkinelli culture for a while now. But, if memory recalls correctly, the waiter normally asks "You full kebab or half kebab. Who halloumi, who liver. Everyone sheesh? Village salad?" in that quiet, polite voice so reminiscent of the days of "WHA' IS YOUR DME SITIA?" bellowed by Greek Air Traffickers from an echo chamber.
The first point is that some readers unfamiliar with a 'proper' kebab - might think that we're discussing a donar kebab. Not so!! The Cyprus kebab is a multi-course pig out involving much noise, abuse from both sides, copious kokkinelli and often ends in the early hours with the sound of hurried footsteps on an urgent mission....
One first needs a few jugs of brandy sour to get into the mood. Then, around the time that the Mess dress rules change into boring mode, one sends a chum to order taxis. These will often be sorted through Chris, son-of-Chris, friend-of-Chris, no-problem-I-fix friend-of-son-of-Chris, or others. Who know Chris. A large black Merc will then turn up and the game of 'how much to the village' kicks off. At breakneck speed the limo heads off and after slowing down to just subsonic to avoid flattening the lads on the gate, it soon deposits the happy kebab fans at a 'restaurant' consisting of breeze blocks, metal tables and chairs, a TV playing loudly to itself in the corner, an old grey haired wizened chap sitting in the other corner, numerous bondhu cats investigating the mysterious disappearance of their brothers whilst avoiding bottle tops thrown at them for them to play with - and various long-suffering waiters dressed in the traditional black trousers and white shirt. An argument then begins over how many tables and chairs are needed; much dragging and scraping of furniture then ensues until finally, much to the chagrin of the locals, a table for about 15 or so is constructed. Drink is then ordered - invariably Keo beer, kokkinelli and Sprite (to weaken the kokkinelli. On no account should the Sprite be consumed on its own - that would be Against The Rules.....). Bowls of salad, pitta bread, tahini, tatziki, olives, lemons, yoghourt etc appear with incredible speed - and cries of "Oi, Stavros more nose-warmers" soon follow as the pitta bread is woofed in the first 2 minutes. Then comes the interrogation "Who full kebab, who half kebab?" The full kebab is usually something like sheftalia, sheesh, liver or halloumi (hence the "Who halloumi, who liver?" question), racing chicken and pork chop. Served at around 10 minute intervals, during which time the kokkinelli arrives, is consumed at the rate of at least 1-2 bottles per head (because we NEVER fly the next day. No, dear me no. Never indeed...) and is replaced. The half kebab can be more selective but causes more difficulty for the waiters. Personally, I'd go for sheftalia, sheesh, halloumi and lountza and wouldn't bother with the racing chicken or pork chop. Yet more nose-warmers, salad and tahini, then the coffee decision and silly jokes about "Turkish- oops, sorry, I mean Greek Delight please". If none of the party have been sick on the table, fallen into their plates or behaved too outrageously, then you might be lucky and get free Ouzo as an after dinner treat - or if you're luckier, Filfar. Then, after the 'who had what - ah, to hell with it - £7 Cyp per head'll do' accounting game, it's time to accuse the taxi drivers of not turning up on time or attempting to rip you off before another high speed drive back to the block. One hopes that one's crew will keep quiet at the main gate to allow the most sober person present to show ID to the gate mate and vouch for the rabble in the back.
Then after a few litre bottles of Keo or Carlsberg as a night-cap, one finds one's pit. Not long after the bed starts spinning, an urgent communication from the lower intestines prompts the first player in the bog sprint competition, repeated at regular intervals by other competitors.
Come the next day and, miraculously, all is well with the world.
Or not.
At least, not until about Elba. And you can always blame the headache on attempts to get the weather on HF!
Seem to remember the Victor 1 had a can heater. If you put a tin of soup in it before takeoff it would be luke warm on finals after a longish trip. Generally speaking our rations weren't bad - and Marham had a good aircrew feeder so you always took off well sustained.
Beagle do you remember the Limassol magic taxis? After an evening as described by you you got in the door of a battered Mercedes - slid across the back seat and fell out the other door at the Akrotiri officers mess. The intervening 10 miles or so passed in an instant - possibly operated on the same principle as in the transporter device in Star Trek!
Sorry - major thread drift here.
Beagle do you remember the Limassol magic taxis? After an evening as described by you you got in the door of a battered Mercedes - slid across the back seat and fell out the other door at the Akrotiri officers mess. The intervening 10 miles or so passed in an instant - possibly operated on the same principle as in the transporter device in Star Trek!
Sorry - major thread drift here.
Last edited by Tankertrashnav; 13th Aug 2009 at 16:38.
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Beags
That was beautiful, and took me back a few years to doing just that to a late night kebab when I should have been picking up she who must be obeyed from Larnaca. I'm still not allowed to forget it.
I share your sense of shock horror that they have the nerve to charge for kokkinelli, when we went back a couple of years ago, one bunch of Brit tourists thought it was great stuff and good value at £3 cyp a bottle! God 'elp us!
Amazing how time flies isn't it?
BG
That was beautiful, and took me back a few years to doing just that to a late night kebab when I should have been picking up she who must be obeyed from Larnaca. I'm still not allowed to forget it.
I share your sense of shock horror that they have the nerve to charge for kokkinelli, when we went back a couple of years ago, one bunch of Brit tourists thought it was great stuff and good value at £3 cyp a bottle! God 'elp us!
Amazing how time flies isn't it?
BG
Now this is proper in flight...
This is a classified picture of the interior of the E-3D's Galley (as you can see from the Logo on the waitress's shirt, it is an 8 Sqn jet):
This is a classified picture of the interior of the E-3D's Galley (as you can see from the Logo on the waitress's shirt, it is an 8 Sqn jet):
Worst Lunchbox Ever?
Lunchbox as provided by civilian caterers at Khartoum c-1980.
A couple of ropey rolls and two dead bananas - so awful I had to photograph it for posterity.
Lunchbox as provided by civilian caterers at Khartoum c-1980.
A couple of ropey rolls and two dead bananas - so awful I had to photograph it for posterity.
Last edited by Warmtoast; 20th Jun 2013 at 20:47. Reason: Restore moved photo
warmtoast, I'm sooo glad you told us that those were bananas...
I thought it might have been something from the Victor ration box used for 'an alternative purpose' by 'wee Jock poo-pong McD***s', who later came to the VC10K force.
I think you've won the prize though!
Re. kebabs, I can still hear the scraping sounds of furniture being dragged across the floor of the Swan to make a table for 12, scattering bondhu cats and causing mayhem, whilst the walnut-faced chap in the grey pullover by the flickering black-and-white TV looked on benevolently....
I gather that the Swan is no more?
I thought it might have been something from the Victor ration box used for 'an alternative purpose' by 'wee Jock poo-pong McD***s', who later came to the VC10K force.
I think you've won the prize though!
Re. kebabs, I can still hear the scraping sounds of furniture being dragged across the floor of the Swan to make a table for 12, scattering bondhu cats and causing mayhem, whilst the walnut-faced chap in the grey pullover by the flickering black-and-white TV looked on benevolently....
I gather that the Swan is no more?
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I harbour memories of fish meze at Theo's in Paphos and a pelican.
They are somewhat hazy memories caused by frequent stops at the plethora of Brandy Sour mines on the Akrotiri - Paphos road.
They are somewhat hazy memories caused by frequent stops at the plethora of Brandy Sour mines on the Akrotiri - Paphos road.
Gainsey
Glad I won - what is the prize?
Best Lunch Box
Best lunch box I remember was that supplied from Embakasi in Kenya in Sept 1961.
With some sort of trouble brewing in the Gulf it was decided the Army brigade based in East Afrca would be transferred to Bahrain, a long Britannia flog with many hours - Embakasi - Khormaksar - Bahrain and then back again to do the same trip several times over to get the brigade to Bahrain.
Anyway on the first trip we left Embakasi, dished out the lunch boxes to the squaddies in the back and then heard mutterings of complaint. When asked what was wrong, the general consensus was that the 'jam' tasted salty. It turned out each lunch box contained a small pot of something to be spread on the rolls or biscuits or whatever and the contents were very salty.
Investigation quickly showed the pots were in fact pots of Caviar, real Caviar and not Lumpfish roe. This was not immediately obvious to the troops so we collected any unopened and unwanted pots and put them aside for later crew use.
Their loss was our gain!
Glad I won - what is the prize?
Best Lunch Box
Best lunch box I remember was that supplied from Embakasi in Kenya in Sept 1961.
With some sort of trouble brewing in the Gulf it was decided the Army brigade based in East Afrca would be transferred to Bahrain, a long Britannia flog with many hours - Embakasi - Khormaksar - Bahrain and then back again to do the same trip several times over to get the brigade to Bahrain.
Anyway on the first trip we left Embakasi, dished out the lunch boxes to the squaddies in the back and then heard mutterings of complaint. When asked what was wrong, the general consensus was that the 'jam' tasted salty. It turned out each lunch box contained a small pot of something to be spread on the rolls or biscuits or whatever and the contents were very salty.
Investigation quickly showed the pots were in fact pots of Caviar, real Caviar and not Lumpfish roe. This was not immediately obvious to the troops so we collected any unopened and unwanted pots and put them aside for later crew use.
Their loss was our gain!
Last edited by Warmtoast; 15th Aug 2009 at 10:05. Reason: Spelling
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BGG
How can you forget the "first on the right" - Sylvana's! Altho its rightful place as first on the right has been usurped by a steak house/chinese/whatever-it-has-decided-to be-this-week interloper. Top prize (for smaller groups) has to go to Polis, altho not so keen since Haris put in the serve-yourself salad bar - invariably eat too much before the meat arrives!
cc
How can you forget the "first on the right" - Sylvana's! Altho its rightful place as first on the right has been usurped by a steak house/chinese/whatever-it-has-decided-to be-this-week interloper. Top prize (for smaller groups) has to go to Polis, altho not so keen since Haris put in the serve-yourself salad bar - invariably eat too much before the meat arrives!
cc