Funny Things Happen in The Air Force
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Certain secret Helicopter base exercise in Hampshire during the 70's
Distaff approaches TSW fuel pillow tank set up, hands inject to bod stating there has been an explosion and to add realism lights a thunderflash and tosses it in the air, thunderflash lazily arcs through the air and lands on said pillow tank.... Distaff then sees exactly what everyone would do..... Run
Distaff approaches TSW fuel pillow tank set up, hands inject to bod stating there has been an explosion and to add realism lights a thunderflash and tosses it in the air, thunderflash lazily arcs through the air and lands on said pillow tank.... Distaff then sees exactly what everyone would do..... Run
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Dartmouth, early 80s and we're on mid-week divisions, practising for the 'proper' show on the weekend......
He turned us out at 0300 and doubled us up the hill to above the parade ground and opening a large display casement ordered us to......
'Polish that bleedin gun carriage, dont forget the brightwork'. 'You effin ignorant ODs will not know that Winston bleedin' Churchill was carried on that very institution to his reward.' 'Now, it so 'appens that your Majesty's bleedin' mother 'as 'ad an argument with a bleedin' fish bone and may be on 'er merry way, effin fishes revenge if you ask me, so get it sparklin' me boys.'
0600. Gun carriage sparkling. GI returns with a distinct aroma of spirits about him......
'It seems that 'im upstairs has seen fit to allow old Liz to stay with us, Gawd bless 'er. Fall in. Left turn. Double. Halt. Right then, bath and dhobes, rig of the day, back 'ere at 0700 dont be adrift.'
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Passenger Safety Brief
Best Pre flight Passenger brief on C130 trip back from the US of A
Captain: Welcome on board for your flight home, you are being flow today by 47 Sqn, and we have a long tradition that in the unlikely event of an emergency the Captain is always the last man to leave the aircraft.
So, should you wake up and find yourself all alone, consider yourself the Captain. The time on route etc etc..
Captain: Welcome on board for your flight home, you are being flow today by 47 Sqn, and we have a long tradition that in the unlikely event of an emergency the Captain is always the last man to leave the aircraft.
So, should you wake up and find yourself all alone, consider yourself the Captain. The time on route etc etc..
Remember when cross-country calls involved a series of progressively fainter old biddies chatting to eachother ("Central...click, click, Rothwell Haigh please, dear...click, click...Machrihanish please....click, click...."Hullooo, RAF Machrihanish here....")? And the occasional screech of "ARE YOU WORKING??!!" if you dared to pause for thought in mid-call!
A mate using this system once got pissed off when it well went dead "Ah f*ck it, the bastard telephone's gone t*ts up. Bolleaux!" he muttered to no-one in particular, only to be chastised by some vexed harpy who retorted "There's no call for language like that, young man, I'm trying to connect you!".
Dial-a-mate worked fine in the 80s and 90s. But getting rid of station operators in favour of failed burger-flippers at call centres proved a total disaster.
Thank heavens for cellphones!
May I direct newer PPRuNers to the following:
http://www.pprune.org/military-aircr...mber-when.html
and
http://www.pprune.org/military-aircr...adnt-said.html
and the famous http://www.pprune.org/military-aircr...addington.html
A mate using this system once got pissed off when it well went dead "Ah f*ck it, the bastard telephone's gone t*ts up. Bolleaux!" he muttered to no-one in particular, only to be chastised by some vexed harpy who retorted "There's no call for language like that, young man, I'm trying to connect you!".
Dial-a-mate worked fine in the 80s and 90s. But getting rid of station operators in favour of failed burger-flippers at call centres proved a total disaster.
Thank heavens for cellphones!
May I direct newer PPRuNers to the following:
http://www.pprune.org/military-aircr...mber-when.html
and
http://www.pprune.org/military-aircr...adnt-said.html
and the famous http://www.pprune.org/military-aircr...addington.html
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Topcliffe, early '80's.
RAF airfield, used to teach RN students to fly, on an Army Barracks
The Scene.
An apron full of Bulldogs preparing to launch the first wave, everything 'burning and turning'.
All being overseen by FS i/c Engineering. (One J*** B****, of that Ilk).
Enter 1 x Army Major (with obligatory dog).
Army Major, unsure how to proceed, attempts to catch the FS attention.
"Staff Sergeant" he calls out.
To be suitable ignored by said FS.
"Staff Sergeant, Staff Sergeant", the Major tries again to no avail.
Taking his life in hands (together with loose dog) he enters the busy apron.
"Staff Sergeant, I have been trying to attract your attention" he declares.
"My apologies, Sir" JB acknowledges "but I am not a Staff Sergeant, I am a Flight Sergeant".
"Ah" replies the Major "In this Regiment you would be a Staff Sergeant".
"No Sir" comes the firm reply "In this Regiment, I would be a Lieutenant Colonel".
After a major moan to the Staish at Leeming (a prat of the first order), JB was 'punished' by having to be Ord Sgt for the next four weekends.
RAF airfield, used to teach RN students to fly, on an Army Barracks
The Scene.
An apron full of Bulldogs preparing to launch the first wave, everything 'burning and turning'.
All being overseen by FS i/c Engineering. (One J*** B****, of that Ilk).
Enter 1 x Army Major (with obligatory dog).
Army Major, unsure how to proceed, attempts to catch the FS attention.
"Staff Sergeant" he calls out.
To be suitable ignored by said FS.
"Staff Sergeant, Staff Sergeant", the Major tries again to no avail.
Taking his life in hands (together with loose dog) he enters the busy apron.
"Staff Sergeant, I have been trying to attract your attention" he declares.
"My apologies, Sir" JB acknowledges "but I am not a Staff Sergeant, I am a Flight Sergeant".
"Ah" replies the Major "In this Regiment you would be a Staff Sergeant".
"No Sir" comes the firm reply "In this Regiment, I would be a Lieutenant Colonel".
After a major moan to the Staish at Leeming (a prat of the first order), JB was 'punished' by having to be Ord Sgt for the next four weekends.
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Mid to late 70s at a prominant tanker base. Airman leaving the mess after a meal just as an RAF plod drove by in his sparkly new company Ford Escort. Plod sees airman has his hands in his pockets, wound down the window and bellowed at the airman ' get your hands out of your' followed by a loud crunching noise as Escort becomes very second hand against a lamp post at the side of the road. Lots of laughing faces at windows of mess and one very red one in the car.
A very senior SAC with oppo on gate guard, a Saturday afternoon, mid summer and the Space Cadets were changeing over. A spotty youth with the uniform of a Pilot Officer(VR). VS SAC checks documents, thanks him and opens the barrier, PO(VR) pulls forward and asked SAC if he did not normally salute officers, the SAC responds with ' Real ones Yes sir '
Again Spacie season, in the airmans mess, a long tail of airman and spacies waiting for their food. Enter cocky Spacie sergeant, who walks to front of queue and goes to take a plate, when asked what he was up to he said he was gettig his meal and was jumping the queue because he was a sergeant. At this he was told that he was in the wrong mess and the Sergeants Mess was down the road, at this he put his plate down and headed down the road. He returned some 10 minutes later, at the back of the queue.
A very senior SAC with oppo on gate guard, a Saturday afternoon, mid summer and the Space Cadets were changeing over. A spotty youth with the uniform of a Pilot Officer(VR). VS SAC checks documents, thanks him and opens the barrier, PO(VR) pulls forward and asked SAC if he did not normally salute officers, the SAC responds with ' Real ones Yes sir '
Again Spacie season, in the airmans mess, a long tail of airman and spacies waiting for their food. Enter cocky Spacie sergeant, who walks to front of queue and goes to take a plate, when asked what he was up to he said he was gettig his meal and was jumping the queue because he was a sergeant. At this he was told that he was in the wrong mess and the Sergeants Mess was down the road, at this he put his plate down and headed down the road. He returned some 10 minutes later, at the back of the queue.
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OK, you've asked for it. This is a Senior Service version of the same.
Picture the scene....
Midshipmen on parade training at BRNC Dartmouth.
CPO Blaine, none other, is inspecting the platoon. Stops before one particular officer under training and looks upward towards the sky. (CPO Blaine was about 5ft 2 inches tall - and wide. The OUT in question was about 6ft4)
An unconventional opening gambit had the poor OUT unsettled from moment one...
"Did you have breakfast this morning, Mr Bloggs?"
"??????WTF???" pause "Er, yes, Chief"
"Did you eat all your breakfast, Mr Bloggs"
"??????WTF???" pause "Er, yes, Chief"
"I WILL NOT TOLERATE YOU LYING TO ME, MR BLOGGS!" CPO Blaine bellowed.
"????WTF????" pause "Er, but, er, Chief, I'm not lying to you...???"
"IF YOU ATE ALL YOUR BREAKFAST HOW COME SOME OF IT IS STICKING TO YOUR TIE, SIR???"
Or the predecessor of the wonderful Colour Sergeant RM who taught my course drill but hadn't learned to control his frustrations...
One morning (at BRNC) he was drilling a squad of what we used to call "internationals" who were renowned for their hopeless uncoordination on parade...
Being a decent Bootie he just wasn't adjusted to this sort of shambles and allowed the pressure to get to him. At the end of the period the bell went signifying three - or was it five minutes for OUTs to get to their next assignment.
Clr Sgt Bootneck kept them at it to ensure they would learn a lesson by being late and get a bollocking from their next class.
As he marched and countermarched this ticktocking shambles about the parade ground a WREN trainee was passing, arms full of books, around the ramps of the parade ground and as any human being would laughed out loud at the antics of the "international" fools .
This flipped the poor Clr Sgt. He called his squad to a halt, turned and bellowed at the WREN in his biggest parade-ground voice,
" I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE LAUGHNG AT MA'AM, YOU'VE ONLY GOT ONE C*** TO LOOK AFTER, I'VE GOT A WHOLE SQUAD OF THEM!"
Inevitably the Commander's window was open, the Jimmy at his desk... The poor Clr Sgt made a brief appearance before that desk and was off the station within the hour. What a waste!
Also---(a second hand story that might be - nay!, ought to be true. I don't know but it was related to me in all seriousness)
A young thrusting helo pilot who was melanistically distinct from the rest of the squadron was aboard one of Her Majesties carriers and relaxing in the Wardroom with his oppos and reading the daily paper. A new sprog middie entered the compartment and proceeded to introduce himself around the room in a rather pompous manner to all present. It was perhaps not his fault that his daddy was an Admiral, but that didn't help. "Justin LeBlanc!" he intoned as he circulated the room, "Hello, I'm Justin LeBlanc!"
He reached our hero and had to stick his hand over the top of the paper, which was slowly lowered..."Hello, Justin LeBlanc" he asserted, and as the Telegraph was raised to its former position a disinterested voice was heard to say, "Hello, Stanford le Noir".
A further story which may or may not be true, but I for one believe it -
Said dark-skinned Officer came up through the hawse-hole, and the story goes that upon reporting to his first ship as a newly sprogged baby-sailor he was led to his new mess by the duty doggie who pointed his way down a hatchway to his mess. Our friend stuck his head down the hatchway and bellowed, "HEY, NUMBER THREE MESS, YOU GOT ANY N!GGERS IN THERE?????"
You can imagine the reaction...
At which he flung his kitbag down the hole, and leapt after it shouting "WELL YOU F******G HAVE NOW!!!"
He was one of nature's true Gentlemen. Still is, I believe.
Picture the scene....
Midshipmen on parade training at BRNC Dartmouth.
CPO Blaine, none other, is inspecting the platoon. Stops before one particular officer under training and looks upward towards the sky. (CPO Blaine was about 5ft 2 inches tall - and wide. The OUT in question was about 6ft4)
An unconventional opening gambit had the poor OUT unsettled from moment one...
"Did you have breakfast this morning, Mr Bloggs?"
"??????WTF???" pause "Er, yes, Chief"
"Did you eat all your breakfast, Mr Bloggs"
"??????WTF???" pause "Er, yes, Chief"
"I WILL NOT TOLERATE YOU LYING TO ME, MR BLOGGS!" CPO Blaine bellowed.
"????WTF????" pause "Er, but, er, Chief, I'm not lying to you...???"
"IF YOU ATE ALL YOUR BREAKFAST HOW COME SOME OF IT IS STICKING TO YOUR TIE, SIR???"
Or the predecessor of the wonderful Colour Sergeant RM who taught my course drill but hadn't learned to control his frustrations...
One morning (at BRNC) he was drilling a squad of what we used to call "internationals" who were renowned for their hopeless uncoordination on parade...
Being a decent Bootie he just wasn't adjusted to this sort of shambles and allowed the pressure to get to him. At the end of the period the bell went signifying three - or was it five minutes for OUTs to get to their next assignment.
Clr Sgt Bootneck kept them at it to ensure they would learn a lesson by being late and get a bollocking from their next class.
As he marched and countermarched this ticktocking shambles about the parade ground a WREN trainee was passing, arms full of books, around the ramps of the parade ground and as any human being would laughed out loud at the antics of the "international" fools .
This flipped the poor Clr Sgt. He called his squad to a halt, turned and bellowed at the WREN in his biggest parade-ground voice,
" I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE LAUGHNG AT MA'AM, YOU'VE ONLY GOT ONE C*** TO LOOK AFTER, I'VE GOT A WHOLE SQUAD OF THEM!"
Inevitably the Commander's window was open, the Jimmy at his desk... The poor Clr Sgt made a brief appearance before that desk and was off the station within the hour. What a waste!
Also---(a second hand story that might be - nay!, ought to be true. I don't know but it was related to me in all seriousness)
A young thrusting helo pilot who was melanistically distinct from the rest of the squadron was aboard one of Her Majesties carriers and relaxing in the Wardroom with his oppos and reading the daily paper. A new sprog middie entered the compartment and proceeded to introduce himself around the room in a rather pompous manner to all present. It was perhaps not his fault that his daddy was an Admiral, but that didn't help. "Justin LeBlanc!" he intoned as he circulated the room, "Hello, I'm Justin LeBlanc!"
He reached our hero and had to stick his hand over the top of the paper, which was slowly lowered..."Hello, Justin LeBlanc" he asserted, and as the Telegraph was raised to its former position a disinterested voice was heard to say, "Hello, Stanford le Noir".
A further story which may or may not be true, but I for one believe it -
Said dark-skinned Officer came up through the hawse-hole, and the story goes that upon reporting to his first ship as a newly sprogged baby-sailor he was led to his new mess by the duty doggie who pointed his way down a hatchway to his mess. Our friend stuck his head down the hatchway and bellowed, "HEY, NUMBER THREE MESS, YOU GOT ANY N!GGERS IN THERE?????"
You can imagine the reaction...
At which he flung his kitbag down the hole, and leapt after it shouting "WELL YOU F******G HAVE NOW!!!"
He was one of nature's true Gentlemen. Still is, I believe.
Last edited by Agaricus bisporus; 1st May 2010 at 09:41.
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May I direct newer PPRuNers to the following:
I Wish I Hadn't Said That
All 3 of the threads you kindly linked to should be compulsory reading for probationary PPruners.
STH
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At a similar time to the above my wife worked in the Officers Mess as a steward for the evening meals and Mess Events. One evening it was close to clearing up time and most of the gentlemen had left only leaving a table of 4 earthy senior members of the mess. At this time it was noticed that 2 young Pilot Officers were peering through the doors, my wife approached them and they stated that they would like an evening meal, and this they were escorted to the table where the last of the members were sat, the senior officer, a Squadron Leader engineer gave my wife a questioning look but said nothing.
She took the order for their meals, after their starter they both requested Trout, which was duly placed in front of them at the appropriate time, as she was about to walk away she noticed that one of them looking at both of the plates, at this she asked him if there was a problem to which he replied 'his one was bigger than mine', to which my wife replied that =
'that is something you should discuss with your mother' turned on her heels ad departed. Result - explosion of laughter from senior officers.
On another occation another of the girls (C)noticed a man stood by the dining room doors, as she approached he asked if he was on time for a meal, at which she replied that he was and took his hand and led him to a table. The other girls tried to attract her attention, but failed and to hide their laughter turned their back on her. After leaving the table, having taken his meal order C walked to the other girls who where stood shaking their heads, C then asked what she had done wrong to be told - Thats the new Station Commander.
How she kept that job for as long as she did I will never know.
She took the order for their meals, after their starter they both requested Trout, which was duly placed in front of them at the appropriate time, as she was about to walk away she noticed that one of them looking at both of the plates, at this she asked him if there was a problem to which he replied 'his one was bigger than mine', to which my wife replied that =
'that is something you should discuss with your mother' turned on her heels ad departed. Result - explosion of laughter from senior officers.
On another occation another of the girls (C)noticed a man stood by the dining room doors, as she approached he asked if he was on time for a meal, at which she replied that he was and took his hand and led him to a table. The other girls tried to attract her attention, but failed and to hide their laughter turned their back on her. After leaving the table, having taken his meal order C walked to the other girls who where stood shaking their heads, C then asked what she had done wrong to be told - Thats the new Station Commander.
How she kept that job for as long as she did I will never know.
Thought police antagonist
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Late 70's....for those who recall the days of MU's and 71 in particular. En route to either of the RAF's two Cat A stalags ( St.Athan / Brawdy ) from Abingdon it became the custom to stop at the "10p" cafe near Newport..so called because it was run by an ex WO who charged 10p to all serving RAF persons irrespective of the meal. It was also the turn round point for the baby MT drivers from St.Athan..and their instructors.
Now, the ahem, dress code for the MU was "variable" shall we say...and the driving skills minimal...at best. After several meetings with the St.Athan fraternity, much tut tutting and indeed "an exchange of views" the war of attrition reached a head one day when two of the St.Athan grown ups appeared at breakfast...a WO and a cherubic Fg.Off ....names were taken and stern words issued etc, etc...which we thought was a rather uncivilised thing to do over breakfast........
The car park at said cafe had a considerable number of potholes...it rains a lot in Wales.....the two grown ups elected to supervise the departure of the troops CF van by standing to attention in said car park...alas, the J/T driving was somewhat more observant than they...and duly departed at a rate of knots parallel to their location.....think of part of the intro.scene from "Kelly's Hero's " here.....the war of attrition ceased thereafter.
Now, the ahem, dress code for the MU was "variable" shall we say...and the driving skills minimal...at best. After several meetings with the St.Athan fraternity, much tut tutting and indeed "an exchange of views" the war of attrition reached a head one day when two of the St.Athan grown ups appeared at breakfast...a WO and a cherubic Fg.Off ....names were taken and stern words issued etc, etc...which we thought was a rather uncivilised thing to do over breakfast........
The car park at said cafe had a considerable number of potholes...it rains a lot in Wales.....the two grown ups elected to supervise the departure of the troops CF van by standing to attention in said car park...alas, the J/T driving was somewhat more observant than they...and duly departed at a rate of knots parallel to their location.....think of part of the intro.scene from "Kelly's Hero's " here.....the war of attrition ceased thereafter.
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Wonderful, guys and gals. I have had so much fun reading all the replies. BEags, thanks for the reminder of the older threads - there are some absolute diamonds in there.
There have been one or two comments about "Help for Heroes" - so here's my idea.
Mods I hope you are paying attention! If the three threads, that BEags linked on his last post, were merged with this thread - I know that would become a huge thread and it may not be possible for technical reasons - but if it was I would undertake to research the entire thread, distill it into a respectable looking Word document and send it to Help for Heroes so they can use it to the best effect.
If you can't do that, never mind I'll research them as separate threads and have the same effect.
I'm still looking out for an obvious input from the gals. Please see my first item on post #1 of this thread. Young, feisty, lady you worked for me briefly at a headquarters near Huntingdon about 20 years ago and last time I heard you were something important at said RAF Station. If you are a PPruner you must have some stories to contribute.
Happy days - Bill Kelly - whoops I meant SOSL!
There have been one or two comments about "Help for Heroes" - so here's my idea.
Mods I hope you are paying attention! If the three threads, that BEags linked on his last post, were merged with this thread - I know that would become a huge thread and it may not be possible for technical reasons - but if it was I would undertake to research the entire thread, distill it into a respectable looking Word document and send it to Help for Heroes so they can use it to the best effect.
If you can't do that, never mind I'll research them as separate threads and have the same effect.
I'm still looking out for an obvious input from the gals. Please see my first item on post #1 of this thread. Young, feisty, lady you worked for me briefly at a headquarters near Huntingdon about 20 years ago and last time I heard you were something important at said RAF Station. If you are a PPruner you must have some stories to contribute.
Happy days - Bill Kelly - whoops I meant SOSL!
Last edited by SOSL; 2nd May 2010 at 11:18. Reason: Punctuation
SOSL - not called "Gail" was she- if so she worked for me at a radar station in Norfolk in 84-86 - got into all sorts of scrapes, and had to be rescued by me or the Stn Cdr - a wonderful woman called Joan H....
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Not Gail, I'm afraid. Would have liked to meet her though! Lady I'm referring to had initials ED - Thats about as indiscrete as I can be. All readers, please send stories - this could be a good input to help for heroes fund raising if we get it right. If any Help for Heroes guys are listening in please advise me on how you would like Word document to be delivered. I know I can Google you but I'm just being lazy.
Rgds Bill K
Rgds Bill K
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Great idea Bill!
I have a much read paperback called 'Policeman's Lot' by Harry Cole. I believe it turned into a series of books. Its basically a collection of anecdotes from the police, mostly half a page or a page long, and it is a cracking addition to the downstairs bog, or holiday reading.
However, get with the times old man, this is the age of the internet (not that I'm quite up with it) we do things online nowadays.
Having said that, if you've got the drive to get this into a paperback then go for it.
Remember that PPRuNe get its funding from these advertising banners, so you'll have to find a way to keep the Mods sweet.
We already have a few apocryphyl..er..urban myths on this thread - they will need to be investigated.
And a bit of translation might be required as well!
PS Why does everything have to be H4H? They've got so much cash they don't know what to do with it. There are Service Benevolent Funds, the Legion, and RAFA etc that are suffering because of this trend.
I have a much read paperback called 'Policeman's Lot' by Harry Cole. I believe it turned into a series of books. Its basically a collection of anecdotes from the police, mostly half a page or a page long, and it is a cracking addition to the downstairs bog, or holiday reading.
However, get with the times old man, this is the age of the internet (not that I'm quite up with it) we do things online nowadays.
Having said that, if you've got the drive to get this into a paperback then go for it.
Remember that PPRuNe get its funding from these advertising banners, so you'll have to find a way to keep the Mods sweet.
We already have a few apocryphyl..er..urban myths on this thread - they will need to be investigated.
And a bit of translation might be required as well!
PS Why does everything have to be H4H? They've got so much cash they don't know what to do with it. There are Service Benevolent Funds, the Legion, and RAFA etc that are suffering because of this trend.
Knew it was you, Bill!
KKIA, early in GW1. Waiting to go flying, our planning is interrupted by the inconvenience of yet another Scud attack. Everyone masks up and troops down to the basement; after the usual bang from the outbound Patriot, the all clear is given as another of Saddam's fireworks falls to earth in bits and several dozen folk in NBC kit troop back upstairs.
Sticking out like the Pope's prick at a wedding is one rather worried looking very blunt person in transit dressed, astonishingly and somewhat inappropriately, in standard RAF blues - complete with very smart SD cap.
As we file past this numpty, one of my crew yells "Ah - you must be the f*cking DiStaff - what time's Endex then?".
The poor sod goes even redder, before being invited by the Boss to "Bugger off and find some NBC kit!"
KKIA, early in GW1. Waiting to go flying, our planning is interrupted by the inconvenience of yet another Scud attack. Everyone masks up and troops down to the basement; after the usual bang from the outbound Patriot, the all clear is given as another of Saddam's fireworks falls to earth in bits and several dozen folk in NBC kit troop back upstairs.
Sticking out like the Pope's prick at a wedding is one rather worried looking very blunt person in transit dressed, astonishingly and somewhat inappropriately, in standard RAF blues - complete with very smart SD cap.
As we file past this numpty, one of my crew yells "Ah - you must be the f*cking DiStaff - what time's Endex then?".
The poor sod goes even redder, before being invited by the Boss to "Bugger off and find some NBC kit!"
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Thanks, Sir Peter, you have some good points; I have already registered my intention with HfH.
Have been giving to RAFBF etc for 2 centuries and thought we might get with the times.
However, I guess once we get the stories coralled we can then decide on the best way forward; maybe a poll. Editing is my first love (apart from the WRAF Corporal at RAF Robin Hood).
BEags you won't know this but you were the only pilot cadet on the entry that I didn't consider to be an absolute drongo. See my next post!
Have been giving to RAFBF etc for 2 centuries and thought we might get with the times.
However, I guess once we get the stories coralled we can then decide on the best way forward; maybe a poll. Editing is my first love (apart from the WRAF Corporal at RAF Robin Hood).
BEags you won't know this but you were the only pilot cadet on the entry that I didn't consider to be an absolute drongo. See my next post!
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I was an Engineer in the RAF, I joined in nineteen canteen and couldn't have had a more enjoyable career and a better pattern of worldwide postings and assignments.
However, my dark secret is that I applied, at the age of 17, to be a pilot.
During the medical, on day 2 of the process, I was shown a booklet with lots of funny coloured dots on each page. The Wg Cdr doctor who showed me this booklet kept asking me what numbers I could read on the page. He was obviously a complete wankxr because there were obviously no numbers on the pages.
After a while he said "why are you applying to be a pilot when you are completely colour blind?". I was devastated, I'd always suspected that other people were generally vague about colours but it hadn't occurred to me that it was my fault.
I may be wrong but I think he tried to cheer me up, he said "It's a shame really, you would have made a good pilot, you have no hand/eye co-ordination and you are colour blind but at least you are a complete tosser.
Happy days Bill K
However, my dark secret is that I applied, at the age of 17, to be a pilot.
During the medical, on day 2 of the process, I was shown a booklet with lots of funny coloured dots on each page. The Wg Cdr doctor who showed me this booklet kept asking me what numbers I could read on the page. He was obviously a complete wankxr because there were obviously no numbers on the pages.
After a while he said "why are you applying to be a pilot when you are completely colour blind?". I was devastated, I'd always suspected that other people were generally vague about colours but it hadn't occurred to me that it was my fault.
I may be wrong but I think he tried to cheer me up, he said "It's a shame really, you would have made a good pilot, you have no hand/eye co-ordination and you are colour blind but at least you are a complete tosser.
Happy days Bill K
Join Date: Mar 2010
Location: Peterborough
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Mid-80s during a maxeval at a a north German base on the German/Dutch border. It's 2am and everything is quiet. All the guards on 'Blue' Sqn are deligently looking out from their sangers that surround the Sqn. Enter one Chinnook into the dark night that swoops in and drops off a ful load of rock aps inside the Sqn area spoiling for fun. Result, utter chaos! Nobody knew which way to turn, mostly everybody was facing the wrong way and the funniest thing was the police landrover that drove up and swithed on it's spot light, to be greeted by a hail of blank ammo fire, only then to drive off in the other direction never to be seen again. The Rock Apes had a merry time. The only problem was the next day, when there was to be a full flying programme as part of the ex, but this had to be cancelled as the whole area was fodded with brass cartridges and all sqn per had to come out of the ex and do a major fod plod. Happy days.
Join Date: Feb 2007
Location: Highlands
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They're beginning to come back to me .....
OCTU, late '70s. Have learned to polish Lightning prototypes, and, by now, 'Fighter Pilot' TV crew have b*99ered off. Things back to normal. On grass airfield, shown devastating effect of Thunderflash under bin lid, and starting to play with pine poles and 45 gal drums.
Well spoken DS from the Home Counties (DSHC) appoints young Off Cdt from London (OCL) to lead next exercise, which involves much running, adjacent buildings, and said pine poles and drum, and some other stuff.
OCL reads the task, confers with DSCi-staff, and turns to his troops;
'Right Lads, lissen in. The task is ...... pine pose ..... lots a runnin ..... rand the 'Angars ..... back 'ere ...... build a fingumy. Gottit? Any questans?'
DSCH - 'I say OCL, just one moment if you will. Before you move off, I should like to point out that Hangar has an 'H' - it's HHHangar, OCL, HHHangar'
OCL, quick as a flash, - 'Nah Sir, it's 'Angars. There's two of 'em!'
OCTU, late '70s. Have learned to polish Lightning prototypes, and, by now, 'Fighter Pilot' TV crew have b*99ered off. Things back to normal. On grass airfield, shown devastating effect of Thunderflash under bin lid, and starting to play with pine poles and 45 gal drums.
Well spoken DS from the Home Counties (DSHC) appoints young Off Cdt from London (OCL) to lead next exercise, which involves much running, adjacent buildings, and said pine poles and drum, and some other stuff.
OCL reads the task, confers with DSCi-staff, and turns to his troops;
'Right Lads, lissen in. The task is ...... pine pose ..... lots a runnin ..... rand the 'Angars ..... back 'ere ...... build a fingumy. Gottit? Any questans?'
DSCH - 'I say OCL, just one moment if you will. Before you move off, I should like to point out that Hangar has an 'H' - it's HHHangar, OCL, HHHangar'
OCL, quick as a flash, - 'Nah Sir, it's 'Angars. There's two of 'em!'