Apocryphal SWO stories out there.......

[pamac51]

SWO with the vacation sounding name

I had the 'pleasure' of knowing this loon at Innsworth and Brawdy - he was the FS IC RSDR prior to his promotion to WO and posting to Brawdy as SWO in 1976/77. Prior to his posting he made me an offer of spending 28 days in his cells but 'as he was due at Brawdy on Monday he didn't have time for it'!!! My oppo lived next to him in MQs and it would appear that his family (wife + 2 daughters) had to live with the square bashing shouting that went on all the time in his 'leisure hours'. I was more than delighted to see him promoted and posted - he really would have had me enjoying his hospitality in the RSDR had he stayed at Inns.

Three months later I was called in to the Sqn Cdr's office and told I was promoted and posted to .....Brawdy! My initial thoughts were to turn it down but promotion in my trade was few and far between in those days so I kept my counsel and trusted that he would have forgotten about me in the intervening 4 months. Unfortunately this was not the case and he made my life somewhat uncomfortable for the next 12 months - eg on CO's Inspection when CO was doing his rounds the SWO would sidle up to me and whisper lovingly in my ear 'I remember you' which of course made me so happy that I had made such an imprint on his mind!!

He impressed the Stn exec so much at Brawdy that they moved him out of the Guardroom in the centre of the Station and put him and his equally obnoxious Cpl GD in an old disused Barrack Block away from the main areas of human habitation.

I have got to say that a small frisson of joy crossed my mind when I heard that he had popped his clogs at Newton - most SWOs in those days were old wartime aircrew - he was not - just a bully and an eejit.

His Cpl - with a name that had a connection with old sheep meat - was a dithering fool when the SWO was not around - but if he had the SWO by his side he was just as bad.

[Roadster280]

During my time at Upavon, (as an Army bloke, and while it was a RAF station), one of our number had committed a crime. He was detached from our troop at the parent squadron in BZZ. He'd take a Land Rover (EDIT - This should read L_and Rover) (ohne works ticket or permission), and go and visit his girlfriend of an evening. Next morning, the Rover would be back where it was supposed to be, but a few extra miles on the clock. Well, eventually he gets caught and goes on orders. Gets a 7-day detention sentence.

He's sent back to UPN to collect his kit from his room, and then off to pokey. Well the cells at UPN had (and I still cannot believe this) FIRE EXITS in them. So chappy needs to go and serve his sentence in an Army nick, nearest being 94 Loc Regt RA in Larkhill. We cart him over there, and entering the guardroom, which is surrounded by enormous (and enormously shiny) shell cases, we're greeted by a bloke with two stripes. "Morning Corporal" says the hapless Billy. "I'MNOTAFCUKINGCORPORALI'MABOMBARFCUKINGDIER" came back the instant reply and set the tone for Billy's little sojourn. The provo Sgt comes out of his office, and says quietly, but ominously, "Ah, I've been expecting you. Let's check your documentation". He gets Billy to reel off his Regimental Number, checks his ID card to prove it really was him, checks his own paperwork, all very civilised. Turns to us, the escort, "I'm satisfied this is the prisoner, I've signed for his live body, you guys can go now". End of Mr Nice Provo Sgt (as if there ever was such a thing". Set volume to MAX, turns to his Bdr "RIGHT, FCUKING JAIL THE LITTLE SCROTE". Bdr's turn "PICK UP YOUR SHAGGING KIT YOU IDLE LITTLE ****, EFFRIGHTEFFRIGHTEFFRIGHT". "CLANG"!!!

Poor Billy was about 20lb lighter a week later, and traumatised.

[dkh51250]

Mention of a funeral by FB brought back another memory. Early 70s at an East Anglian airfield where we had lost a jet with both aircrew.

Four days of funeral rehearsals, as ever with a single man locker hidden in the hangar, out of sight.

Come the day of the funeral, and we are to depart from the bay alongside the Guardroom which had been in use as a disaster store. The coffin is to be loaded into the hearse prior to making the journey to the Station Church.

The SWO, J***K Y***g gathered us around the coffin in the bay and told us in hushed tones. "Gentlemen we might F**k this up, but we will f**k it up with dignity. Is this understood"?

Nodding of heads all round.

[airpolice]

A generation of airmen, after my time, but only just, were tortured by JC as a DI Corporal at Swinderby. Imagine the horror in the junior ranks at Boulmer when he turns up in 1977 as the GD Sgt.

MR. G tells a funny story of JC demonstrating the actions of returning your hand to the side of your body after a shoulder arms. This involves striking an imaginary insect off the end of your willy.

While at Swinderby he was famous for throwing bedpacks, and trainees, from upstairs windows.

I had missed his reign at Swinderby, having left therein January 1974, but on spending a week as Duty Prisoner at Boulmer in 1978 I soon got to know his capacity for berating the tardy and untidy. Imagine his consternation on hearing me address the SWO as Jack!

If ever a GD bloke was cut out to be a **** of a SWO it was JC.

However, off duty, he was actually an allright guy. One day while en route from the block to Alnmouth train station one day, JC is pasing in an MT wagon and on seeing me legging it along the road in civvies, he instructs the driver to about turn and collect me, taking me to the station. We shared a few beers on the train and he was just another bloke in the mob. Next week he's back in the Guardroom biting the heads off the long haired scopies!

One day I was driving past the Guardroom at 17:58 when he spots me and "asks" me to take the flag down. I protest that I'm late for going home fed and need to get a move on. In a very firm voice, JC says, "Take the flag down and then go home."

So I did. GD Brat hands me the whistle, I stand to attention, brat lowers the flag and I blow again. We fold the Flag I give him the whistle and put the flag in the car and go home. Apparently next morning was fun and games in the guardroom as they scouted around looking for the flag which by then was in Scotlandshire.

That flag was up our loft until it had to go in a purge on junk when we moved house in 1989.

Someone must know what became of JC, did he ever make it to SWO?

[Samuel]

Not exactly a SWO story, but similar! As a Flt Lt RNZAF in ANZUK from 1974-76,I frequently had occasion to visit Nee Soon Camp which at that time housed the 1st Battalion The Gordon Highlanders. I noted that every Monday morning, after being marched in front of the CO for various misdemeanours, one or two soldiers were marched down to the Guardroom, in full dress uniform, and clang, in they went for three days.

One particular guy was a regular offender apparently, and you could just about set your watch on Monday morning that he would be marched down the road; then all of a sudden his visits stopped. My WO was very friendly with the Gordons RSM, and he asked me if he could bring him to the Officers' Sgts Christmas drinks session in the Kiwi Mess and of course I was happy to agree.

The RSM turned out to be a very agreeable guy, but I had to ask, what had happened to his regular Monday morning offender? "Oh, him" he says, " well it was pretty obvious traditional discipline wasn't working, so we found another way to cure him. I took him behind the guardroom and thumped him".

[Secretsooty]

1985, at a fine apprentice training establishment near Wendover. Our entries Discip Sgt was one M****y R*******n, who we all knew was a decent enough bloke but not to get on the wrong side of him. One night we stole his old Austin Allegro that he'd left outside the block whilst partaking of a few shandies in the rugby club and hid it. Long story short, we were told that we had to return it to the mess the following day or suffer, and he took the spare keys away from his office, the very keys we'd used to move the car then put them back in the office! I hot-wired it, with the ignition switch dismantled from the steering column to get round the steering lock, and got caught driving it into the mess car park as he came out the other way in his little MGB!!!
Turn the clock forward to 1996(?) and a lot further north to a fishing village on the Moray coast with swing-wing death bombers. Sitting in the airman's mess one lunchtime, I witnessed the following......
SWO walks into the mess and approaches a table with only a single LAC sitting at it and holds out his pace stick in one hand, towards the young LAC who was minding his own business having his lunch.
SWO - Hold this laddie!
LAC - Sir?
SWO - Hold the end of my stick sonny boy, NOW!
LAC takes hold of the outstretched end of the pace stick, SWO starts to quiver the stick as he holds it and bellows........
FEEL THE POWER SONNY, FEEL THE POWER!
At this point I burst out laughing uncontrollably, SWO turns and spots me and bellows out.... "CPL ******, you still owe me an ignition switch!" then turns around and walks out the door, leaving me sitting with my jaw open catching flies!!!
What a man, I will never forget his face when he saw what some members of our apprentice entry painted on Henderson Mess roof one night.......

[Halton Brat]

Secretsooty

Secretsooty, you are clearly a rook (1985?). Get some time in. While you were learning your sooty hobby at the College of Knowledge, some of we graduates of my beloved Alma Mater were manning the ramparts of The Free World in order to repel the onslaught of the Teeming Hordes of the Red Empire.

I bet you even had collar-attached shirts. Pah!

HB

[Halton Brat]

Airpolice

Airpolice, the amazingly versatile implement that you are struggling to describe was a button stick, not hook. This fundamental error leads me to suspect that either you are a poseur, or perhaps some intellectually challenged eejit such as a Sooty or Armourer. Take a week's Bedpacks.

HB

[AARON O'DICKYDIDO]

Airpolice

I'll see your collarless shirt and raise you a Buttonhook and a tin of Brasso.

Buttonhooks are for fastening buttons, usually on ladies boots but can also be used to fasten shirt buttons with one hand.



Brasso- Brasso !!! ???? We BEs could't afford Brasso. We used issue Blubell.

[Finningley Boy]

Duraglit was the preferred weapon of choice for polishing anything made of Brass as I recall and it was Brill. Of course such cards that we were, we changed one letter in the name to say something else! snigger!!!

Air Police,

You may have been at Boulmer when I arrived in August 1978. And indeed, JC was the said Sergeant Smith's nick name. He later went to Machrahanish where he got a bit part in the film White Nights. He's the Soviet Officer who marches up to the Aircraft stands to attention and salutes smartly when the side door opens.

Somebody told me he was just like Hitler! In that he had survived numerous attempts on his life.

FB

[Wizzard]

Sorry not a SWO story but an Army one

One day in sunny Aldershot LCPL Wizzard was sent to report to his Officer Commanding - can't remember why: on arrival at the company office the Sergeant Major was sitting at his desk and through the door I could see the OC wasn't around. Foolishly I asked the CSM if he knew where the OC was to which he replied "is my face red?" Confused, I just stared at him until he shouted "IS MY FACE RED?" No Sir! says I "THEN HE"S NOT UP MY F*@KING A@RSE THEN IS HE - GET OUT!"

I did get out, and fell down the stairs laughing.

[Blacksheep]

We three RAF Sergeants were attending a Demob course at Aldershot and were accomodated in the Garrison Sergeants Mess. On our first day, wearing civvies, we wandered in for luncheon and sat down in the dining room. The waitresses seemed a bit reluctant to attend to our needs so we called one over and ordered our meal. A minute or so later the Garrison Sergeant Major enters the dining room, followed by the SNCOs in rank order. GSM comes over to our table, "You chaps must be from the RAF, eh?" "Yes Sir!" we chorus. "Ah yes. I thought so!" he said and headed for his place at the big table down the far end, followed by the others. They all stood behind their chairs, the GSM sat down, they sat down and meal service commenced. Next day we waited in the lobby with all the others, until the GSM arrived.

Having a pint with the same GSM one evening and he tells what happened earlier when the Garrison Commander sent for him to discuss the impending visit of the Chaplain General. The CO is worried about getting a good attendance at the Aldershot church but it wouldn't be acceptable to order soldiers to attend. The GSM has the solution - he has promulgated an order saying "A full kit inspection will be conducted by the Garrison Sergeant Major at 0800 on Sunday the 5 June. All soldiers will lay out their kit and stand by their beds. Soldiers attending divine service are excused." On the following Sunday the church was packed and there were more soldiers in uniform standing outside.

[CADF]

That'll be a button stick then.

[Pontius Navigator]

Blanco - blue and white

[tyne]

Forgive the intrusion from a civvy but I have an army and RN anecdote to tell.

My late Dad just after the war, new to the army and in the DLI. A dark haired chap who although smartly turned out suffered badly from 5 o' clock shadow - with it coming through an hour after a shave.

There he is on parade - immaculate turn out. RSM pauses, looks him up and down then growls in his ear. !Ave we ad a shave today laddie?" Dad replies that he has. RSM gets closer to his ear and through gritted teeth growls even louder. "Next time, stand closer to the Effin razor then."

Then one from the modern Royal Navy. Mid 1990s I am at sea as a visitor in a RN warship. It is very, very rough and she is taking green water over her bow. We've all been sick, we've had a hell of a night. The Captain is gripping his chair having confessed to chucking his guts up.

In off the bridge wing arrives a soaking wet junior officer. He asks permission to come onto the bridge then as he disrobes announces "Jesus it's a sh***y old day out there." To which the EWO - (I think that was his title) standing immaculately turned out at the back of the bridge replies. "I think Sir meant to say, Golly chaps it's certainly bracing out there." The captain, looking green and still holding onto his chair buts in. "No it is a Sh***y day and anyone who thinks different is clearly a nutter." EWO and the rest of the bridge team burst into laughter.

[VP8]

Not SWO but RSM....more scarier!

RAF Topcliffe early eighties...

Young Veeps back from his 2nd det to the Sunny Malvinas drives across to the tower between the hangers to pick up some mail that had accumulated.

Passed some army bods and a couple of 150mm howitzers parked there, thinks thats unusual

Called into Dsatco's office and told to go to The Army Adjies office in SHQ and was given the most almighty of rollickings by the RSM as I had driven through his handover parade in my little Fiat 126. Was then given the biggest brass shell and warhead I had ever seen and was doubled over to the guardroom (hard to do in Fliplops) and was promptly jailed! I was left to stew for 6hrs then released with no reason or charge.

Checked the gap everytime between the hangers since.....

[MReyn24050]

Back in the 1970s the RSM of the Aircraft Training Wing (AETW) at Middle Wallop is drilling a Squad of Trainee Technicians on the parade square. One lad is doing everything wrong, much to the annoyance of the RSM who finally has had enough he calls the Squad to attention, marches over to the offending technician and with his pace stick points it in the direction of some dustbins outside of one of the blocks awaiting collection.
RSM: “See that bin laddie?”
Technician: “Yes Sir” well you go and stand in it and if anyone asks what you are doing you tell them you are rubbish”
RSM: “What are you?”
Technician: “Rubbish, Sir”
RSM: “GO”
Technician doubles off the square and climbs in the bin.
RSM continues to drill the rest of the Squad.
20 minutes later who should come down the path? The CO of AETW, he spots the Technician standing in the bin and asks him what he is doing in the bin.
Technician replies “I am rubbish Sir”.
CO: “Who put you in there?”
Technician: “The RSM Sir”.
CO: “OK carry on”

[Wwyvern]

As we seem to have drifted seamlessly into Army territory, herewith my memory of a Sergeants' Mess whilst on exercise in winter Norway. Although the Squadon was camped under canvas, the Army Battalion had permanent accommodation. They were to be on exercise far longer than we. The Sergeants' Mess had invited the RAF officers and SNCOs to watch a film one evening. Several of us attended, including a few Acting Sergeant Air Loadmasters. You will know that it takes a long time for Army personnel to make sergeant, and there was some amusement amongst their old hairies at the expense of our hardly-yet-shaving loadies, who were made up almost as soon as they joined.

In those days, films came in reels, and during a change of reels, one of our loadies whispered to his companion that the film was good, but it was a pity that the roaring fire was flickering on the screen. The ever-present RSM heard this, looked around the Mess and addressed his oldest and most experienced Sergeant, "Sergeant MacDonald, go and stand in front of the fire, so that our guests can enjoy the film to the full." Our heroes didn't catch the end of the film but slunk off back to their tents.

[Krystal n chips]

Brawdy....and a certain aforementioned Cpl "dressed as lamb".

We were socially acquainted as they say by virtue of the little sabbaticals 71 MU undertook to the Station. He had, I suppose, what is now known as OCD with our troops (I suppose he had some justification with, ahem, the standard MU "dress code" )and thus was an easy target. He was though easily distracted in bedding stores and thus the plan was simple..one engaged in conversation whilst the others signed for the bedding..using but one name... consistently..thus after several months, he eventually got around to wondering why J/T Bloggs now had some 20 sets of bedding allocated to him...much ranting to the straight faced troops ensued of course...along with various threats etc.

However, one day we were returning to Abingdon and who did we see hitch-hiking..in No1's no less, than the above Cpl. You have to help a comrade now don't you?.

The van ( ironically, being driven by J/T Bloggs ) duly slowed, the rear doors opened, and the look of gratitude was so evident on his face...he got nearer and nearer...to the outstretched hands...until... with perfect timing, said J/T floors the pedal, exhaust covers our traveller...and the doors are slammed shut...you could hear, and see, the wails of despair and wrath being uttered....alas!

[PICKS135]

Finningley Boy Duraglit was the preferred weapon of choice for polishing anything made of Brass as I recall and it was Brill. Of course such cards that we were, we changed one letter in the name to say something else! snigger!!!

Air Police,

You may have been at Boulmer when I arrived in August 1978. And indeed, JC was the said Sergeant Smith's nick name. He later went to Machrahanish where he got a bit part in the film White Nights. He's the Soviet Officer who marches up to the Aircraft stands to attention and salutes smartly when the side door opens.

Somebody told me he was just like Hitler! In that he had survived numerous attempts on his life.

FB

JC was my DI in August 1975 at Swnderby. For some reason we only had him for 3 weeks, and then he was based in the guardroom.
Did enjoy throwing bedpacks about though