I Wish I Hadn't Said That ...
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Pair of Chinooks inbound to Beirut, 100’ over the sea, clear skies but only about 2nm visibility because of sea mist.
“Helicopters at ……N, ……E, Hdg 090° this is Israeli Warship.”
“I say again, helicopters at ……N, ……E, Hdg 090° this is Israeli Warship.”
Faffing in the cockpit, “****, that’s us”!
“Israeli Warship, this is Lifter Formation, a pair of British CH47’s, please pass your message?”
“This is Israeli Warship, you are to stay 3nm away from my ship.”
“Roger, what is your position?”
Long pause...
“Sorry, I cannot tell you that!”
DOH!…
“Helicopters at ……N, ……E, Hdg 090° this is Israeli Warship.”
“I say again, helicopters at ……N, ……E, Hdg 090° this is Israeli Warship.”
Faffing in the cockpit, “****, that’s us”!
“Israeli Warship, this is Lifter Formation, a pair of British CH47’s, please pass your message?”
“This is Israeli Warship, you are to stay 3nm away from my ship.”
“Roger, what is your position?”
Long pause...
“Sorry, I cannot tell you that!”
DOH!…
Last edited by Pilot Pacifier; 30th Jul 2006 at 09:44.
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At Kaitak in the 70s, they had a local chinese mechanic in MTSS called
Mr NG.
One day the chiefie came out of his office and shouted for NG. After realising that this was impossible, he used to call him Charlie after that.
Mr NG.
One day the chiefie came out of his office and shouted for NG. After realising that this was impossible, he used to call him Charlie after that.
Aboard USS Denver, Amphib Ship, South China Sea near the Philippines.....over the ship's 1MC PA system....."Attention all Hands, give the ship a clean sweep fore and aft, all decks, ladders, and passageways, deposit all trash in the **** Cans provided!" (Repeated twice of course)
A minutes silence over the 1MC folllowed but much loud yelling and strong sailor talk heard from the XO's immediate area of the ship.....then over the 1MC...."Attention all hands, reference my last, disregard what I said about the **** Cans!" (twice of course)
The poor lad's Chief and Division Officer found themselves having a coffee-less meeting with the XO shortly thereafter.
A minutes silence over the 1MC folllowed but much loud yelling and strong sailor talk heard from the XO's immediate area of the ship.....then over the 1MC...."Attention all hands, reference my last, disregard what I said about the **** Cans!" (twice of course)
The poor lad's Chief and Division Officer found themselves having a coffee-less meeting with the XO shortly thereafter.
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Decimommannu circa early 70s
The RAF Ops Officer was a chap called Master Pilot Wally Cole. When asked by the assembled Bucc aircrew why the air conditioning in the Ops Room didn't work, Wally's reply was as simple and explanatory as it comes:
"The Fu**in' Fu**er's Fu**ed!"
It was! He became known as Master Pilot Wally Fu**in' Cole after that!
FW
"The Fu**in' Fu**er's Fu**ed!"
It was! He became known as Master Pilot Wally Fu**in' Cole after that!
FW
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Glad to see this thread come back to life. Highly entertaining.
During the mid eighties when I was young free and single, I happened to get off with a young lass who turned out to be a LAC(W) from Brampton. It was very much frowned on for a young officer to do that sort of thing in those days, but amazing how common it was, but since I was up at Wittering, who would find out.
One Saturday night I suggested we have a night out in Stamford, obviously with naughtier thoughts in mind back in my room in the mess. But I briefed her thoroughly. If we meet anyone, I said, you're a typist from Leicester. No problem.
Evening went smoothly. Met a few people in town - no-one suspected. Driving back down the A1 at the end of the evening, I overtook my DSATCO, Rog (who lived in the room opposite me), who clocks me with passenger and chivalrously eases off the gas to allow me to get back to my room before him to avoid embarrassing moments.
However, on exiting the car outside the mess, young lady slams the door on her hand. Why would anyone want to do that? What followed was a few minutes of her dancing about howling in pain with me trying to soothe her with more than half a thought on trying to get up to my room without anyone seeing us. Anyway, she delayed us enough; Rog parked up and as we turned to go up the stairs, Rog was coming along the upper corridor. Evening, he said.
So I did the honourable thing and introduced my young lady.
Evening Rog. Er, Rog meet Caroline, Caroline meet Rog.
Evening Caroline.
Evening sir!!!!!!!!
And do you know, Rog never said a word about it. Not, that is until his dining-out some 18 months later!
During the mid eighties when I was young free and single, I happened to get off with a young lass who turned out to be a LAC(W) from Brampton. It was very much frowned on for a young officer to do that sort of thing in those days, but amazing how common it was, but since I was up at Wittering, who would find out.
One Saturday night I suggested we have a night out in Stamford, obviously with naughtier thoughts in mind back in my room in the mess. But I briefed her thoroughly. If we meet anyone, I said, you're a typist from Leicester. No problem.
Evening went smoothly. Met a few people in town - no-one suspected. Driving back down the A1 at the end of the evening, I overtook my DSATCO, Rog (who lived in the room opposite me), who clocks me with passenger and chivalrously eases off the gas to allow me to get back to my room before him to avoid embarrassing moments.
However, on exiting the car outside the mess, young lady slams the door on her hand. Why would anyone want to do that? What followed was a few minutes of her dancing about howling in pain with me trying to soothe her with more than half a thought on trying to get up to my room without anyone seeing us. Anyway, she delayed us enough; Rog parked up and as we turned to go up the stairs, Rog was coming along the upper corridor. Evening, he said.
So I did the honourable thing and introduced my young lady.
Evening Rog. Er, Rog meet Caroline, Caroline meet Rog.
Evening Caroline.
Evening sir!!!!!!!!
And do you know, Rog never said a word about it. Not, that is until his dining-out some 18 months later!
Last edited by Fatjoff; 31st Jul 2006 at 20:22.
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Beagle - gentleman never tells, but I took her mind off her fingers!
Allan - Memory fading but I was there between 84 and 86. My guess is back end of 84. I was in the East wg first floor looking out over the front of the mess. You were there then too?
Allan - Memory fading but I was there between 84 and 86. My guess is back end of 84. I was in the East wg first floor looking out over the front of the mess. You were there then too?
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During the Deci ACMI days in the early 80s the range used car names for callsigns with each country’s range slot being given a specific name, ie a Brit slot would be called Morris or Austin etc.
On this day we were using a German slot and were given Mercedes. All went well until we swapped freq from Deci to Marco Radar and the Flight Lead reverted to type. It went something like this:
Lead. ‘Merc check in’
F4s. ‘2, 3 4’
Lead. ‘Marco Radar this is Merc formation, flight of 4 for the range request QNH’.
Marco Radar. ‘Hey Merc this is Mercedes’ range slot you’re not cleared in’
After some lengthy pause.
Lead. ‘OK sorry, this is Mercedes Formation, flight of 4 for the Range etc’
Marco Radar ‘Hey, I recognise your voice you are Merc formation, go home the range she is closed.
Longer Pause during which lead pilot and nav discuss options in house.
Eventually,
Lead (nav). ‘Mercedes check in’
F4s. ‘2, 3, 4.’
Lead (nav) ‘Marco Radar, Mercedes Formation, flight of 4 for the Range.
Marco Radar. ‘Mercedes Formation cleared in Range, QNH 1014, and watch out there is a Merc formation out there trying to steal your range slot.
On this day we were using a German slot and were given Mercedes. All went well until we swapped freq from Deci to Marco Radar and the Flight Lead reverted to type. It went something like this:
Lead. ‘Merc check in’
F4s. ‘2, 3 4’
Lead. ‘Marco Radar this is Merc formation, flight of 4 for the range request QNH’.
Marco Radar. ‘Hey Merc this is Mercedes’ range slot you’re not cleared in’
After some lengthy pause.
Lead. ‘OK sorry, this is Mercedes Formation, flight of 4 for the Range etc’
Marco Radar ‘Hey, I recognise your voice you are Merc formation, go home the range she is closed.
Longer Pause during which lead pilot and nav discuss options in house.
Eventually,
Lead (nav). ‘Mercedes check in’
F4s. ‘2, 3, 4.’
Lead (nav) ‘Marco Radar, Mercedes Formation, flight of 4 for the Range.
Marco Radar. ‘Mercedes Formation cleared in Range, QNH 1014, and watch out there is a Merc formation out there trying to steal your range slot.
Nixor ut Ledo
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Fatjoff Rocked up on 1 Jul 85 as OC PMS so I obviously missed your bit of excitement. I was in the west wing at the far end looking straight down the road to SHQ (presumably that was to make sure that I never took my mind off the job!). Had the most unlikely Harrier jock in the end room - name has slipped my memory now - but he ended up as a bit of a leading light in the Harrier world.
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The story of bringing a Waffie back to the Mess reminded me of the (true, cos I was there) story below. Coincidentally, I just saw the no longer quite so young officer who was the star of this yarn for the first time in quite a few years, whose nickname from those days should probably be changed from B-Squared to B-Cubed, (adding ‘bald’ to the original two Bs).
Apologies if it is overly long, but it was originally written (along with many others) more years ago than I care to remember for people not familiar with the curious ways of the Service life.
Apologies if it is overly long, but it was originally written (along with many others) more years ago than I care to remember for people not familiar with the curious ways of the Service life.
Three Minutes, Are You Extending?
Back in the 20’s, some very sharp real estate agents managed to sell the Government of the day the most fog-prone swamp within forty miles of every major city in Australia as the site of that city’s Air Force Base. They also went to some pains to make each site as inaccessible to decent public transport as possible. This has resulted in most young men and women on their first posting after training being virtual prisoners on the Base until they can afford a car on the never-never.
Junior officers experience the same urges as most other young men, but if unable to get off the Base, they find outlets for these urges somewhat hard to come by. They are forbidden to fraternize with the enlisted women, the Waffs. It is quite in order to marry one, but to take one out is seriously frowned upon by the powers that be. Just how a junior officer is expected to get himself into a position to ask the girl to marry him has never been explained to me - perhaps arranged marriages, as in the Muslim world?
In those now far off days when automation was in its infancy, one Waff who was available to all, to speak to at least, was the duty telephonist. Late at night, she was often as bored as the drunk on the other end of the line, and many’s the young man who has spent half an hour late at night chatting up the bird on the switch.
One duty suffered by every young officer every one or two months is to be the Base Orderly Officer. The Orderly Dog has a number of duties, one of which is to be dragged out of bed at all hours of the night to read any signal which comes into the Base Communication Centre. One signal in a hundred might require action - (“The yellow hordes will be attacking at dawn.” Yawn.) - but all except the routine ones must be read by the long-suffering Orderly Officer. The Comm Centre is usually in the same building as the telephone exchange. Sometimes the Orderly Officer might stay for a cup of coffee with the switch girl.
One young officer, whilst doing his night as Orderly Officer, was caught having considerably more than a cup of coffee with the switch girl. They had to be punished, if only for both being seriously out of uniform whilst on duty. The switch girl was awarded a month’s night shift as punishment for her crime. (‘Awarded’ - that’s the word the RAAF uses in such circumstances.)
But what of the officer? Well he was ‘awarded’ a punishment that only the military mind could come up with for such an offence - one month’s orderly officer duty, which meant he could not leave the Base at all for another thirty days. I’ll leave it to the reader’s imagination how the two miscreants spent most of their nights during their punishment.
Back in the 20’s, some very sharp real estate agents managed to sell the Government of the day the most fog-prone swamp within forty miles of every major city in Australia as the site of that city’s Air Force Base. They also went to some pains to make each site as inaccessible to decent public transport as possible. This has resulted in most young men and women on their first posting after training being virtual prisoners on the Base until they can afford a car on the never-never.
Junior officers experience the same urges as most other young men, but if unable to get off the Base, they find outlets for these urges somewhat hard to come by. They are forbidden to fraternize with the enlisted women, the Waffs. It is quite in order to marry one, but to take one out is seriously frowned upon by the powers that be. Just how a junior officer is expected to get himself into a position to ask the girl to marry him has never been explained to me - perhaps arranged marriages, as in the Muslim world?
In those now far off days when automation was in its infancy, one Waff who was available to all, to speak to at least, was the duty telephonist. Late at night, she was often as bored as the drunk on the other end of the line, and many’s the young man who has spent half an hour late at night chatting up the bird on the switch.
One duty suffered by every young officer every one or two months is to be the Base Orderly Officer. The Orderly Dog has a number of duties, one of which is to be dragged out of bed at all hours of the night to read any signal which comes into the Base Communication Centre. One signal in a hundred might require action - (“The yellow hordes will be attacking at dawn.” Yawn.) - but all except the routine ones must be read by the long-suffering Orderly Officer. The Comm Centre is usually in the same building as the telephone exchange. Sometimes the Orderly Officer might stay for a cup of coffee with the switch girl.
One young officer, whilst doing his night as Orderly Officer, was caught having considerably more than a cup of coffee with the switch girl. They had to be punished, if only for both being seriously out of uniform whilst on duty. The switch girl was awarded a month’s night shift as punishment for her crime. (‘Awarded’ - that’s the word the RAAF uses in such circumstances.)
But what of the officer? Well he was ‘awarded’ a punishment that only the military mind could come up with for such an offence - one month’s orderly officer duty, which meant he could not leave the Base at all for another thirty days. I’ll leave it to the reader’s imagination how the two miscreants spent most of their nights during their punishment.
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Originally Posted by Self Loading Freight
A story relayed to me by a jolly chap at Blandford: wee small hours on an army exercise in BAOR in the early 70s. Nothing was happening, nothing was going to happen, neither bed nor Ivan loomed large.
Eventually, the radio wakes up: "Are there any friendly bears out there?", "Yes, I'm a friendly bear", "I'm a friendly bear too", and so on up and down the net This went on for a bit until an outraged voice broke in and proceeded to read the riot act about w/t security, discipline, procedures and so on.
There was silence on the channel for about ten seconds.
"You're not a very friendly bear, are you?"
R
Eventually, the radio wakes up: "Are there any friendly bears out there?", "Yes, I'm a friendly bear", "I'm a friendly bear too", and so on up and down the net This went on for a bit until an outraged voice broke in and proceeded to read the riot act about w/t security, discipline, procedures and so on.
There was silence on the channel for about ten seconds.
"You're not a very friendly bear, are you?"
R
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Originally Posted by microlight AV8R
Amazing ! My father was on that exercise and gave me a first hand account of the incident. I wonder if that's why he refers to his LS&GC as his 'undetected crime medal'? Another transmission heard over the net went thus: " Hello unknown station, nothing heard, out"
"Hullo all stations I'm f*****g pissed off"
to which the control station responded,
"Hullo unknown station this is 0 say again call sign over"
and recieved the reply,
"I'm not that F*****g pissed off, out."
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A Met classic
Airfield in Englandshire many moons ago. Quiet, settled sort of day, everything flying, everyone happy. Observer asks Forecaster for the trend forecast to put on the end of the hourly metar. Forecaster, known for his somewhat straightforward approach to the English language shouts back 'Oh, NO f***ing SIG'.
Observer types up on the teleprinter and sends!
Airfield in Englandshire many moons ago. Quiet, settled sort of day, everything flying, everyone happy. Observer asks Forecaster for the trend forecast to put on the end of the hourly metar. Forecaster, known for his somewhat straightforward approach to the English language shouts back 'Oh, NO f***ing SIG'.
Observer types up on the teleprinter and sends!
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A young lady (SACW) sitting in the airshow co-ordinating office at a certain ground trades school back in 97 needed to speak to Flt Lt xxx about the forthcoming show. Phoning the extension given, a deep voice answers without giving their name.
SACW: Good Afternoon Sir, I'm calling about the airshow
Voice: You need to speak to Flt Lt xxx
SACW: Sorry Sir, I thought it was you
Voice: No, this is the SWO
SACW: Sorry, I thought the SWO was female
Voice: I am!!!
SACW: Do you know who this is?
Voice: NO!
SACW: Thank God for that!!
And hangs up pretty rapidly!
SACW: Good Afternoon Sir, I'm calling about the airshow
Voice: You need to speak to Flt Lt xxx
SACW: Sorry Sir, I thought it was you
Voice: No, this is the SWO
SACW: Sorry, I thought the SWO was female
Voice: I am!!!
SACW: Do you know who this is?
Voice: NO!
SACW: Thank God for that!!
And hangs up pretty rapidly!
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Sqn Ldr walks into ATC tower & spots a young SAC counting up the tea bar takings.
Sqn Ldr, "Morning young lady, do you happen to have change of a ten pound note?"
SACW, "Certainly, I'll just count it out for you."
Sqn Ldr, "Hmm, aren't you forgetting something young lady"
SACW, "Sorry?"
Sqn Ldr, "As you can see, I'm a Sqn Ldr in Her Majesties Royal Air Force and as such, I do believe that I have earned the right to be addressed as 'Sir'. Shall we start this conversation again?"
SACW, "My apologies sir, certainly."
Sqn Ldr, "Excellent, do you happen to have change of a ten pound note?"
SACW, "No sir."
Sqn Ldr, "Morning young lady, do you happen to have change of a ten pound note?"
SACW, "Certainly, I'll just count it out for you."
Sqn Ldr, "Hmm, aren't you forgetting something young lady"
SACW, "Sorry?"
Sqn Ldr, "As you can see, I'm a Sqn Ldr in Her Majesties Royal Air Force and as such, I do believe that I have earned the right to be addressed as 'Sir'. Shall we start this conversation again?"
SACW, "My apologies sir, certainly."
Sqn Ldr, "Excellent, do you happen to have change of a ten pound note?"
SACW, "No sir."
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I remember watching a BBC documentary about Her Majesty's Submarine service and an obviously university educated reporter interviewing a rating:
Reporter: Do you enjoy the Royal Navy?
Rating: I can't stand it - I hate it.
Reporter: Why don't you leave then?
Rating: Not much need for a torpedo technician in civvy street!
Reporter: Do you enjoy the Royal Navy?
Rating: I can't stand it - I hate it.
Reporter: Why don't you leave then?
Rating: Not much need for a torpedo technician in civvy street!
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I'm glad I said that!
Canberra pilot (not me) on exercise with Pongos in Sennelager Range circa 196?
Scene: breakfast in a tent in the boonies.
Present: Army captain (AC) wearing his hat; Canberra captain (CC) sans hat!
CC: Pass the marmalade please?
AC: Studious ignore
CC: Excuse me, could I have the marmalade please?
AC: Studious ignore
CC: Hey! I asked you for the marmalade!
AC: When an Army officer wears his hat at breakfast, it means he does not wish to converse!
CC: Whilst raising his size 10 Flying boot and planting it in AC's Corn Flakes. Fair enough, but when an RAF Officer puts his flying boot in your corn flakes it means pass the f*****g marmalade!
Maybe apochryphal, but very apposite!
KNOBs
(see other thread currently running entitled 'Thanks for that Mike')
FW
Scene: breakfast in a tent in the boonies.
Present: Army captain (AC) wearing his hat; Canberra captain (CC) sans hat!
CC: Pass the marmalade please?
AC: Studious ignore
CC: Excuse me, could I have the marmalade please?
AC: Studious ignore
CC: Hey! I asked you for the marmalade!
AC: When an Army officer wears his hat at breakfast, it means he does not wish to converse!
CC: Whilst raising his size 10 Flying boot and planting it in AC's Corn Flakes. Fair enough, but when an RAF Officer puts his flying boot in your corn flakes it means pass the f*****g marmalade!
Maybe apochryphal, but very apposite!
KNOBs
(see other thread currently running entitled 'Thanks for that Mike')FW
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"Lufthansa ****, clear next right".
Manch, OCT 72, 0300 ish, runway in use 24, work in progress on North Western taxiway. In the time it takes to write on a progress strip, B737 at a brisk walking pace carries on past the intended link to the "next" one. A very startled gang of road menders find a very noisy and bright illumination of their brew cans. Blessed be he who invented thrust reversers.
From that day forth, the clearance was strictly "first" right/left!
Manch, OCT 72, 0300 ish, runway in use 24, work in progress on North Western taxiway. In the time it takes to write on a progress strip, B737 at a brisk walking pace carries on past the intended link to the "next" one. A very startled gang of road menders find a very noisy and bright illumination of their brew cans. Blessed be he who invented thrust reversers.
From that day forth, the clearance was strictly "first" right/left!