I Wish I Hadn't Said That ...
Our man, a pilot on 92 Sqn (the Blue Diamonds) had performed at an air display for King Hussein and was watching a Lightning solo aeros effort which ended up catastrophically for the aircraft and pilot and commented "that bugger borrowed five pounds from me last night".
Early Septmeber one year, one of the Sqn Navs asked if he could bring his father in law to the Battle of Britain cocktail party, as FOL had actually flown in the BoB. "Of Course!" was the obvious answer.
On the evening, the Staish was keen to meet the short notice guest of honour, saw an old gentleman in a tweed jacket standing next to the Nav, rushed up holding out his hand and saying, "Pleased to meet you, I understand you flew in the Battle of Britain!"
"Ja - mein name is Hans - pleased to meet you too" was the reply.
(Nav met his wife on a tour at Bruggen. Her dad was a He111 bomb aimer/gunner).
On the evening, the Staish was keen to meet the short notice guest of honour, saw an old gentleman in a tweed jacket standing next to the Nav, rushed up holding out his hand and saying, "Pleased to meet you, I understand you flew in the Battle of Britain!"
"Ja - mein name is Hans - pleased to meet you too" was the reply.
(Nav met his wife on a tour at Bruggen. Her dad was a He111 bomb aimer/gunner).
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Ooh, my first post, wish me luck!
RAF Thorney Island mid 70's, as a young impressionable airman I am amazed at the liberties that one of the older SAC's (lets call him Jones) takes with the section F/Sgt. It culminates in a request to go to the bank one Friday lunchtime, which is granted. That afternoon SAC Jones is nowhere to be found. Monday morning the F/Sgt wanders in "Jones where the F**k were you on Friday afternoon?" "I went to the bank Flight, as you said I could" "all afternoon?" Deadpan reply "me bank's in Bristol flight"
RAF Thorney Island mid 70's, as a young impressionable airman I am amazed at the liberties that one of the older SAC's (lets call him Jones) takes with the section F/Sgt. It culminates in a request to go to the bank one Friday lunchtime, which is granted. That afternoon SAC Jones is nowhere to be found. Monday morning the F/Sgt wanders in "Jones where the F**k were you on Friday afternoon?" "I went to the bank Flight, as you said I could" "all afternoon?" Deadpan reply "me bank's in Bristol flight"
Valley, mid 60s, Sgts' Mess, mid winter. At bar, regular, misogynistic bachelor Pay Accounts Scottish F Sgt. Enters local 'lady' in latest 'pussy pelmet' style dress and with her bouffant hair-do covered in silver sparkly substance. One of bar supporters queries "Is that snow on your hair, Xxxxx?" Instant intervention from Jock " Och no, that's hoar frost!" ... I don't think she got it!!
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In the 60's having a tour of the BMEWS site at Thule - the most modern in the chain. At 'J' site on the hill way above the airfield. Four gigantic fixed arrays standing on edge, each the size of a football field, a dome containing a 150 ton scanner which could move at 32degrees/sec and stop deadbeat. Miles of interconnecting tunnels with underground roadways and waveguides each about 3ft by 18 inches in size running along the roof. Gigantic magnetrons and switching components the size of a small shed. All incredibly impressive. At the end of the tour the guide asks for questions. Silence from the course. Embarrassed silence. Then one of the DS saves us - 'What time does the BX shut?'
A new C130 crew arrive in the South Atlantic and soon after, are tasked with their first maritime patrol. They spot a ship, the Nav needs to record the name in the log and implies the Co-Pilot to do his best with the binoculars. The Co has a bit of a problem with that while bouncing around in the turbulence, but finally manages to read it and the Nav dutifully records the name Nosmo King.
Doh!
Doh!
Having just finished his autobiography I'll borrow a couple of David Niven's brown job stories.
In the inter-war years as a young officer Niven was instructed to attend a training presentation on the latest version of the Vickers machine gun, the training session was delivered by a stuffy old WWI officer who droned endlessly on about fields of fire and aiming point deflection. After several hours of this he finally wrapped up his presentation and asked if there were any questions - Niven raised his hand and asked "yes, do you have the time sir, you see I have a train to catch".
He was placed under close arrest for that little crack with the threat of a Court Martial - his "guard" allowed him to escape and Niven resigned his commission by letter that same day and left to pursue his acting career in the US, later returning to the UK to fight in WWII of course.
Following his return he volunteered for "special duties" at a training base in Scotland, duties which turned out to be a fledgling commando unit. His "recreation" took the form of a rather buxom Danish model living in London - having been given a 72 hour pass he sent her the following telegram "am on my way, will be bringing secret weapon with me, be ready". As he arrived outside the door of her flat 2 rather large gentlemen in hats and long coats appeared from the shadows and asked him to accompany them to the station. He was locked in an interview room and asked why he was discussing "secret weapons" with a foreign national and potential Nazi sympathiser, he explained that "oh this isn't about secret weapons old chap, it's about f()#king !!".
In the inter-war years as a young officer Niven was instructed to attend a training presentation on the latest version of the Vickers machine gun, the training session was delivered by a stuffy old WWI officer who droned endlessly on about fields of fire and aiming point deflection. After several hours of this he finally wrapped up his presentation and asked if there were any questions - Niven raised his hand and asked "yes, do you have the time sir, you see I have a train to catch".
He was placed under close arrest for that little crack with the threat of a Court Martial - his "guard" allowed him to escape and Niven resigned his commission by letter that same day and left to pursue his acting career in the US, later returning to the UK to fight in WWII of course.
Following his return he volunteered for "special duties" at a training base in Scotland, duties which turned out to be a fledgling commando unit. His "recreation" took the form of a rather buxom Danish model living in London - having been given a 72 hour pass he sent her the following telegram "am on my way, will be bringing secret weapon with me, be ready". As he arrived outside the door of her flat 2 rather large gentlemen in hats and long coats appeared from the shadows and asked him to accompany them to the station. He was locked in an interview room and asked why he was discussing "secret weapons" with a foreign national and potential Nazi sympathiser, he explained that "oh this isn't about secret weapons old chap, it's about f()#king !!".
On 33 Sqn, we used to fly in the mountains near Landsberg in Bavaria, which as everyone knows is demanding and only for the steely-eyed. Wherever it was, each detachment required a long, serious briefing beforehand.
A squadron wheel is giving the brief, and leads off with, "Right, let's start with a recap of the most dangerous alpine hazards." Silence. "Come on, someone!"
From the back, plenty audible, "Julie Andrews, Sir?" Pointless carrying on!
I have a suspicion the guilty party is a three-letter abbreviation who frequents this site.
CG
A squadron wheel is giving the brief, and leads off with, "Right, let's start with a recap of the most dangerous alpine hazards." Silence. "Come on, someone!"
From the back, plenty audible, "Julie Andrews, Sir?" Pointless carrying on!
I have a suspicion the guilty party is a three-letter abbreviation who frequents this site.
CG
Lossie, late 70's. Formal dinner in the Sgt's mess. Harry who was black as the ace of spades was there and well known for his whit, he confirmed the following exchange.
Loudmouth - "So Harry, imagine this scene 100 years ago, you could well have been my slave"
Harry's retort "Agreed, and you may well have been my dinner"
Loudmouth left, Harry got lot's of beer!!
Loudmouth - "So Harry, imagine this scene 100 years ago, you could well have been my slave"
Harry's retort "Agreed, and you may well have been my dinner"
Loudmouth left, Harry got lot's of beer!!
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Nice to see this thread emerge from the dusty catacombs! For those not previously sighted, it's worth going back to Page 1 - Oh and 'The 1 Group Dining-in Night' is also well worth a read.
STH
STH
Military est NE of D147 - I answered my phone with the the usual '* Flt, OC' and this chap said, I'm VCDS, are you Captain ********? Nice try says I, now fuc* off I'm busy.
Phone rings again..... I'm not sure who you are but I'm Air Chief Marshall Sir **** ****** and I want to speak to, Yeh says I, do me a favour and stop fu**ing around, I'm busy, click.
5 minutes later phone rings again this time it's my boss - do me favour Ste** for fuc**ake speak to the Vice Chief of the Defence Staff. Errrrr ok.
Phone rings again..... I'm not sure who you are but I'm Air Chief Marshall Sir **** ****** and I want to speak to, Yeh says I, do me a favour and stop fu**ing around, I'm busy, click.
5 minutes later phone rings again this time it's my boss - do me favour Ste** for fuc**ake speak to the Vice Chief of the Defence Staff. Errrrr ok.
I recall a letter, apparently from the RAF CMO, directing a certain student to proceed to the Med Centre as part of a survey of g-suit fitments, which involved the length of his member being taken (by the lady doc) whilst wearing nothing but a g-suit below the waist.
Said student was a tad suspicious, and decided to call the CMO in London direct, to be on the wrong end of a "How DARE you question my orders?" 'conversation', and having his name and unit demanded.
Two minutes later, the CMO is on the phone to Sqn Ops.
"Nice one Lads, what's the story?"
What a player. We sent him a copy of the photo, taken by the guy who leapt from behind the screens as the ruler was being used.
Addendum: Some time later, in preparation for an important visit, the Boss instructed a junior stude to "remove all incriminating evidence" from the Sqn line book. The VIP was, thankfully, amused (and the Boss appalled) to find the picture still there, but with the face whited out with tippex.
Said student was a tad suspicious, and decided to call the CMO in London direct, to be on the wrong end of a "How DARE you question my orders?" 'conversation', and having his name and unit demanded.
Two minutes later, the CMO is on the phone to Sqn Ops.
"Nice one Lads, what's the story?"
What a player. We sent him a copy of the photo, taken by the guy who leapt from behind the screens as the ruler was being used.
Addendum: Some time later, in preparation for an important visit, the Boss instructed a junior stude to "remove all incriminating evidence" from the Sqn line book. The VIP was, thankfully, amused (and the Boss appalled) to find the picture still there, but with the face whited out with tippex.
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There was an old hairy story on those lines:
P/O Bloggs gets on blower to roast some underling at Group. Call goes to wrong extension, but Bloggs does not twig and launches into his spiel.
Deadly silence, then: "Do you know who you're talking to? This is the AOC !"
..... "Do you know who you're talking to, Sir? ..... "NO!!!".... "Thank God! "... (rings off).
(This, of course, was in the Good Old days, when the girls said: "Number, please", and a call couldn't easily be traced).
D.
P/O Bloggs gets on blower to roast some underling at Group. Call goes to wrong extension, but Bloggs does not twig and launches into his spiel.
Deadly silence, then: "Do you know who you're talking to? This is the AOC !"
..... "Do you know who you're talking to, Sir? ..... "NO!!!".... "Thank God! "... (rings off). (This, of course, was in the Good Old days, when the girls said: "Number, please", and a call couldn't easily be traced).
D.
Last edited by Danny42C; 29th May 2015 at 23:19. Reason: Spacing.
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"I could've cut my tongue out !"
Two more from Long Ago:
One, in my Post P.194, #3870 on the "Gaining a Pilot's Brevet..." Thread (currently in the doldrums in Page 2):
"There was worse to come. Although the Squadron's Ground Party was flown out and back in a Hastings (probably), the coffin came home separately in a Dakota. Of course, the sad reception ceremony was held in the (Thornaby) Mess, as it was only for the mourners and 608's private grief, so everyone else stayed away.
We have all had moments in our lives when some unguarded words have slipped out, and we wished the earth might open and swallow us up. The young man was very recently married, his desolate widow thanked the Dakota pilot for bringing him home. "It was a pleasure", blurted this poor devil (he'll live with that to his dying day!)".
Two, in one of my Posts somewhere (but can't find it now - happens frequently, particularly one or other of my three pairs of specs), so from memory:
Decades ago, it so happened that at certain RAF station (Can't remember which one, but she was the Honorary Air Commodore of RAF Cottesmore), Princess Alexandra of Kent paid an official visit. The duty red carpet was hoovered, all was made ready for the great day, and the Princess duly arrived with her entourage, flanked by the AOC with his.
To recover from the rigours of the journey, they all repaired to the Mess for light refreshment. Now, to celebrate the visit, one of the resident Squadrons had planned a display that afternoon, in which they would do a fly past in a "P" with "A" formation in her honour. This was supposed to be a secret, but somehow the Princess had got wind of (some of) it. So when the (rather nervous) Squadron Commander was introduced to her in the anteroom, she brightly put him at ease with: "Wing Commander, I believe your boys are going to do an "A" for me after lunch"..... "Yes, Ma'am", said this unhappy wretch, and then, before he could check himself, "And we're going to do a "P" for you, too".
For a long second everyone froze in horror. The Station Commander went pale. The AOC's brow grew black as thunder. The Ladies in Waiting and the wives gasped. Then the Princess threw back her head and roared with laughter. Of course, everone joined in (but the AOC and Station Commander with gritted teeth).
What happened to him ? Don't know, but he won't forget that day in a hurry!
Moral: Don't let your mouth in before your brain's in gear!
Danny.
One, in my Post P.194, #3870 on the "Gaining a Pilot's Brevet..." Thread (currently in the doldrums in Page 2):
"There was worse to come. Although the Squadron's Ground Party was flown out and back in a Hastings (probably), the coffin came home separately in a Dakota. Of course, the sad reception ceremony was held in the (Thornaby) Mess, as it was only for the mourners and 608's private grief, so everyone else stayed away.
We have all had moments in our lives when some unguarded words have slipped out, and we wished the earth might open and swallow us up. The young man was very recently married, his desolate widow thanked the Dakota pilot for bringing him home. "It was a pleasure", blurted this poor devil (he'll live with that to his dying day!)".
Two, in one of my Posts somewhere (but can't find it now - happens frequently, particularly one or other of my three pairs of specs), so from memory:
Decades ago, it so happened that at certain RAF station (Can't remember which one, but she was the Honorary Air Commodore of RAF Cottesmore), Princess Alexandra of Kent paid an official visit. The duty red carpet was hoovered, all was made ready for the great day, and the Princess duly arrived with her entourage, flanked by the AOC with his.
To recover from the rigours of the journey, they all repaired to the Mess for light refreshment. Now, to celebrate the visit, one of the resident Squadrons had planned a display that afternoon, in which they would do a fly past in a "P" with "A" formation in her honour. This was supposed to be a secret, but somehow the Princess had got wind of (some of) it. So when the (rather nervous) Squadron Commander was introduced to her in the anteroom, she brightly put him at ease with: "Wing Commander, I believe your boys are going to do an "A" for me after lunch"..... "Yes, Ma'am", said this unhappy wretch, and then, before he could check himself, "And we're going to do a "P" for you, too".
For a long second everyone froze in horror. The Station Commander went pale. The AOC's brow grew black as thunder. The Ladies in Waiting and the wives gasped. Then the Princess threw back her head and roared with laughter. Of course, everone joined in (but the AOC and Station Commander with gritted teeth).
What happened to him ? Don't know, but he won't forget that day in a hurry!
Moral: Don't let your mouth in before your brain's in gear!
Danny.
Commodore of large and significant Yacht Club: "How do I greet the Princess Royal? (our Patron)." "Good afternoon, Your Royal Highness!" would do"
"How do I greet the Lord Lieutenant (of Hampshire, at that time a woman)?"
" Depends on how well you know her Commodore, but I get (a kiss on) both cheeks"
Long hard look from Commodore!
"How do I greet the Lord Lieutenant (of Hampshire, at that time a woman)?"
" Depends on how well you know her Commodore, but I get (a kiss on) both cheeks"
Long hard look from Commodore!
Wander00 wrote:
Reminds me of the tale about Churchill being urged by some diplomat to coddle de Gaulle's pride with flattery. WSC is said to have agreed: "I'll kiss him on both cheeks - or, if you prefer, on all four'....
" Depends on how well you know her Commodore, but I get (a kiss on) both cheeks"