I Wish I Hadn't Said That ...
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Drunken banter in a mess bar some 4000 miles south of the equator as to which aircraft had the best rate of climb.
The toom boys said it was theirs. "Rubbish" said the wokkas. Honour was at stake, so a comparison was to be made of the best brakes off to ten thousand performance.
A wokka mate sat in the back of a Toom and timed the climb. "Very impressive" said he. A toom chap sat in the Chinook and watched the crew get airborne, climb to 9900', release the parking brake and climb a hundred feet in a matter of seconds!
The toom boys said it was theirs. "Rubbish" said the wokkas. Honour was at stake, so a comparison was to be made of the best brakes off to ten thousand performance.
A wokka mate sat in the back of a Toom and timed the climb. "Very impressive" said he. A toom chap sat in the Chinook and watched the crew get airborne, climb to 9900', release the parking brake and climb a hundred feet in a matter of seconds!
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I've got a couple for you. These are from when I was an army cadet. Didn't witness the first one myself tho.
We were at Beckenham shooting range during one of the inter service (cadet) comps. During a break, the cadets operating the targets (ie the ****wits that can't shoot, including me) were allowed to have a pop on the LMG. Having just been told to fire in short bursts, one female cadet fired off an entire mag in one go and the barrel went all droopy.
The other one is from when I was in "spoon platoon" as it was my first camp. We were sat in our billet busily bulling our boots, having just been shown how to do it properly. In walks the much feared colour sergeant and to his horror, one of the lads is using one of those bottle with a sponge on top polishes.
CSgt: (to the sponge polish lad) " WHAT THE ŁUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!"
SPL: (not even bothering to look up and with a facial expression that suggests the CSgt is stupid) "Polishin' me boots"
CSgt: (now enraged by the lads lack of respect) "COLOUR!!!!!"
SPL: "Black!"
We were at Beckenham shooting range during one of the inter service (cadet) comps. During a break, the cadets operating the targets (ie the ****wits that can't shoot, including me) were allowed to have a pop on the LMG. Having just been told to fire in short bursts, one female cadet fired off an entire mag in one go and the barrel went all droopy.
The other one is from when I was in "spoon platoon" as it was my first camp. We were sat in our billet busily bulling our boots, having just been shown how to do it properly. In walks the much feared colour sergeant and to his horror, one of the lads is using one of those bottle with a sponge on top polishes.
CSgt: (to the sponge polish lad) " WHAT THE ŁUCK DO YOU THINK YOU'RE DOING!"
SPL: (not even bothering to look up and with a facial expression that suggests the CSgt is stupid) "Polishin' me boots"
CSgt: (now enraged by the lads lack of respect) "COLOUR!!!!!"
SPL: "Black!"
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Can't remember whether it was present incumbent or his predeccessor but the topic in the Houses of Parliament was the curtbacks in the Defence Medical Services. Anyway, poor bloke stands up in front of the assembled throng and announces that "those cu#ts in the Defence Medical Services..." Apparently, Hansard has been amended to read what he had intended to say.
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This has to be the best thread I’ve ever come across on Pprune. If you all can handle it, allow me to throw some Antipodean offerings your way.
******
Malaysia during Confrontation, mid 60’s of last century. Javelin pilot, callsign ‘Ramrod 123’, on ADX with female controller working the long range (monochrome) radar, (which went all cluttery and grey when targets got near to overhead). As the Javelin and its target approached overhead, she handed it over to the short range radar.
The RT went something like this.
Female controller: “Ramrod 123, you are now entering my grey area, call Changi Radar on stud 4.”
With no delay, the Jav driver replied “Negative, request deeper penetration of your grey area.”
******
F86 (ahhhh…
detachment enroute Williamtown to Darwin. (Rough equivalent in distance: London to Moscow - with zero enroute navaids and no UHF ground stations.) A Neptune leads the push to provide navigation assistance at ATC cklearances ‘coz it has VHF. A Herc is in close-ish company to the formation with the fighter squadron ground crew on board. Neppie pilot makes ‘inadvertent’ call on ‘long range intercom’ (UHF chatter freq). “Ah, Nav, I’d like my steak medium rare, please, with lots of mushroom sauce, two spuds. Brew a fresh pot of coffee and I’ll have it hot after the steak.”
The Herc pilot took the cue, and transmitted “Loadie, I’ll have my pie now - no, make it the chicken salad, not too much mayonnaise, black coffee, one sugar.”
The Knuck leader was equal to the occasion. Without a pause, he called to his formation in the clipped, no nonsense style of the fighter pilot. “Maple Hipshot, jelly beans, jelly beans, GO!”
*****
Back in the 60s and 70s, a couple of RAAF Neptunes or P3s went to Hawaii each year to take part in the annual major ASW exercises with the USN. In 1969, a Japanese Self Defence Forces SP-2 arrived at Barbers Point Naval Air Station near Honolulu when the exercise was in full swing. The Japanese aircraft was not expected, so the USN had not appointed a liaison officer. It was obvious from the start that the crew were on a junket. Most were very senior officers; the most junior was a full Commander, the rest being of Flag rank.
The Japanese visitors were offered perhaps a little less hospitality than usual, as everyone was very busy with the Exercise. The Admiral who appeared to be in charge was a very impressive looking man with a military bearing and straight silver hair. One night he was standing alone in the BOQ bar when the co-pilot on the Aussie P3 asked him if he could buy him a beer. The Japanese Admiral replied in beautiful English that he would be delighted to join the young Australian for a drink. The conversation went something like this:
“Are you enjoying your visit to Hawaii, sir?”
“Very much. It is a beautiful place.”
“Have you been here before?”
The Japanese Admiral paused before answering, but possibly noting the Australian uniform, felt he wouldn’t cause offence with his answer: “Well, yes, I have been here once before… But I didn’t land that time.”
*****
The P3 was flying at low level on fisheries surveillance when it happened upon a large yacht on which stood a bare chested man and a statuesque and similarly-attired young lady displaying an ample pair of unarrested but very arresting breasts. As the P3 swept overhead the crew triggered the belly camera which took a series of photographs of the yacht. The name of the yacht and the wildly waving pair were clearly to be seen in the photographs.
Thinking that a bit of PR would not go astray, the squadron thought they would send copies of the photographs to the owner, easily traced through the yacht’s name. The photographs were greatly appreciated - by the yachtie’s wife. Apparently the lovely boobs so clearly on display beside the waving husband in the glossy 8 x 6 photographs were not hers.
The thought was there, but 11 Squadron had almost certainly lost one more vote for greater defence spending, judging by the unhappy letter they received from the gentleman after his very costly divorce settlement.
******
Malaysia during Confrontation, mid 60’s of last century. Javelin pilot, callsign ‘Ramrod 123’, on ADX with female controller working the long range (monochrome) radar, (which went all cluttery and grey when targets got near to overhead). As the Javelin and its target approached overhead, she handed it over to the short range radar.
The RT went something like this.
Female controller: “Ramrod 123, you are now entering my grey area, call Changi Radar on stud 4.”
With no delay, the Jav driver replied “Negative, request deeper penetration of your grey area.”
******
F86 (ahhhh…
detachment enroute Williamtown to Darwin. (Rough equivalent in distance: London to Moscow - with zero enroute navaids and no UHF ground stations.) A Neptune leads the push to provide navigation assistance at ATC cklearances ‘coz it has VHF. A Herc is in close-ish company to the formation with the fighter squadron ground crew on board. Neppie pilot makes ‘inadvertent’ call on ‘long range intercom’ (UHF chatter freq). “Ah, Nav, I’d like my steak medium rare, please, with lots of mushroom sauce, two spuds. Brew a fresh pot of coffee and I’ll have it hot after the steak.” The Herc pilot took the cue, and transmitted “Loadie, I’ll have my pie now - no, make it the chicken salad, not too much mayonnaise, black coffee, one sugar.”
The Knuck leader was equal to the occasion. Without a pause, he called to his formation in the clipped, no nonsense style of the fighter pilot. “Maple Hipshot, jelly beans, jelly beans, GO!”
*****
Back in the 60s and 70s, a couple of RAAF Neptunes or P3s went to Hawaii each year to take part in the annual major ASW exercises with the USN. In 1969, a Japanese Self Defence Forces SP-2 arrived at Barbers Point Naval Air Station near Honolulu when the exercise was in full swing. The Japanese aircraft was not expected, so the USN had not appointed a liaison officer. It was obvious from the start that the crew were on a junket. Most were very senior officers; the most junior was a full Commander, the rest being of Flag rank.
The Japanese visitors were offered perhaps a little less hospitality than usual, as everyone was very busy with the Exercise. The Admiral who appeared to be in charge was a very impressive looking man with a military bearing and straight silver hair. One night he was standing alone in the BOQ bar when the co-pilot on the Aussie P3 asked him if he could buy him a beer. The Japanese Admiral replied in beautiful English that he would be delighted to join the young Australian for a drink. The conversation went something like this:
“Are you enjoying your visit to Hawaii, sir?”
“Very much. It is a beautiful place.”
“Have you been here before?”
The Japanese Admiral paused before answering, but possibly noting the Australian uniform, felt he wouldn’t cause offence with his answer: “Well, yes, I have been here once before… But I didn’t land that time.”
*****
The P3 was flying at low level on fisheries surveillance when it happened upon a large yacht on which stood a bare chested man and a statuesque and similarly-attired young lady displaying an ample pair of unarrested but very arresting breasts. As the P3 swept overhead the crew triggered the belly camera which took a series of photographs of the yacht. The name of the yacht and the wildly waving pair were clearly to be seen in the photographs.
Thinking that a bit of PR would not go astray, the squadron thought they would send copies of the photographs to the owner, easily traced through the yacht’s name. The photographs were greatly appreciated - by the yachtie’s wife. Apparently the lovely boobs so clearly on display beside the waving husband in the glossy 8 x 6 photographs were not hers.
The thought was there, but 11 Squadron had almost certainly lost one more vote for greater defence spending, judging by the unhappy letter they received from the gentleman after his very costly divorce settlement.
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I remember an epic dining-in night where the Staish was the World's worst after-dinner speaker. The boys (and girls) were getting restless and clearly making too much noise.
Eventually the Staish cleared his throat in dramatic fashion and roared loudly, "Excuse me, can everybody hear me?" Quick as a flash the WRAF officer sitting next to me (well occasionally I used to get lucky!) retorted "Well I can sir, but I'll willingly swop places with someone who can't". Brought the house down.
Eventually the Staish cleared his throat in dramatic fashion and roared loudly, "Excuse me, can everybody hear me?" Quick as a flash the WRAF officer sitting next to me (well occasionally I used to get lucky!) retorted "Well I can sir, but I'll willingly swop places with someone who can't". Brought the house down.
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This one hot off the press:
An army Lt Col and naval CMDR had performed a name-out-of-hat-draw-thingy to allocate some sporting event tickets to the JNCO boys in the unit, a navy/army affair. The CMDR had somewhat fortuitously pulled the names of two sailors in the draw. As it turned out one these sailors could not go and the ticket was redrawn later in the day. During CO's orders at COP, naval CMDR questioned RSM as to why he was not asked to redraw. The blissfully unaware RSM replied, "Well after this morning sir, we thought you were a bit of a seamen magnet."
Even the CO was pi$$ing himself laughing.
An army Lt Col and naval CMDR had performed a name-out-of-hat-draw-thingy to allocate some sporting event tickets to the JNCO boys in the unit, a navy/army affair. The CMDR had somewhat fortuitously pulled the names of two sailors in the draw. As it turned out one these sailors could not go and the ticket was redrawn later in the day. During CO's orders at COP, naval CMDR questioned RSM as to why he was not asked to redraw. The blissfully unaware RSM replied, "Well after this morning sir, we thought you were a bit of a seamen magnet."
Even the CO was pi$$ing himself laughing.
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Late 60's, Butterworth O's Mess bar, Friday, just affter 1800 hours. A bunch of Aussie fighter jocks in their drab shorts tropical uniforms have been in situ since 1500 and are getting very rowdy.
Long leeved shirts and long trousers are a requirement in the mess after 1800.
The PMC, a very stuffy Groupie, approaches the boyz and tells them "No shorts in the Mess after 1800, err... (choking over next word) gentlemen."
Whole group drop their shorts and continue drinking.
Tea and bikkies for all with the OC at 0900 Monday morning .
Long leeved shirts and long trousers are a requirement in the mess after 1800.
The PMC, a very stuffy Groupie, approaches the boyz and tells them "No shorts in the Mess after 1800, err... (choking over next word) gentlemen."
Whole group drop their shorts and continue drinking.
Tea and bikkies for all with the OC at 0900 Monday morning .
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Although it pains to recall a moment when the crabs got one over on the RN,
North Norway training base, wardroom bar, many pi$$ed up navy pilots waring olive drabs complete with punchy surname only name atbs.
Enter WAAF officer, charming light Scots accent.
Squadron (he thinks) trapper moves in, and for some inexplicable reason thinks that a (terrible) glaswegian accent will endear him to the babe.
She listens to some of this drivel and at a natural break as pilot stops talking to concentrate on standing up for a moment, she asks:
'Is that your name......or just a lable'
We fall about in danger of fouling our breeches.
Oh yes, nearly forgot it was Lt Dick.
:
North Norway training base, wardroom bar, many pi$$ed up navy pilots waring olive drabs complete with punchy surname only name atbs.
Enter WAAF officer, charming light Scots accent.
Squadron (he thinks) trapper moves in, and for some inexplicable reason thinks that a (terrible) glaswegian accent will endear him to the babe.
She listens to some of this drivel and at a natural break as pilot stops talking to concentrate on standing up for a moment, she asks:
'Is that your name......or just a lable'
We fall about in danger of fouling our breeches.
Oh yes, nearly forgot it was Lt Dick.
:
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Knew a 2LI Capt. by the name of Richard Head who rumour has it was given a posting above his rank and rejoiced in the title of Acting Major.....
Always guaranteed to find agreement when you mention in the bar that " I know a Dick Head in the Army"
Always guaranteed to find agreement when you mention in the bar that " I know a Dick Head in the Army"
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North Sea, 1970s. Middle of night. 4 pairs of F4s spinning in North Sea.
Voice: "F**k, I'm bored!"
AD: Ac calling, say callsign"
Voice: "I'm not THAT ****ing bored!!"
-------------------------------------
Same vintage:
US F4 flying into Uk does not file flight plan and is intercepted by Wattisham Lightning (silver) (IAF)
Phones up after to apologise, quote:
"Hell!! This silver bird! When he say's s**t ! You do it all over the cockpit!!"
[This message has been edited by ORAC (edited 29 September 2000).]
Voice: "F**k, I'm bored!"
AD: Ac calling, say callsign"
Voice: "I'm not THAT ****ing bored!!"
-------------------------------------
Same vintage:
US F4 flying into Uk does not file flight plan and is intercepted by Wattisham Lightning (silver) (IAF)
Phones up after to apologise, quote:
"Hell!! This silver bird! When he say's s**t ! You do it all over the cockpit!!"
[This message has been edited by ORAC (edited 29 September 2000).]
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USAF U2 acting, out of goodness of heart, as target, for RAF F4s in Cyprus after take off at about FL500+. After 30 minutes, while F4s are falling out of sky). he relays message he must leave.
Q: (from F4s): Why?
A: (From U2): Sorry, burning to much fuel at low level!!"
[This message has been edited by ORAC (edited 29 September 2000).]
Q: (from F4s): Why?
A: (From U2): Sorry, burning to much fuel at low level!!"
[This message has been edited by ORAC (edited 29 September 2000).]
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Apocryphal Beverly Stories (as what told to me by old Beverly pilot).
Beverley on first trip to the USA (Background, fixed UC)
ATC: "Check Gear!"
Bev: "Down and welded"
ATC: "What is that?"
Bev: "A Beverley"
ATC: " Did ya build it yourself?"
ATC: "Where ya come from?"
Bev: "The UK"
ATC: "Was it a bet?"
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Beverley on first trip to the USA (Background, fixed UC)
ATC: "Check Gear!"
Bev: "Down and welded"
ATC: "What is that?"
Bev: "A Beverley"
ATC: " Did ya build it yourself?"
ATC: "Where ya come from?"
Bev: "The UK"
ATC: "Was it a bet?"
---------------------------------------
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Back in the good old non PC days, at the usuall dinner at the end of QHI courses at Shawbury, it was the done thing to have the lovely Hazel come in and take of all her clothes. This generally led to adverse comments by the Staish the next day. For one course he decided to pre-empt this and declared that there would not be a stripper at the dinner.
Well, the food was ate, the port was drunk and the speeches spoke. People were wondering what was next when in walked Hazel.....totally naked. She then very slowly got dressed!!
Well, the food was ate, the port was drunk and the speeches spoke. People were wondering what was next when in walked Hazel.....totally naked. She then very slowly got dressed!!
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MightyGem:
Whereupon the Staish clarified the parameters for the next QHI thrash:
"Absolutely no naked or semi-dressed women!!".....
....the next was a male stripper!
Incidentally, the lovely Hazel is still alive and well and living in Shropshire. Gravity having taken its toll, she took up business studies and now runs the Strippagram company. Just before she retired from "active service" there was something truly surreal about standing in the bar talking to Hazel about her forthcoming accountancy exam - when she was only wearing a pair of high-heeld shoes and a smile!
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tee-head
Whereupon the Staish clarified the parameters for the next QHI thrash:
"Absolutely no naked or semi-dressed women!!".....
....the next was a male stripper!
Incidentally, the lovely Hazel is still alive and well and living in Shropshire. Gravity having taken its toll, she took up business studies and now runs the Strippagram company. Just before she retired from "active service" there was something truly surreal about standing in the bar talking to Hazel about her forthcoming accountancy exam - when she was only wearing a pair of high-heeld shoes and a smile!
------------------
tee-head
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Oh the names that inconsiderate and thoughtless parents label their offspring:
He was an F4 driver, although I met him at Chivenor when it used to belong to the RAF (the second time round as a TWU); you would have thought that any forename other than "Richard" would have been given to a chap with the surname "Fallis". And yes he did call himself "Dick" - shades of "A Boy Named Sue" (that's the title of an old Johnny Cash song for you youngsters out there).
He was an F4 driver, although I met him at Chivenor when it used to belong to the RAF (the second time round as a TWU); you would have thought that any forename other than "Richard" would have been given to a chap with the surname "Fallis". And yes he did call himself "Dick" - shades of "A Boy Named Sue" (that's the title of an old Johnny Cash song for you youngsters out there).