Apocryphal Tales
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Herr Dreyer
The chap I am referring to was at Neatishead when Don Read was CO. He was most definitely not excused BoB Cocktail Party - in fact we used to hold a joint party with Colt OM and always used to make sure that Dieter "hosted" an ex B o B Spitfire pilot who lived locally and was invited!
The chap referred to earlier (by Wander?) was, I believe, my chap's brother!
The chap referred to earlier (by Wander?) was, I believe, my chap's brother!
Aah the memory fades - I crossed over between Aunty Joan and Don, so must have been there at the same time (84-86) as CB. Don I recall was a very talented water colour painter - and had painted some brilliant copies of Turners - eg Fighting Temeraire - which were displayed in their residence.
Gentleman Aviator
As about 12 grunts cycled through pumping the handle and screaming and just generally being all war-ie they flared and touched down and appparently it these lads in the back were jumping around like they'd won the world cup. Pilots thanked them for their efforts and walked away snickering...
Gough Barracks (Red 01 IIRC) Square, Walter Wessex parked facing (slightly) downhill.
On startup, pilot tells waiting PBI that battery is a bit flat, can they assist with push start?
Pongoes get Walter rolling by pushing on (massive!) oleos, pilot hits toe brakes and start button at same time.
Similar reaction to above from troops!
Tabs please !
I believe Mr Akbar did the same stunt with a Navy Lynx 
Keep them coming chaps, each story makes me wish I had joined up instead of doing something pointless for better dosh.
Keep them coming chaps, each story makes me wish I had joined up instead of doing something pointless for better dosh.
On the subject of Germans, and similar to the BEA pilot at Berlin, back in the 1960s a German Noratlas flew to St. Mawgan for some reason. The aircraft captain calls that he has the airfield in sight and is droning down the approach. Air traffic can't see the Noratlas out of their window, which is the source of much concern in the tower.
"Are you sure you have the airfield in sight?"
"Ja, ja."
Eventually the penny drops, and ATCO realises that the German pilot has lined up on the disused runway further down the coast at Portreath, and instructs him to turn around and fly a bit further along the cliffs before landing, remarking that it must be the pilot's first time here. Came the reply:
"Nein. But ze last time you vere shooting at me!"
"Are you sure you have the airfield in sight?"
"Ja, ja."
Eventually the penny drops, and ATCO realises that the German pilot has lined up on the disused runway further down the coast at Portreath, and instructs him to turn around and fly a bit further along the cliffs before landing, remarking that it must be the pilot's first time here. Came the reply:
"Nein. But ze last time you vere shooting at me!"
Ecce Homo! Loquitur...
Ref Herr Dryer at the BoB cocktail party. I believe there was one occasion when the WO mess manager approached him on his arrival and, gravely inspecting the list of the groups to which attendees were assigned, announced, "Good evening sir, losers on the right....."
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
Our GAF XO attended the BoB cocktail party. Someone went to him and apologised for the insensitivity of inviting him. "No problem, without our participation you would have nom excuse for a party."
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When we had our new (Polish) Engineering Officer, S/L Warhavtig, introduced to us by our W/O, he introduced him as 'Squadron Leader Avtag'. The name stuck!
Ecce Homo! Loquitur...
CRC Neatishead had a telephone line on the bridge to the French at Doullens. Rule 1 was not to call them first, rule 2 was never, ever, to attempt to say a word in French as they'd never say a word in English again during the call.
Line rings one day and a barrage of French ensues when answered. After consideration the FAF exchange officer is summoned to find out what they want.
"Allo", he's say's down the line when arrives and the situation is explained. He then sit's there for 1-2 minutes nodding his head gravely, then takes off his headset and gently lays it on the console before turning to the expectant Execs gathered around him.
"It's no good", he says, "they can't speak English and I've forgotten how to speak French"........
Line rings one day and a barrage of French ensues when answered. After consideration the FAF exchange officer is summoned to find out what they want.
"Allo", he's say's down the line when arrives and the situation is explained. He then sit's there for 1-2 minutes nodding his head gravely, then takes off his headset and gently lays it on the console before turning to the expectant Execs gathered around him.
"It's no good", he says, "they can't speak English and I've forgotten how to speak French"........
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The Germans get their own back occasionally......
During a NATO deployment to Norway, a few Brits are teasing the Germans about WW2 ("Battle of Britain" was on the tele). One of the Germans slowly turns round...
" You should not joke about the war - my Father died in a concentration camp".
The mood sobers very quickly.. an embarrassed "Sorry Norbert - what happened?"
"He got p*ssed one night and fell out of the machine gun tower".
During a NATO deployment to Norway, a few Brits are teasing the Germans about WW2 ("Battle of Britain" was on the tele). One of the Germans slowly turns round...
" You should not joke about the war - my Father died in a concentration camp".
The mood sobers very quickly.. an embarrassed "Sorry Norbert - what happened?"
"He got p*ssed one night and fell out of the machine gun tower".
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More Neatishead Tales
Wander has already told us what a nice guy Don Read was. My story starts on a Friday evening Dining In Night at Neatishead in the old OM there. It was such a shambles that we were forever trying to blow it up, so such nights were always guaranteed to go with a bang, in more ways than one. This night was no different, or so we thought; we had forgotten to factor into the equation the new PMC who was the USAF Exchange Offficer. I won't name him, save to say his initials were BB, and he was a deeply religious tea-total man. We, on the other hand being 3 Fg Offs were fire proof (weren't we?) and so right from the off, we set about having a good time. Pyros were involved, as well as a good number of "Spiders" calls (if you were there you would know what it was), "The Flag" was sung several times etc etc. Such a good night was it that the entire weekend was a write off. Come Monday morning Fg Off CB, Fg Off GP and one other were summoned over to the R12 se see the PMC - no chairs or cups if tea offered! Instead, 3 service papers required on the pshyiological effects of alcohol on the human body - by Tuesday 1200! Bugger! We must have been a pretty sorry sight as we trooped back to the Happydrome; the Staishs' car pulls up alongside us just outside the Fire Stn, "My Office - now" and off he goes. Our misery knew no bounds, nevertheless, we are inbound to the Staishs' office in Handbrake House. As we file in, there is Don Read, in his chair with a smile from ear to ear - "absolutely excellent night on Friday chaps - that's the sort of thing I like to see from my JOs - why the sad faces"? So, we fessed up about the service Papers whereupon Don stand up, goes to his filing cabinet and takes out a bottle of Scotch and 4 glasses, pours a thimble full into each cup before passing them round and says "don't worry, I'll square it with OC Eng - he just doesn't understand!". Priceless and guaranteed 100% accurate. However, that was not the night Chunder earned his nickname - that's another story altogether.
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
Quick as a flash the aware ex-martime front end responds "Tool, Tool this is Hawk, pass your message over" Silence, followed a moment later by "Awk, Awk dis is Toul Toul"
Front end replies again - same response. Back end has a go - same response.
Then I said 'Can I have a go?'
"Toul Toul dis is Awk, loud and clear" "Rogeer Awk dis is Toul, loud and clere auso."
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PN wrote:
I was there when a Sidewinder went walk-about during a generation exercise and ended up over t'other side of the airfield near the banks of the Eden. Apparently it was something to do with water getting into the electrikery bits. I'm sure there are some folks on here who can give the technical details.
I was there when a Sidewinder went walk-about during a generation exercise and ended up over t'other side of the airfield near the banks of the Eden. Apparently it was something to do with water getting into the electrikery bits. I'm sure there are some folks on here who can give the technical details.
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We had an old Flt Sgt who loved regaling us young chaps, of his time, 'during the war'.
One story that sticks in my mind is the time when, with other airmen, he was detached to a ship that carried a spotter a/c. As the a/c came alongside, to be hoisted aboard, a rating would leap on to the upper wing and attach the hook. Apparently it was something of a kudos to do this.
Our hero decided that he would beat the matelots at their own game, so one day, as soon as the a/c came alongside he was over the the railing with the hook, landed on the wing and put both feet straight though it! He hadn't realised that the matelotes landed on the centre section which was metal.
After having a 'chat' with the CPO, he worked though the night repairing the wing!
One story that sticks in my mind is the time when, with other airmen, he was detached to a ship that carried a spotter a/c. As the a/c came alongside, to be hoisted aboard, a rating would leap on to the upper wing and attach the hook. Apparently it was something of a kudos to do this.
Our hero decided that he would beat the matelots at their own game, so one day, as soon as the a/c came alongside he was over the the railing with the hook, landed on the wing and put both feet straight though it! He hadn't realised that the matelotes landed on the centre section which was metal.
After having a 'chat' with the CPO, he worked though the night repairing the wing!
Ah... The Bosch!
There was a very pleasant Herr Major Ollie Kuch at a certain Tri-National training establishment in the 90's.
Whenever the Duty Aircrew Officer (DAO) made his way up the stairs to the local control room in ATC, we would always stand and greet him with a "Good morning Sir!"
Herr Kuch's response.. (Accompanied by a pointed finger) was always "Aha!!! You may have vun ze var, but still you have to call me Sir!"
Nice chap!
I was also told the tale of a Hunter landing somewhere with little, or no braking available. Not a major issue on the long runway available, but the aircraft did slowly vacate onto the grass, after which the perfectly healthy pilot proceeded to shut the thing down.
Unfortunately on the arrival of the fire section, an over zealous fireman proceeded to hack his way through the as yet unopened canopy, striking the poor pilot on the bone dome with his axe, causing a nasty concussion.
It didn't end there.... The rest of the firemen then decided to extricate the now unconscious chap from his seat, dragging him through the straps and dislocating his shoulder in the process.
And there's more....
Cue the crash ambulance (always the last to arrive having got lost on the airfield) approaching at warp factor snot. The vehicle leaves the runway onto the wet grass and the driver hits the brakes. As expected, nothing much happens and the ambulance runs straight over the legs of the poor chap who has been laid down gently next to the aircraft, breaking them both.
There was a very pleasant Herr Major Ollie Kuch at a certain Tri-National training establishment in the 90's.
Whenever the Duty Aircrew Officer (DAO) made his way up the stairs to the local control room in ATC, we would always stand and greet him with a "Good morning Sir!"
Herr Kuch's response.. (Accompanied by a pointed finger) was always "Aha!!! You may have vun ze var, but still you have to call me Sir!"
Nice chap!
I was also told the tale of a Hunter landing somewhere with little, or no braking available. Not a major issue on the long runway available, but the aircraft did slowly vacate onto the grass, after which the perfectly healthy pilot proceeded to shut the thing down.
Unfortunately on the arrival of the fire section, an over zealous fireman proceeded to hack his way through the as yet unopened canopy, striking the poor pilot on the bone dome with his axe, causing a nasty concussion.
It didn't end there.... The rest of the firemen then decided to extricate the now unconscious chap from his seat, dragging him through the straps and dislocating his shoulder in the process.
And there's more....
Cue the crash ambulance (always the last to arrive having got lost on the airfield) approaching at warp factor snot. The vehicle leaves the runway onto the wet grass and the driver hits the brakes. As expected, nothing much happens and the ambulance runs straight over the legs of the poor chap who has been laid down gently next to the aircraft, breaking them both.
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Strapping Arthur Vine into an F4 circa '75 (Arthur flew Mustangs during the war) and watching some shiny new Lufty F4s taxiing in he says '30 years ago I was shooting at those buggers'. It seemed like history to me at the time but it doesn't now when I think it's almost 40 years since Arthur spoke those words.
An amusing aside about Arthur was that at 50 odd years old he was flying and teaching youngsters how to fly a Mach 2 fighter and his son flew Shacks...
Pete Veal sat in a Toom with Middy Hopper in the back on Taceval on the ORP pan at Conners, about dark o clock in the winter in the p****** down sleet, me under the wing on the headset, they waiting for the scramble on the teleflex. Silence for quite a while as we meditate on the ways of the world. Then quietly from Pete 'What. A. Way. To. Earn. A. F******. Crust.'
God they were good days, I feel sorry for the guys in the mob now. I suppose that makes me sound like a boring old fart.
Can anyone remember the (true) tale of the pink Harrier? I can't for the life of me remember it now but it was around the time I was at Gut 78-80 ish on GR3's.
An amusing aside about Arthur was that at 50 odd years old he was flying and teaching youngsters how to fly a Mach 2 fighter and his son flew Shacks...
Pete Veal sat in a Toom with Middy Hopper in the back on Taceval on the ORP pan at Conners, about dark o clock in the winter in the p****** down sleet, me under the wing on the headset, they waiting for the scramble on the teleflex. Silence for quite a while as we meditate on the ways of the world. Then quietly from Pete 'What. A. Way. To. Earn. A. F******. Crust.'
God they were good days, I feel sorry for the guys in the mob now. I suppose that makes me sound like a boring old fart.
Can anyone remember the (true) tale of the pink Harrier? I can't for the life of me remember it now but it was around the time I was at Gut 78-80 ish on GR3's.
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RAF Wahn '56. The Luftwaffe reformed there, and their first and only a/c at the time was a Heron, 001. Every morning the groundcrew would park the a/c outside their hangar, which was next to ours, and lovingly attend to its needs.
Our Meteor NF11s were parked opposite. One morning one of our a/c commenced to taxy out, with the pilot checking the brakes as he did so. Unfortunately the brakes failed and the a/c ended up with it's nose jammed under the Heron's port wing! At the subsequent interview with the Sqdn Comm.
the pilot was congratulated for grounding the entire German Air Force but given a bollocking because' it was 16 years too f****ing late!'
Our Meteor NF11s were parked opposite. One morning one of our a/c commenced to taxy out, with the pilot checking the brakes as he did so. Unfortunately the brakes failed and the a/c ended up with it's nose jammed under the Heron's port wing! At the subsequent interview with the Sqdn Comm.
the pilot was congratulated for grounding the entire German Air Force but given a bollocking because' it was 16 years too f****ing late!'