Global Aviation Magazine : 60 Years of the Hercules
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Upgently ...
Cracking pictures there old chap
I'm posting this pic again in the hope Pontifex will drop in with a bit more on the original AAR trials ...
Cracking pictures there old chap
I'm posting this pic again in the hope Pontifex will drop in with a bit more on the original AAR trials ...
upgently,
excellent pics. My AAR will be along in due course but unless I stick to some form of chronological order my brain will topple and you all will end up with repeats !
excellent pics. My AAR will be along in due course but unless I stick to some form of chronological order my brain will topple and you all will end up with repeats !
A few from the dim and distant past of 1991...
Taxying out from Kuwait International
A reasonably interesting low-level environment
En-route to one of the landing strips
Some of the precision weaponry is quite accurate
You're only supposed to blow the bloody doors off
Albert with a positive rate of climb (just) approaching FL350
Taxying out from Kuwait International
A reasonably interesting low-level environment
En-route to one of the landing strips
Some of the precision weaponry is quite accurate
You're only supposed to blow the bloody doors off
Albert with a positive rate of climb (just) approaching FL350
More than kind, have a couple more...
The chap in the hat on the right of the frame is on this forum.
Co-pilot A*** S***, Captain T*** R**** (I think) and GE R** S******** in the bubble.
One of the reasons that surgical masks were issued at Kuwait when the wind was blowing the oil-fire smoke our way (this was about 10:00 hrs local).
The commute into work after we had moved the det to Bahrain
And for something completely different, the approach to Dili in East Timor (1999). Our co-pilot made the turn-off, much to the amazement of the Aussies who came out and gave him a standing ovation as none of the other Alberts managed it no matter how hard they tried.
The chap in the hat on the right of the frame is on this forum.
Co-pilot A*** S***, Captain T*** R**** (I think) and GE R** S******** in the bubble.
One of the reasons that surgical masks were issued at Kuwait when the wind was blowing the oil-fire smoke our way (this was about 10:00 hrs local).
The commute into work after we had moved the det to Bahrain
And for something completely different, the approach to Dili in East Timor (1999). Our co-pilot made the turn-off, much to the amazement of the Aussies who came out and gave him a standing ovation as none of the other Alberts managed it no matter how hard they tried.
Maldrop,
keep them coming. I think some non 'K' viewers are being educated as to the varied places and tasks that were the lot of the 'K'.
Is your name connected to any event whilst with the 'K' ?
keep them coming. I think some non 'K' viewers are being educated as to the varied places and tasks that were the lot of the 'K'.
Is your name connected to any event whilst with the 'K' ?
I managed 3 tours on the 'K' and ended up in some moderately odd places with a selection of the finest folk ever to grace this planet. Escapades including waking up in Deci to a thunderous banging on the door from a Nav who was perilously close to his advertised chocks time. He was visibly peeved and demanding to know where his flying suit was, I managed to cobble together a vague recollection of something massively (at the time) hilarious involving bottles of water. Confidently striding to his USAF accommodation, I opened the freezer compartment of his fridge and with a (possibly unwarranted) 'Ta-Da!' pulled out a perfectly frozen block of ice with a carefully folded gro-bag at its centre.
How we laughed...
Anyway, a few everyday objects seen from unusual angles.
That's not a catamaran - THIS is a catamaran!
When temporarily unaware of your location, see if you can gain a visual fix from a distinctive geographical feature. This may or may not have been a very slight detour on a sortie returning some 'special' people who had spent quite a bit of time in the badlands to their happy place. It made our DetCo do a frowny-face when we were a mite tardy in bringing Albert home.
Sightseeing in a fighty bit of Indonesia
How we laughed...
Anyway, a few everyday objects seen from unusual angles.
That's not a catamaran - THIS is a catamaran!
When temporarily unaware of your location, see if you can gain a visual fix from a distinctive geographical feature. This may or may not have been a very slight detour on a sortie returning some 'special' people who had spent quite a bit of time in the badlands to their happy place. It made our DetCo do a frowny-face when we were a mite tardy in bringing Albert home.
Sightseeing in a fighty bit of Indonesia
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With somebody who knows what they are doing and could collate this series of pics/anecdotes we are building the baseline of a very good historical record of Albert and his travels. Best we just keep em coming.
Mal Drop,
Smashing pics mate, the Kuwait ones seem very familiar, in that we must have been in and out during the same period. I too did the "bent HAS tour". I still own a yellow " Herk GE" T shirt, that still bears the oil stains from being rained on in Kuwait, whilst dropping off a Rolls Royce (or was it a Bentley ?) for the visit of a UK Gov Bigwig. My wife can't decide which she would rather throw out, me or the T shirt. I suspect you may have moved to Bahrain from Riyadh at endex GW1, and like me, have received an ear bend from a WRAF Admin Flt Lt for being two months late to collect the medals she had to look after. As has been said, photographs make this thread, you've just upped the anti. Thanks mate.
Smudge
Smashing pics mate, the Kuwait ones seem very familiar, in that we must have been in and out during the same period. I too did the "bent HAS tour". I still own a yellow " Herk GE" T shirt, that still bears the oil stains from being rained on in Kuwait, whilst dropping off a Rolls Royce (or was it a Bentley ?) for the visit of a UK Gov Bigwig. My wife can't decide which she would rather throw out, me or the T shirt. I suspect you may have moved to Bahrain from Riyadh at endex GW1, and like me, have received an ear bend from a WRAF Admin Flt Lt for being two months late to collect the medals she had to look after. As has been said, photographs make this thread, you've just upped the anti. Thanks mate.
Smudge
The move to Bahrain was a bit of a shock for us, the initial crews had been bundled from compound to compound as we tried to build up the framework of a det. Some TTF crews were ticking folks up in useful handicrafts and handing out scout badges (I remember doing strips at Al Kharj when it was about the size of Keevil - the next time I went back it had grown so big my tiny brain couldn't cope with the scale of the place).
We eventually ended up sharing rooms at a Riyadh hotel of the large US-chain variety (plus ca change) an experience from which I have the terrifying image of T*** R****'s silhouette in half-profile wearing nothing but a rubber face and obscenely short T-shirt seared into my retinas. The backstory was that we had received another inbound Scud warning (probably from someone watching CNN in Minhad and then setting off a 'phone-a-friend Hot Scud Action chatline for consenting adults'). As the grumpy and far too naked for general viewing skipper pulled back the curtain for visual confirmation of the firework show, the entire window (to which we had given an attractive mock-Tudor lattice effect with black nasty detailing) was bowed inwards by the blastwave and gave me a backlit vision of such unequalled horror that H. P. Lovecraft and Edgar Allen Poe would have fought to the death to come up with it.
After a few days back in Blighty lying down under a table with a damp towel over my head and listening to a looped tape of whalesong I went back into theatre only to find the det game of musical chairs had continued and we were now in another compound. This one was très whizzy with mahooosive cupboards which we decided to fill with bottles of electric tea. In the time-honoured fashion, as soon as the noble task was accomplished, we had notification that we were to move the det across to Bahrain. An immediate problem was identified as the nuclear stockpile of spirits which we needed to make disappear; the immediate solution was to throw the 'mother of all parties', an event of which songs are still sung and which makes grown men stare into the middle distance and recall that they were very possibly there. We left the still smouldering remains of the compound the next mid-afternoon blinking into the bright sunlight, gently stepping over the forms of nurses who had collapsed into attractive and lightly snoozing heaps, and were shipped as a collection of semi-sentient body parts across to Bahrain where we set up in another hotel at which even more fun was to be had.
But that's another story entirely...
We eventually ended up sharing rooms at a Riyadh hotel of the large US-chain variety (plus ca change) an experience from which I have the terrifying image of T*** R****'s silhouette in half-profile wearing nothing but a rubber face and obscenely short T-shirt seared into my retinas. The backstory was that we had received another inbound Scud warning (probably from someone watching CNN in Minhad and then setting off a 'phone-a-friend Hot Scud Action chatline for consenting adults'). As the grumpy and far too naked for general viewing skipper pulled back the curtain for visual confirmation of the firework show, the entire window (to which we had given an attractive mock-Tudor lattice effect with black nasty detailing) was bowed inwards by the blastwave and gave me a backlit vision of such unequalled horror that H. P. Lovecraft and Edgar Allen Poe would have fought to the death to come up with it.
After a few days back in Blighty lying down under a table with a damp towel over my head and listening to a looped tape of whalesong I went back into theatre only to find the det game of musical chairs had continued and we were now in another compound. This one was très whizzy with mahooosive cupboards which we decided to fill with bottles of electric tea. In the time-honoured fashion, as soon as the noble task was accomplished, we had notification that we were to move the det across to Bahrain. An immediate problem was identified as the nuclear stockpile of spirits which we needed to make disappear; the immediate solution was to throw the 'mother of all parties', an event of which songs are still sung and which makes grown men stare into the middle distance and recall that they were very possibly there. We left the still smouldering remains of the compound the next mid-afternoon blinking into the bright sunlight, gently stepping over the forms of nurses who had collapsed into attractive and lightly snoozing heaps, and were shipped as a collection of semi-sentient body parts across to Bahrain where we set up in another hotel at which even more fun was to be had.
But that's another story entirely...
Mal Drop,
Ahh what memories you revive, and is your Captain the chap I posted earlier #273 ? The end of Det bash in Riyadh was certainly a classic, and for the Bahrain bound crews, just the start. On arrival at the Diplomat, I was told to share a room with our Nav, Simon ******, who was a fellow smoker (I've since managed to stop). On night one, he decided that I was his batty, and left his flying boots on the end of my bed for cleaning each night. I duly placed them outside the door, and returned them to his bed in the morning when the hotel shoeshine team had done the business. At the end of the month, the Co presented our room with a bill for shoe shine services, which I handed straight to Simon, I wore the "brothel creeper" boots. I still have a battery operated toy drummer, given to me by the crew on our last night in Bahrain, a great Det, great people and some serious work done. Those pictures are so thought provoking though. Thanks mate.
Smudge
Ahh what memories you revive, and is your Captain the chap I posted earlier #273 ? The end of Det bash in Riyadh was certainly a classic, and for the Bahrain bound crews, just the start. On arrival at the Diplomat, I was told to share a room with our Nav, Simon ******, who was a fellow smoker (I've since managed to stop). On night one, he decided that I was his batty, and left his flying boots on the end of my bed for cleaning each night. I duly placed them outside the door, and returned them to his bed in the morning when the hotel shoeshine team had done the business. At the end of the month, the Co presented our room with a bill for shoe shine services, which I handed straight to Simon, I wore the "brothel creeper" boots. I still have a battery operated toy drummer, given to me by the crew on our last night in Bahrain, a great Det, great people and some serious work done. Those pictures are so thought provoking though. Thanks mate.
Smudge
The Captain in #273 is not the same chap Smuj, to my addled brain he looks a bit like Simon T******* (NATO Reporting Name 'Ratty').
In the Bahrain Diplo I was sharing with D** T******* whose dear lady wife sent out a box of posh chocolates (a truly lovely and most excellent gesture but slightly compromised in practicality by the det being located five yards from the surface of the sun).
I do recall the co-pilot of another crew leaving the little 'room service' ticksheet on his skipper's door each morning. Said skipper (NATO Reporting Name 'Fingers') had a mortal fear of eggs and hence was less than delighted when every morning he was woken with a tray of eggs (scrambled. boiled (hard and soft), fried (easy, over, under), coddled, benedict, curried) and a brace of omelettes. The poor chap thought our crew was doing it which led to a shouting match of epic proportions in a lift and thence, hotel reception. The ovo-intolerant skipper was rotated out of theatre and the co-pilot (who was a thoroughly bon oeuf*) stayed on to a general thumbs-up.
* Yes, I know.
In the Bahrain Diplo I was sharing with D** T******* whose dear lady wife sent out a box of posh chocolates (a truly lovely and most excellent gesture but slightly compromised in practicality by the det being located five yards from the surface of the sun).
I do recall the co-pilot of another crew leaving the little 'room service' ticksheet on his skipper's door each morning. Said skipper (NATO Reporting Name 'Fingers') had a mortal fear of eggs and hence was less than delighted when every morning he was woken with a tray of eggs (scrambled. boiled (hard and soft), fried (easy, over, under), coddled, benedict, curried) and a brace of omelettes. The poor chap thought our crew was doing it which led to a shouting match of epic proportions in a lift and thence, hotel reception. The ovo-intolerant skipper was rotated out of theatre and the co-pilot (who was a thoroughly bon oeuf*) stayed on to a general thumbs-up.
* Yes, I know.
Mal Drop,
Now that resonates, the eggs business I mean. Just spotted an old mate in that cupola, not seen Ray for years. Once again, great photos, I really need to send the wife up in the loft.
Smudge
Now that resonates, the eggs business I mean. Just spotted an old mate in that cupola, not seen Ray for years. Once again, great photos, I really need to send the wife up in the loft.
Smudge
This pic could be either Tarawa (upgently has described the invaders problems) or Guadacanal. WW2 landing craft, of which there were several being used as hen coops. Classic 'swords into ploughshares' bit of recycling.
Most of my GW1 pics are in my lost box !
Upgently,
Nice pics. Not too sure how "ancient" ancientnav really is. He might have seen these relics in action
Blimey, did you boys get around in the 60s ? The only beach I ever saw that was remotely like this was in Diego Garcia during GW1. I was obviously born about 15 years too late. Keep them coming chaps, we could have a real archive.
Smudge
Nice pics. Not too sure how "ancient" ancientnav really is. He might have seen these relics in action
Blimey, did you boys get around in the 60s ? The only beach I ever saw that was remotely like this was in Diego Garcia during GW1. I was obviously born about 15 years too late. Keep them coming chaps, we could have a real archive.Smudge