RAF KHORMAKSAR
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smart looking rozzers....
Danny...
As I said in an earlier submission I was at Steamer Point living in the highest airman's block up the mountain. Sweaty or wot! But I am sure there were similarities between the two Bases. Anyway, the 'dhobi-wallas' (DW) we had were unbelievable! Daily we would leave our dirty clothes wrapped in a towel on our beds. The DW (females) would pick up the bundles wrap them (about 50 odd bundles!) in a sheet and then balance them on their heads and carry them further up the mountain to the DW 'laundry'
. They would mark every thing with an individual 'dhobi-mark' on the labels of each individual item of laundry and then wash the clothes and hang them on the line to dry. Bloody great lines of dhobi out in the sun!
They then collated it (matched the dhobi marks mostly!), starched and ironed the shirts and shorts and then delivered the lot down the mountain in the afternoon! There was hardly ever a mistaken dhobi-mark.
I was in awe of this organisation it was brilliant!! and dead cheap!
That's probably why the rozzer's kit looks squeeky clean !!
As I said in an earlier submission I was at Steamer Point living in the highest airman's block up the mountain. Sweaty or wot! But I am sure there were similarities between the two Bases. Anyway, the 'dhobi-wallas' (DW) we had were unbelievable! Daily we would leave our dirty clothes wrapped in a towel on our beds. The DW (females) would pick up the bundles wrap them (about 50 odd bundles!) in a sheet and then balance them on their heads and carry them further up the mountain to the DW 'laundry'
. They would mark every thing with an individual 'dhobi-mark' on the labels of each individual item of laundry and then wash the clothes and hang them on the line to dry. Bloody great lines of dhobi out in the sun! They then collated it (matched the dhobi marks mostly!), starched and ironed the shirts and shorts and then delivered the lot down the mountain in the afternoon! There was hardly ever a mistaken dhobi-mark.
I was in awe of this organisation it was brilliant!! and dead cheap!
That's probably why the rozzer's kit looks squeeky clean !!
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
And that is an error in the programme, the uniforms are not starched. As we were on a no notice standby our batties in Merryfield, at a cost, could do a one hour service. When we moved to Malaysia the DW there, Chinese apapted the Aden laundry mark that had already been modified in Gan.
We had a similar dhobi arrangement in Belize though the laundry marks could be quite big.
Friday collection wasn't returned until Monday. Sometimes you would see the dhobi girl's boyfriend wearing your shirt on a Saturday night.
Friday collection wasn't returned until Monday. Sometimes you would see the dhobi girl's boyfriend wearing your shirt on a Saturday night.
Join Date: Nov 2010
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The KD for officers at Khormaksar was made from "Dacron" at the behest of the Air Commander , Johnny Johnson I believe. This man made fibre kept its crease and looked the part but it didn't absorb any perspiration. I have seen guys bathed in sweat where it ran in rivulets down their legs to be absorbed in their long socks but not a spot on the KD. It might have looked good but it gave you prickly heat under the arms and tinnia in the crotch. Thanks Johnny.
Tons of Nairobi earth for his garden, His boat transported to Masirah by Beverley for a fishing trip, original David Shepherd paintings belonging to the Ksar officers mess sent off to be cleaned.
I flew JJ down to Eastleigh for an AOC’s inspection. When we parked on the allocated spot the guard of honour was lined up behind the station commander waiting for him leave the Argosy via the rear passenger door. JJ left through the round crew hatch in the nose, came up behind the welcoming party and said in a loud voice: “Got you, you bastards”, which I thought was quite amusing at the time.
I flew JJ down to Eastleigh for an AOC’s inspection. When we parked on the allocated spot the guard of honour was lined up behind the station commander waiting for him leave the Argosy via the rear passenger door. JJ left through the round crew hatch in the nose, came up behind the welcoming party and said in a loud voice: “Got you, you bastards”, which I thought was quite amusing at the time.
brakedwell - dunno about 'his' boat but we took the Air Sea Rescue launch by Beverley to Perim for one his fishing trips.
Actually, later in life, he turned over a new leaf. He retired to the village of Wormhill near Buxton and set up the 'not for profit' Johnnie Johnson Housing Trust. That organisation now has approx 5000 properties in the North Derbyshire and South Yorkshire areas which are let to 'deserving' people.
Actually, later in life, he turned over a new leaf. He retired to the village of Wormhill near Buxton and set up the 'not for profit' Johnnie Johnson Housing Trust. That organisation now has approx 5000 properties in the North Derbyshire and South Yorkshire areas which are let to 'deserving' people.
Kamaran Island was a fishing destination from Khormaksar. I flew both JJ and his predecessor FER there. On one occasion we had to spend the night there sleeping in a very basic, derelict hut on rusty iron bedsteads. It was so hot in the hut we had to drag the beds outside and slept under the stars. We carried water and some provisions for the night stop.
I am sure the AOC had better accommodation and food. Thoroughly enjoyed the experience though.
I am sure the AOC had better accommodation and food. Thoroughly enjoyed the experience though.
Church Parade - With or without Abdul and Graham
Danny42C (471) reprising Geriaviator in Aden
Now my father, an unenthusiastic RE conscript at the end of National Service had discovered that, according to Queen’s Regs, Church Parade was voluntary. He was a posting clerk, and there was a copy of the National Service Act in the office that he had digested deeply. It was to help him greatly in a financial sense later, much to the consternation of HMG, when he discovered that married men, and their wives, were not to be out of pocket …
He deeply objected to the military’s version of Church Parade – not least because he was, at the time, a Methodist Sunday school teacher. In his own words, and from his army memoirs ‘Brown Job’ …
-----
Church parade was held on Sundays. The whole regiment, one thousand or so, was assembled on the square and marched into church. Finally, the Brigadier and his entourage would arrive from Dowton Abbey, and enter. The whole congregation was brought to attention by the RSM in fine booming voice, but without testing his [f-ing] speech impediment, in deference to the stained glass and gothic interior of St George’s.
I was outraged.
I went to the RSM and asked to be relieved from the church parade.
‘Are you a f-f-f****** Roman Catholic?”
“No”
“A Jew?”
“No, Methodist”
“That’s f-f-f****** C of E”
“You’re on my f-f-f****** parade”
So I drew this cartoon…
It depicted groups of soldiers, bent over and carrying large cross, being whipped into the garrison church. I pinned it on the COs notice board. Sod it! Everyone but 2nd Lt. Pratt knew what I had done. They couldn’t believe it. We waited. The phone rang. It was the Adjutant; the second in command. I could see him across the yard through his window. He had his phone in one hand, my drawing in the other. In my ear, he ordered me to come over. Through the window he beckoned me urgently. I put on my belt and beret.
And walked through the Squadron Office. All eyes were on me. Every knew what I had done. The unsaid words were, “Bye-bye!”
“What possessed you to do this?” the Adjutant demanded, as I stood to attention in front of his desk, looking straight ahead, over his head and though the window behind him. I could see my colleagues’ white faces watching the drama unfold from where I had been a moment before.
“I feel strongly Sir, that the Army has no place in the church.”
“It is God’s house. It is nothing to do with the Brigadier, Sir”
“If the CO had seen this you would be on a charge. Do you understand? Don’t be such a damn fool”.
He tore up the cartoon and put the bits in his bin.
“Dismissed!”
But that wasn’t the end of it. The phone rang again. This time it was the RSM. He wanted to f-f-f****** see me - NOW!.
So here I was again.“Regarding my Church Parade. You will be on my f-f-f******parade, but you will stand at the f-f-f****** church door and rejoin my parade when we come out. Is that f-f-f****** understood, Corporal?”
“Yes Sir.”
I would stand outside the church door. I would be there when the Brigadiers party arrived from Downton Abbey. They would ask me why I was there. What would I say?
I decided I would tell them the reason, and to hell with it.
The day arrived. It was sunny. The Regimental band played. I really liked that. They were extremely good. The moment came.
Then the RSM’s voice rang out over the square.
“If any man here, is intending to stand at the church door let him step out of ranks now.”
He didn’t expect me or anyone to respond. I stamped several paces forward and came to a crisp, smart attention… Silence; then…“You… stand still! Regiment. Right turn. Regiment, by the left, quick march.” The band played some fabulous march which eventually was for my benefit alone. A drill sergeant marched over to me from about a mile away, and came to attention directly in front of me, his drill cane pointing at my chest. From under the peak which hid his eyes, he shouted
“The RSM says, that you will no longer attend a church parade. Understand? Dismissed!”
According to the Squadron Office, I was a ‘jammy bugger’
“In the beginning the Lord created the Heavens and the Earth…”
He deeply objected to the military’s version of Church Parade – not least because he was, at the time, a Methodist Sunday school teacher. In his own words, and from his army memoirs ‘Brown Job’ …
-----
Church parade was held on Sundays. The whole regiment, one thousand or so, was assembled on the square and marched into church. Finally, the Brigadier and his entourage would arrive from Dowton Abbey, and enter. The whole congregation was brought to attention by the RSM in fine booming voice, but without testing his [f-ing] speech impediment, in deference to the stained glass and gothic interior of St George’s.
I was outraged.
I went to the RSM and asked to be relieved from the church parade.
‘Are you a f-f-f****** Roman Catholic?”
“No”
“A Jew?”
“No, Methodist”
“That’s f-f-f****** C of E”
“You’re on my f-f-f****** parade”
So I drew this cartoon…
It depicted groups of soldiers, bent over and carrying large cross, being whipped into the garrison church. I pinned it on the COs notice board. Sod it! Everyone but 2nd Lt. Pratt knew what I had done. They couldn’t believe it. We waited. The phone rang. It was the Adjutant; the second in command. I could see him across the yard through his window. He had his phone in one hand, my drawing in the other. In my ear, he ordered me to come over. Through the window he beckoned me urgently. I put on my belt and beret.
And walked through the Squadron Office. All eyes were on me. Every knew what I had done. The unsaid words were, “Bye-bye!”
“What possessed you to do this?” the Adjutant demanded, as I stood to attention in front of his desk, looking straight ahead, over his head and though the window behind him. I could see my colleagues’ white faces watching the drama unfold from where I had been a moment before.
“I feel strongly Sir, that the Army has no place in the church.”
“It is God’s house. It is nothing to do with the Brigadier, Sir”
“If the CO had seen this you would be on a charge. Do you understand? Don’t be such a damn fool”.
He tore up the cartoon and put the bits in his bin.
“Dismissed!”
But that wasn’t the end of it. The phone rang again. This time it was the RSM. He wanted to f-f-f****** see me - NOW!.
So here I was again.“Regarding my Church Parade. You will be on my f-f-f******parade, but you will stand at the f-f-f****** church door and rejoin my parade when we come out. Is that f-f-f****** understood, Corporal?”
“Yes Sir.”
I would stand outside the church door. I would be there when the Brigadiers party arrived from Downton Abbey. They would ask me why I was there. What would I say?
I decided I would tell them the reason, and to hell with it.
The day arrived. It was sunny. The Regimental band played. I really liked that. They were extremely good. The moment came.
Then the RSM’s voice rang out over the square.
“If any man here, is intending to stand at the church door let him step out of ranks now.”
He didn’t expect me or anyone to respond. I stamped several paces forward and came to a crisp, smart attention… Silence; then…“You… stand still! Regiment. Right turn. Regiment, by the left, quick march.” The band played some fabulous march which eventually was for my benefit alone. A drill sergeant marched over to me from about a mile away, and came to attention directly in front of me, his drill cane pointing at my chest. From under the peak which hid his eyes, he shouted
“The RSM says, that you will no longer attend a church parade. Understand? Dismissed!”
According to the Squadron Office, I was a ‘jammy bugger’
Last edited by eko4me; 22nd Oct 2017 at 21:12.
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Interestingly(?) there is a very readable auto-biography of a chap who flew Hunters with 8 Sqn from Khormaksar entitled "Fall Out Roman Catholics and Jews". (He had declared himself a Catholic in order to skip compulsory church parades).
Available - usually second hand - from all good book retailers (and a few rubbish ones).
Available - usually second hand - from all good book retailers (and a few rubbish ones).
Coffee cup banished to side table
I will recall, again, the fine words of an order issued by the CWO at the Towers one fine morning -"Roman Catholics and other non Christians, fall......out". Long, pregnant pause
I will recall, again, the fine words of an order issued by the CWO at the Towers one fine morning -"Roman Catholics and other non Christians, fall......out". Long, pregnant pause
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On posting to my first operational Squadron in the '50's and having a Jewish Grandmother I changed my religion from C of E to Jewish. This worked fine and got me out of all sorts of parades and caused neither the RAF or me any unnecessary hassle. Then I was posted to RAF Germany and had to have the usual medical on arrival. The SMO carried out the inspection very thoroughly and then said, "I note from your records that your religion is listed as Jewish, how come you have not been circumcised?" He then offered to send me to RAF Wegberg to have the matter corrected. A couple of weeks later I quietly and without wishing to draw attention to myself changed back to C of E.
Last edited by DODGYOLDFART; 23rd Oct 2017 at 11:47.
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"Mildly" Eccentric Stardriver
Quite amazing really. Considering that Khormaksar closed nearly fifty years ago, and the original post on this thread was concerning the SAR flight, here we are, two and a half years and five hundred threads down the line, still keeping it going. Great stuff.