Youthful High Spirits
Ecce Homo! Loquitur...
Thread Starter
Saw a lot of irresponsible things done during parties and Dining-In nights involving flares, thunder flashes, black powder, motor bikes and cars - inside and outside the mess; heard the stories of many more. Most of those did no lasting damage, some led to Stn Cdr /AOC interviews, some to CMs.
Which led to which seemed a matter of luck with many participants ending up as VSOs.
Which led to which seemed a matter of luck with many participants ending up as VSOs.
Last edited by ORAC; 28th Jun 2017 at 18:51.
Point taken. Not sure how long my career would have been were cell phone pix and public shaming via internet/social media the norm then. (Speaking of which, I think I need to set fire to the closet that hides most of my skeletons ... )
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Rockets
I recall a certain Space Agency launching sounding rockets
from Sardinia(?). Had an igniter left over so it was set off
in the Officers mess. Result no more windows, not a lot
of people left who know that.
from Sardinia(?). Had an igniter left over so it was set off
in the Officers mess. Result no more windows, not a lot
of people left who know that.
Incredible.
Who pays for the repair?
Who pays for the repair?
Remind me of a time when an exercise was being held in Western Germany where tanks used to charge headlong over fields and crops followed by a BAOR officer with a chequebook. A tank drew up at a hostelry and the crew disembarked for some refreshment.
VE do Not serve Britishers here, was the response.
At this the crew remounted, the Lieutenant tank commander stuffed the barrel through a bar window and loosed off a 105mm. blank.
That'l learn them.
The perpetrator was quite well heeled with the requisite private income and paid for the damage.
VE do Not serve Britishers here, was the response.
At this the crew remounted, the Lieutenant tank commander stuffed the barrel through a bar window and loosed off a 105mm. blank.
That'l learn them.
The perpetrator was quite well heeled with the requisite private income and paid for the damage.
Fareastdriver, I heard that once the dust and broken glass had settled, some tankie replied "Well you won't be serving f*****g anyone in here now, will you Fritz!"
TBH, drinking with previous defeated adversaries various, I've found that, on at least two occasions, it was the Brit who said something embarrassing.
Well, on the Argentinian occasion, a Brit raised Italian (Who, in all other respects, was a great guy).
Well, on the Argentinian occasion, a Brit raised Italian (Who, in all other respects, was a great guy).
Lifted from a seventeen year old thread that has been closed.
[QUOTE][/
Back in the early 70’s, when Happy Hours reached that stage of the evening when all the tales of airborne derring-do had been exhausted, the bar talk often switched over to the ‘legendary’ 1 Group Dining –In Night. Those who had attended had a fund of stories, and even those that never made the function often repeated stories they had been told by those who had attended of ‘events’ that occurred. All of the following is hearsay, based on bar talk many years ago after numerous beers on all sides - I can make no guarantee whatsoever for the accuracy of any of the detail. Anyway, from what I can remember of the ‘tall’ tales, events went something like this:
It was the height of the ‘V’ force and a misguided AOC 1 Group decided it would be an outstanding idea to have a 1 Group Dining-In Night at Waddington to which as many V force aircrew as possible would be ‘invited’ to attend. This function would celebrate the success of the V Force and allow the AOC to wallow in the unadulterated praise of his troops and amass bags of smartie points with the wheels from HQ Bomber Command and MOD. Given the size of the V Force in those days the numbers involved were huge and so a special working group was set up well in advance to organise the whole event and ensure everything went with ‘military precision’.
As the great day approached, the area surrounding the Officers Mess at Waddington was transformed by a vast series of interconnected marquees in which the dinner would be held. A vast ‘Op Order’ was duly dispatched to all the V Bomber units, giving everyone the fine detail of the great event. This detail even included the times for all the coaches to leave the units, ensuring they all eventually arrived at approximately the same time.
The great day dawned and the blokes, given this early example of excessive micro-management, had decided to make some alternative refreshment arrangements for the coach journeys to ensure nobody suffered from dehydration during the journey to Waddington. So at the appointed time the coaches filled up and everyone began to get stuck into the beer crates that had been stacked on board. Also, emotions were running high in the V Force at the time, particularly as far as the rear crew were concerned. The designers of the V Bombers had decided not to provide the rear crew with ejector seats. The folly of this decision was starting to be felt following the crash of a Vulcan at Heathrow as it attempted to land after a world tour. The two pilots managed to eject, but the 3 crew in the rear died. The actual co-pilot was one of those who died in the back. One of the pilots who survived was a WW2 hero who was now a 3* and, as AOC Bomber Command, had decided to join the crew for the final leg. The 3* was attending the dinner as the Guest of Honour – all of the highly combustible elements were in place.
At 1930hrs the coaches began to arrive at Waddington with most of the occupants already ‘tired and emotional’ after the journey. Pre-dinner drinks only exacerbated an already volatile situation. Eventually everyone was summoned into this vast marquee, grace was said and the dinner began. From that point on things went downhill at an ever-accelerating pace. The sound system was an early victim of sabotage. The marquee itself was so vast that many of the legs could barely see the top table and, with no audible direction from on high, decided to take events into their own hands. Food was largely ignored as more and more wine, beer and spirits that had been smuggled in were consumed. Before long various altercations broke out between squadrons or individuals as old scores were settled. The stakes were soon raised as individuals began seeing who dared sabotage the most supporting elements of the marquee, interfering with the activities of some other sports enthusiasts who had begun sliding down the outside.
The top table did their best to regain control of events, but the sheer scale of the function meant that, rather like a forest fire, as soon as one element was damped down, the fire would suddenly spring up elsewhere. It was decided to curtail the event as rapidly as possible with a rousing speech from the 3*, however, the sight of him rising to his feet was the final straw and complete bedlam broke out as food and various other items flew in the direction of the top table. A general food fight ensued. It was at this point that certain individuals cut the final supporting ropes on parts of the marquee. By common consent it was decided that the dinner was over and everyone began attempting to exit the marquee with more elements of it collapsing all the time.
Outside some enterprising wags had made an early exit. Making the most productive use of their time, they had found a fire hose, looped it through as many coaches as possible and waited in ambush. As people began streaming out of the collapsing marquee, the fire hose was turned on and aimed in their general direction. However, powerful fire hoses develop a mind of their own and as their prank had had the desired initial effect, the wags decided it was best to leg it. Free of any restraint whatsoever, the abandoned fire hose then proceeded to lash around in every direction, despite the best efforts of one or two game career officers who made valiant, but ultimately self-defeating, efforts to bring it under control. Little did they know that the resourceful and intelligent wags had also gone to the trouble of sabotaging the water control after they had turned the hose on. Eventually, after all sorts of mayhem, everyone dispersed back onto the coaches and disappeared off into the night, including a large group of wet and very p***ed off VIPs.
Retribution was required and heads must roll following such a fiasco. But the sheer scale of events, the numbers involved and the difficulty of identifying individual culprits, created unique difficulties. Finally it was decided that all those that attended would have a hat on, stand-up bollicking from their Stn Cdr, regardless of their involvement in certain activities or otherwise. The bollickings were duly administered and recorded in their next F1369. Since this historic function, the RAF has attempted to draw a discrete veil over the events that occurred that night at Waddington. You might find a slight reference to it in the odd book on the V Force, but nothing of substance - perhaps understandably. No doubt someone was ordered to conduct a enquiry and all the gory details must be in an aging file, gathering dust in the bowels of Main Building – most likely it’s already been shredded.
Well, that’s what I remember hearing from various sources about the 1 Gp Dining-In Night. Out there somewhere there must be PPRuNe readers who actually attended the event and can add their personal experiences of what happened. I know it’s not directly about flying as such, but it is a part of RAF History and it, and other ‘exuberant’ events that got out of hand, should be recorded for posterity and the amusement of others - provided no names are used. I also remember hearing stories about an Officers Mess in the Middle East that was actually burnt down following a rather over-exuberant Dining-In Night. The Stn Cdr, a distinguished Irishman of great renown, simply told the Mess Manager to charge the cost to his Mess Bill – but perhaps that’s another thread for the future. What chance another 1 Group Dining-In Night? – I think not!
QUOTE]
[QUOTE][/
Back in the early 70’s, when Happy Hours reached that stage of the evening when all the tales of airborne derring-do had been exhausted, the bar talk often switched over to the ‘legendary’ 1 Group Dining –In Night. Those who had attended had a fund of stories, and even those that never made the function often repeated stories they had been told by those who had attended of ‘events’ that occurred. All of the following is hearsay, based on bar talk many years ago after numerous beers on all sides - I can make no guarantee whatsoever for the accuracy of any of the detail. Anyway, from what I can remember of the ‘tall’ tales, events went something like this:
It was the height of the ‘V’ force and a misguided AOC 1 Group decided it would be an outstanding idea to have a 1 Group Dining-In Night at Waddington to which as many V force aircrew as possible would be ‘invited’ to attend. This function would celebrate the success of the V Force and allow the AOC to wallow in the unadulterated praise of his troops and amass bags of smartie points with the wheels from HQ Bomber Command and MOD. Given the size of the V Force in those days the numbers involved were huge and so a special working group was set up well in advance to organise the whole event and ensure everything went with ‘military precision’.
As the great day approached, the area surrounding the Officers Mess at Waddington was transformed by a vast series of interconnected marquees in which the dinner would be held. A vast ‘Op Order’ was duly dispatched to all the V Bomber units, giving everyone the fine detail of the great event. This detail even included the times for all the coaches to leave the units, ensuring they all eventually arrived at approximately the same time.
The great day dawned and the blokes, given this early example of excessive micro-management, had decided to make some alternative refreshment arrangements for the coach journeys to ensure nobody suffered from dehydration during the journey to Waddington. So at the appointed time the coaches filled up and everyone began to get stuck into the beer crates that had been stacked on board. Also, emotions were running high in the V Force at the time, particularly as far as the rear crew were concerned. The designers of the V Bombers had decided not to provide the rear crew with ejector seats. The folly of this decision was starting to be felt following the crash of a Vulcan at Heathrow as it attempted to land after a world tour. The two pilots managed to eject, but the 3 crew in the rear died. The actual co-pilot was one of those who died in the back. One of the pilots who survived was a WW2 hero who was now a 3* and, as AOC Bomber Command, had decided to join the crew for the final leg. The 3* was attending the dinner as the Guest of Honour – all of the highly combustible elements were in place.
At 1930hrs the coaches began to arrive at Waddington with most of the occupants already ‘tired and emotional’ after the journey. Pre-dinner drinks only exacerbated an already volatile situation. Eventually everyone was summoned into this vast marquee, grace was said and the dinner began. From that point on things went downhill at an ever-accelerating pace. The sound system was an early victim of sabotage. The marquee itself was so vast that many of the legs could barely see the top table and, with no audible direction from on high, decided to take events into their own hands. Food was largely ignored as more and more wine, beer and spirits that had been smuggled in were consumed. Before long various altercations broke out between squadrons or individuals as old scores were settled. The stakes were soon raised as individuals began seeing who dared sabotage the most supporting elements of the marquee, interfering with the activities of some other sports enthusiasts who had begun sliding down the outside.
The top table did their best to regain control of events, but the sheer scale of the function meant that, rather like a forest fire, as soon as one element was damped down, the fire would suddenly spring up elsewhere. It was decided to curtail the event as rapidly as possible with a rousing speech from the 3*, however, the sight of him rising to his feet was the final straw and complete bedlam broke out as food and various other items flew in the direction of the top table. A general food fight ensued. It was at this point that certain individuals cut the final supporting ropes on parts of the marquee. By common consent it was decided that the dinner was over and everyone began attempting to exit the marquee with more elements of it collapsing all the time.
Outside some enterprising wags had made an early exit. Making the most productive use of their time, they had found a fire hose, looped it through as many coaches as possible and waited in ambush. As people began streaming out of the collapsing marquee, the fire hose was turned on and aimed in their general direction. However, powerful fire hoses develop a mind of their own and as their prank had had the desired initial effect, the wags decided it was best to leg it. Free of any restraint whatsoever, the abandoned fire hose then proceeded to lash around in every direction, despite the best efforts of one or two game career officers who made valiant, but ultimately self-defeating, efforts to bring it under control. Little did they know that the resourceful and intelligent wags had also gone to the trouble of sabotaging the water control after they had turned the hose on. Eventually, after all sorts of mayhem, everyone dispersed back onto the coaches and disappeared off into the night, including a large group of wet and very p***ed off VIPs.
Retribution was required and heads must roll following such a fiasco. But the sheer scale of events, the numbers involved and the difficulty of identifying individual culprits, created unique difficulties. Finally it was decided that all those that attended would have a hat on, stand-up bollicking from their Stn Cdr, regardless of their involvement in certain activities or otherwise. The bollickings were duly administered and recorded in their next F1369. Since this historic function, the RAF has attempted to draw a discrete veil over the events that occurred that night at Waddington. You might find a slight reference to it in the odd book on the V Force, but nothing of substance - perhaps understandably. No doubt someone was ordered to conduct a enquiry and all the gory details must be in an aging file, gathering dust in the bowels of Main Building – most likely it’s already been shredded.
Well, that’s what I remember hearing from various sources about the 1 Gp Dining-In Night. Out there somewhere there must be PPRuNe readers who actually attended the event and can add their personal experiences of what happened. I know it’s not directly about flying as such, but it is a part of RAF History and it, and other ‘exuberant’ events that got out of hand, should be recorded for posterity and the amusement of others - provided no names are used. I also remember hearing stories about an Officers Mess in the Middle East that was actually burnt down following a rather over-exuberant Dining-In Night. The Stn Cdr, a distinguished Irishman of great renown, simply told the Mess Manager to charge the cost to his Mess Bill – but perhaps that’s another thread for the future. What chance another 1 Group Dining-In Night? – I think not!
QUOTE]
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
Finally it was decided that all those that attended would have a hat on, stand-up bollicking from their Stn Cdr,
I have no doubt that there were no guilty parties at any of the other messes either
I don't own this space under my name. I should have leased it while I still could
. . . he had drunk two glasses of Pimms and six glasses of wine he should not have fired the flare . . .
. . . what happened was a "freak accident" and the flare had probably veered off course due to a manufacturing fault.
. . . what happened was a "freak accident" and the flare had probably veered off course due to a manufacturing fault.
Probably delay his majority for 6 months or so, good chap Wuppet.
Remind me of a time when an exercise was being held in Western Germany where tanks used to charge headlong over fields and crops followed by a BAOR officer with a chequebook. A tank drew up at a hostelry and the crew disembarked for some refreshment.
VE do Not serve Britishers here, was the response.
At this the crew remounted, the Lieutenant tank commander stuffed the barrel through a bar window and loosed off a 105mm. blank.
That'l learn them.
The perpetrator was quite well heeled with the requisite private income and paid for the damage.
VE do Not serve Britishers here, was the response.
At this the crew remounted, the Lieutenant tank commander stuffed the barrel through a bar window and loosed off a 105mm. blank.
That'l learn them.
The perpetrator was quite well heeled with the requisite private income and paid for the damage.
CG
Severe dig? Bit longer than 6 months, shirley?
CG
Guest
Posts: n/a
FED,
A rather nicer story, told to me by my Senior Officer in Customs & Excise, where I earned an honest penny to eke out my pension:
He'd been a (postwar) Captain in the REME (RAOC ?) and been called to a tank which had got badly bogged down in a ditch somewhere in North Germany. They were struggling to haul it out, with little success.
Along the road came a glossy Mercedes, driven by an equally glossy German businessman (not for nothing was the Merc known as the "Rhenisher Volkswagen"). He stopped to watch their efforts.
"Move along" gruffly ordered the W.O. i/c Recovery Party: "nothing to see here". Then the Merc window was wound down, and the German explained in faultless English: "I was a Tank Commander here in 1944, and my tank got stuck in exactly this spot. You'll never get it out that way. Let me show you how we did it".
"Well", thought the W.O. "What can we lose ?" Their new friend got out and directed the operation. Out came the tank, and back on the road. They parted with expressions of mutual esteem.
A rather nicer story, told to me by my Senior Officer in Customs & Excise, where I earned an honest penny to eke out my pension:
He'd been a (postwar) Captain in the REME (RAOC ?) and been called to a tank which had got badly bogged down in a ditch somewhere in North Germany. They were struggling to haul it out, with little success.
Along the road came a glossy Mercedes, driven by an equally glossy German businessman (not for nothing was the Merc known as the "Rhenisher Volkswagen"). He stopped to watch their efforts.
"Move along" gruffly ordered the W.O. i/c Recovery Party: "nothing to see here". Then the Merc window was wound down, and the German explained in faultless English: "I was a Tank Commander here in 1944, and my tank got stuck in exactly this spot. You'll never get it out that way. Let me show you how we did it".
"Well", thought the W.O. "What can we lose ?" Their new friend got out and directed the operation. Out came the tank, and back on the road. They parted with expressions of mutual esteem.
