The BRIXMIS Story
Hi OB!
Thanks for the heads-up! An interesting programme concerning an era of the Cold War about which many of today's RAF know diddly-squat.
Thanks for the heads-up! An interesting programme concerning an era of the Cold War about which many of today's RAF know diddly-squat.
Below the Glidepath - not correcting
SOXMIS of course, being their Soviet counterparts in West Germany. The SOXMIS guys would shadow huge military convoys knowing every 18 year old squaddie had been told to report any SOXMIS plates to the RMP. Cue a long slow pass on the Autobahn followed by hundreds of sighting reports of the same 2 bored Russians. Counter Intelligence indeed.
Two's in
Happy days -I remember it well ringing Herford Military, as this piece of memorabilia given to me when I passed the BFG Driving Test way back in 1972 testifies.
had been told to report any SOXMIS plates to the RMP. Cue a long slow pass on the Autobahn followed by hundreds of sighting reports of the same 2 bored Russians. Counter Intelligence indeed.
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I was lucky enough to invite two members of BRIXMIS to give talks at our ACA Branch meeting, the second member being the pilot of that Chipmunk that flew over Berlin. A fascinating insight.
I was twiddling the knobs on the Haraka house wireless in South Africa some years ago, when suddenly Old Bricks's tones came droning in over the airwaves with his tales of derring do .
The memsahib had quickly to run for a restorative G&T as I was close to having an aneurysm.
I didn't realize that he had ever actually held down a steady job until then.
The memsahib had quickly to run for a restorative G&T as I was close to having an aneurysm.
I didn't realize that he had ever actually held down a steady job until then.
Thread Starter
Haraka
I'm sorry to have shocked you. I was not aware that Mr Marconi's waves were actually strong enough to go as far as the southern colonial areas. You are quite correct, though - I never did hold down a steady job. I looked on my entire RAF career as merely training and rehearsal for my subsequent retirement, with the only realistic resettlement training being the selection and separation of Soviet turds from their associated wiping surfaces. Winter was better than summer - a sharp whack with a stick could normally separate a frozen one from its attachment, as long as you avoided the potential for richochets. It just shows that staff training was well worth the effort.
OB
I'm sorry to have shocked you. I was not aware that Mr Marconi's waves were actually strong enough to go as far as the southern colonial areas. You are quite correct, though - I never did hold down a steady job. I looked on my entire RAF career as merely training and rehearsal for my subsequent retirement, with the only realistic resettlement training being the selection and separation of Soviet turds from their associated wiping surfaces. Winter was better than summer - a sharp whack with a stick could normally separate a frozen one from its attachment, as long as you avoided the potential for richochets. It just shows that staff training was well worth the effort.
OB
I always thought that many of the dire publications which came down to squadron level should have been published on absorbent paper, as they would then at least have had one worthwhile purpose....
It seems that the Sovs had a similar idea, although no doubt their paper was rather tougher and less bottom-friendly.
Next year will mark the 50th anniversary of the time we were all on that train to Grantham, eh Old Bricks and Haraka?
It seems that the Sovs had a similar idea, although no doubt their paper was rather tougher and less bottom-friendly.
Next year will mark the 50th anniversary of the time we were all on that train to Grantham, eh Old Bricks and Haraka?
Thread Starter
BEags
Pretty horrific thought that it's already 49 years since a trainload of spotty oiks polled up at Grantham with our entire belongings in one suitcase each. Was it a steam train? And all for 16/8d a day.
OB
Pretty horrific thought that it's already 49 years since a trainload of spotty oiks polled up at Grantham with our entire belongings in one suitcase each. Was it a steam train? And all for 16/8d a day.
OB
Indeed, OB!
Not just 16/8 per day though, didn't we also have free haircuts from the Mad Slasher?
It wasn't a steam hauled train though, they'd been out of service on that particular line for several years by then. In fact the very last BR steam service of all took place only a month earlier...
The chap sitting opposite me on the way down to Grantham didn't even last 24 hours; the son of a Colonel, he left the very next morning after seeing the luxury of the South Brick Lines.
Not just 16/8 per day though, didn't we also have free haircuts from the Mad Slasher?
It wasn't a steam hauled train though, they'd been out of service on that particular line for several years by then. In fact the very last BR steam service of all took place only a month earlier...
The chap sitting opposite me on the way down to Grantham didn't even last 24 hours; the son of a Colonel, he left the very next morning after seeing the luxury of the South Brick Lines.
Mog
I'd love to know whether a BRIXMIS tale I was once told actually happened...
Some boffin wanted to know how thick the armour was on some new Sovietski tankski. So they gave a chap a boffin-jobber device and told him to find one of said tanks, hold the device against the tank's turret, press the tit and it would take a reading.
They didn't quite tell him everything though.
Chap finally found out where one of these tanks was parked, crept out in the dead of night with the boffin's toy, pressed it against the tank and pressed the tit as briefed.
A loud 'BOOOOOIIIIINNNNG' came from the device, which was obviously some sonar system. Chum legged it sharpish and about half-a-heartbeat later the turret hatch flew open and a dazed tank mate peered out in terror holding his head in his hands wondering what the hell had just woken him up..... It seems their crews sleep with their horses and/or tanks!
No doubt the touring team nearly wet themselves with laughter once safely back inside their Opel Senator or whatever...
Some boffin wanted to know how thick the armour was on some new Sovietski tankski. So they gave a chap a boffin-jobber device and told him to find one of said tanks, hold the device against the tank's turret, press the tit and it would take a reading.
They didn't quite tell him everything though.
Chap finally found out where one of these tanks was parked, crept out in the dead of night with the boffin's toy, pressed it against the tank and pressed the tit as briefed.
A loud 'BOOOOOIIIIINNNNG' came from the device, which was obviously some sonar system. Chum legged it sharpish and about half-a-heartbeat later the turret hatch flew open and a dazed tank mate peered out in terror holding his head in his hands wondering what the hell had just woken him up..... It seems their crews sleep with their horses and/or tanks!
No doubt the touring team nearly wet themselves with laughter once safely back inside their Opel Senator or whatever...
A very interesting programme especially when I recognised the West Country tones of an old crewman friend of mine. As a parallel to this I can recommend Paul Hickley's history of 60Sqn ''Holding the Heavens'' (ISBN 978-1-5262-0164-5) Chapter 9 Operation Hallmark. It gives a full account of the Pembroke's task flying up and down the corridor.
Gentleman Aviator
There's lots of (open source) stuff on the wackier sort of airborne int gathering - including the Pembroke and the Berlin Chippie here on the "Spyflight" website run by an old mate (and occasional PPRuNer) Heimdall.
Then there was the new cadet at the Towers, who by the next morning had disappeared, leaving a£10 note I think it was pinned to his pillow with a note apologising for any trouble he had caused, but this was not really the place for him