Wannabe...

Was this an ESUAS triumph by any chance...?

S41

Before budget cuts and anti fun patrols destroyed Red Flag I managed to be a liney on the gleaming grey dart of death one man one fan....... Anyway, great morale on the Sqn at the time and an excellent rapport between ourselves and the crews until one fateful night in New YorkNew York casino.
The RAF's finest were most definitely hogging all the talent (it does help having the I am a pilot chat-up line) and the lineys were feeling just a little left out, as every bar we had been in had at least a couple of pilots in it all surrounded by top notch skirt. This culminated in the one of the biggest gatherings of both in the aforementioned casino. Us orrible blunties and gingers looking on with envy as the group of young pilots do tequila body shots off the chest of the most stunning Vegas show girl, being cheered on by a bevy of ladies.
"right that’s it, I've had enough of this time to level the playing field" Armourer Cpl saunters over to harrier mates and in a very loud drunken whisper says:
" Err Steve is that old fighter pilot chat-up line still working, I told you those fake IDs would finish the scam. Who would have thought a group of pissed up builders could get so much totty in Vegas"
Much spluttering and great deal of laughter from lineys, girls make excuses and leave.
The crews snagged the jets relentlessly for the next couple of days so I guess all is fair in love and war.

Sorry wwyvern, it is funny...It's called "Black Humour" ALL services[including Civvies...Police Fire etc] have it...:rolleyes:

Maybe it's the way I tell 'em. Yes it was black humour. It was persisting down at the time and whilst we noticed the parking under the wing the snowman effect wasn't noticed until after the damage was done.

However, I have removed the post to save any more offence.

On my first Battle of Britian dinning in night I was lucky enough to be training at Halton and with it the joys of living in HHOM. One of my fellow Fg Off was duly nominated as Mr Vice and Fg Off "C", breifed on his duties by the PMC and informed that the after dinner speaker was going to be one of the last surviving pathfinder crewmen from the war.
Fg Off "C" duly impressed informs PMC that top table bit at the end of the night will be based around his grandfather who was also on bombers in the war.
The night goes well superb fly past at the rear of HHOM by the BBMF spit and myself and my course mates are anticipating our fellow Fg Off entertainment after the grown ups leave.

"Mr Vice the Top Table is yours"
"Sirs, ma am ladies and gentlemen tonight we have been priveliged to have had a WW2 veteran entertain us with his experience and advice; If it wasn't for people like him I would not be here today for my own grandfather was a bomber pilot himself, and if gentlemen like our distinguised guest hadn't shot him down over Biggin Hill then he would never have settled in the UK after his interment and I would like to add my thanks to that of the PMC...."
Silence ensued and the distinguised guest is heard to murmur something about standards of junior officers these days.
Fg Off "C" had a very interesting chat the next day (without coffee) and was reminded that it is traditonal for Mr Vice to wait until after the Stn Cdr and guest have left before dropping a b*()£$k.

Late 70s at Suffolk's premier strike base - airfield BLACK under snow, target study & sims all up to date and only so much Uckers a man can take! One of the sqn navs had recently been admitted to RAF(H) Ely with recurrence of an old back problem, so a push was organised to visit/bring cheer/scope out the nurses. A team eventually struggled through the slush in a J2 (that's another saga!) and arrived at Ely. Somebody hid in the middle of the group with the slab of McEwans concealed under a coat as we were directed to a 2-bed room where our colleague was in traction to try to ease his discomfort. Having been involved in some MT engineering on the journey, I popped out for 5 minutes to scrub the hands, and returned to find a great party in full swing, with everyone clutching tinnies, the traction weights replaced with 2 cans of McEwans, the bedside radio at full volume and healthy banter flying in all directions. Even the occupant of the second bed, a tall youth who also had a bad back (admin officer at the same base, but nobody had ever seen him before - consensus was that he'd damaged his back hunched over a desk all day) had been given a can, but was left to drink it on his own as we listened to our mate's (frankly unbelievable) tales of suffering at the hands of drunken medics.

No-one paid much attention when the tall kid in the other bed got up unsteadily, staggered to the door and slurred that he was "going for a p*ss", before exiting wearing only his paper Y-fronts. Until, that is, the door was flung open and the ward sister stormed in, looked at the empty bed, looked at us and the empties and stormed out again (briefly). She came back dragging the giggling wreck of the kid from the next bed, still in his paper trolleys, shoved him into bed again and then read us the riot act. She was only just over 5ft tall (still is, I saw her the other weekend), but it was one of the best collective bollockings I ever heard in 35 years! Basically, the beer the kid had consumed had reacted badly with his medication and we were all totally irresponsible, disgraceful conduct, etc, now clear up this mess and get off my ward...great stuff, exit junta slightly abashed with empties clanking, traction weights replaced.

After we'd gone, our colleague was given the third degree to find out why he hadn't reacted to the beer like his cellmate, because he was on pretty much the same medication. It turned out that he had been carefully washing his painkillers down the sink so that he could enjoy the "lemonade " being smuggled in during nefarious evening visits - oh, there was a lot of trouble.....how we laughed!

Back in the late 80s/early 90s I was a Trustee of the Red Arrows Trust. A former RA Manager had trademarked various designs based on the team's formations, and the Trust licensed these to manufacturers for a fee, which went to charity. Someone suggested a RA teddy bear, red suit, white helmet and all. My son Will was then 2 or so, so got the job of Intensive Teddy Bear Trials Unit. Around that time the Team was coming up to its 25th anniversary, but the RAF was not prepared (financial constraints even then) to mark the occasion with an official event, so the Trust and the Team organised a one-off. "teams only" event at Scampton. Most of the European teams came for the day, and the Reds finished the day off. In the course of the event, with my in-laws and Will we came across the then Manager, a very serious officer, and dresed in his red flying suit. Will, never one to hang back (then or now at almost 22) grabbed the front of the Mange's red suit, saying - my teddy's got "one of those" - never quite sure if Will (being not much over 2 and quite little) got a handful of suit, or something more sensitive, but it went VERY quite for a second or two.

PS: That teddy bear, still in his red suit, is now living in Copenghagen with my grandson, and last year at Copenhagen Airshow met the current RAFAT Manager. Elliot is still talking about the red aeroplanes and the man in the red suit.

CAn you loose a Beverley?
 

Dishforth Jan 1959. Early AM hours on a bitterly cold night shift. Centralised servicing. Faries working out of ARSF, Rx phone call, 'Pre-flight on XX-XXX, destination XXXXXX Xtal fit to be xxxx."

The 'flight line' is unused cross runway.

As NCO i/c night shift I send of radar and wireless bod's.

They come back querying the a/c serial, a/c serial checked and found correct.

We all go out with torches looking for said A/C and fail.

Eventually get to the 'Office' where all other trades are chasing chiefy about the phantom a/c.

Eventually found in ASF Hanger!! Someone on day's had 'forgotten' to tow it to the flight line.

Farnborough Air show on press day back in the late 80s and there was an Antanov AN-225 (I think) on the ground being closely guarded by a very large Russian with a big gun. My I remember my father asking if it wold be flying today to which Ivan sternly replied 'No. My Dad, being the diplomat he is just said 'oh, is it broken then?'. I'll never forget the feeling of thinking "bloody hell Dad's going to get shot"

At a well-known RNZAF Station in the 1960s, two Air Traffic Controllers, one going off duty , the other coming on, managed to collide head-on at the gate....where the road was one-way!:D

Leeming, 1973.
F4 pilot requests homing and gca.
ATC What is your position?
F4: You've got the radar, you find me.
ATC Roger. I'm changing frequency. You find me!

Mid 1970's on detachment in southern Germany. Scene: downtown bar where pornography was projected as "moving wallpaper" and star of the show was a particularly well endowed gentleman. Boys enjoying supper and a few beers when voice from the corner is heard to say:
"My god if I had to fill that with blood I'd f*****g faint."

Low level (was there any other level?) Beverley
 

My dad did his NS in the mob and told me of a rather hairy trip from somewhere in southern England to Boscombe. A rather active warm sector was over the route and even the ducks were walking. Still, they got the old girl into the air (just) and lurked over the hedges, through the long grass and around barns and sheep and into BD. It was agreed it would have been just as quick and probably safer had they just taxied all the way.

Pursued by a convoy of Post Office vans.

Who eventually removed hundreds of feet of telephone wire from the legs .....

RAF Buchan - 1984
 

No flying so everyone is crammed into the crewroom watching Ladies Day at Ascot.

Sqn Boss walks in and asks 'Has anyone seen my wife, she is there today'?

Pint sized first tourist Fg Off replies 'Don't know Sir, what's the jockey's name'?

Oooooh, how we laughed. You could hear the bollicking 4 rooms away.

CRC Neatishead mid 90's. Big AD exercise.

3 first tourists on telebrief, one for CY, one for LI and one for LU. One turns to another, callsign list in hand, and asks:

'Who the f*ck is CDR12'?

His mate replies:

'It's you, you c*nt'.

All well and good except that the telebrief lines are 'open mike' so the conversation was transmitted across CY and LI. Rumour has it the CO of LI fell off his chair laughing.

"Roger, adopt callsigns Stupid One and Stupid Two."

Edited as Pure Pursuit has the proper story.

It was Scampton and, it was a little worse than that...

First half of a 4v4 split freq USAF sortie gets up & checks in as 'Getsum 11-14'

Second half, not 10 minutes later, checks in as, you've guessed it, 'Getsum 11-14'.

The allocator shouted something along the lines of, "f**king useless banjo playing red necked *****" and immediately telephones the sqn Top 3.

'ah, ah, yep, really? Ok sir, get the second lot to rename as Stupid flight'

They did, without hesitation and even went to the tanker with it before coming back to Scampton. The eventual handover to Lon Mil was greeted with, "Did you say Stupid 11 flight?"

"Yes, they're Americans."

"Fair enough, let me grab a strip..." :ok:

Or...

The day 4 F15Es (not USAF bashing here, just telling it as it happened!) free called Buchan whilst very much inside Y70.

'Deadly check...2! 3! 4!'

Buchan...'5'

'Er Deadly, check...2! 3! 4!'

'5'

Kept at it until they had cleared the airway & then replied with the usual 'good morning blah blah blah'.

When asked why he had done it, the WC told the crew room that he had no idea what else to do with a/c free calling inside controlled airspace!

You can only imagine the poor guy in Deadly 11 who must have heard '5!' and then looked over his shoulder and counted his hens, twice!

Somewhere on the Canadian prairies
 

Alas, time has passed, and probably with it the individual involved. But years ago, we had a rather rough Corporal who had the unfortunate happening as to be smacked on the head by a Harvard prop. The result was a long stay in hospital and a steel plate installed in his head. He was good for a single drink at the Mess. On downing the second, he would climb up onto the nearest object higher than the floor and wave a very tatty bit of paper, announcing loudly, "I can prove I'm sane. What about the rest of you b*****ds!"
His other rather quaint ability was that he would be standing there talking with you and suddenly, with no warning, fall asleep. Eyes closed, and rigidly upright, but asleep. He would be out for up to a minute when he would snap back awake and continue with the conversation like he had never left. If the conversation was with a group, he would jump back in right there. Frightening!!
One day some new Admin Clerk put him on a C.O.'s Parade. He just smiled and showed up. Everyone got all fell in and the Parade Commander was standing directly in front of our Corporal. As he started to give the required order, he noticed that our Corporal was asleep. There was a distinct pause until the Corp opened his eyes again. Then the parade continued. The Corp never was on another parade . . . but the Admin Clerk was.

Wooden words
 

This is from pre-history (to some) ... like that very cold November of 1949.

National Service fly-boy hopefuls on the parade ground at RAF Padgate for Initial Training while waiting for Aircrew Selection are being instructed in "Parts of the Rifle" (Lee Enfield .303). Corporal X has covered most bits and comes to the bit that rests against your shoulder:

"Now this is the butt.
It is made from lignum vitae.
This is a very resistant wood.
It is used for piles for piers.

And I do not mean haemorrhoids for the haristocracy".




I seem to remember that nobody even smirked ... :hmm::hmm: