Certain secret Helicopter base exercise in Hampshire during the 70's

Distaff approaches TSW fuel pillow tank set up, hands inject to bod stating there has been an explosion and to add realism lights a thunderflash and tosses it in the air, thunderflash lazily arcs through the air and lands on said pillow tank.... Distaff then sees exactly what everyone would do..... Run

I had the pleasure of meeting this GI at Whale Island in the mid 70s when I was a baby sailor.

He turned us out at 0300 and doubled us up the hill to above the parade ground and opening a large display casement ordered us to......

'Polish that bleedin gun carriage, dont forget the brightwork'. 'You effin ignorant ODs will not know that Winston bleedin' Churchill was carried on that very institution to his reward.' 'Now, it so 'appens that your Majesty's bleedin' mother 'as 'ad an argument with a bleedin' fish bone and may be on 'er merry way, effin fishes revenge if you ask me, so get it sparklin' me boys.'

0600. Gun carriage sparkling. GI returns with a distinct aroma of spirits about him......

'It seems that 'im upstairs has seen fit to allow old Liz to stay with us, Gawd bless 'er. Fall in. Left turn. Double. Halt. Right then, bath and dhobes, rig of the day, back 'ere at 0700 dont be adrift.'

:}

Passenger Safety Brief
 

Best Pre flight Passenger brief on C130 trip back from the US of A
Captain: Welcome on board for your flight home, you are being flow today by 47 Sqn, and we have a long tradition that in the unlikely event of an emergency the Captain is always the last man to leave the aircraft.
So, should you wake up and find yourself all alone, consider yourself the Captain. The time on route etc etc..

Remember when cross-country calls involved a series of progressively fainter old biddies chatting to eachother ("Central...click, click, Rothwell Haigh please, dear...click, click...Machrihanish please....click, click...."Hullooo, RAF Machrihanish here....")? And the occasional screech of "ARE YOU WORKING??!!" if you dared to pause for thought in mid-call!

A mate using this system once got pissed off when it well went dead "Ah f*ck it, the bastard telephone's gone t*ts up. Bolleaux!" he muttered to no-one in particular, only to be chastised by some vexed harpy who retorted "There's no call for language like that, young man, I'm trying to connect you!".

Dial-a-mate worked fine in the 80s and 90s. But getting rid of station operators in favour of failed burger-flippers at call centres proved a total disaster.

Thank heavens for cellphones!

May I direct newer PPRuNers to the following:

http://www.pprune.org/military-aircr...mber-when.html

and

http://www.pprune.org/military-aircr...adnt-said.html

and the famous http://www.pprune.org/military-aircr...addington.html

Topcliffe, early '80's.

RAF airfield, used to teach RN students to fly, on an Army Barracks

The Scene.

An apron full of Bulldogs preparing to launch the first wave, everything 'burning and turning'.

All being overseen by FS i/c Engineering. (One J*** B****, of that Ilk).

Enter 1 x Army Major (with obligatory dog).

Army Major, unsure how to proceed, attempts to catch the FS attention.

"Staff Sergeant" he calls out.

To be suitable ignored by said FS.

"Staff Sergeant, Staff Sergeant", the Major tries again to no avail.

Taking his life in hands (together with loose dog) he enters the busy apron.

"Staff Sergeant, I have been trying to attract your attention" he declares.

"My apologies, Sir" JB acknowledges "but I am not a Staff Sergeant, I am a Flight Sergeant".

"Ah" replies the Major "In this Regiment you would be a Staff Sergeant".

"No Sir" comes the firm reply "In this Regiment, I would be a Lieutenant Colonel".





After a major moan to the Staish at Leeming (a prat of the first order), JB was 'punished' by having to be Ord Sgt for the next four weekends.

Mid to late 70s at a prominant tanker base. Airman leaving the mess after a meal just as an RAF plod drove by in his sparkly new company Ford Escort. Plod sees airman has his hands in his pockets, wound down the window and bellowed at the airman ' get your hands out of your' followed by a loud crunching noise as Escort becomes very second hand against a lamp post at the side of the road. Lots of laughing faces at windows of mess and one very red one in the car. :}
A very senior SAC with oppo on gate guard, a Saturday afternoon, mid summer and the Space Cadets were changeing over. A spotty youth with the uniform of a Pilot Officer(VR). VS SAC checks documents, thanks him and opens the barrier, PO(VR) pulls forward and asked SAC if he did not normally salute officers, the SAC responds with ' Real ones Yes sir ' :ok:
Again Spacie season, in the airmans mess, a long tail of airman and spacies waiting for their food. Enter cocky Spacie sergeant, who walks to front of queue and goes to take a plate, when asked what he was up to he said he was gettig his meal and was jumping the queue because he was a sergeant. At this he was told that he was in the wrong mess and the Sergeants Mess was down the road, at this he put his plate down and headed down the road. He returned some 10 minutes later, at the back of the queue. :\

OK, you've asked for it. This is a Senior Service version of the same.

Picture the scene....

Midshipmen on parade training at BRNC Dartmouth.

CPO Blaine, none other, is inspecting the platoon. Stops before one particular officer under training and looks upward towards the sky. (CPO Blaine was about 5ft 2 inches tall - and wide. The OUT in question was about 6ft4)

An unconventional opening gambit had the poor OUT unsettled from moment one...

"Did you have breakfast this morning, Mr Bloggs?"
"??????WTF???" pause "Er, yes, Chief"

"Did you eat all your breakfast, Mr Bloggs"

"??????WTF???" pause "Er, yes, Chief"

"I WILL NOT TOLERATE YOU LYING TO ME, MR BLOGGS!" CPO Blaine bellowed.

"????WTF????" pause "Er, but, er, Chief, I'm not lying to you...???"

"IF YOU ATE ALL YOUR BREAKFAST HOW COME SOME OF IT IS STICKING TO YOUR TIE, SIR???"


Or the predecessor of the wonderful Colour Sergeant RM who taught my course drill but hadn't learned to control his frustrations...

One morning (at BRNC) he was drilling a squad of what we used to call "internationals" who were renowned for their hopeless uncoordination on parade...
Being a decent Bootie he just wasn't adjusted to this sort of shambles and allowed the pressure to get to him. At the end of the period the bell went signifying three - or was it five minutes for OUTs to get to their next assignment.

Clr Sgt Bootneck kept them at it to ensure they would learn a lesson by being late and get a bollocking from their next class.

As he marched and countermarched this ticktocking shambles about the parade ground a WREN trainee was passing, arms full of books, around the ramps of the parade ground and as any human being would laughed out loud at the antics of the "international" fools .

This flipped the poor Clr Sgt. He called his squad to a halt, turned and bellowed at the WREN in his biggest parade-ground voice,

" I DON'T KNOW WHAT YOU'RE LAUGHNG AT MA'AM, YOU'VE ONLY GOT ONE C*** TO LOOK AFTER, I'VE GOT A WHOLE SQUAD OF THEM!"

Inevitably the Commander's window was open, the Jimmy at his desk... The poor Clr Sgt made a brief appearance before that desk and was off the station within the hour. What a waste!

Also---(a second hand story that might be - nay!, ought to be true. I don't know but it was related to me in all seriousness)

A young thrusting helo pilot who was melanistically distinct from the rest of the squadron was aboard one of Her Majesties carriers and relaxing in the Wardroom with his oppos and reading the daily paper. A new sprog middie entered the compartment and proceeded to introduce himself around the room in a rather pompous manner to all present. It was perhaps not his fault that his daddy was an Admiral, but that didn't help. "Justin LeBlanc!" he intoned as he circulated the room, "Hello, I'm Justin LeBlanc!"

He reached our hero and had to stick his hand over the top of the paper, which was slowly lowered..."Hello, Justin LeBlanc" he asserted, and as the Telegraph was raised to its former position a disinterested voice was heard to say, "Hello, Stanford le Noir".

A further story which may or may not be true, but I for one believe it -

Said dark-skinned Officer came up through the hawse-hole, and the story goes that upon reporting to his first ship as a newly sprogged baby-sailor he was led to his new mess by the duty doggie who pointed his way down a hatchway to his mess. Our friend stuck his head down the hatchway and bellowed, "HEY, NUMBER THREE MESS, YOU GOT ANY N!GGERS IN THERE?????"

You can imagine the reaction...

At which he flung his kitbag down the hole, and leapt after it shouting "WELL YOU F******G HAVE NOW!!!"

He was one of nature's true Gentlemen. Still is, I believe.

Wise words Beagle, as I was thoroughly enjoying this thread, it had occurred to me that it should be merged with:

I Wish I Hadn't Said That

All 3 of the threads you kindly linked to should be compulsory reading for probationary PPruners.

STH

At a similar time to the above my wife worked in the Officers Mess as a steward for the evening meals and Mess Events. One evening it was close to clearing up time and most of the gentlemen had left only leaving a table of 4 earthy senior members of the mess. At this time it was noticed that 2 young Pilot Officers were peering through the doors, my wife approached them and they stated that they would like an evening meal, and this they were escorted to the table where the last of the members were sat, the senior officer, a Squadron Leader engineer gave my wife a questioning look but said nothing.
She took the order for their meals, after their starter they both requested Trout, which was duly placed in front of them at the appropriate time, as she was about to walk away she noticed that one of them looking at both of the plates, at this she asked him if there was a problem to which he replied 'his one was bigger than mine', to which my wife replied that =
'that is something you should discuss with your mother' turned on her heels ad departed. Result - explosion of laughter from senior officers.
On another occation another of the girls (C)noticed a man stood by the dining room doors, as she approached he asked if he was on time for a meal, at which she replied that he was and took his hand and led him to a table. The other girls tried to attract her attention, but failed and to hide their laughter turned their back on her. After leaving the table, having taken his meal order C walked to the other girls who where stood shaking their heads, C then asked what she had done wrong to be told - Thats the new Station Commander.
How she kept that job for as long as she did I will never know.

Late 70's....for those who recall the days of MU's and 71 in particular. En route to either of the RAF's two Cat A stalags ( St.Athan / Brawdy ) from Abingdon it became the custom to stop at the "10p" cafe near Newport..so called because it was run by an ex WO who charged 10p to all serving RAF persons irrespective of the meal. It was also the turn round point for the baby MT drivers from St.Athan..and their instructors.

Now, the ahem, dress code for the MU was "variable" shall we say...and the driving skills minimal...at best. After several meetings with the St.Athan fraternity, much tut tutting and indeed "an exchange of views" the war of attrition reached a head one day when two of the St.Athan grown ups appeared at breakfast...a WO and a cherubic Fg.Off ....names were taken and stern words issued etc, etc...which we thought was a rather uncivilised thing to do over breakfast........

The car park at said cafe had a considerable number of potholes...it rains a lot in Wales.....the two grown ups elected to supervise the departure of the troops CF van by standing to attention in said car park...alas, the J/T driving was somewhat more observant than they...and duly departed at a rate of knots parallel to their location.....think of part of the intro.scene from "Kelly's Hero's " here.....the war of attrition ceased thereafter.

Wonderful, guys and gals. I have had so much fun reading all the replies. BEags, thanks for the reminder of the older threads - there are some absolute diamonds in there.

There have been one or two comments about "Help for Heroes" - so here's my idea.

Mods I hope you are paying attention! If the three threads, that BEags linked on his last post, were merged with this thread - I know that would become a huge thread and it may not be possible for technical reasons - but if it was I would undertake to research the entire thread, distill it into a respectable looking Word document and send it to Help for Heroes so they can use it to the best effect.

If you can't do that, never mind I'll research them as separate threads and have the same effect.

I'm still looking out for an obvious input from the gals. Please see my first item on post #1 of this thread. Young, feisty, lady you worked for me briefly at a headquarters near Huntingdon about 20 years ago and last time I heard you were something important at said RAF Station. If you are a PPruner you must have some stories to contribute.

Happy days - Bill Kelly - whoops I meant SOSL!

SOSL - not called "Gail" was she- if so she worked for me at a radar station in Norfolk in 84-86 - got into all sorts of scrapes, and had to be rescued by me or the Stn Cdr - a wonderful woman called Joan H....

Not Gail, I'm afraid. Would have liked to meet her though! Lady I'm referring to had initials ED - Thats about as indiscrete as I can be. All readers, please send stories - this could be a good input to help for heroes fund raising if we get it right. If any Help for Heroes guys are listening in please advise me on how you would like Word document to be delivered. I know I can Google you but I'm just being lazy.

Rgds Bill K

Great idea Bill!

I have a much read paperback called 'Policeman's Lot' by Harry Cole. I believe it turned into a series of books. Its basically a collection of anecdotes from the police, mostly half a page or a page long, and it is a cracking addition to the downstairs bog, or holiday reading.

However, get with the times old man, this is the age of the internet (not that I'm quite up with it) we do things online nowadays.

Having said that, if you've got the drive to get this into a paperback then go for it.

Remember that PPRuNe get its funding from these advertising banners, so you'll have to find a way to keep the Mods sweet.

We already have a few apocryphyl..er..urban myths on this thread - they will need to be investigated.

And a bit of translation might be required as well!

PS Why does everything have to be H4H? They've got so much cash they don't know what to do with it. There are Service Benevolent Funds, the Legion, and RAFA etc that are suffering because of this trend.

Knew it was you, Bill!

KKIA, early in GW1. Waiting to go flying, our planning is interrupted by the inconvenience of yet another Scud attack. Everyone masks up and troops down to the basement; after the usual bang from the outbound Patriot, the all clear is given as another of Saddam's fireworks falls to earth in bits and several dozen folk in NBC kit troop back upstairs.

Sticking out like the Pope's prick at a wedding is one rather worried looking very blunt person in transit dressed, astonishingly and somewhat inappropriately, in standard RAF blues - complete with very smart SD cap.

As we file past this numpty, one of my crew yells "Ah - you must be the f*cking DiStaff - what time's Endex then?".

The poor sod goes even redder, before being invited by the Boss to "Bugger off and find some NBC kit!"

Thanks, Sir Peter, you have some good points; I have already registered my intention with HfH.

Have been giving to RAFBF etc for 2 centuries and thought we might get with the times.

However, I guess once we get the stories coralled we can then decide on the best way forward; maybe a poll. Editing is my first love (apart from the WRAF Corporal at RAF Robin Hood).

BEags you won't know this but you were the only pilot cadet on the entry that I didn't consider to be an absolute drongo. See my next post!

I was an Engineer in the RAF, I joined in nineteen canteen and couldn't have had a more enjoyable career and a better pattern of worldwide postings and assignments.

However, my dark secret is that I applied, at the age of 17, to be a pilot.

During the medical, on day 2 of the process, I was shown a booklet with lots of funny coloured dots on each page. The Wg Cdr doctor who showed me this booklet kept asking me what numbers I could read on the page. He was obviously a complete wankxr because there were obviously no numbers on the pages.

After a while he said "why are you applying to be a pilot when you are completely colour blind?". I was devastated, I'd always suspected that other people were generally vague about colours but it hadn't occurred to me that it was my fault.

I may be wrong but I think he tried to cheer me up, he said "It's a shame really, you would have made a good pilot, you have no hand/eye co-ordination and you are colour blind but at least you are a complete tosser.

Happy days Bill K

Airpolice: Cracking story - so complicated I am still tyring to worki
it out but so funny. Well posted mate.

Mid-80s during a maxeval at a a north German base on the German/Dutch border. It's 2am and everything is quiet. All the guards on 'Blue' Sqn are deligently looking out from their sangers that surround the Sqn. Enter one Chinnook into the dark night that swoops in and drops off a ful load of rock aps inside the Sqn area spoiling for fun. Result, utter chaos! Nobody knew which way to turn, mostly everybody was facing the wrong way and the funniest thing was the police landrover that drove up and swithed on it's spot light, to be greeted by a hail of blank ammo fire, only then to drive off in the other direction never to be seen again. The Rock Apes had a merry time. The only problem was the next day, when there was to be a full flying programme as part of the ex, but this had to be cancelled as the whole area was fodded with brass cartridges and all sqn per had to come out of the ex and do a major fod plod. Happy days.:}

They're beginning to come back to me .....

OCTU, late '70s. Have learned to polish Lightning prototypes, and, by now, 'Fighter Pilot' TV crew have b*99ered off. Things back to normal. On grass airfield, shown devastating effect of Thunderflash under bin lid, and starting to play with pine poles and 45 gal drums.

Well spoken DS from the Home Counties (DSHC) appoints young Off Cdt from London (OCL) to lead next exercise, which involves much running, adjacent buildings, and said pine poles and drum, and some other stuff.

OCL reads the task, confers with DSCi-staff, and turns to his troops;

'Right Lads, lissen in. The task is ...... pine pose ..... lots a runnin ..... rand the 'Angars ..... back 'ere ...... build a fingumy. Gottit? Any questans?'

DSCH - 'I say OCL, just one moment if you will. Before you move off, I should like to point out that Hangar has an 'H' - it's HHHangar, OCL, HHHangar'

OCL, quick as a flash, - 'Nah Sir, it's 'Angars. There's two of 'em!'

A couple that I remember:

A Technical Training Unit in Buckinghamshire early 80's

Morning parade of Electrical Training Squadron and an A/Cpl discip is standing behind me, "SAC M***, am I hurting you?"

"No Cpl, why?"

"Well I should be cos I'm standing on your f*ck**n hair!"

Fast forward a year as I'm leaving as a newly promoted J/T

"Cpl, am I hurting you?"

No J/T M**** why?"

"Well I should be cos I just dropped my pay chit on your foot!"

RAFG a few years later, TACEVAL. Two of us are guarding the base from the Orange hordes when we come under heli-borne assault. A rock ape leaps from the Puma and comes running towards our sangar and the inevitable barrage of blank rounds ensues. About thirty feet from us the rock does the best impression of a Quentin Tarantino "arghhh I've been shot" scene ever witnessed and promptly flies backwards and collapses in a heap. It's only then that my oppo notices the lack of the BFA on the end of his SLR. A brief search of the area reveals the errant BFA right next to the recumbent rockape.

Then there was the DIOT Flt Cdr wearing DPMs and SD cap, who (allegedly) welcomed the recoursed cadet to his flight (as he shot his elegant cuff links past the cuff of his cabbage-kit jacket) with, "Well Bloggs, anywhere else they would have given you a revolver on a green baize table, but instead they have sent you to me!".

Manston, early seventies.

A Squadron of RN Wessexs divert in due to fog in the English channel and their unexpected arrival is causing a fair bit of chaos.
A big gruff Lt. Cmdr jumps out of one of the rotors running choppers and bellows something into the ear of one of the airmen who has been sent out to the pan to help. Said airman gives the crewman the thumbs up over the din, jumps into his Landrover and heads back to the ASF. Ten minutes later the airman is back, drops the tailgate on the Landrover and sitting there is a large bucket of steaming hot water, a roll of blue tissue paper and a couple of large bars of soap. A number of the crewmen fall about laughing while the Lt. Cmdr starts to pound his bone dome with his fists.

It turns out he had asked the airman if the ASF had S.O.A.P. which means Spectrometric Oil Analysis Programme, for checking the condition of the engine.

San Carlos
 

Prior to the building of the metropolis at MPA, when 1310 Flight Wokkas and the RIC were homed at the infamous kellys garden health spa and retreat at San Carlos. I was tasked with ditching the mountain of beer tins from our previous evenings social interactions and told to grab the unimog and take them to America, ''Why is the tip called America'' I asked Because its full of SH*T and over there.:ok:

During a Taceval at Suffolks premier strike base in early 90's myself and a Flt Lt were asked ! if we would go outside, in full NBC dress, to show how to decontaminate our selves in the event. Sgt rockape gave us both bits of tree he had cut up to use as brushes. After a few attempts at hitting each other(to brush us down) we both got the giggles after saying people would pay a lot of money to have this done to them in Amsterdam. By now the rockape was'nt impressed with our p%ss taking and arrsing about, after shouting at us both to take it seriously he firmely told us to sexually go away and he stormed off to jump on another unsuspecting airman.

Think the Flt Lt has just left Norfolk's strike base after being Staish so at least I got to give a Staish the brush off !!!

Bump!

As a Halton Brat in the late 70's, me and two mates were stagering back to the block, one snowy night, after some rehydration in Henderson NAAFI (28p/pint)

(Earlier on that evening, there had been a massive snowball fight with the DE underachievers, and we had been packing stones in our snowballs and broken over 30 windows in their block, coppers and duty staff were on the prowl.)

We had been to the bar to celebrate.

My mate said, 'I bet you can't hit that lamp post from here' Sure enough, I couldn't, and neither could he.

But it was enough for the Orderly Sergeant to spot us and charge us with vandalism, or 'Throwing Ice-balls at RAF property'

It was that famous EngO who took off in the Lightning that heard the charge. Marched In - £5.00 fine - then a pep talk

'Where are you from, young man?'

'Reading, Sir'

'Ah, you don't get much vandalism in Reading, do you?'

(couldn't resist it)

'Not while I'm at Halton, Sah!'

RAF Finningley, Freedom of Doncaster Parade 1976?

Pawade Commande..

Who couldn't pwounounce his 'R's.

One week of Pawade Pwactice.

Three weeks to stop the laughter from the guys involved.

The command 'Form Ranks' had a whole new meaning! And as to the 'bweifing about the 'All Wanks Dwinks Party' after the event had the Mayor of Doncaster in stiches.

A cold, wet, miserable 1973 night at a RNZAF base on the mainland of NZ. Cpl Edthedruid is there on his Cpl's Qual course (yes, we did promotion courses AFTER we were promoted). That particular night we were each given two recruits and were tasked to guard Base HQ against intruders. During the evening we were told that somebody had borrowed a Flt Lts uniform and had managed to talk his way in. We were to smarten up our ideas and not let it happen again.

At about 2200, I decided to sneak around the corner and have a smoke, leaving my two recruits to guard the front door of the building. A few minutes later a flustered AC runs round the corner and tells me that someone trying to pass himself off as the Base Commander was demanding access to the building. One recruit had stood in front of this chap's car while the other one went to the window and asked him for his ID card. The driver became quite irate, said he didn't have his card on him and started edging his car forward until it was pushing the young AC standing in front. It was at this point they decided I should be fetched.

I marched up to the car, stuck my head in the window and said" Good evening sir, could I see your ID card please". Then the rant started. Having had enough, I drew myself up to my full five-foot-six, looked this chap who was dressed for gardening , if anything, straight in the eye and said loudly "The effing Base Commander would have more effing sense than to drive around base without his ID card, now eff off!". At that point a F/S GSI strode up, saluted smartly and said "Good evening,sir". Yes, it WAS the Base Commander.

I was told the next day that His Lordship wanted me in Ardmore (think Colchester) asap. What he didn't want to happen to me wasn't worth hearing about. Then our dear old W/O instructor looked him straight in the eye and asked "Well, where IS your ID card sir?" Subject closed. Turned out he was known for coming down hard on anybody found without their ID card. Heard no more about it.

A different mainland RNZAF base in the mid-80s. Monday morning base parade. Base W/O marches up to a tall, gangly, scruffy corporal. "Corporal Blah, that uniform looks like you slept in it!". "I did sir". Yes, under the Corporals' Club bar where he had inadvertently been left when they locked up the night before. He had been on jankers, which was why he had turned up at the club in his best (No.3) uniform.

Same parade ground some weeks later. Full-dress rehearsal for a big parade, with the Base Commander carrying out the inspection. The good Group Captain, an engineering officer, was not known as Hardnose for nothing. His bark was bad, his bite was downright nasty. Parade's all ready to go, Hardnose starts his inspection and stops in front of an LAC. "I hope you've got a better pair of shoes than that, laddie?". "Yes, I have sir". "Well, why aren't you wearing them?". "Oh, I keep those for parades sir". "WELL WHAT THE EFFING HELL DO YOU THINK THIS IS?. BASE W/O, SEE TO THIS HORRIBLE LITTLE OBJECT!". Turns out he was saving his good shoes for the REAL parade!

In the late 1950s the Commandant at Halton was Air Commodore T N (Punchy) Coslett, himself an ex-brat and former RAF heavyweight boxing champion. At a practice AOC's parade, I had the easy post of "commanding" No 1 Flight of No 1 Squadron; No 2 Flight being led by a mate, Pete E*****s.

All went well until the march past, when Pete set his troop in motion out of step with my lot. Punchy's shout drowned out the band as he ordered us back to the starting blocks with the instruction "Will the Commander of 2 Flight set off in step with No 1 Flight"

The restart was no improvement; Pete still hadn't got the hang of it. After sending us back to the start position again, Punchy's next shout was "Flt Lt E****s start off IN STEP WITH NO 1 FLIGHT".

Sadly, the third attempt was no more successful; this time the Air Commodore simply halted us and roared "Flt Lt E****s come here". As Pete stood smartly to attention in front of him, Punchy drew his sword, pointed it at Pete's chest and the whole parade heard his final words "Flt Lt E****s, if you do that again I'm going to run you through".

Happily for Pete it was fourth time lucky.:ok:

RAF Much Stn Alerts in the Night in NE Lincs, 1980. Returning to the RAF after an 11 year holiday in civvie street and with the TA, I was given as one of my secondary duties O i/c GoH (Stn Rock was a Fg Off, and my 2 i/c). "Hmm" said the much loved Staish, "in my day that job would go to an ex Cranwell Cadet". "It has this time, Sir", I reminded him.

Final dress rehearsal of AOC's Parade for Sir Peter H..., AOC 11 Gp. I have just done my bit at the far end of the pan for the "practice" AOC when the SWO' s Runner comes legging it down the pan. "From the Staion Commander, Sir. Please moderate your word of command. The sation parade is following your orders, not his."

Smug (very smug) grin, and several beers bought for me that night.

During first term at RAFC Cranwell, junior entry lived in 6 man huts (AKA South Brick Lines). Weekly hut inspection by Flight drill instructor (see post #1 story no. 4).

Flt Cdt SOSL unwraps and places brand new Gilette razor blade in his ceremonial (cere) razor. During inspection Sgt R.... finds thumbprint on razor blade, charges Flt Cdt SOSL. SOSL defends himself by claiming it was a brand new razor blade and any thumbprint must have been caused during manufacture. 14 days jankers for calling a reputable British manufacturer into disrepute.

Same Sgt R.... while extremely eloquent on parade square, sometimes forgot words off the square. Hut inspection: he found scrapings from rugby boots under one of the beds in hut 150. Had temporarily forgotten the word for mud. Inspection report read " Hut 150. Bed no. 2 - loose ground found on floor".

SOSL - "Sorry Sir, I do not accept your award, I request trial by Court Martial. The Sergeant has stated a falsehood in evidence. Gillette is demonstrably an American company, and is therefore inherently of questionable repute :}".

Young Jag pilot (YJP) in the late 70s at the Strike Base of the time: detailed to lead a pair of Jags on a demonstration scramble (taxi-through) from a single HAS to impress visiting senior officers from other NATO nations accompanied by Harry the Staish (HTS). These 2 Jags were always loaded at weekends with 4 x CBU in case the balloon went up etc ...

With 2 Jags in a HAS the front one had to start its right-hand engine and move out of the HAS before No 2 could start his engines in the HAS.

YJP is briefed by flt cdr, one Joe W, to make it snappy, move out of the HAS quickly and let No 2 start without delay. YJP gets quickly into Jag (as it's only a taxi-through) and might have skimped on his checks. He starts RH engine quickly and moves snappily out of HAS. As he does so, he sees HTS turn away from the scene and spend a minute or 2 looking the other way ...

Both Jags manage to taxi and "hide" on the southern parallel while dignitaries and HTS finish their tour and head off in motorcade. On return to the Sqn, YJP is told by flt cdr that it was a good snappy exit, but that a ladder behind his Jag had risen on the jet blast and hovered near the tail of the other Jag, crashing to the ground behind it. Couldn't understand how that had happened, but no damage, so no UI. Phew!

YJP accosted by one of the linies in the Sqn the next day:

"Sir, that taxi-through yesterday?" "Yes, what about it?" "I noticed that your engine had a sort of blue flame coming out of the back!" "Ah! Thanks! Perhaps we had better not mention that again."

The Jag had part-throttle reheat, y'see. The switch was meant to be off, normally, something you checked before climbing aboard ... under normal circumstances, anyway.

Roadster
 

Thanks for your advice but it would have got me 28 days for insulting the colonies!

Thanks to all posters this is going well. I have spoken to Help for Heroes and they don't publish stuff so I will have to see who is interested in publishing our stories. I have already got about 20 pages on a Word document - still some way to go!

If anyone has any ideas ......?

SOSL,
If you remember, several D.I.'s were allegedly posted to RAFC in a (Failed) attempt to make Sgt R. look intelligent.
Not difficult when , for example, Sgt R. was persuaded that the map of the hunting area for the Cranwell Beagling pack that was posted up in the Junior Mess was, in fact , a map of Arabia.
The response was almost predictable:

"Of course I knew that!'......... I was stationed there you know!......What you lot don't realise ..etc...etc...."

space cadets
 

Waddington 1981, Air Cadets on annual camp and allowed to work in the sections and if they could all week. Young Yorkshire cpl cadet, working with RAF Police, and they had him on the main gate of the evening of the 'O' Mess ball. Large black car plus flag arrives at main gate and small cdt cpl smartly salutes and asks Harry Staish for his 1250, RAF police cpl seen disappearing into the distance ' seen and heard nothing honest' when said senior officer states, Haven't got it. Luckily Staish takes it in good part and goes home for it, much hilarity all round.

RAF Odiham 1975 - AOC's parade, large number on parade with GSM NI medal, due to heroic SHFNI Wessex & Puma.

AOC asks junior Joe 'how did you find Northern Ireland?'

'I went to Liverpool and turned left Sir......'

SWO screaming, cell door clanging......;)

And you celebrated that.....:uhoh:


Bill and 'Speedy' - 'Uncle Les' R***a wasn't perhaps the sharpest tool in the box, but had a heart of gold. At the end of Term 1, the idle taxi drivers from Sleapit had left several of us in the lurch and in danger of missing our trains....

Until, that is, Les gave us all a lift to Grantham and wouldn't take a penny for his kindness.

In Term 2, he would willingly allowed himself to be distracted by the Block batmen with the odd tot of rum (or few) on our weekly inspection days, so they were always far from onerous.

All part of the RAF 'family' of those days!!

BEagle, Why not? I thought ANY excuse was a good excuse for a party in the RAF. ;)