I Wish I Hadn't Said That ...
 

[This message has been edited by GICASI (edited 22 February 2001).]

4-star chum giving state of the nation brief to the assembled rabble at Waddo. FJ mate realises that it's nearly bar time and tries to bring the session to an end:

FJM:" Is it true that 29 Sqn are for the chop, Sir,.......and would you prefer yellow or brown?"

4*:" Sorry chaps, that's something I can't comment on at this stage as the impact of any such decision is still being assessed"

FJM:" OK, Sir. But what about 29 Sqn??"

Fortunately the (now-retired) 4* was a top bloke and saw the funny side!!

On OCC at Henlow some years ago, the directing staff wheeled on a 1* to give a State of the Nation chat to the 60 Flt Lts on the course. This particular 1* was Deputy AOC Bracknell, and we soon found out he had a sense of humour when he invited questions at the end of his talk.

GR1 Nav stands up and asks: 'Sir, why is orange jam called marmalade?'

a few seconds later,

Harrier mate asks: 'Sir, and why do cricketers wear long trousers in the summer, and footballers wear shorts in the winter?'

Once upon a time, there was a young flying officer on 1 Sqn flying Hunters from West Raynham. This dashing young aviator and all of his other dashing young mates were in the bar getting ever so slightly happy one Sunday evening, when an old(er) chap in a suit came in and started drinking. He then joined in the chat and - after about half an hour - we steely-eyed killers decided that this chap was a complete prat and was continuously talking bollocks.

Summoning up all of his tact and diplomacy, the young dasher said to this chap (who as yet had not introduced himself), "if all you're goiing to do is stand there talking cr@p and pissing us off with your complete and utter obviously know sod all bollocks, if it's all the same to you we'd rather you fu(&ed off to bed and left us sane people alone to talk sense to each other". Said chap duly fu(&ed off!!!

Walking to Met Brief next morning, the dashing young killer met this same chap going into SHQ, wearing gold braid on his cap. He was the new Stn Cdr!!!

My career's never looked back since (or is that forward?).

Quiz nite in MPA
Q- which island was discovered on Easter day 1765??
OC1312- Christmas island!!!

I did a course a few years ago, and one of the guys was a real keeney-beany type who kept asking numpty questions and trying to impress. A Col from HQLand came and did his bit on whatever the topic of the day happened to be and at any Q's this guy put his hand up. In asking the Q, said numpty used an acronym he had made up himself (can't remember what it was now)and the Col graciously answered. On completion of his point the Col added "oh yes, and if you call *said division* that again, I'll come down there and kick your f%$*&^g head in!" :)

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Remember: all landings are controlled crashes!

Visiting multi-starred wheel talking to the chaps in a Buccaneer crewroom in the mid '70s:

VMSW:" So, although we didn't get our F111s, the dear old Bucc will soldier on for a few more years yet, but soon you'll all be flying the TSR2"

Bucc Chap:" No we won't - it was cancelled 10 years ago"

VWSM:" Sorry, slip of the tongue. I meant, of course, the AFVG!"

BC:" Except that was cancelled 8 years ago!!"

VWSM:" Well the M, MC...what's it called?"

BC:" MRCA?"

VWSM:" Yes, of course. MRCA. Well, must go now, so many people to talk to, so little time. Carry on chaps"

A man who clearly knew his ar$e from his elbow. Not. The 'few more years yet' turned out to be 20!!

A very senior EW man was in debate with the builders of a shiny, new, noughts and ones intensive EW system. They were choosing not to display semi-intuitive descriptions of the scan modes (e.g. conic, rastr etc.), and to simply allocate single letters to each.
In very crowded room, aforementioned venerable EW man stated, "It's unacceptable, I mean if you persist down this route, we'll have to teach the operators the whole alphabet" !!!

An elderly gentleman walked into the bar at RAF Leemingthorpe, sporting a rather natty pair of golfing pantaloons. A young fighter mate, upon noticing the old chap, enquired, a little aggressively, "who the £u(k are you, and what the £u(k are those"?
"They", quoth the old giffer, "are plus-fores. I am AOC n Group." (Where n is an integer between 1 and 20.)

We need to keep this one at the top of the leader board - even if Wholigan and I have to scan the Imperial War Museum exhibits to do it!

Legend relates that, in the early 1950s, when even BEagle was in short trousers, Wholigan had a LEGITIMATE interest in 12-year olds and GICASI didn't know what GICASI stood for, an AOC ('airship' in yoof speek) was inspecting a station. As was the wont, in those days, the 'blunties' paraded at the front but the aircrew, who couldn't ebven march in them days, stood at the back in front of the aircraft (Ansons!).

Just as he started down the aircraft line, the AOC turned to the Staish and said:

'Anybody here I should know?'

'Yessir! - third crew along, very tall chap with handlebar moustache - Master Pilot (Remember them?!!) Szimieczin. Polish - DFM, AFM and the Polish VC'.

AOC stops in fron of third crew. Looks up at very tall Master Pilot.

'Ah! Szimieczin. How long have you been here?'

PAUSE - then VERY LOUDLY

'Thanks to you Sir, all fuc75n' day!'

Believe said Pole was the RAF's last WW2 pilot still flying, and retired in the late 70s from flying Devons. Christian name Jzrzy or something equally unspellable!

Don't know - but there was another story about the Polish pilot who - when asked to read the bottom line on the eyesight chart - is alleged to have said:

'Read it? I know him!'

10-15 years ago during IOT grad parade. The parade cdr (Scotsman, now a S/L engineer - but a top bloke) does all his stuff marching the 150+ cadets around infront of CHOM shouting all the right orders as he goes.
There's that point in the parade where the parade cdr has to march up to the 4* reviewing officer, salute impressively with his sword (without stabbing himself) and then say something like:

"Number xyz Initial Officer Training Squadron presented to Reviewing Officer. Permission to proceed with the Parade, Sir?" (Can't remember exact words - but you get the general idea).

At which point the 4* salutes back, the parade cdr salutes, does smart about turn, and carries on. Problem was, this Scotsman (he told me this story himself) was trying very hard to do everything just right: the marching, the orders, the sword salutes, etc. So when he had marched up to the 4* and saluted, his mind went a complete and utter blank.

Panic.

After a very short pause he says to the 4*:

"Well, that's it then"

Then without waiting for the signal from the 4*, he saluted, did about turn, and went on to finish the parade.

A couple of hours later, during drinkies in CHOM, said Scotsman spots said 4* in the crowded ante room. Spends next 15 mins manoeuvring himself so that wherever the 4* goes, the Scotsman is always still on the other side of the room. Eventually, 4* catches up and says "Brilliant. I've never heard anything like that before, I was so stunned I forgot to salute back." Relief all round.

[This message has been edited by Jensen (edited 18 July 2000).]

Early 80s, GR3 sqn in Germany (not the Happy One). The GR3 was receiving the Phase 6 mod package, one of which was a radalt (no, not connected to anything like the weapon aiming system, just a miniature dial in an almost invisible location). One of the more serious flt lt QWI wannabees was giving this particular briefing. All went well, right up to his last remark which was "Of course, I wouldn't have done it like that. It's pinging away the whole time and it's gonna give us away. I would have left it on standby until the bomb flap was raised, then I would have fired it up". Briefing complete, or so the assembled thought, when a newly arrived pilot, looking perplexed and with his index finger motioning upwards asked "Why would you want to fire a radalt UP"?

During Met groudschool at Shawbury, one of the Navs on my course was struggling a bit with the 'hazards associated with thunderstorms'. "Excuse me, I'm happy with this Saint Elmo's Fire stuff, but what's Saint Atic?"
Even his wife calls him Static now. :)

In the good old days of Airmans' command School at Hereford, attended a course where Senior Man was, in fact, a rather tidy nurse with a whole 12 months military service, the obvious choice to command (all male) course, most of whom were long term groundies.
After the obligatory bullnight and subsequent standard bo££ocking from the DS, she gave a long, inspiring speech about team work and pulling together, rounding off by declaring:
"After that bullnight the staff really came down on me, so if I find out who let the side down, I'LL GO DOWN ON THEM!"
Oh how we tittered, Cue waterworks from said nurse.

Having finished on the Gnat at Valley, I managed to crash a car, which ended up with me having to wait for a court appearance. I therefore missed the start of the Hunter OCU at Chivenor. So the system came up with the bright idea of me going to Bristol to stand next to a Gnat mock-up in the basement of Debenhams and answer endless questions all day for a couple of weeks.

It was amazing how many snotty (literally) little bas***ds came up each day, pointed to the pitot tube and said "Is that a cannon mister?".

After about a week of this I finally got a bit dis-chuffed and, when the next little snotty came up and said "What's that mister?", I said "It's a cannon".

This little snotty said "Show's how much you know mate, it's a pitot tube" .... wa#£er....

The 2 weeks did have an up side though. The basement of Debenhams also housed all the perfume and make-up displays, manned (or should I say womanned) by some very tasty young things .....................

[This message has been edited by Wholigan (edited 20 July 2000).]

Not so much a "wish I hadn't said that". Rather a "HELL I WISH I'D SAID/DONE THAT!!"
A Hunter sqn in (I think) Aden - someone will remember which and who and post it here in due course. I wasn't there, but the story became quite famous.

Sqn in bar till God knows when one night and a certain amount of damage/mild(?) high jinks ensued.

Next day, Sqn boss called into Stn Cdr and given huge roasting and told to sort his sqn out with major bollocking.

A bit later, Boss calls all into his office - with hats on -and gets them to stand to attention in front of him.

He then comes round the other side of the desk --- puts on his hat --- presses 'play' on the tape recorder and proceeds to accept a major bollocking (that he'd recorded) with his troops.

Style -------------

Grad parade:

VIP(to grad stude): 'Who's the Chief of the Air Staff?'

Stude: 'Sir Jeremy Beetham'

VIP: 'It's Sir Michael Beetham'

Stude: 'Sorry Sir. I'm not on first name terms'

--------------------------------------------

Visit to Nav School by Bairsto (known for his mumbling). Calls in to clasroom and mumbles something to Station Commander - turns to stude and says 'What do you think?'

Stude: 'I didn't hear what you said Sir, but I'm sure you're right!' (Hats on interview next morning)

Nimrod taxying through the wash-down at Kinloss. Out the other side, the ever helpful female air trafficker says:

"I suppose you could do with a bl**-job now"

A resounding affirmative from the crew.

Absolutely totally honest story of a WAAF ATC controller at Coltisahall (GW are the initials) who back in the 70's (god I'm old) caused at least one Jag pilot to circle for at leat 15 minutes in tears after coming out with ""Overshoot, overshoot, I've just had an abortion on the runway".

TR

You seem to be trying to make this thread serious and get onto the 'airships are idiots and we have a retention problem' issue. Fine in its place but this was meant to be a 'funthread'.

Stop being a miserable bu99er!

ok sorry drop tank, how about this, more of a visual gag but here goes.
Following an inter-course rugby match pi$$ up, despite lengthy pleas from the bar staff to refrain, everyone is merrily whizzing beermats around the rugby club, frisbee style.....until one hits the CO's wife squarely between the eyes.
The place freezes...the odd glass rolls off a table and smashes...a little subdued laughing here and there and someone at the back swears quietly, then the suitably infuriated boss declares the whole wing is on parade the next morning. Crack of sparrows the next day, entire training wing (the thick end of 1000 young blokes) is lined up on the Square, the SWO pacing up and down behind the ranks swearing profusely, until the boss arrives.
SWO calls the whole wing to attention, 1000 size 9 boots stamp the tarmac of the parade square, boss clambers on to dias and is faced by.....row upon row of witty chaps all with beer mats wedged on the bridge of their nose.
(After about the third day of a further week of early morning wing parades even we couldn't see the joke anymore)

[This message has been edited by Talking Radalt (edited 21 July 2000).]

I had the honour of taking a bollocking for one of my air engineer mechanics (Navy) at MPA.

Said young (and dim) man was wandering in his most slovenly and hats off manner up the main drag when he spotted a Royal Signals Major in best mess rig (all gold, fiddly bits and red stripes down the legs etc) on the way to a mess dinner. In true FAA fashion he shoved his hands in his pockets and fixed his gaze 1 pace ahead of him.

As they passed the Major stopped and looked straight at him, then bellowed “Don’t you pay compliments to Officers in your service young man?”

“Nice Strides Sir!” came the immediate reply. I think the Duty Man tracked me down in about 3 minutes! :)

The RC sky pilot at Gutersloh was a top bloke who spent a lot of time going between the sqns and support units to speak to the guys at work and generally spend time listening. One day he payed us a visit and was encouraging us to make daily thought offerings as a way to come to terms with pricatical difficulties people were facing of sort or another. By thinking about the things near and dear to us, he argued, we could dispell thoughts of fear and anxiety and prevent us from becoming overwelemed and withdrawn. he used the analogy of a waking from a nightmare, and by contrast waking from a nice, pleasant ream. he asked "when you have a dream that makes you feel all warm and fluffy and you wake up and think HHHMMMMM *shakes shoulders and smiles*, what's the first thing you do?"......"Wipe the sheets!" I replied

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Remember: all landings are controlled crashes!

FJ formation was split after being bounced, JP lost the plot, and wasn't with the rest of the gang:

"4 from 3, where are you?"

"4s orbiting over Penrith"

"What are you doing THERE?"

"Orbiting over"

Pair of 43 Sqn F4's over North Sea.

Lead: "2, give me a visual, my centreline isn't feeding"

2: "You have'nt got a centreline"

Lead: "S**t, I signed for one!"

Rashid range in Middle East.

4 Hunters on bombs/rockets/strafe sortie, carrying 230 gallon drop tanks.

In those days, switches were a nightmare, with every aircraft having weapons switches in different places.

You can guess the outcome, but the good bit was, having pickled off the drop tanks instead of practice bombs, the chappies' very next radio call was --- "2 Bingo".

Entry in 707A by crew:
"IFF mode select switch insecure"

Witty response on job card from groundcrew:
"IFF mode select switch referred to padre for counselling"

[This message has been edited by Talking Radalt (edited 23 July 2000).]

Second-hand story I'm afraid, but worth passind on:

An exchange between an American pilot and London Mil, sporting a particularly sexy female voice:

ATC: "blah blah....QNH 1020"
Yank "Be advised ma'am that I need that in inches"
ATC "Don't we all"

Again Leuchars F4s.

Lead: "2, Sunray, how do I turn on my gunsight"

(Sunray (Stn Cdr) had just arrived from CY and OCU on FGR2, he justified himself on the grounds that he new the emergency action differences between the FG1 and FGR2 but could not be expected to know all the minor differences between the marks from the start. Personally, I thought the weapon system in a military jet had a certain primary function, but who am I to argue with a future 3/4 star??)

Another one associated with engineering faults.

Fault reported after flight in piston trainer as:

"Engine appears to be missing"

Ground Crew Remedy:

"Unable to reproduce fault on ground, Engine found to be present in aircraft"

Student snags transponder:"ATC report no height readout"

Fault is cleared:"The label NO HEIGHT INFORMATION affixed to the transponder pointed out to pilot as indicating that the transponder will not transmit height information"

And again:

Student reports:"ATC report weak Comm 1 transmissions"

Fault is cleared:"Knob on end of microphone changed!! Pilot rebriefed on where to position microphone when making radio transmissions"

Nellis AFB
"Thor 03, clear to land RW 13 left.Caution C-130 is awaiting departure on RW 13 Right.
"Roger-erm, what height is the C-130 at??" Stunned silence from tower.
En-Route to Montevid with AOC and wife aboard. ALM, 20 mins after handing out the butty boxes, asked the 2* on intercom
"Is your wifes box nice sir?"

In the days of the last century (mid-late 70's, empire still in living memory, Vulcans in Cyprus) the Hawk was very shiny and barely run in. The Gnat was the purist machine of choice.

The story goes of a Gnat 4-ship returning for a break: QFI in #4, stoods in 1,2 & 3

500', 420kts, nice and tight lads, watch the spacing round the corner, 2 second break on my call, and remember - snap roll and 4 g turn for plane spotters symmetry.

What happens?

Break break - go - #1 - roll and pull; #2 - roll and pull; #3 pull and roll ; QFI roll and pull while struggling to see altitood gaining stood!

4 minutes later a mysterious gnat rejoined from the overhead, and a 4 ship did an absent friend finals!

trouble is, never actually met the jock: I suspect everyone tried that at some time!

Just before the NCO aircrew "after lunch" parade at Finningly one of the guys is told that the back of his No 2 jacket is covered in tomato ketchup (a jolly prank from the junior ranks with who(m)? we shared a mess).
Anyway, said chap has no time to clear it off and decides to brave it out at the back of the parade, hoping the inspecting officer will bore of the task before getting to him (as often happened).
Unfortunately the Officer was in a particularly meticulous mood today and the whole parade held its breath as he went behind mateyboy.
"OH MY GOD T*******N, WHAT THE F*** IS THIS ON YOUR BACK!!!!!????"
"Errrr....tomato ketchup sir".
"I KNOW WHAT IT F***ING WELL IS, WHAT THE F*** IS IT DOING THERE!?"
"Well sir, errrm, we'd run out of salad cream".
Inspecting officer departs very quickly, no more is said.

Great! Really enjoyed the weekend's crop - must be the beer 'cos it can't be the weather that brought you out in droves!

Went to a Dining-in Night once - Can't remember which decade but very vaguely remember that 9 of us got there in a Ford Popular. When it got to the speeches at the end, we were dining-out about 8 million people and the 'Staish' (Yuk! Yoof-speak!!) was meticulous about giving each his/her 5 minutes of 'stroking' so, by the time the reply was delivered, all present well and truly 'bladder-wracked'.

Reply delivered by a 'retiree' who, after 35 years service, wished to relive every moment with us on his last night in the 'Mob'. After about 20 minutes, having reached the Korean War, he was forced to pause for breath. Into the (temporary) silence, a Wee Small Voice from the bottom of one of the tables crashed with:

'Oh God! Why doesn't the old fa%t shut up. I'm desperate for a p*ss!'

(The 'Staish') 'Whoever said that - in my office 0800 tomorrow morning!'

[Wee Small Voice'] 'Thanks for the offer, Sir, but I need to go now!'

IOT Peacekeeper (Camp 2 for the older ones). Cadets setting up an enemy patrol ambush under the command of a very young, slightly naive, direct entrant. 'Right', she says 'we'll all be in position, but remember - no-one is to fire until fired upon.'
'But we're the enemy and aren't we supposed to be ambushing them?'.
To which she replies,'Well, it doesn't seem very fair does it?'.

Later in the same patrol, she gave the instruction 'When I pat my head like this (indicates) I want you all to come on me quickly'.
Military discipline in the patrol collapsed.

During the chipmunk phase of the pilot’s course at MW the time had come for our first solos. Naturally we all agreed to meet up just South of Salisbury for the obligatory dogfight. My very good friend found himself a few hours later at three thousand feet stooging around the cathedral waiting for said matey to arrive. Once spied the dive was commenced straight out of the sun and as he flashed past the lonesome chippy he was heard to cry; "dagga, dagga, dagga" on the radio in the time honoured tradition. It was only as he reached terminal velocity abeam the target that he realised there were two very visible helmets to be seen!! Back in the students crewroom it didn’t take long before the call came through on the tannoy summoning him to the CFIs office where he was asked in no uncertain terms as to what the f**k he thought he was doing and what the hell was he saying “dagga, dagga, dagga” for on the radio? To which my friend replied; “I’m sorry Sir, I was to close for rockets I had to go for guns” - He passed the course too!

RAF Station, Germany, Cold War days.

Telephone call to the Officers' Mess, answered by the SDO:

Caller - 'hello, can I speak with the Station Commander, please. This is Air Chief Marshall X'

SDO - Pull the other one'

Caller - 'This is ACM X'

SDO - 'F**k off, Noddy' - puts phone down.

Next day, Harry's office, SDO ordered to London for 'Interview without coffee' in ACMs office. Arrives the next day at 0830 in No 1's, and waits in ACM's outer office ... all day. Finally at the end of the day, gets the summons, marches into office. After 5 minutes' of SDO standing to attention, ACM looks up from his dek, says 'F**k off, Noddy', carries on working. End of interview.