AAC 50th birthday, looking for 50 cracking good stories
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Jeep,
It was one of those month-long autumn NATO FTX in Germany in the early '80s. I was a Gazelle driver with 664 Sqn and we had deployed to our normal op area, fairly close to the IGB in the ADIZ. Myself and my crewman, Steve P****n (late RAMC), were on an airborne patrol on our side of the border during the 'escalation of tension' phase, prior to the hostile act being committed.
We spotted a Dutch Lynx APC (orange forces) on our side of the border and landed alongside them to investigate. They were very friendly and it transpired that they were genuinely lost and had inadvertently strayed to our side of the border. While we were there, Steve and I asked if we could have a look round the APC, never having seen one close up before, and they were only too happy to oblige. Steve went first and climbed up through the commander's cupola and, after a very short time, came down again. I was just about to climb up myself, but he was extremely insistent that we should leave immediately. I tried to ask what was the hurry, but he just ushered me back to the Gazelle. While I was 'flashing it up' to leave with the 'Cloggie' APC crew looking on, Steve was quite agitated. It was only once safely airborne that he undid his combat jacket and produced the APC commander's exercise map, with all the current and planned orange forces locations marked on it! We took it straight to the 9/12 Lancers Regtl CP (who we were supporting) and presented our ill-gotten gains much to their delight.
Having gleaned all the useful information from it, someone cried 'foul' and we were ordered to take it back to the 'Cloggies'. We hadn't got the nerve to land and give it back, so we weighted it down and dropped it out of the window as we overflew them.
Happy days!
It was one of those month-long autumn NATO FTX in Germany in the early '80s. I was a Gazelle driver with 664 Sqn and we had deployed to our normal op area, fairly close to the IGB in the ADIZ. Myself and my crewman, Steve P****n (late RAMC), were on an airborne patrol on our side of the border during the 'escalation of tension' phase, prior to the hostile act being committed.
We spotted a Dutch Lynx APC (orange forces) on our side of the border and landed alongside them to investigate. They were very friendly and it transpired that they were genuinely lost and had inadvertently strayed to our side of the border. While we were there, Steve and I asked if we could have a look round the APC, never having seen one close up before, and they were only too happy to oblige. Steve went first and climbed up through the commander's cupola and, after a very short time, came down again. I was just about to climb up myself, but he was extremely insistent that we should leave immediately. I tried to ask what was the hurry, but he just ushered me back to the Gazelle. While I was 'flashing it up' to leave with the 'Cloggie' APC crew looking on, Steve was quite agitated. It was only once safely airborne that he undid his combat jacket and produced the APC commander's exercise map, with all the current and planned orange forces locations marked on it! We took it straight to the 9/12 Lancers Regtl CP (who we were supporting) and presented our ill-gotten gains much to their delight.
Having gleaned all the useful information from it, someone cried 'foul' and we were ordered to take it back to the 'Cloggies'. We hadn't got the nerve to land and give it back, so we weighted it down and dropped it out of the window as we overflew them.
Happy days!
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Gus, great story.
Team Snake have deployed to GW1 and having helped mantle the lynx its all gone boring just before Christmas 90. We are on the scrounge. Down to the docks we go and chat to the marine equivalent of Sgt Bilko. Yes, he will give us some camo sets, but the price is a litre of bacardi, scotch and vodka. What is the problem? We had been there for about 6 weeks, and we hadnt seen or sniffed any booze at all. The shampoo hadnt started arriving by then. So we go back to our little expat hutted camp and ponder the problem. That evening I goes to the camp office and was chatting to the indian gent that ran the place. We get around to talking about the lack of alcohol and he simply says how much do i need. oh just 3 litres and i give him the order. no problem he says, come back the next night.
The next night he was a happy little chap as i handed over some shekels and compo (he wasnt sure what babies heads were, but i made them sound good) and he gave me a 2 litre bottle of clear liquid. I enquired to the lack of different flavours and he simply smiles and says put it in a dark bottle with a good label, and they wont know. Clever bugg_er he was too. He says cut it down at least 3 times, its potent stuff. Back to the hooch, and I put some on a spoon, and it burnt nice and clear (old trick my dad taught me when drinking photocopier fluid) and we cut it as he said. Out come the plastic water bottles and we have six litres of the damn stuff.
Down to the docks with it and for the kit exchange. Marine Bilko turns up, he has a truck full of goodies for us, but not before the ceromonial tasting. His 2 henchmen looked were the other tasters and it was clear which one of them liked whiskey. This wasnt going to be easy. So they stand there, all 3 of them, salivating and off come the tops. Noses in, smiles so far, and sip it they did. All 3 to a man complimented me on how fine the liquor was. I was gobsmacked and the rest of team snake just looked at each other and their own water bottle pouch. I can only put it down to the fact that i hadnt had booze for 6 weeks, they had been on the docks without it for way longer. We all parted company after negotiating how much they would need for a Humvee; that never happened though, as my CO couldnt make up his mind as to which model he wanted and chickened out in the end
Jeep
Team Snake have deployed to GW1 and having helped mantle the lynx its all gone boring just before Christmas 90. We are on the scrounge. Down to the docks we go and chat to the marine equivalent of Sgt Bilko. Yes, he will give us some camo sets, but the price is a litre of bacardi, scotch and vodka. What is the problem? We had been there for about 6 weeks, and we hadnt seen or sniffed any booze at all. The shampoo hadnt started arriving by then. So we go back to our little expat hutted camp and ponder the problem. That evening I goes to the camp office and was chatting to the indian gent that ran the place. We get around to talking about the lack of alcohol and he simply says how much do i need. oh just 3 litres and i give him the order. no problem he says, come back the next night.
The next night he was a happy little chap as i handed over some shekels and compo (he wasnt sure what babies heads were, but i made them sound good) and he gave me a 2 litre bottle of clear liquid. I enquired to the lack of different flavours and he simply smiles and says put it in a dark bottle with a good label, and they wont know. Clever bugg_er he was too. He says cut it down at least 3 times, its potent stuff. Back to the hooch, and I put some on a spoon, and it burnt nice and clear (old trick my dad taught me when drinking photocopier fluid) and we cut it as he said. Out come the plastic water bottles and we have six litres of the damn stuff.
Down to the docks with it and for the kit exchange. Marine Bilko turns up, he has a truck full of goodies for us, but not before the ceromonial tasting. His 2 henchmen looked were the other tasters and it was clear which one of them liked whiskey. This wasnt going to be easy. So they stand there, all 3 of them, salivating and off come the tops. Noses in, smiles so far, and sip it they did. All 3 to a man complimented me on how fine the liquor was. I was gobsmacked and the rest of team snake just looked at each other and their own water bottle pouch. I can only put it down to the fact that i hadnt had booze for 6 weeks, they had been on the docks without it for way longer. We all parted company after negotiating how much they would need for a Humvee; that never happened though, as my CO couldnt make up his mind as to which model he wanted and chickened out in the end
Jeep
654 Sqn.. Danny the Champion of the World (SSM)...
To an assembly of Airtroopers...
"There's been some allegations & I want to know right now who all the alligators are!"
On exercise...
"I want you to dismantle this tent here & remantle it over there"
Gulf 1... to a confused assembly of Airtroopers...
"You're all sperienced freshnalls & I want you patrolling the outer rimiter"
.."???!"
Daly & Thompson again (the bane of my life!)...
To an assembly of Airtroopers...
"There's been some allegations & I want to know right now who all the alligators are!"
On exercise...
"I want you to dismantle this tent here & remantle it over there"
Gulf 1... to a confused assembly of Airtroopers...
"You're all sperienced freshnalls & I want you patrolling the outer rimiter"
.."???!"
Daly & Thompson again (the bane of my life!)...
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Indeed MightyGem...a quick phonecall just now revealed I know all but one at your place of employ.
I slipped off to the antipodes for a while to avoid flying a desk.
Now operating the worlds biggest leaf blower... it also blows wing mirrors off cars I've discovered!!
The stories bring back good memories of a time life in a green growbag wasn't quite so serious as it is today.
I slipped off to the antipodes for a while to avoid flying a desk.
Now operating the worlds biggest leaf blower... it also blows wing mirrors off cars I've discovered!!
The stories bring back good memories of a time life in a green growbag wasn't quite so serious as it is today.
Tightgit
Ok, not exactly a flying story and rather lower deck but….
It’s about 86/87. Yours truly is attached to 3 BAS (as they were then), survival training in Norway on the usual winter deployment. I think we were in six or eight man tent sheets but that’s by the by. We are in Cam whites and some kind Royal troops up to me to inform me that the AAC Brigadier is inbound to visit the troops and as Handy is the duty Pongo would he kindly make himself available to show how steely eyed he is (which is not very!).
No problemo, however before any such meeting can take place Handy gets the urge to go and commit No 2’s. So shovel in hand he goes off for the traditional recce for an appropriate secluded spot.
He finds a decent isolated bit of woodland, with convenient branch, low, thick, one, for the sitting on and procede to pollute Norway. All is good with the world and Norway looks fine with a covering of January’s finest snow
However, the warmth of bodily waste matter melts the snow that waste matter is sitting on. This snow happens to be holding fast a spring-loaded branch of an adjacent fir tree (Norwegian Spruce I think!). So, job done Handy finishes current ablitive manouvre and pulls up (pristine) cam white trousers. As trousers go up, aforementioned waste matter manages to thaw the spring-loaded branch sufficient for it to return to its natural position.
Unfortunately, this involves picking up a sufficient amount of bodily waste and flinging it in a neat arc, which includes the back of Handys cam white trousers.
At this point Brigs Gazellicopter circles the area prior to landing.
Handy thinks bugg£r. He carefully scrapes off as much offending material as he can. Still looks a bit obvious though! Snow washing, that’ll work. Handy rips off cam white trousers and rubs them furiously in the snow, brand new cam white trousers rapidly turn from brilliant white with a streak of brown to yellow! Handy can hear his name being shouted through the trees. Obvious now that Trousers need to be dumped (as if they already haven’t been!). Handy makes a late arrival at the Brigs location with much muttering about being in split rig…….
It’s about 86/87. Yours truly is attached to 3 BAS (as they were then), survival training in Norway on the usual winter deployment. I think we were in six or eight man tent sheets but that’s by the by. We are in Cam whites and some kind Royal troops up to me to inform me that the AAC Brigadier is inbound to visit the troops and as Handy is the duty Pongo would he kindly make himself available to show how steely eyed he is (which is not very!).
No problemo, however before any such meeting can take place Handy gets the urge to go and commit No 2’s. So shovel in hand he goes off for the traditional recce for an appropriate secluded spot.
He finds a decent isolated bit of woodland, with convenient branch, low, thick, one, for the sitting on and procede to pollute Norway. All is good with the world and Norway looks fine with a covering of January’s finest snow
However, the warmth of bodily waste matter melts the snow that waste matter is sitting on. This snow happens to be holding fast a spring-loaded branch of an adjacent fir tree (Norwegian Spruce I think!). So, job done Handy finishes current ablitive manouvre and pulls up (pristine) cam white trousers. As trousers go up, aforementioned waste matter manages to thaw the spring-loaded branch sufficient for it to return to its natural position.
Unfortunately, this involves picking up a sufficient amount of bodily waste and flinging it in a neat arc, which includes the back of Handys cam white trousers.
At this point Brigs Gazellicopter circles the area prior to landing.
Handy thinks bugg£r. He carefully scrapes off as much offending material as he can. Still looks a bit obvious though! Snow washing, that’ll work. Handy rips off cam white trousers and rubs them furiously in the snow, brand new cam white trousers rapidly turn from brilliant white with a streak of brown to yellow! Handy can hear his name being shouted through the trees. Obvious now that Trousers need to be dumped (as if they already haven’t been!). Handy makes a late arrival at the Brigs location with much muttering about being in split rig…….
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Heard a similar story from an unfortunate aircrewman who had to do what he had to do somewhere in BAOR whilst wearing the ubiquitous noddy suit. Once the deed had been done, our hero of the hour was horrified to suddenly discover the somewhat baggy nature of NBC suits and that he had horribly miscalculated his anticipated drop zone. Amazingly, he used to carry a pair of scissors in his top pocket and was able to successfully 'cut away' as it were. 
Didn't take long to reach this level did it...
Didn't take long to reach this level did it...
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The Squadron had a day planned on the Ranges and the Brigadier was due to visit. Of course, there were several concurrent activities to keep the chaps busy when not actually shooting. I had been chosen to host a Military Knowledge quiz stand. Me and my team of guys sat together and came up with some really smart questions (and answers) that I could ask them when the Brigadier was with us and they could demonstrate their vast knowledge of the Army.
We only had to entertain the Brigadier for a few minutes so we only had a few questions, We were sitting chatting on the edge of the woods and a few minutes prior to Brig's arrival, a very keen young Lieutenant came running over to check if everyone was ready. Upon seeing us giggling, he posed the question...."OK, what is the name of the Army Air Corps' Slow March?"
That stumped us all for a second but Bod the radio operator saved the moment by saying "well sir, I can't remember the name but I know the words."
"Really"??, says rocket socks, "What are the words?..... and Bod nearly killed us all with laughter as he said - Left..............Right.................Left..............Ri ght
Aye, I nearly bought the beers!
We only had to entertain the Brigadier for a few minutes so we only had a few questions, We were sitting chatting on the edge of the woods and a few minutes prior to Brig's arrival, a very keen young Lieutenant came running over to check if everyone was ready. Upon seeing us giggling, he posed the question...."OK, what is the name of the Army Air Corps' Slow March?"
That stumped us all for a second but Bod the radio operator saved the moment by saying "well sir, I can't remember the name but I know the words."
"Really"??, says rocket socks, "What are the words?..... and Bod nearly killed us all with laughter as he said - Left..............Right.................Left..............Ri ght
Aye, I nearly bought the beers!
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Absolute classic hihover!
I recall a RM patrol during a night extraction in NI trying to self load into a Lynx. They had most of their bergens and one and a half marines into the baggage compartment/avionics bay before they were disturbed by the door gunner who was sent to find out what was taking so long!
I recall a RM patrol during a night extraction in NI trying to self load into a Lynx. They had most of their bergens and one and a half marines into the baggage compartment/avionics bay before they were disturbed by the door gunner who was sent to find out what was taking so long!
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Hildesheim. A Cpl crewman is making up some maps and briefly leaves the room leaving said maps unattended. Without a word and like a well oiled machine, the maps are descended upon from all sides by others more senior.
8 months later at the finale of a Regt'l Ex an O group is called by the CO. Comd Avn BAOR is visiting to see how professional 1 Regt are.
CO asks Ops Offr for a map of such and such area.
"Don't worry Sir!" pipes up OC 661, "I have one with me here"
The CO's pretends to ignore the submarine periscopes, trains, suspiciously square woods and 'ere be monsters' etc and carries on briefing much to the amusement of all and the discomfort of OC 661!
8 months later at the finale of a Regt'l Ex an O group is called by the CO. Comd Avn BAOR is visiting to see how professional 1 Regt are.
CO asks Ops Offr for a map of such and such area.
"Don't worry Sir!" pipes up OC 661, "I have one with me here"
The CO's pretends to ignore the submarine periscopes, trains, suspiciously square woods and 'ere be monsters' etc and carries on briefing much to the amusement of all and the discomfort of OC 661!
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GW1. An RAF exchange officer with an unfortunate stammer (cruelly given callsign 44F) is briefing the chaps.
"......and then we will go roun, roun, roun, round here"
Tony Dean (RIP) interupts with "Bloody hell sir, if we go round once more we'll be back where we started from!"
Well, it was funny at the time...
You had to be there..
"......and then we will go roun, roun, roun, round here"
Tony Dean (RIP) interupts with "Bloody hell sir, if we go round once more we'll be back where we started from!"
Well, it was funny at the time...
You had to be there..
A Cpl crewman is making up some maps and briefly leaves the room leaving said maps unattended
Can't remember which, but either Spike J or Jock Brand spent ages colouring in all the built-up areas in BAOR with red lumi, specifically for night-flying, only to find it utterly useless under a red cockpit light.
Ever notice how, when putting a map together, you were literally surrounded by your mates giving you tips and hints, right up to the moment you need 6 hands to stick the fablon on?
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Falklands 1987.
I was sent there just as the Corps was pulling out so it was a very happy time for us all.
One day, I was invited by a rather angry OC to explain to him an episode that had taken place earlier that day:
A helicopter was flying very low (wazzing) along the beach close to MPA where there were some penguins. As the aircraft approached at 10 feet 130 kts, all the penguins scrambled into the water with all the normal comic antics of a bunch of startled penguins.
Just at this point, the pilot noticed 2 people stand up in the long grass waving their arms and realised that they had been crawling on their bellies to get close enough for some good photies. He realised that he had disrupted their plan so he kindly went out to sea and tried to herd the penguins back onshore.
Of course, the penguins were now petrified and took to the depths and in all directions, making the incident even more the cock-up and the last place the penguins wanted to be was back on that beach.
The OC was visibly upset, the two photographers were Comd BFFI (high up Navy) and a visiting General. Both had crawled for 45 minutes to get that close and neither was impressed nor forgiving and the OC had to deliver the culprit. And until the culprit was delivered, the OC's parts were in a vice.
"Well sir, I'm not a squealer, but there were only two of us airborne today, me and the Major QHI, and it wasn't me!"
A very embarrassed Major QHI had to go and explain his antics to the Commander.
Laugh - I nearly passed my toffees around.
I was sent there just as the Corps was pulling out so it was a very happy time for us all.
One day, I was invited by a rather angry OC to explain to him an episode that had taken place earlier that day:
A helicopter was flying very low (wazzing) along the beach close to MPA where there were some penguins. As the aircraft approached at 10 feet 130 kts, all the penguins scrambled into the water with all the normal comic antics of a bunch of startled penguins.
Just at this point, the pilot noticed 2 people stand up in the long grass waving their arms and realised that they had been crawling on their bellies to get close enough for some good photies. He realised that he had disrupted their plan so he kindly went out to sea and tried to herd the penguins back onshore.
Of course, the penguins were now petrified and took to the depths and in all directions, making the incident even more the cock-up and the last place the penguins wanted to be was back on that beach.
The OC was visibly upset, the two photographers were Comd BFFI (high up Navy) and a visiting General. Both had crawled for 45 minutes to get that close and neither was impressed nor forgiving and the OC had to deliver the culprit. And until the culprit was delivered, the OC's parts were in a vice.
"Well sir, I'm not a squealer, but there were only two of us airborne today, me and the Major QHI, and it wasn't me!"
A very embarrassed Major QHI had to go and explain his antics to the Commander.
Laugh - I nearly passed my toffees around.
Below the Glidepath - not correcting
Ever notice how, when putting a map together, you were literally surrounded by your mates giving you tips and hints, right up to the moment you need 6 hands to stick the fablon on?
Also reminds me of when the first lady SAAM (Alison B, as was) was visiting the 670 Sqn Crew Room in Wallop, The Wookie (on his Lynx conversion) asks if she wants a coffee, to which she says she hasn't got time, but after much pontificating and urging by Ian, she replies in front of about 20 blokes;
"Oh go on then, I'll have a couple of inches in the bottom"
Much mirth and hilarity ensued.
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Still in my Gazelle days and another op somewhere abroad:
Tasked to take Hereford chap round some of the more remote bazaas doing his security advisor bit. Eventually we find one site and even manage to get them on the radio, have the HLS described to us, recce it, decide that with it being deep in snow, on a slope and into sun I'd better do the landing. Let me just add that my driver was more than capable but I thought it the decent thing to do. So in we go. Quite a tricky landing but after a few re-positions I managed to bed it in and shut down. No problem. Out we get and walk out of the field and over the fence with the red triangles! Yep, minefield. Behind us.
A hushed conversation follows during which we decide that if we retrace our steps when leaving we should be alright.
So we meet our hosts and find out, yes it's really mined and no, we shouldn't have landed there. Anyway, with my back to the aircraft, I see my somewhat taller than me pilot's jaw drop. I turn round to see our helicopter sliding backwards down the (mine)field towards the ditch at the back. My world slowed down, expecting to see it either explode or fall off the edge or both. Obviously it didn't or you'd have heard of it but remember the coach in The Italian Job?
Deciding that I'd rather be blown up than call it in, I can't remember whether we both went or just myself but back along my footprints I went and along the skid marks(!) and into the cockpit. It levelled and I took off, re-positioning to where we should have landed.
Another one we got away with. Becoming quite a confessional this. Why can't I hit that submit reply button? Oh, go on then.
Tasked to take Hereford chap round some of the more remote bazaas doing his security advisor bit. Eventually we find one site and even manage to get them on the radio, have the HLS described to us, recce it, decide that with it being deep in snow, on a slope and into sun I'd better do the landing. Let me just add that my driver was more than capable but I thought it the decent thing to do. So in we go. Quite a tricky landing but after a few re-positions I managed to bed it in and shut down. No problem. Out we get and walk out of the field and over the fence with the red triangles! Yep, minefield. Behind us.
A hushed conversation follows during which we decide that if we retrace our steps when leaving we should be alright.
So we meet our hosts and find out, yes it's really mined and no, we shouldn't have landed there. Anyway, with my back to the aircraft, I see my somewhat taller than me pilot's jaw drop. I turn round to see our helicopter sliding backwards down the (mine)field towards the ditch at the back. My world slowed down, expecting to see it either explode or fall off the edge or both. Obviously it didn't or you'd have heard of it but remember the coach in The Italian Job?
Deciding that I'd rather be blown up than call it in, I can't remember whether we both went or just myself but back along my footprints I went and along the skid marks(!) and into the cockpit. It levelled and I took off, re-positioning to where we should have landed.
Another one we got away with. Becoming quite a confessional this. Why can't I hit that submit reply button? Oh, go on then.
Whilst on the annual excuse for a free skiing holiday at the tax payers expense (Ice Queen?)
I witnessed the following display of cool from one of our flying colleagues (Rod Scott)
The ski lifts were full and going at full belt with the surface very bumpy.
About 10 bars up from us a lady fell off and began sliding back down slope bashing her head on everyones ski tips and leaving a trail of blood behind her.
All are watching her and doing nothing.
As she gets down to our level with a fair way to go to the bottom Rod side steps off the bar digs in his skis and hoiks the unfortunate lady off the track to safety. To the cheers of the other lift passengers.
In a perfect world she would have been an heiress who's father owned a distillery, a Ferrari distributorship and was desperate for a highly paid corporate pilot.
I doubt Rod was that lucky.
I wonder if the lady survived as it looked quite nasty at the time.
The blood was visible for several days after the event.
I witnessed the following display of cool from one of our flying colleagues (Rod Scott)
The ski lifts were full and going at full belt with the surface very bumpy.
About 10 bars up from us a lady fell off and began sliding back down slope bashing her head on everyones ski tips and leaving a trail of blood behind her.
All are watching her and doing nothing.
As she gets down to our level with a fair way to go to the bottom Rod side steps off the bar digs in his skis and hoiks the unfortunate lady off the track to safety. To the cheers of the other lift passengers.
In a perfect world she would have been an heiress who's father owned a distillery, a Ferrari distributorship and was desperate for a highly paid corporate pilot.
I doubt Rod was that lucky.
I wonder if the lady survived as it looked quite nasty at the time.
The blood was visible for several days after the event.