Impromptu BL line up
Discussion
Cadet Corporal Fennel was a tosser. In adult life he became an RAF policeman. They are all Acting Corporals so that they can boss the troops.
Q: What's the difference between an RAF Policeman and Hitler?
A: Hitler was a real Corporal.
On a long yomp in the Lakes, Cpl Fennel said it was that way, but we said it was this way. He huffed of that way. We map-read off this way. It started to rain, a lot. We thumbed a lift with a farmer in a long wheel base Series 2 Landy. Then we recalled that Lazy Cpl Fennel had made us carry all his waterproof kit and spare socks and Mars Bars and such in our packs ,and we still had them with us. We were eating toast back at the lodge by Coniston Water when he arrived somewhat bedraggled and footsore many hours later. Also, we had raided his locker and found all his grumble. It was pretty nasty stuff.
He left soon after and I got his stripes.
Q: What's the difference between an RAF Policeman and Hitler?
A: Hitler was a real Corporal.
On a long yomp in the Lakes, Cpl Fennel said it was that way, but we said it was this way. He huffed of that way. We map-read off this way. It started to rain, a lot. We thumbed a lift with a farmer in a long wheel base Series 2 Landy. Then we recalled that Lazy Cpl Fennel had made us carry all his waterproof kit and spare socks and Mars Bars and such in our packs ,and we still had them with us. We were eating toast back at the lodge by Coniston Water when he arrived somewhat bedraggled and footsore many hours later. Also, we had raided his locker and found all his grumble. It was pretty nasty stuff.
He left soon after and I got his stripes.
We are joyfully off topic and in memory lane, but cadet force memories are numerous. As a boarder we got bored and had permission to get the very basic glider out, (remember those with a cut-out at the fron to seat the pilot?) assemble it and use it. I mean, with the catapult elastic and six a side we could get it to lift off and fly at least ten yards on a good day. Except once we had a very good day. We assembled the glider, we attached it to the ring bolt, we attached the catapult elastic, and decided we'd go one step further with 12 a side and stretched the elastic until we heard strands twanging. "Release" we cried, and up the glider went; and up, and up, to the wailing of the very junior and very lightweight pilot. It climbed over the playing field hedge, crossed the field heading for the Portsmouth/London main railway embankment. With a despairing cry the pilot heaved on the stick and hedge-hopped the line by a whisker, and all we saw as it disappeared from view as a storm of cabbages taking to the air on a rough landing. Ah, the joys of youth!
55palfers said:
Lowtimer said:
dbdb said:
There's no romance in your soul!
Personally I'm with Palfers on this tbh, But not in a biblical sense, obviously.I wouldn't mind some sort of camper van as a mobile workshop, but don;' really feel the urge to sleep in them.
I also have no desire to drive around with a old plastic box of turds sloshing around in the boot.
Breadvan72 said:
My Air Cadet memories are from the 1970s, and we had a Series 2a Landy, and the Squadron WO's P6 Rover 2200 TC. We had a Gloster Meteor parked outside the Squadron hut. At annual camp (West Raynham, Odiham, Lyneham, Coltishall), we flew in Chipmunks, C130s, big helicopters, Slingsby open cockpit gliders and did night infantry combat exercises with self loading chalk. At the ranges, we fired Short Magazine Lee Enfield .303s from WWI/WW2, and also NATO era .762 GPMGs. Climbing in Snowdonia with nailed boots, hemp ropes, no harnesses (body belays, a few knots and hitches, some snapgates, no Friends or hexes or all that modern rock kit), Vango Force Ten tents. We would keep our uniforms on, take off the cadet brassards, and get served in pubs near the stations, aged 14-15. "Aren't you a bit young to have made Corporal already?" Avoid being cheeky to the RAF policeman lifting the barrier at the gate when staggering back in.
I camped in an orange Vango Force Ten just this year at a MTB race weekend, 24th to 26th March in Pembrey, South Wales. The tent would probably go well with your Sherpa. It's a hybrid of a MkII, MkIII, and MkIV, dating from between 1989 and 1994. I made it into a complete tent from ex 'Adventurous Training' tentage that was being written off and disposed of by the army unit I was with at the time. It needs patching in a couple of places, re-proofing, and the valises need replacing, but it's a whole lot easier to put up than many modern tents, and roomier too. My wife will NOT even entertain the idea of getting inside it, let alone spending a night sleeping out in it. She (probably correctly) thinks I'm absolutely mad to keep the thing, but I love it!
lowdrag said:
We are joyfully off topic and in memory lane, but cadet force memories are numerous. As a boarder we got bored and had permission to get the very basic glider out, (remember those with a cut-out at the fron to seat the pilot?) assemble it and use it. I mean, with the catapult elastic and six a side we could get it to lift off and fly at least ten yards on a good day. Except once we had a very good day. We assembled the glider, we attached it to the ring bolt, we attached the catapult elastic, and decided we'd go one step further with 12 a side and stretched the elastic until we heard strands twanging. "Release" we cried, and up the glider went; and up, and up, to the wailing of the very junior and very lightweight pilot. It climbed over the playing field hedge, crossed the field heading for the Portsmouth/London main railway embankment. With a despairing cry the pilot heaved on the stick and hedge-hopped the line by a whisker, and all we saw as it disappeared from view as a storm of cabbages taking to the air on a rough landing. Ah, the joys of youth!
You have just described my first solo!I may just go on eBay and buy a Vango right now, if only to use as the loo tent when campervanning.
Camping at Stickle Tarn in the Langdale Pikes one stormy night, the other lot's Vango blew down. The ridge pole snapped. They wanted to come in our tent but we said f
k off, we're full. The next day was sunny. Flight Lieutenant Murcott was teaching me to belay, and decided that he would deliberately fall off a slab and I would catch him. I did catch him, but not before he had slid about twenty feet. I had never heard flight Lieutenant Murcott swear before. (I remembered that , and learned some new swear words too, when years later I almost dropped my professional guide off an arete on the Aiguille Verte far above Argentiere, and almost pulled him into a bergschrund above the Couvercle Hut. Ice axe arrests work, you know.)
Flight Lieutenant Fry (? - memory fails) did not take us climbing. He showed us films at the Squadron. No, not those films, this was the 70s ,and kiddy fiddling had not been invented yet (I know that this is true because Jimmy Savile said so on the telly).
F/L Fry had started the War as an Able Seaman on HMS King George V. The films and photos he showed us were taken from the deck of the KGV during the Bismarck engagement. After watching the Bismarck sink, he answered a call for aircrew, transferred to the RAF, got wings, went on Blenheims, and was commissioned.
At West Midlands Wing events, other Squadrons had Flight Lieutenants who were teachers or bank managers in their thirties. Keen and fit young men, active in outdoor sports. We had a fat old bloke in his sixties. But instead of the bare tunic of the others, he wore a tunic with wings on it. Oh, and a DFC. That shut the other Squadrons up pretty quick.
Camping at Stickle Tarn in the Langdale Pikes one stormy night, the other lot's Vango blew down. The ridge pole snapped. They wanted to come in our tent but we said f
k off, we're full. The next day was sunny. Flight Lieutenant Murcott was teaching me to belay, and decided that he would deliberately fall off a slab and I would catch him. I did catch him, but not before he had slid about twenty feet. I had never heard flight Lieutenant Murcott swear before. (I remembered that , and learned some new swear words too, when years later I almost dropped my professional guide off an arete on the Aiguille Verte far above Argentiere, and almost pulled him into a bergschrund above the Couvercle Hut. Ice axe arrests work, you know.) Flight Lieutenant Fry (? - memory fails) did not take us climbing. He showed us films at the Squadron. No, not those films, this was the 70s ,and kiddy fiddling had not been invented yet (I know that this is true because Jimmy Savile said so on the telly).
F/L Fry had started the War as an Able Seaman on HMS King George V. The films and photos he showed us were taken from the deck of the KGV during the Bismarck engagement. After watching the Bismarck sink, he answered a call for aircrew, transferred to the RAF, got wings, went on Blenheims, and was commissioned.
At West Midlands Wing events, other Squadrons had Flight Lieutenants who were teachers or bank managers in their thirties. Keen and fit young men, active in outdoor sports. We had a fat old bloke in his sixties. But instead of the bare tunic of the others, he wore a tunic with wings on it. Oh, and a DFC. That shut the other Squadrons up pretty quick.
Edited by anonymous-user on Tuesday 25th April 12:04
lowdrag said:
We are joyfully off topic and in memory lane, but cadet force memories are numerous. As a boarder we got bored and had permission to get the very basic glider out, (remember those with a cut-out at the fron to seat the pilot?) assemble it and use it. I mean, with the catapult elastic and six a side we could get it to lift off and fly at least ten yards on a good day. Except once we had a very good day. We assembled the glider, we attached it to the ring bolt, we attached the catapult elastic, and decided we'd go one step further with 12 a side and stretched the elastic until we heard strands twanging. "Release" we cried, and up the glider went; and up, and up, to the wailing of the very junior and very lightweight pilot. It climbed over the playing field hedge, crossed the field heading for the Portsmouth/London main railway embankment. With a despairing cry the pilot heaved on the stick and hedge-hopped the line by a whisker, and all we saw as it disappeared from view as a storm of cabbages taking to the air on a rough landing. Ah, the joys of youth!
Much of this has a very familiar ring. May I be permitted to know at which boarding school the event occurred? Please.Used to watch this before every Chipmunk flight
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=quAzZbNEX98
We flew out of Manston the late 80s and 90s, so had to wear a mae west. I had a strong sense of history, and flying in the same airspace 50 years after the Battle of Britain was really something for me.
And then came Gulf War 1. I am pleased to say our combat air patrols over Thanet help ensure no enemy MiG's ever got through to London...
Of coruse these days cadets have this young lady to look upto:
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=quAzZbNEX98
We flew out of Manston the late 80s and 90s, so had to wear a mae west. I had a strong sense of history, and flying in the same airspace 50 years after the Battle of Britain was really something for me.
And then came Gulf War 1. I am pleased to say our combat air patrols over Thanet help ensure no enemy MiG's ever got through to London...
Of coruse these days cadets have this young lady to look upto:
Breadvan72 said:
Camping at Stickle Tarn in the Langdale Pikes one stormy night
Ah but then you can walk back down to the Old Dungeon Ghyll to fill up on Old Peculier. That way you won't care about the state of your tent.BTW, WTF did you managed to do a Vango Force 10 to break the ridge pole!
Still got my Mk2, it probably needs new rubbers.
Wouldn't be the first time I woke of on a campsite in the morning to find every other tent had been flattened by the wind over night and the Vango was still up and I hadn't even bother to storm lash it.
I once went flying in a Bulldog with roundels on it, in loose formation with another Bulldog with roundels on it. This was about ten years ago, and both aircraft had been demobbed from University Air Squadrons some time previously. We had a turning fight near Dover, on a clear blue summer afternoon. I won, but only because I was solo, and the other aircraft had two blokes on board, and I could safely pull harder and turn tighter without spinning.
Nowadays haven't the cadets got the appalling Ms Vorderman to look at?
Nowadays haven't the cadets got the appalling Ms Vorderman to look at?
a8hex said:
Breadvan72 said:
Camping at Stickle Tarn in the Langdale Pikes one stormy night
Ah but then you can walk back down to the Old Dungeon Ghyll to fill up on Old Peculier. That way you won't care about the state of your tent.BTW, WTF did you managed to do a Vango Force 10 to break the ridge pole!
Still got my Mk2, it probably needs new rubbers.
Wouldn't be the first time I woke of on a campsite in the morning to find every other tent had been flattened by the wind over night and the Vango was still up and I hadn't even bother to storm lash it.
(2) I did not break the tent. My tent was fine. The other lot broke their tent. They were from Yardley. That may explain it.
williamp said:
Crikey. Thanks for posting that.The Air Training Corps is a wonderful place
The organisation's a fking disgrace
For organisation you might as well be
Shovelling st on the Isle of Capri
There's Corporals and Sergeants and Flight Sergeants too
Hands in their pockets and fk all to do
For organisation you might as well be
Shovelling st on the Isle of Capri
Out on the drill square they scream and they shout
They shout about things they know fk all about
For organisation you might as well be
Shovelling st on the Isle of Capri
The organisation's a f
king disgraceFor organisation you might as well be
Shovelling s
t on the Isle of CapriThere's Corporals and Sergeants and Flight Sergeants too
Hands in their pockets and f
k all to doFor organisation you might as well be
Shovelling s
t on the Isle of CapriOut on the drill square they scream and they shout
They shout about things they know f
k all aboutFor organisation you might as well be
Shovelling s
t on the Isle of CapriAt school I failed to learn any of the the texts needed for GCE English Lit (although I did somehow pass). However the ATC successfully taught me several songs, and the Alphabet Song (hey-ho says Roley! etc) I can still recite in its entirety, a feat which disgusts and entertains my family in equal measure.
I'm not going to recite it here. If you want it you can Google it.
I'm not going to recite it here. If you want it you can Google it.
My English A Level texts were Coriolanus, Measure for Measure, Gulliver's Travels, and Emma. I read the two Shakespeares. I liked them. I didn't read the Swift and the Austen until ten years later. I liked them, and wished that I had read them earlier. I still got a B. Bullst baffles brains. For my Latin O Level I had to do Caesar conquering Gaul and Cicero prosecuting Verres (corrupt Governor of Sicily). I read the Caesar. I still haven't read the Cicero (although I have read some of his other stuff). I got a B. Bullst baffles brains.
t baffles brains. For my Latin O Level I had to do Caesar conquering Gaul and Cicero prosecuting Verres (corrupt Governor of Sicily). I read the Caesar. I still haven't read the Cicero (although I have read some of his other stuff). I got a B. Bullst baffles brains.Gassing Station | Classic Cars and Yesterday's Heroes | Top of Page | What's New | My Stuff