Commando Gunner Regroup

GET IT OFF YOUR CHEST

Here's the confessions of squaddies past (hopefully of many) here we aim to absolve you once have shared your guilty secret.


The Screaming Skulls bluff

It was back in 1972 on returning from Northern Ireland with the black 8 that the battery. We arrived in Plymouth railway station and I got into thinking ............woman........ the likes of the flesh I had not tasted for six months and was watering at the mouth just thinking of it, so as you do I hitched a plan could {  sex  } oh yes so I put all the commando training I had been given to the test and this is how it went.

The train pulled into Plymouth station the RM band going boom boom boom boom.........nice band could go far......I then put operation ....sex... on full alert as I got off the train I said to myself the first woman I see I was going to ask her the big question. So out of the railway station we went to the awaiting buses, me at the front awaiting my big moment........remember the first woman......and lo and behold my boat was coming together, there it was done up to the nine's coming straight at me was a..................................w    o   m   a   n....a big intake of  breath and said.. Excuse me would you like to try for a baby.........ha I always did have the patter....with a look of amazement she sad what did you just say now to my thinking I thought go on go on big boy say it again so the sentence was duly repeated in my best Yorkshire accent........{ name clue  } for which she replied. "Do you no who I am?" To which I replied "I don't care who you are, is it a yes or no?"  and the answer was   ...wait for it wait for it "I'm Sgt/m  Maye's wife"   well where do you go from hear big boy was my thought. She demanded to know my name at once so I duly replied my name      Taylor  marm was the quick reply ..sorry Mick you're name was the first name to come into my head. "Right she said I will report you to my husband" and stormed off...so by now by little brown eye is going peep--peep whooooooooooooosh I made my good escape to the awaiting bus to await my doom and think at 22 years old I have served my queen and country and was preparing to die young.              part two coming your way soon

 

As things go I did not die that day but come the Monday morning as usual we were all on parade awaiting to go on leave and as you can guess one or two days had gone by and all thoughts of the past had gone from my little head with the help of 200 or so pints of home brew .............yeah it was I tell you courtesy of the Royal Citadel brewery   (i e bath house) and there we were all smart and ready for leave when the screaming skull took the parade and gave us the ....Lloyd George... speech..........................................................."I have hear in my hand all of your leave passes but before I give you them" .............OH  f*%k was the word that popped into by head......."there was a incident at the railway station on our return to Plymouth involving my wife this incident involved someone from this battery"........my heart is now going ten to the dozen oh f"*k was the thought I know who it is he is going to blame, Taylor. ( Of coarse I would not let that happen  he  he  he) so Johnny maze went on "If this person is a man".......that would be me........."he will take one step forward and show himself other wise no leave passes will be given out you have five minutes from now"........well the old heart has done me proud but was now due a heart attack ...one minute gone........two minutes .....gone  ........three minutes gone  the tension was rising the sweat rolling my nerve was tightening, the brown eye was going peep--peep whooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooosh again! Oh f*+%k what do I do four minute's gone and as all true hero's thy don't want to let there good buddy's down so teaming one f*^%ing deep breath I lifted my left foot it only went forward I'd say one or two inches ..........the suspense, the suspense good aint it.....and a voice said from BEHIND me>>>>>>>>>keep still  We....r  well that put a end to me been a hero I don't know who it was but it had to be a Sgt with the initials s....s ........take a guess's and as for the full bombardier to my left said under is breath....Mays is bluffing and so for the full  five minutes we are all going to be shot for making an indecent proposal..........not so the skull's bluff was called he backed down the leave passes were given out and as we all departed to go on leave there were mutterings of who the f*^k was it.
 
                       The moral of the story is................keep your mouth  shut and say F*&K ALL   
 
                                     AMEN
This may seem a little tame after the "Waiters' Revenge" story from Iraq - but here goes:
Whilst in Norway, winter of about 1979 or maybe 1980, a couple of NGFO parties of 148 Bty were deployed with the AMF(L) (to assist with their Arctic Warfare training).  Can't remember the location, but we were in the usual Scandinavian Garden Sheds!
Well, at the start of one particular week the "Boss" - one Captain Simon Hutchinson - announced that it would be good preparatory training for us for later in the deployment if we conducted a ski-borne load carry, nothing too strenuous, just SOP Bergens, and about 15 or 20 Ks or so, no sweat!
Well, to quote one particularly peeved party Bdr (once of the 7 Para brethren, latterly converted to the path of righteousness when the paras turned hat and were posted to BAOR!) - "Mad Jack" Jackson - or Jacko to his mates, muttered sotto voce, "We all know a kick in the nuts ****ing well hurts, you don't need to practice for it!" The entire team were, as you can imagine, indignant to put it mildly.
To cut a long story a little shorter, a cunning plan was hatched (primarily the brain-child of our 'Derry community representative), which involved suckering the boss into letting us have his bergen the evening before the day of said load carry so we could put his share of the team gear into it for him, and then load it onto the BV for the drive out to his chosen start point for our little day's jolly in the Norwegian country-side; and guess what - he fell for it!  So, not only did he get the 5-man tent sheet, he also got at least 3 Clansman 4.4 amp batteries, and I think there may have been a few day's worth of rations too! There may well have been more, the old memory isn't too good these days, but you get the picture I'm sure!?
We reached the drop-off, and our driver (Cpl Bob - REME - how come they always got the cushy jobs?) was given the midday point RV and sent on his way.  Up to now, we had "looked after" the boss's bergen for him, maintaining the surprise as long as possible.  So when it was time to up packs and go, he looked a bit shocked, and muttered something to the effect that "I don't remember the tent-sheets being this heavy last year" (!!!!)
By the time we got to the midday RV, he was, to put it mildly, "goosed", and declared "OK lads, good effort this morning, I don't think we need push this any further, you've all worked hard and maybe we should return to camp now" - smirks and knowing grins all round as we climbed "reluctantly" into the transport for the ride "home".
The story - and "deception" didn't end there though.  We persuaded El Boss to leave his bergen with us so we could pack away his team gear (just the tent sheets, you understand) for him, and return his bergen to him later.  Yes, he fell for it again!  So to the best of my knowledge, if Simon is reading this now, it will be the first he has ever heard of this wheeze!  Oh, and no, I'm not apologizing, as I'm sure none of the other lads would either - but I think it was proven beyond doubt that our wise sage, Jacko, was right in his affirmation that we know that kick in the nuts hurts, practicing does not lessen the pain!  Does it Simon?

*You are forgiven Tats we will think of a suitable penance at the next reunion

 

I don't know if I should tell this without asking Traff, but he's in Oz and I'm in Spain, so hope we're safe.

It's the look of puzzlement on 2/Lt Noddy Kerrs face, when those rounds kept landing on the wrong registration points in Akamas. Sorry, Noddy. You were right and we were firing using the wrong target records. And yes, we did fudge them to save our arses. The only blame to you was that you were much too nice a bloke, (in those days.) The truth is, both Traff and I hated target records. That is why 145 always beat us to the ranging on Mike targets. We were just too bloody idle to sanitise and then update target records all the bloody time, so took our time whenever we were firing as a regiment. Let 145 do the ranging, we'll have a brew, was Command Post One's philosophy.

But if it is any consolation, fifteen years later, when I was stationed in Cyprus, I had to spend a week diving off the coast of Akamas to recover or blow in-situ, all the blinds that we and all the other Gunner regiments had left there over the years. The older rounds were weeping their contents all over the sea bed. Thought about Noddy a lot that week and wondered about the retribution of the Gods. The local fishermen had taken to bringing the blinds to the surface, taking them home, putting them in a vice and sawing them in half with a hacksaw to get at the H.E. to use it for fishing. Lots of one-armed fishermen around Akamas!

Ron Potter,

79 (Kirkee) Bty

'67-'73

                                                    ONE FOR THE ROAD?

The next one is a corker, or maybe that's what was needed. Read on and all will be revealed

This one starts during the early 90s  Iraq problem, we were called over to assist with the Kurdish repatriation to their homes. We worked long and hard during the first couple of weeks until the momentum slowed as these things usually do.

By this time most of the Bty's were located in areas around northern Iraq and were out actively patrolling 24 hours a day. The boys were as usual working hard patrolling and building sangers when not on patrol. In the middle of all this some bright spark in the officers mess decided to hold a dinner night for the local ragheads!!!

HQ Bty were living in an old school so the entrance hall to this school was to be used for the forthcoming gala evening. Chefs were sent for and boys were pulled off patrolling duties to work on this jolly night for the Rupert's who had nothing better to do with their time than dream up ridiculous ideas such as this.

Two days were spent putting things in place for the Rupert's jolly evening. And I must add using valuable man power which was desperately needed on the ground. These guys certainly know how to keep the moral of the men on a high, have two sections working on a dinner evening for them while the other sections have to cover their missing buddies duties.

As you have probably guessed I for one was most annoyed with this soirée and the attitude of the people arranging it.

The guys were tasked with all the usual things involved with mess functions they even required ten guys to act as waiters! Part of this preparation was gathering together the ingredients for a fruit punch for our esteemed guests, we were told no alcohol was to be used due to the religious requirements of the ragheads, religion didn't seem to stop them stuffing their faces with our pork luncheon meat though.

Anyway we got all the stuff together mostly scrounged from the yanks. Then we went for that extra special ingredient to make sure the dinner guests wouldn't forget their night in a hurry, we had contacts within the medical profession who were sympathetic to our cause who were more than willing to supply us with copious amount of laxative.

Unfortunately the laxative only came in tablet form so we ground them up the best we could then poured the ground substance into the waiting punch. As it hit the liquid it congealed together into large rather obvious lumps, time was taken stirring and mixing but it still left small amounts we couldn't hide. The easiest way to hide the remaining floaters was to add chunks of cut fruit which did the job perfectly.

As the guest gathered the punch was consumed with great gusto each member of this dinner party had several cups before the dinner, and as I earlier said no alcohol was to be drunk so guess what was given to the guest to drink whilst they ate?

The evening passed and our guests left to inform their friends & family what a marvellous evening they'd had, I then sat back and waited for the concoction to take its effect. I must add at this stage the sanitary conditions were not of the highest calibre at most of the locations, and in the base location the best was a half oil drum out the back of which the contents were burnt on a daily basis.

For the next few days there was a terrible commotion around the latrines, the A/Adj didn't make it out of her bag on the first night before following through, the QM Don Grant I thought had a season ticket on the latrine and ended up rather dehydrated. Not one of them escaped the grunts revenge from the CO down. The repercussions were heard literally for many days afterwards.

Do I regret what we did? Not a bit off it! I believe it was a well deserved and administered taste of devine justice, if you treat the guys like shit then..............

My name? Well if you were there and have a good memory think of the two Sgts running both the messes then you have us.

Here's a message from someone who remembers this event. :-Remember that well I had one pang of guilt though when wee Beastie Davidson got given a cup, downing it before we could get to him. But I will always have a wicked memory of Bill Gillett drinking several large ones (guess who thought getting the off coming patrol/guard to wait on was a good idea).

No name given. (Wonder why?)

This from Wilkie the Master chef at the time.

You bastards the chefs got the blame for that one.

Come on you lot I'm sure there is more of you out there who wish absolution, or just want to let us know of your misdeeds. You can remain anonymous or like Ron let the world know who committed the dastardly deed.

 

So come on GET IT OFF YOUR CHEST!

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