Christmas confession

[Nobby.C]

Whilst straned at a remote outpost in South Armagh Christmas was approaching fast, the weather was as usual bleaker than bleak, the heol's were grounded and the place was dry (well almost.) Through the sanger slits I could see,at the edge of a copse beside a nearby farm, what appeared to be the smartest little Christmas Tree,just ripe for harvesting. I radioed to XMG and told them the water supply had gone off and assembled a patrol to liberate said tree. The mission was a resounding success and the tree was duly re errected and decorated (Blue Peter would have been proud of it)
Needless to say next morning when I looked out of the same sanger window visibility was again none-existant. The control room requested a visibility report which was something like "visibiliry 1500m cloud base 1000 feet (slightly in excess of the minimum required to launch a Helo for a resupply.
Yes the Helo arrived with Christmas packed into a few boxes and the accompanying Christmas tree.

Any other Christmas Dits....

Merry Christmas One and All

Nobby C

[El Prez]

A certain Army type pilot attached to the 3rd Kiddies Crimbo Aerial Squadron decided he would absorb the Kudos attached to delivering Santa to Bickleigh, climbed into his Gazellicopter; with another Army type piloter of aluminium being Santa. Despite the sage advice of the duty pilot, yes, you guessed it, moi, and indications to the technical manual regarding the necessities prior to flight without doors fitted our erstwhile doomer wound up the Gazelle and lurched into the hover. Now I'm one who can hold a grudge as well as any man; but as he climbed away and the OC 3rd Kiddies Squadron exited his Hut/Office I was in the middle of a really good jig, because numb nuts had failed to remove the rear seats, which hurtled earthwards, and embedded themselves in Tecalamet roundabout. (Now Ocean BMW) OC went apeshit, I hid in a corner clinging to the radio mike, too sore with laughter to inform him that the bang he reported hearing was being recovered for the subsequent enquiry/hanging/disembowelling.

Next day. Our illustrious and joyful eejit bimbled off to CTC in a state of joy; to hear after 15 minutes "CK this is zero, is Santa OK over?", pregnant pause and exchange of views with gunner. "Hello zero, this is CK say again over", "CK this is zero, is Santa with you? Over"; slight pause, followed by "Piss off I'm busy, see you later".
On my return I was surprised to discover that the planning room had been filled by 20-30, 5 year olds, who had all expected to hear Santa, except nobody told me.

[Rotary Booty]

I was a Sgt, Sioux helicopter pilot in 41 Commando Air Troop based at Plymouth Airport. One Christmas I was tasked to fly 'Father Christmas' to the unit children's Christmas Party at Bickleigh. He arrived at the helipad in a homemade outfit consisting mostly of cotton wool glued on to normal clothes, but it looked very convincing. After a full briefing we set off, and flew around the sports field while Father Christmas waved to the assembled hoards of kids. We landed, BUT, instead of waiting until I had closed down, he undid his seat belt and ran out! The downwash blew every piece of cotton wool off him, as well as shredding his red coat and hat. He stood for a moment virtually stark naked, and then, to my undying admiration, he advanced towards the kids with his sack of pressies shouting "Ho Ho Ho".

[El Prez]

Just before Crimble the Sqn would boom over to the French Mountain Flying School at Saillagouse (Say A Goose) in the Pyrenees; for two weeks of mountain flying prior to the Norway detachment. Returning laden with duty free was a benefit, and talking of benefits, one of the officers was tasked to carry a tremendous burden, the Money, lots of it in a tinny. Lt Ralph Eales had this onerous task, and the seniors quickly clocked his avaricious hold on what had become His money and the fear in his eyes if anyone approached in need of cash.
So day two dawned and we landed at 1100ish for fuel and caffeine at Bordeaux. Ralph (Lt Eales) was casually approached by one of the seniors as he sat in a typical airport lounge seat with the box between his feet. He had forgotten to cover his back! An arm extended from the row behind gradually pulled the box to the rear as the conversation became more involved. The box was then passed from pillar to post and out to the aircraft.
The poor man flipped when we all suddenly trooped out as one. His box had gone, he was doomed, who had it, what was the world coming to, you can't trust anyone these days, etc etc. Served him right for being so tight.