Army Smells

It is often said that the thing that triggers memories most is smell. for example the smell of hexy always reminds me of dartmoor in winter (preferably with horizontal rain)
In the true spirit of scientific enquiry that I know most ARRSErs appreciate and braced for the truly vile.
What smells "take you back" and what to?

 

Found a tin of that horrible orange lino polish in the stores at my last post-took me straight back 20 years to bumpered floors in basic. spray starch does the same.

 

Meat gone off............takes me back to Vitez 93.

 

Boot polish and musty blankets. Oh, and 58 pattern webbing - a smell all of its own. Takes me back to the drill hall, sitting on the floor with Sgt Ball, fitting it all together, laughing at the "large" pack! (I'd got my Cyclops Roc before I joined!)

 

I got a whiff off the office cleaner this morning that reminded me of a hot summers day in Nairobi...............................imagine a dead horse wearing a 6 month old unwashed tramp's rods covered in sour milk, liberally coated with a thick layer of burned hair and topped off with the gleanings of his perineum paste

Stinking Biatch!

 

Mothballs, reminds me of having my kit issue at depot thrown at me with the storeman cnut shouting "ERE THAT'LL DO YEAH.....NEXT", and those fecking shirts 'hairy'.........

 

Scampi Fries,

Girl at home who thought hygene was something other folk did.

(bit like me and spelling)

 

CS gas - reminds me every year that I didn't rinse my respirator out properly last time.

 

AVTUR at night, reminds me of all those Ops with 49'

 

Poo pond. - nuff said.

Once you have run round it, you just love KAF.

 

Diesel reminds me of draining the fitter sections 434 fuel tank on exercise due to some CNUT shiting in the tank cause they couldn’t be ARRSE’d to go outside the WNAKERS.

 

Funny that, the smell of raw sewage reminds me of early mornings at Basrah International Airport.

 

You mean on the way from the accommodation to the Hotel? I remember it well.... memories...

 

Smells are more likely, than sounds or sights,
to make your heart strings crack.
They start those awful voices o'night,
that whisper 'Old Man, come back."
That must be why the big things pass,
and the little things remain,
like the smell of wattle at Lichtenberg,
riding in, riding in in the rain.

Kipling (from memory so probably bits wrong). But substitite hexy and horizontal drizzle and we know what he's on about.

Gun oil. Something I hardly ever get to sniff these days.

 

Merry Christmas old timer!
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