Beastings!

Further to the thread about the SNCO being done for brutality,what unique 'tasks' did your NCO's have in store for you.
My fave's are--

Painting the coal white
Painting the brown patch's on the grass green
Re-painting the line's on the base car park
Sweeping up leaves on a windy day (RAF Bruggen circa 1989)
scrubbing the cracks in the bathroom tiles with a toothbrush (RAF Swinderby Circa 1984)

Over to you!

 

At Arborfield, a failed something had come back to go RD's and after consuming far too much shandy at the Naafi, decided that the majority of the platoon would be drilled in their underwear on the parade square. Those who had a life returned from pubs in various counties and listened to the tale in horror.

The failed something was found and disciplined involving heavy bruising and a slight loss of blood but he NEVER ever tried that trick again.

As I was one of the few with a car, I was not involved in the parade square drill session but I must admit I was involved in the disciplining.

Happy days.

 

Gundrills..........lots of them! Troop NCO used to beast the lads with a log ect in the drying room very humid and for about 1hr at a time seeing the unfortunates come out 3 stone lighter made me all the more determined not to visit it the same NCO also had a habbit of grabbing pressure points...ouch. Or the favorite locker left open come back to find it trashed with a pile of washing powder on the floor with the words got you written into it oh and the odd smack here and there............did it make me a better person yes as didnt want to be on the receving end of the beastings so tried my best to aviod them

 

Not a beasting as such but a punishment...

Lickle Speedkuff is a boy soldier at Ouston in '81 and it is found that his locker is in a disreputable state...

So, his kindly Troop Staffy informs him that he has just the job for him... Shoveling incinerated dead cats into a skip! Ouston used to have a problem with feral cats so they'd poison 'em and incinerate the things.

A Saturday of that was enough to motivate me to a higher standard of tidiness. I was picking dead cat flavoured snot out of me nose for a bout a week afterwards... lol

 

Cook House scoff that bad??!!

 

I got the worst one in front of the whole platoon in training. Sizing us up for drill, talest on the left, shortest on the right etc etc. Im third tallest in the pln. Next shout of odd numbers one pace forward, evens one pace back. "Easy thinks I" and duly takes the pace. Now this is where it starts to get hard for me. "Front Rank right turn, rear rank left turn" screams our Sgt ( Scots Guards, normally a pretty good bloke). To wit I find myself staring a Daz D the tallest man in the Regiment at the time who had been told to stand still. Now eyeballing this treetrunk of a man (who at 16 was 6'7", built like the proverbial outhouse and a martial artist to boot) I was wondering where this was heading. The sarge then gives the order to quick march but to me I had nowhere to go so kind of just shuffled into Daz and bumped off him like a p!sshead in a urinal. Next thing I know I've got a pace stick up my nose (yeah yeah, I know its big so it wasn't like he was a good shot or owt) and after scraping myself off the floor was beasted around Arborfield for a good hour in jumper order. Good thing May '91 was a particularly warm summer and that the CO had kept us in jumper order, not!!

 

Thankfully I only saw this administered:

Elizabeth Bks Minden - mid 1970s. Polishing the guardroom floor to an exquisite shine with a (custom made by the LAD to the RP Sgt's meticulous specifications) triple headed bumper.

 

The same platoon (05 1979) found a tea leaf amongst their midst and after a controversial kanagaroo court, a sentence of having a hand broken in a window was dished out without the possibility of appeal to any court, human rights or otherwise.

The trouble is that the guilty party refused to keep his hand in the window and two of those trying to administer the puishment had their hands slightly squashed in the very window in an attempt to bring justice to a satisfactory conclusion.

Plan B was to batter him unconscious with a steel helmet which when the 'staff' found out meant we had a rather unpleasant couple of weeks. I think one of them actually shouted at me which was strange as I had nothing to do with the court or the punishment. My suggestion of beating the crap out of him was rejected on the grounds of being totally unoriginal.

 

We had a reesty smelly git at Kinloss,His room had to be ripped out & all the carpet,bedding ect binned.He also got us rewarded with weekly bull night's & kit inspections,due to the appaling state of his kit.
He got grabbed one night & thrown in the shower & bass broomed.
He later got kicked ou for drugs.

 

The regimental bath, that brings back memories. Fortunately I had learned to wash before leaving mummy's t1t.

At Middle Wallop we had a swamp rat and even the silver fish wore frogman suits. He was booted out in the end but those brave enough to go near him, did give him a good rub down with various brushing implements in the shower. Trouble was, he went back and dried himself with the towel that he used to mop up the pish with. On a warm day you could walk to our room blindfold.

We were warned off him as he apparently had a medical problem. Glad he took it with him.

Dirty fcuker.

 

Brushing water uphill during a downpour. An hour or so of that taught us to keep our rooms properly swept. Then there was the ever popular old favorite of polishing the guardroom ceiling with a bumper. The number of heads depended on the sadism of the Provost Staff.

 

JLR RCT. Our little Tp Sgt (Small man syndrome) used to shove his pace stick up your nostrils, then tighten it just enough for it to hang there, obviously while you were stood to attention. When he was satisfied that you had nearly suffered enough he would walk over and "snatch" it away. Cue lots of bleeding and a nose that a habitual coke user would be proud of.

I'd like to say that I learned from it but looking back I really do believe he was just a bully and got a kick out of mistreating young lads.

 

Locking someone up in the turdis was a bit of a favourite of one Cpl.

 

this must be about 7 or 8 years back now.
my mate b### was in RRW.
The scene: RSM just new in post walking through camp. B### in his room in the block.
Now B### had just been paid you see & had treated himself to a new sterio system. of course, the first thing he does when finished plugging all the leads in, is to crank it up full 'pump up the volume, pump up the volume, dis, dis'!!!!!!! style & all that, doing a great job of keeping the whole camp entertained from his room, all for free like.
RSM follows the music like a sidewinder missile, straight to B###'s room & stands in the doorway, ear defenders on (well, b### was into s##t like metalica at that time, after all).
theres b### giving it large in his room, he turns turns & sees the RSM standing in the doorway. fantasic alterantive volume control apparently.
anyway, RSM says: 'B###, you got a choice, the sterio or you'
B### wisely replies: 'sterio sir'

exit RSM stage left, as B### proceeds to jail his sterio! usual stuff, at the double, marking time, the usual doubling & shouting at the sterio on the way to the guardroom, basicaly, the typical 'jailing yourself', but with the sterio! he had to march his sterio into a cell, give the sterio PT twice a day (running around carring the said sterio) & clean sterio's cell at 0500 every morning!

he laughs at this now, bit says he was a bit p###ed off at the time!