Cock ups...

Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by reassuringly_badgers, Jul 9, 2005.

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  1. What's your worst co'ck up? (Professional or otherwise)...

    Sadly no blindingly stupid stories spring to mind concerning myself [no really...] but I'll share this story from the Old Man's days in The Green Machine.

    My Dad never did any work during his time. He spent his commision pansying around in the Rockys, Pyranees and Alps. However on the rare occasion he would put in a bit of token playtime on Exercise...

    One fine German day, on a jolly from Belson, he was bouncing along in an landrover with his sgt. I have no idea what brought him to do it but it was probably on a glorified playground during some great ex. His job was to lob large French Crackers at the enemy from a safe distance behind the inf line. Stopping only to chuckle when one or two fell short...

    So, anyway, here he is, in a landy with snco and they come to some great crater of a quarry. Seeing it is disused and there is a track running through the centre they decide to cross it rather than go round. Now, the whole quarry floor is made of some kind of damp sandy quagmire. And guess what, it's been raining hard beforehand! They charge forward and make good ground but the inevitable happens and half-way through the bowl floor the landy wheels begin to spin. And a bit more. Until they are burning rubber in a very much stationary position. Cr.ap, they rather cleverly declare.

    With their transport very firmly stuck in terra firma, they are forced to slog back to Belson [or it may have been Falingbostle <sp?>] and the Old Man has the unenviable task of knocking on the Colonel's door and saying,

    "Ahem, err, sir, well I'm afraid I just lost one of your landrovers in a quarry."

    Now the CO was a nice chap, and gave Dad a bit of slack and sent him out with the 5 tonne rescue vehicle.

    So, taking said vehicle, and a few men within grabbing distance, he heads off for aforementioned quarry. They set the wrecker up on the firm side of the bowl of rice-crispies and attach ropes to the LR, now with most of it's chassis submerged.

    Gears, motors and winches turn and the landy begins to shake a bit and shows every sign of coming to land. Then, just as it looked good, a loud crack resounds from rescue vehicle and it begins to roll down the slope and head for the sinky-sand. Another cunning observation of "SH'IT" escapes the Old Man's lips.

    With a desperate feeling of deja vu, they head back to camp again, on foot, landy and wrecker less and once again Lt *****'s knuckles hit the boss's door.

    "Ah yes, fabulous, have you got my rover back?"
    "Umm, no sir, I'm afraid I lost the rescue vehicle."

    CO-coffee/subaltern interface ensues.

    Now, as I said, the Colonel was a good chap, and he had a sense of humour, so he gave the order for the regimental rugby match to be cancelled and the men to be moved to surround the quarry. He then gave, not without qualms, the ten-tonne wrecker to my Dad.

    With full permission, the men cheered and laughed and cried as the Old Man rescued the two vehicles floundering in the quagmire.

    I bet the engineers loved him when they cleaned out the sand from the engine! :lol:



    I've just remembered how I p*ssed myself on rcb, but that's for another day...