'KIN 'ELL !! been heavy in here today...so......

Discussion in 'NOW That's What I Call ARRSE 1' started by Auld_Sapper, Jul 12, 2004.

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  1. Auld_Sapper,

    Awesome stories, but tell me, did you ever get to work with...

    The one with the most tallys was Khan which is arabic for 'Flesh rendering,bone crunching,
    blood supping, bringer of death'.


    8O Since reading your tales my skiving has reached new heights!
     
  2. 8O 8O KHAN !!! Nope, thank feck ! The closest I came too Khan was working as a baiter for him and the mad,hairy,people eating Royal Hampshire cnut. Full padded suit and the big wire cage helmet job. Khan would launch himself into the air and body check ye to the deck, chomp on the wires of the helmet and dribble on ye to terrify and distract you, then nail the only part that was'nt padded, your boots !!
    Having got a grip of one of said boots he'd attenpt to seperate it from your ankle and drag you around the field like a rag doll until the mad,hairy, people eating Royal Hampshire cnut arrived. He'd have completely lost the plot by this stage due to his inability to seperate training from reality and would get laid in about you along with his dog and only when you screamed loud enough would he come too. At which point he would grunt his realisation, pause for a second, and then leap on Khan and wrestle him about the field until some semblence of order and control was attained.

    You only ever baited ONCE for Khan.
     
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  3. Some other photos of Der Hund and me just gone up on the gallery. I've got some better ones but they're packed somewhere at the mo. Enjoy :wink:






    Ubique ya bass !!!
     
  4. My first exposure to the Household Division came at the hands of the Welsh Guards who took over the TOAR for the winter tour and had thier HQ in The Mill. They were very active and the demand for dogs to help with the searches led the Bde Sgt to volunteer me and Stumpty as the extra bods to beef the section up. I'd dispatched the dog and me MFO box down to The Mill in a van and I followed later on on the motorbike resplendant in my pseudo easy rider outfit and dully arrived at the main gate where I was confronted by a six foot three, sheep shagging Blodwyn, who looked me up and down and threaten 'Oi, fack off paddy !' as he brandished his SLR at me.
    'FACKIN PADDY ! A'LL GIE YE FACKIN PADDY YA FACKIN WELSH OAF ! A'M SO AND SO THE NEW DUG HANDLER AN IT'S FACKIN CORPORAL TAE YOU !!' I ranted at the cnut who looked quizzically at his mate and told me to 'Fack off Paddy' again ! So I gave it too the cnut again, but this time remembed to remove my full face helmet !
    'Oh, right you are corp, sorry 'bout that. You did'nt look like a dog handler tho', is'nt it ? No dog you see.'
    'Cnut !' and I rode into The Mill on me trusty steed that was'nt to see the light off day for two bloody months.

    No sooner had I got the coat off and spoken to the guys than the tannoy
    went,
    'New dog handler too the ops room, is'nt it, boyo.'
    'Fack that was quick, wanting to welcome me already, hey ?' I enquired,
    'Yeah, summit like that,' said the Para, knowingly, but did'nt elaborate. So off I toddled to the Ops Room.
    'Who the fcuk are you!?' six foot six of incredibly shiny WO1 enquired when I wandered in,
    'Cpl so and so, new dog handler, pleased to meet you sir.'
    'I FCUKING WELL DOUBT THAT !!! ARE YOU THE FCUKING COWBOY THAT JUST RODE INTO MY CAMP OF A FCUKING MOTORBIKE !!!???' he had some set of lungs on him this cnut !
    'Erm, yessir.' I thought I better keep it short,
    'A FCUKING MOTORBIKE, DOWN HERE ??!! ARE YOU FCUKING STUPID ???!! WHAT FCUKING REGIMENT ARE YOU FROM ??!!'
    'Erm, no a Regiment sir, a'm a Royal Engineer.'
    'FCUKING CORPSMAN, SHOULD HAVE FCUKING KNOWN !! WHAT THE FCUK DO YOU THINK YOUR DOING RIDING ABOUT DOWN HERE, ON A FCUKING MOTORBIKE, FCUKING UNARMED AS WELL, ARE YOU A TOTAL TOSSER ??!!'
    'Erm, I was'nt, sir'
    'WAS'NT FCUKING WHAT ??!!'
    'Erm, unarmed sir. I, erm, had ma pistol. Tucked into the top o' ma wellies.' I added, helpfully. I really should have just shut up. He went facking ballistic and missed fack all. I got it. The length of my hair. My bumfluff 'tache. My Corp. The marital status of my parents was questioned and he finished his ear bursting rant with a'
    '...AND IF I CATCH SIGHT OF THAT FCUKING MOTORBIKE I'LL SHOOT THE FCUKING THING MYSELF. PERSONALLY !!!! NOW FCUK ORF !!!!'

    So, orf I fcuked, somewhat wiser and not a little deaf, and thought'
    'Jesus, this is gonna be some facking tour !'

    Anyhow, I got meself settled into one of the broom cupboards that passed for the Dog Section accomodation, hid the bike in the electricity switch room, and vowed too keep the heed doon and just stag on.

    TBC
     
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  5. Now, to get to the cookhouse from our broom cupboards we had to pass through the front doors of The Mill where there was a guardroom. In the corridor beside the guardroom was a huge table with the most awesome dispay of Regimental silver you ever clapped eyes on. Now why anyone could be arrsed humping all that lot from Pirbright just to decorate the corridors of a commandeered mill for four months is beyond me, but what the fack do I know. I'm only a facking Corpsman after all. My self pledge to keep the heed doon lasted a few weeks until someone in the Section produced some joke plastic dog shites ( I know, don't ask !!) and I'm afraid I just could'nt resist it.

    It was all a bit childish I suppose, but hey ho, twas a bit of fun. Anytime we passed the silver table I'd slip one of the plastic turds amongst the silver and then we'd hide up the corridor by the phones and watch as the Provost or some such would notice, with some horror,the offending item nestling amongst thier treasures and run away giggling like wee lassies when they realised, after some prodding with pace sticks, that it was'nt real. This went of for a couple of days until I'd run out of plastic tollies so, in the finest traditions of my Corp, I improvised.

    I saved one of Stumpys curlers and put it aside to cure. After a few days it's surface had dessicated enough that it could be handled and it was dully placed amongst the gleaming trophies. Taking up position at the phones to watch the fun unfold we were horrified to see that the first one too approach the table was the RSM !!
    'Fack this,' I thought, 'a'm aff !!' and as we buggered off to the cookhouse I thought to myself, 'Oh dear this could be bad !'

    It took five minutes for us to find out that it was badder than I could have imagined. It started with a roar that reverbarated through The Mill and ended up with the complete Dog Section in the office of one extremely hacked off Welsh Guards Rass Man.

    As related to us later by the guard commander, the Rass Man had arrived at the table and loudly announced his discovery of the turd amongst his silver. At this the Provost had appeared at his side and informed him that it was another of the stupid plastic dog sh!tes that, dog handlers probably, had put on the table over the past couple of days,
    'Oh fcuking really ?!' the Rass Man had responded and with a 'CNUTS !' had whacked the turd full on with his pace stick. The effect, as they say, was explosive.

    On contact with the pace stick the turd had detonated and not only did it spatter the surrounding Regimental silver, but, it got the Rass Man and the Provost too !

    'WHICH ONE OF YOU FACKIN W*NKERS IS RESPONSIBLE !!???' he roared like a wounded bull elephant as he stormed into the office.
    Silence. We stood firm, shoulder to shoulder, mano et mano, Unit solidarity in the face of this verbal onslaught.
    'IF I DON'T GET THE FCUKING CULPRIT RIGHT FCUKING NOW, YOU LOT WILL BE STAGGING ON IN THE SANGERS FOR THE REST OF YOUR FCUKING MISERABLE LIVES. NOW WHO THE FCUK WAS IT !!!??????'

    'IT WAS HIM !!' the b*stards denounced me with one voice, 'IT WAS HIM , SIR, WE TOLD HIM NOT TO, SIR !!! ' Grassing cnuts !

    'YOU, YOU FCUKING W*ANKER. I MIGHT HAVE GUESSED !!! GET YOUR FCUKING GEAR AND REPORT TO THE PROVOST. YOU'LL BE IN THAT FCUKING SANGER SO OFTEN YOU'LL THINK THE WHOLE FCUKING WORLD IS SQUARE AND BLACK !!!'
    'But I have'ny got a gun, sir, ' I whinged desperately, 'I've only got a pistol, a canny dae a stag wi' jist a pistol.'
    'FCUKING GUN ??!!, FCUKING PISTOL !!?? YER LUCKY I DON'T HAVE YOU PATROLLING CROSSMAGLEN IN YOUR SKIDDIES ARMED WITH A CATAPULT, NOW FCUK OFF AND IF YOUR NOT IN A FCUKING SANGER IN TEN I'LL GET FCUKING ANGRY !!!!!'

    He'd get fcuking angry ??!! Christ, I would'ny have liked to see him angry. I was changed and into a facking sanger in under five.

    Two facking weeks that went on for, and, the sanger they put me in was'ny even one of the ones that was used. It guarded fack all. I had plenty time to reflect on the error of me ways I can tell you.

    The Bde Sgt heard about it and, after the tw*t let me stew for a fortnight, and after a whole lot of 'You owe me big time for this, Jock' bullshit, he extracted me, the dug and my motor bike from The Mill that had now become my fackin prison. What a relief ,and, I was pleasantly surprised on my release to find that world was'nt square and black after all !




    Ubique ya bass !!!
     
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  6. :D Glad yer enjoying them folks. Suffering a bit o' writers block at the mo due to nightshifts/hangovers/trying to orginise a move abroad. I don't multi task very well !! I'll try and get some more done when ma heeds less o' a pund o'mince.



    Cheers






    Ubique ya bass !!!
     
  7. Tell em the one about when you put jam on your old fella and dared rinty to lick it off..................... :roll: :oops:
     
  8. 8O Fack !! Where did ye heard that about !?! Bubbling tw*ts ! Canny keep a secret !



    Ubique ya bass !!!
     
  9. The Sgt who had the dubious distiction of commanding twenty odd dug teams in the Brigade was obviously Pet Corp but essentially a decent spud. All he really wanted was a quiet life and seemed to work on the premise that " If I can keep these fackers busy they've less chance of causing mischief." and it was these charactaristics, not wanting hassle from above and inventing things for us too do, that probably led to the 'Bacon Tree' fiasco.

    A number of us were summoned up to H.K. (Head Kennels ! What else ?) for a 'Future Ops' briefing about something or other. We'd half been expecting it as we'd been up the week before to explain why we'd been barred from all the UDR clubs in the area for refusing to stand for the National Anthem at the end of a do we'd been invited too.

    Now, I will say, in our defence, that the do in question was a Country and Western Dance and the sight of a crowd that looked like the cast of Paint Your Wagon, standing rigidly to attention amongst the hay bale seats to the strains of God Save The Queen played in the Rawhide style by a full blown 'Yar-hoo' cowboy band from Belfast struck us a terribly funny and the more p!ssed off they got, the more ridiculous and hilarious we found the scenario until we were set upon by the James Gang and run out of the hall by a posse led by thier CSM who was dressed as Wyatt Earp.
    Proddie cowboys !! Nae sense of humour !!

    Anyhow, after a 'Idle hands' lecture from the Bde Sgt he tells us that he's been talking to the new Ops Officer from the, recently arrived, Light Infantry and he's got an interesting 'project' for us.
    We all groaned inwardly because 'project' was Pet Corpese for 'some other nonsense I've managed to get you fackers lumbered with.'

    '.....so,' he continued, 'you fackers are going to be doing Bacon Trees! First ones this weekend !'



    TDC
     
  10. 'Bacon trees ?? What the fcuk ye on about, sarge ?'
    'Bacon trees ! Ham bushes ! 'am bushes, gettit ?' he was really pleased with his joke, ' you're all going out on ambushes. With the Infantry. On the Border. 2 to 3 days at a time. In the field. Good eh ? Any thoughts ?'
    We had plenty !?!
    'We canny do facking ambushes, sarge !'
    'Why not, you're fcuking soldiers int you ?' he resisted, 'Gimme a good reason why you should'nt go on them, come on, I'll listen to you.'
    We all started..
    ' Well, firstly were no trained for it....'
    'Secondly it's fackin dangerous.......
    '..am no a soldier a'm an Engineer...'
    '..the dogs canny work at night....'
    '..what the fack do they want US with them for ?'....and on the whinges went...
    '..and fifty secondly, it's fackin dangerous !!'

    'C'mon, sarge, geeza break, we're sorry we upset the UDR, but fackin ambushes FFS ??!!'

    'Ok, Ok,' he held his hands up, 'this has nothing to do with you lot upsetting the UDR,' he lied, 'this is all about us providing the best dog support we can,' he bulls!tted, 'and anyway the Yanks used ambush dogs in Vietnam !' he added, helpfully.
    'They lost !' grumbled the Chunkie, ' what are we supposed to do on ambushes. It's search dogs we've got !'

    'Look !' the BdeSgt continued, ' yer dogs have all got the same senses. They'll be able to detect targets coming into the area well before humans can and indicate that fact silently.' I seriously doubted that !! 'and if it does kick off, your right on scene to do clearances and detections.'

    I tried to visualise how calm the Stump would be for searching after a couple of sections of the LI had 'kicked off' an ambush with gunfire, shermulys and all the other fackin ordinance they took with them on these things.

    'And anyway' he continued, ' I know for a fact that some of you fackers have already been out on ambushes and some of you have been training for it. Well, you have have'nt you ?'

    All eyes turned on Taff, who was Welsh and from the RWF. He was a good mate but a complete fecking war monger. He'd been the cnut that had taken himself out on ambushes and patrols, but, he'd not taken the dog. Just wanted to 'keep the old hand in, is'nt it ? Maybes bag a few Provos like, bach, boyo, is'nt it ?' and the 'training' we'd been doing was an effort to get some of the dogs used to sneaky beaky type work in the wake of the 'THEM' debacle with me and Stumpy.

    We tried to explain !

    'LISTEN !! ye war dodging fackers ! Yer going on these fackin ambushes and thats that. First ones are on Friday and you two fackers are first up for it !!'

    'Cnut. Typical, ' I muttered, ' 2 Paras, a war mongering Welshman and a Queens Own Highlander and the cnut picks a Wedgehead and a Chunkie for this bollox.'
    'What was that ??'
    'Nothing sarge. We're onto it.' I glared darkly at the grinning grunts and wondered how the fack I was going to cam up a torn faced yellow labrador.

    TBC
     
  11. :D Christ, I wish dude !! A blonde one wi' big bosoms that can type wi' her mouth full !! Anyway, on with the two finger typed tale.

    Friday came soon enough and, earlier in the day, I'd gone down to the base where we were starting this nonsense from. I'd met the patrol commander and got all the gen on how this ambush cobblers worked and, with the help of one of our resident Paras, set about getting me kit sorted out for what was to be a 24 hourer.
    'Whats this for ?' he asked as he held up my neatly packed mess tins,
    'Washing and shaving kit, boot kit, spare socks and shreddies.' I said proudly, having packed my CEFO as per some Inf training stuff I'd done eons ago.
    'oh FFS !' and they landed on a pile of my gear he'd already extracted and lobbed into the corner, ' it's a fackin ambush yer going on, no 10 days fackin manouvres ! And whats this FFS ?'
    'Erm, a book. Case I get bored !'
    ' Jesus Christ !'
    Guess where it ended up !

    After he'd stripped me down to the bare essensial, he even took me doss bag FFS, he rummaged about in the gun box,
    'Here, I orginised these for you.' and handed me four Browing mags full of bullets, 'these are all I could get I'm afraid.'
    'What the fack do I need these for these for, I canny hit b*gger all in daylight with this thing let alone at night !!'
    'Christ ! ye can always use them to top yerself if yer captured.'
    'What ? Shoot meself ?'
    'Naw, swallow them in a oner, you'll choke quicker than you can shoot yerself, cnut. Now stand still and I'll cam ye up,'

    Now, whilst all this was going on the Stump was curiously watching from one of the bunks as he idley chewed on someones shoe. I'd decided to keep him indoors prior to the off seeing as how he was such a grumpy fcuk if ye woke him up. So after I'd had me 'full face' applied it was his turn.
    'Come 'ere son, get yer cam on.'
    He slinked off the bed and wandered over with a sort off 'What the fack are you pair up too ' look and when he reached us the Para gripped him by the collar and I started applying liberal ammounts of cam cream over him.
    'What the fcuks this shite !?!' he whinged, ' gerroff me ya cnuts !!'
    'Stand still ya wee fcuk, it'll only take a mo !'
    'Gerroff ya fcukers !! look at the facking state ye've got me in ! ' he struggled.
    Job done we let him go and he bolted to the other side of the room and gave us the big glare as we laughed at the state of him, wish I'd had a facking camera I can tell ye.
    'Fack! this tasted horrible !!' as he tried to lick it off, ' and it'll gimme fackin plukes !!'
    'C'mon ya whinging midget, let's go too war boy !!' I clipped him up and dragged him out the door as he tried to get the cam cream off his tongue
    'Fackin maniacs !!' he spat.


    TBC
     
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  12. I met up with the rest of the patrol at the gates and thanks to our resident Para me and the Stump looked just as mean and warry as the rest of them.
    'Jump !!' says the patrol commander
    'Eh ?'
    'Jump. Up and down !'
    'What the fcuk for ?'
    'To see if you rattle you cnut ! Now jump !'
    So I jumped. Hah ! No rattles.
    He stood looking at Stumpy who, still with a monk on, sat staring back.
    'If ye can get him to jump up and down your a better handler than me sarge !'
    'Cnut, I don't want him to jump, it just I've never seen a dog with cam cream on before. It looks fackin weird !'
    'It'll be the last time ye see it too,' grumbled the Stump, 'pair o' barstewards !'
    And with that we mounted the chariots that would whisk us to war and climbed into the back of a pair of scabbie civvy Sherpa vans and headed out the gates.

    TBC
     
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  13. So, off we heads, all crammed into the backs of these vans. It only took about twenty minutes but it seemed like an eternitey. The Stump had done his usual 'Im just a little hungry labrador, gimme some grub and I'll be your friend for life' routine he always did when he met folk for the first time and, getting fack all, was sitting in a huff at the back of the van. I was bricking myself and hoping against hope that we could pull this off without a repeat of our previous night time fiasco.
    We were told when it was couple of minutes from the drop off and, for me, the silence in the back of the van was ominous. The atmosphere was like shagging under canvas, fcuking in-tents, but everybody else just seemed focused, well, for bar the Stump who was sulking about 'fackin cam cream, fackin barstewards and no fackin grub' but he was'nt as wound up as I'd expected which was a plus.

    The vans dully came to a halt and, except for the racket the hounds claws made on the van floor as he tried to get out first and his grunting and snorting as I held him back, the first bit went well.
    One of the LI ambushers had been allocated as cover man for us so we just followed him and did what he did and we eventually stopped and took up position in this bit of woodland.
    'This is the LUP dog handler' whispered the boss LI ambusher 'OK ?'
    'Erm, aye, erm whats a LUP ?'
    'Oh FFS !' as he explained ',..and this is where you come too between stags and where we RV if theres a bug out.'
    'Eh, right, RV's, bugs eh, yeah fine.' I actually knew what he was on about but sounded like a right tube as my mind was going ten to the dozen, twas a combination of the sort of tension being on these things brings anyway, a rising sense of panic that it would go t*ts up and just bricking it anyway. The dog was up on his toes as well. He was used to getting out of camp and getting on with things and he wanted to get on with it, sitting thier with the ears up and trembling with the tension, still he held it together and did'nt start coming the cnut.

    First off half the ambush went off to get everything into place. You should have seen this, a few extra Gimpys, trip flares and what looked suspiciously like a couple of Claymores, I sh!t you not ! Claymores FFS, I thought we were out to catch a couple of welly wearing Paddys armed with Armalites, this lot could have dealt with the whole Chinese Army and still had stuff to spare at the end. Still, twas a bit of comfort to know that there was no facker going to out shoot us this night.
    Me and the canine early warning system were to go into the ambush about an hour or so later, once I'd made sure the dog was settled enough.
    I was really looking forward too it !!
    I briefed the dog while we waited.
    'You ARE fcuking shitting me, ain't you ?' he glared at me in the darkness, ' you're facking barking you are !' he huffed and flopped himself down on the ground, 'completley fackin barking !'

    Then he was up on his toes again, growling, as we heard someone approach.


    TBC
     
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  14. Erm, morning folks. I'm really sorry aboot the delay here but we had a fack off electrical storm here yesterday ! There I was chapping away, there was a bang and a flash and everything went dark. Could'ny get the 'puter working again so had too wait for no.1 son to return. Internal fuses or some such. Anyway, sorted now.

    Anyhoo, where were we ?..
     
  15. So, I've got the Stump by the muzzle trying to keep him quiet and out of the gloom appears the head LI ambusher,
    'Ready Jock ?'
    'Naw, am fackin no, but lets go anyway. Come on you, lets go and be fackin quiet.' I hissed.
    'Cnut !' grumbled the dug and of we crept after the head LI ambusher.

    It was only a couple of hundred yards to the ambush position but it seemed to take ages and the pair of us must have sounded like a herd of fackin elephants. I swear I walked into every branch, stepped on every fackin twig and tripped on everything there was to trip on. Half the problem was the mutt who, thinking he was on walkies, was pulling ahead on the lead like a tractor but we eventually got there and plonked ourselves down where the head LI ambusher had indicated.

    Now I knew where I was supposed to be as per the briefing, somewhere in the middle of this ambushy thing but I could have been on my tod in the middle of nowhere.
    'Fack this for a game of soldiers.' I thougt miserably.
    'What now, ya cnut ?' figeted the canine early warning system.
    'Shut up and lie still or yer for it.' I gave him a tug on the lead to reinforce the point, 'this is fackin dangerous so be quiet.'
    'Cnut.' he huffed.


    Ten minutes passed.
    'I'm bored boss !' he rustled as he moved about.
    'Fack sake, be still ya cnut. Here huv a biscuit.'
    'Oo ta ! chomp chomp chomp.'



    Another ten minutes.
    'Is it time to go yet, boss ?' he tried to get up and I forced him back down beside me.
    'Oh FFS, here huv a biscuit.'
    'Oo ta ! chomp chomp chomp.'



    And so it went fackin on...
    'Bos......'
    'Biscuit !'
    'Ta, chomp chomp chomp.'




    'Bo....'
    'Biscuit !'
    'Don't wanna biscuit, wanna drink.'
    'Fack sake ! here !'
    'Ta glug glug glug'


    'B.....'
    'Biscuit !? drink !?'
    'No.'
    'No ?!'
    'Wanna pish !'
    'Jesus Chri...eek !!' I stiffled a squeal as the head LI ambusher's hand came down on my shoulder'
    'Look, if you can't be fackin quiet, fack off back to the LUP will you !' he whispered loudly.
    'It's no me, it's this impatient little cnut here !'
    'Eh ?, it's fackin well you I can hear rabbiting on about fackin biscuits ! Now if you can't be quiet, fack off !'
    'Right !' I huffed, 'a ken where am no wanted ! Come on ya little pest.' and we crept back towards the LUP concentrating like b*ggery so's not to waken the dead.



    TBC
     
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