Army Rumour Service

Register a free account today to become a member! Once signed in, you'll be able to participate on this site by adding your own topics and posts, as well as connect with other members through your own private inbox!

Medals stolen!

Bris

LE
22 years mate , medals must be someware and why should i pay for medals that wernt even burnt or stolen
On the flip side; Why should the government pay for your poor admin in not picking them up?

Edit: I left my mountain bike in the loft of the Mess in Gutersloh. I've not asked HM Government to buy me a new one.
 
Last edited:

ugly

LE
Moderator
Well you did leave them and asked for an opinion which seems correct even if unwelcome!
 
22 years mate , medals must be someware and why should i pay for medals that wernt even burnt or stolen

Maybe because you failed to remember you had them, thereby being responsible for their loss (to you). I regret to inform you that I would swallow the cost to replace them and chalk it up to a life lesson.
 
not asking anyone to pay for them.. You sighn for everything in army(dont sighn you dont get),i sighned them in but not out so now there gone...thin air !!
 

ugly

LE
Moderator
You are asking the taxpayer to pay
 

OldSnowy

LE
Book Reviewer
Here's the rules:

If they are stolen and you have a police number then write to the Medals Office at Innsworth and they may send you a replica set. They will be stamped "duplicate". If you have no police ref then you have to buy replacements as you lost them. Simple as.

Posted from the ARRSE Mobile app (iOS or Android)
 
Here's the rules:

If they are stolen and you have a police number then write to the Medals Office at Innsworth and they may send you a replica set. They will be stamped "duplicate". If you have no police ref then you have to buy replacements as you lost them. Simple as.

Posted from the ARRSE Mobile app (iOS or Android)
The medal with have an 'R' stamped on the rim after the personal details: replacement, not duplicate.
ImageUploadedByARRSE1433637201.340065.jpg



Posted from the ARRSE Mobile app (iOS or Android)
 
'sign' or 'signed'.

Switch on Autocorrect, FFS: it's making my eyes bleed.
I like the concept of 'sighning' for your kit. 'Sighning'- That involuntary expulsion of air when you sign something the SQMS puts under your nose that you just know is going to come back and bite you in the arse.
 
Last edited:
I like the concept of 'sighning' for your kit. 'Sighning'- That involuntary expulsion of air when you sign something the SQMS puts under your nose that you just know is going to come and bite you in the arse.

Particularly if it's a Shiny Thing, as you know some clerk will steal it at the first opportunity, much like the OP's medals.
 

Nitroxpuppy

War Hero
If it takes less than a 2 man team to carry your rack off then it and your 'service' are worth **** all.

AM
 

Nitroxpuppy

War Hero
Sorry ugly, didn't mean to upset you, I meant to say that anyone who can put all their medals in one pocket is clearly a no show and not worthy of any form of respect,. Ive got pockets like a clown.Bugger , not naafi is it?
 

ugly

LE
Moderator
Sorry but I've known plenty of funerals where the GSM had to be loaned for the service as the lad hadn't been issued it before dying!
 

XPara Mugg

War Hero
Sorry ugly, didn't mean to upset you, I meant to say that anyone who can put all their medals in one pocket is clearly a no show and not worthy of any form of respect,. Ive got pockets like a clown.Bugger , not naafi is it?

Interesting take on medals (or lack of) and their importance.

Back in the nineties I was visiting my family who are concentrated in a small town on the Manotoba/Saskatchewan border. This came about because a number of female relatives married into a group of RCAF fliers who all joined from this town. On outbreak of war they had set off for Winnipeg to join up. Amongst this group of young men was a slightly older man who had some experience as a pilot of mail service planes, courier flights and crop dusting etc.. By the time they got to the city, strange to say, they all went off to join the RCAF rather than the army (other than John, who caught a later train and went to the army recruiting office as planned, and spent the war in the RCA). Most served in bombers.
Some returned and all received a substantial rack for their efforts. Except the 'old boy' who was rejected for operational service but was fast tracked into post as a flying instructor. Subsequently he made a major contribution to The British Commonwealth Air Training Plan. In fact he was already an instructor quickly enough to instruct some of his neighbours towards the end of their training. He then taught hundreds, possibly thousands more.

Now back to my visit in 1992. Sadly, just before I arrived, the old boy died. My brother, as post commander of the Royal Canadian Legion had the responsibility for arranging the military aspects of the funeral. He found himself inundated with post, calls etc. from round the world. Former fliers wishing to attend or just sending their condolences.

Come the day of the funeral, a hot August afternoon on the baking prairie, the assembled mourners looked like a bomber and fighter command combined reunion. All crisp white shirts, RAF, RCAF berets and sidecaps and Legion berets. Also what looked like the world's supply of DSOs, DFCs, AFCs, DFMs etc.. I have honestly never seen so many awards in the same place at the same time. The coffin was draped in the 'Red Duster' Canadian flag as was common for those who served under it. It was topped with his flying helmet, gloves and a medal cushion. A bare, empty medal cushion. I remember thinking that this was a bit insensitive as he had no medals and it should have been left off. Surely some mistake. But it was deliberate. The consensus amongst the fliers present, decorated or simply bemedalled, was that if he hadn't taught them the skills they needed, they wouldn't have had the medals they received.

I was honoured to be invited to the post funeral reception where I talked to some of the men who had arrived from UK, Australia, New Zealand, USA and elsewhere. Stories of 1940 to 1945 abounded. I couldn't count the number of times the story of some outrageously brave or hair raising flying feat was deprecatingly rounded off with, 'and Old Bill saved my life that time, for sure'.

That was a rack you could fit in a pocket.

Sorry for the length of the post. Maybe you had to be there. I was privileged that I was.




It got a bit dusty in here while I typed that.
 

New Posts

Latest Threads

Top