Oddballs from training.

Discussion in 'The Lamp and Sandbag II - The Tall Story Strikes B' started by Mighty_doh_nut, Jul 22, 2005.

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  1. Whilst Basic training and induction maybe a distant memory for many of the crusty old gits on here I'm sure memories of the characters you joined up with remain with you to this day.

    I joined as a Junior Leader in 1988 and can recal day one week one as if it was yesterday..... greeted by a red nosed Scots DG Sgt who hated us extra specially more because our train had been held up at Waterloo, it was clearly our fault and not the Railways.... Apparently his wife wasn't ugly and he wasn't on salad that night.

    Shown to our rooms and a battle for the bedspaces with strange lads with silly accents from all over the country.

    In my room I had a Black fella with a serious w@nking addiction, not shy would return from the shower with a towel round his waste, stand inside his locker doors and knock one out, then bimble back to the bogs to get some bog roll to mop up his paste from the bottom of his tardis.

    There was a geordie fella called Palmer, at 16 yrs old he would wake in the morning sounding like a 65 yr old with emphasemia... he would open the window and hock a dockers omlette that would stick a bison to the floor. He walked at the end of the week with some bullsh1t story that he was too violent for a career in the forces. In truth he was a wet that couldn't hack it

    We had a bloke who's reg number was one up from mine who cried himself to sleep at night and couldn't get out of his scratcher in the morning...... really popular fella when we ended up doing his block jobs. (vaguely remember him getting a Regi bath and a mild shoeing)

    Best of all there was 'Sweet feet Pete' a brummy, going to the 16/5th his feet honked like nothing on earth, he wasn't a grot by any means, but if he took his shoes / boots / PT trainers off you had to move away or you would be physically barfing. For a brummy he was very very posh and from a well to do family. They must have been outraged when he enlisted instead of opting for a comission.

    Knowing how badly this fellas feet hummed the training Corporal soon cottoned on that they could be used to his advantage.

    If we fcuked up, or if our Erasmus shaving foam tins still had signs of paint on them or our socks weren't smiley enough, we would have to lick between 'Sweet feets' toes, and chew on his feet.... at worst suck the juice from his socks.

    Knowing this was always a punishment, we used to let him off block jobs, so he could soak his feet so they wouldn't taste so bad....

    Everything in the cookhouse for over six months tasted like toe jam and I reckon its the only hing on an equal parr to being a skiff victim. As I write this now I am chomping on a penguin its begining to taste like foot sweat residue.

    If that Trg Cpl is a memebr of Arrse then be aware, some of us are permanently scarred.
     
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  2. I had never met a hardcore Glaswegian Loyalist Rangers fan until I joined the army aged 16. It helped me realise, quite quickly, the mess I'd gotten myself into.

    This Jock would mumble prayers at the end of his bunk every night which ended in him hollering "and fcuk tha Pope!" upon which he would punch his own lights out, fall into his pit and go to sleep.

    As we were sharing the same end of the room he said to me:

    "Are ye fcuking Cath'lik?"

    "No, I'm Jewish."

    "WTF is that? It's no Cath'lik?"

    "No."

    "That's all fcuking right then."

    This is absolutely true. He assured me that there was a regiment of terrifying Caledonian gunners, all of whom were related, to which he was to be posted to join his brother (who, after 18 years, had been catapulted to the rank of Gunner).

    He was one of the more normal lads in the Troop.

    V!
     
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  3. JLR RCT\RAOC '87 Bond Troop, 57 Junior Leaders Sqn RCT at Colerne. We started with 45 bods, 15 passed out and 10 made it to working units. Now thats selection! We had a guy who was forever boastful about how he was a Royal Marine cadet and how hard he was. He left after 7 weeks completely unable to hack it.
    One fantasticly weak lad by the name of Buxton who was unable to do more than 3 push ups, was made, during one early SAA lesson, along with several of us to run around the RT Wing Hanger with SLRs held above our heads for some minor indiscretion or other. We had all arrived back in the classroom a little out of breath and the instructor carried on. After a few mins the instructor asked where Buxton was. Right on cue the training room door burst open and there was Buxton, whit as a sheet, sweating and completely knackered. The SAA inst questioned Buxton as to his whereabouts for the past few missing minutes. His reply was 'I had a heart attack sarn't', 'What!' replied the instructor. 'Why arn't you dead then?' he followed. The reply wnd following action will stay with me till my dying day. Buxton replied with 'I kept myself going by hitting my heart like this', he then proceeded to beat his chest like a weak Gorilla with one hand. He didn't last much longer after that.
     
    Last edited: May 14, 2014
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  4. I remember the guy nicknamed "Gluey the Space Cadet" (can't remember his real name).

    It was during the drugs and alcohol lecture. The lecturer said "I'm sure that there are people in this room that have taken drugs before" when Gluey throws his hand up and says "I used to sniff Glue".

    Cue looks at him from the whole room with comments like "explains alot", etc.

    The Instructor replies with "Thanks for that, I didn't want volunteers". :lol:
     
  5. Le-Cateau Troop, Woolwich. Nov 78..

    I still remember being collected from the station at Woolwich, coming from Sutton Coldfield, in the obligatory green van and thinking how "friendly" the NCO was until we drove through the camp gates and all hell broke loose......

    Happy memories of breaking the ice at the "Dell" before we all plunged in, slipping on all the rotting logs at the bottom, watching bed blocks, clothing, etc etc being thrown from the first foor windows (luckily i was on the ground floor) standing on the steam that poured out from the drain cover outside the block only to find that it had ruined your hard worked bulled boots just before and inspection, a mistake you only made once trust me . :)

    I remember one morning parade where as usual we had been up all night cleaning the bogs, bulling boots, expending enough starch on our uniforms to keep then standing on their own, etc etc, so very sleep if any at all, when during the inspection i noticed a dark tunnel in my peripheral vision, which kept on getting closer and closer until, bam, i must have passed out because as i fell i was grabbed under each arm and dragged off the parade square by two NCO's, all i could think about was that my immaculate boots were getting scraped to buggery, they slapped me about a bit, asked if i had breakfast, which i hadnt because i didnt have enough time, threatened me with a charge for missing a "Queens parade" and them had me run around the parade square until i had "recovered" a bit......

    Ah, happy days... ;)
     
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  6. Ha, ha ,ha. I remember him well mate. I was billeted next door to you lot in Gale troop.
     
  7. Colvin troop 82 sqn JLRRE 1986

    the blokes in my room were all f*cking weird ... apart from me.

    there was a Taff c-unt called bellew who thought he was hard as nails, turned out to be a right cry baby and used to whimper in his sleep.

    drummond slept opposite me, and had spots upon spots upon spots, he used to cut the heads off them with his nail scissors, he was about 4' 2" tall and flat footed so if he was behind you on a run it sounded like he had fins on.... he also had a habit of leaving his foot locker unlocked and invariably would be force fed all the stickies in it by our DS and would then get the pint of milk in there poured over his head which would then soak into our lovely waxed wood floor making it reek like an abbatoir ... he lasted about 3 weeks

    one of the lads from Wigan was one of the last YTS entries and earnt about 2 pence a month, consequently he was always scabbing wash kit etc and i caught him pulling an old bic orange razor out of the bin one day, he tipped me a wink and said
    "eeh theres plenty of mileage in this fooker yet shortfuse"

    my bezzer in training was a bloke from south shields called Barry, he f*cking malleted me in the milling before admitting he was the north eastern under 15's champion, we used to get the Ferry as foot passengers in Dover and get langered on duty frees for the return trip before stumbling into "the Roman Quay" for more beers and a kicking from the Irish Rangers.

    another guy paddy colhoun used to play the f*cking bag pipes and talked like the Gyppo in snatch .. i never understood one word the f*cker said in a whole year of training.

    When i got to Gib barracks there was a bloke who could do the whole theme tune to the Ateam like a human beat box ... it was f*cking hysterical, he was also dubbed "duty hero" for his weirdness by the DS there, one of them would throw a stone and scream "DUTY HERO..... GRENAAAADE SAVE THE TROOP"
    and he would have to hurl himself on this stone and pretend to blow himself up.... watermanship was a f*cking hoot, you'd be out on Hawley lake and hear

    PLOP

    "DUTY HEROOOOO GRENAAAAAAAAAAAAADE"

    and in he'd go to "smother the blast"
     
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  8. cpunk

    cpunk LE Moderator

    We had a strange 'un in my platoon at Sandhurst. He was a small weaselly bloke who was actually destined for the regiment I wound up in: let's call him Weasel. We did a defence exercise on Sennybridge a bit before Christmas and, after a couple of days of live firing, finally got out on the area and started digging holes. Weasel was paired with another guy in my platoon (who is now a Tory MP) as the digging started and we'd been at it for about twelve hours (and had thus got down about six inches) when there was a strange, hollow clang. We all looked around to see the future Tory MP dropping to his knees, and then flopping over on his side, and Weasel standing over him, clutching his GS shovel. Oh dear: for reasons which remain unexplained, and which Weasel claimed were the result of an unfortunate clash of digging implements, Weasel had tw@ted his oppo on the head, rendering him hors de combat for what turned out to be a year. Regrettably, nobody had seen the incident and, in the spirit of democracy, Weasel was given the benefit of the doubt and cracked on.

    That evening, I got tasked to lead a recce patrol to go and find a small basha-ful of masturbating Gurkhas, and one of my elite team was Weasel. Off we went, through the p1ssing rain, found them, fiddled about for a while, and then went home. As I did the patrol report, someone came in to report that Weasel was missing. A quick check through the position revealed that he'd fecked off, taking his rifle with him. Hmmm. Suddenly the DS remembered that we'd been live firing the previous day. Had Weasel kept any rounds? Sh1te!

    We spent the next few hours combing through the area, to no avail, before it was decided that Weasel had done a real runner, at which point our platoon commander came out of hiding and we got on with the exercise.

    Weasel turned up two days later at a Welsh police station, handed in his SLR, got a lift back to Sandhurst, packed up his kit and fecked off. Future Tory MP got Y-listed, developed severe delusions of grandeur, swapped from the LI to the Life Guards and schlepped into a safe seat in south east England. If pushed, I would say I preferred Weasel.
     
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  9. woopert

    woopert LE Moderator

    Buller Barracks in 1991 Pre-RCB (as it was then) with the RCT. We had this nut-job who we called "Tackleberry" as he wouldn't tell anyone his name (or we couldn't remember it). On day 1 when he was issued his coveralls the legs were a bit short so he took out this Rambo knife and slashed the crotch out to make them longer. The guys in his room thought him a bit odd so on the first night they locked him in the room rather than go to the NAAFI with him and he jumped out of the 1st floor window spraining his ankle. That night he slept with his knife under his pillow and set his alarm clock for 0530 even though we didn't need to be up until 7. He spent the next hour and a half knackering himself out (and pi55ing off his room-mates) doing PT by his bed. When he turned up outside to go off with his syndicate to the first exercise he was wearing a bandanna on his head.

    He spent the next 2 days being a total maniac until the final race when all the syndicates had the final race. rather than the "DS approved" method for scaling the high wall he stood up and invited the members of the syndicate to jump up and climb using his head. He didn't need to ask twice and 2 of them crashed into each other trying to jump on him. Not surprisingly, he didn't progress far.
     
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  10. Oddballs from training.........like the lad who gave himself a neck shave with a bic razor, but went too far with one stroke and decided to shave he's entire head........with the same razor. He actually ended up in Battalion but was discharged some time later after breaking into Boscombe Down and getting into the seat of a plane.

    The divvy in the Plt behind who tipped up wearing DMS, barrack dress trousers and Jersey HW.....when asked why, replied "thought I'd save the army some money". He was booted out some weeks later after being caught by the guard prowlers by the basingstoke canal cammed up. He claimed he was sighting gun positions "just in case"

    The lad who suddenly 'got Jesus' and decided he couldn't kill. The plt staff dealt with it in a way which suprised me no end.........he was allowed to attend some faith gathering and eventually drifted away (can't recall whether it was civvy st or another unit)

    The complete west country werzel who was a thick as a double ditch but fit as feck, he and the mad Rangers fan (every plt has one) had a long running feud which ended up in one feck off nasty punchup during NAAFI break of all things. Werzel was binned sometime after and the Ranger's fan joined Battlion........Snedders if your out there.......feck the queen, long live the pope.

    .......I'm sure theres more, this thread has got me thinking now.
     
  11. colenso troop 78 and the dell was lukewarm
     
  12. Bassingbourn Barracks - long hot summer of '76

    Pte. P***s who with hindsight was probably a savant of sorts - could remember all sorts of detail - names of the staff, fire orders for the guard, etc. but had the IQ of a flip flop and the common sense of a cheese and chutney sandwich. He was heavily into body building a la Charles Atlas' 'Dynamic Tension' method. The up shot of this was he was always interlocking his fingers and pulling and releasing accompanied by a strained look on his face that suggested he was trying to pass a DMS boot through his sphincter. His told us his father was a professor but at the time we didn't know he was actually a Punch and Judy man whose name was 'Professor Percy P***s'!
     
  13. had the exact same problem when I went through gib, only it was the diehard rangers fan, and he occupied the bedspace opposite me whilst doing our B3.

    usual morning conversation,whilst waiting for inspection would follow as such:

    Rangers-fan- 'Ach oo noo hoch grrr grr brrl hoch spak'

    Me, with naive canadian ears unaccustomed to the thicker 'weegie' accents: 'What?'

    Rangers-fan 'Ach oo noo hoch grrr grr brrl hoch spak fcuks sake'

    Me- 'fcuk you too, speak english'

    rangers-fan 'ach oo noo hoch fcuk ah doo spik anglish ya cnut'


    turns out he was asking about my family
     
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  14. Damn it, i knew that November was a bad time to start training.... :lol:
     
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  15. Brat School (REME) 1991

    young medic lad called hampshire who was the skinniest man ive ever seen and could not get things right ever, he would tick tock everywhere and never grasped washing even after a year in the college.

    a big jock guy from the outer hebs called Russell who hated another jock guy and used to beat him at every opportunity. 10 years later i bumped into russell in batus and we had a beer. unluckily we bumped into the other jock lad and russell beat him again!

    charlie ch***ers who was one of the trg full screws, called everyone "Soviets". Ted Cam***ll QLR who called everyone "purple heads" Mark T**k who called everyone lizards

    a mad PARA WO called serg**-M**n who scared the shit out of everyone without even speaking very much. then there was all the Guards CSM's and the RSM.

    cracking two years!!