Speedy
LE
A couple more dits...
Radio Procedure:
As my unit was one of the very first to arrive and we all sat in Baldrick Lines ‘waiting for the boat’ our higher-ups decided it would be a great idea if we could help our American allies by taking up some of the slack, which is why we ended up with the responsibility of manning two sangers at the end of Al Jubayl docks with callsigns of Grey Cat One and Grey Cat Two.
With two of us allocated to each and pulling a 12 hour shift we scanned the waters around the harbour, roasted in the sun and got very bored.
After a week or so doing these the admin finally got sorted and we ended up with meals brought to us and brew kit issued (water to be boiled on a hexi stove).
I was during this time that on one shift my sangar (Grey Cat Two) ran out of milk.
So I did the only thing I could do and got on the radio to ask the other sangar if they had any spare.
Now this is where I realise I’d been a little foolish. The radio was provided by the Americans and on their net.
I was promptly told off by whoever was monitoring the net. It was also at this point I realised that our coy commander, an A&SH Aden veteran came on the net to berate me as he’d managed to get a set in his office.
Then he decided that wasn’t enough and came for a visit.
I was royally dragged over the coals and, quite rightfully, put in my place for making us Brits look unprofessional.
A week later we found ourselves in an identical position with no milk at our sangar with hours to go before our relief decided that I should try something different.
‘Hello Grey Cat One, this is Grey Cat Two, over’
‘This is Grey Cat One, send over’
‘Do you have any bovine mammary fluid in your location, over’
‘Roger, over…’
And I got away with it that time. I shudder to think of the trouble I would have been in had I been rumbled!
As an afternote, our OC turned out to be an utterly top bloke. He was the 2 i/c HQ Regt 1(BR) Corps (my parent unit) and he did a hell of a lot for us without our realising until much, much later. From acquiring lots of US parkas to help with stagging on once we’d gone into the desert, to buying lots of thermos flasks and allowing local sellers to setup stalls once or twice week in Baldrick Lines who would sell you camp beds, blankets and other such things to make life a little easier.
Maj Ca*****l-Ba****n I salute you (and apologies for being a PITA that day!).
Don’t say a f*****g word!:
During the air war I was at Log Base Alpha at the HQ FFMA. We’d alternate between there (stagging on) and the HQ FMA back in Al Jubayl doing my main role as driver.
Jubayl was nice as we’d have access to decent beds and showers, however, during the air war we’d frequently be woken up several times a night for scud and air raid alerts and sleep was hard to come by. Up in the desert however it was a different matter, once 7pm had come around there was very, very little to do, and by 8pm everyone not on duty or the night shift was generally asleep.
With no sirens going off we were generally assured of a good nights sleep until the following morning when we had to stand too in the freezing cold and wet. I found out much later that most UK units in theatre had abandoned this practice as being pointless unless at the front.
It was during one of these nights that at around 2am we were all woken by a terrific BANG! and we could hear the sound roll off away across the northern Saudi desert.
A voice towards the back of the tent, which I think belonged to one of the RE Corps Lighting Troop corporals attached to us, suddenly said, or rather whispered, ‘Nobody say a f*****g word…’ as we led there in the dark waiting for the inevitable shouts of ‘GAS! GAS! GAS!’ or ‘Stand to!’.
Bu there was nothing, no one from any of the tents said a word and after a few mins we drifted back off to sleep.
We found out the next day it was a sonic boom from an allied aircraft returning from Kuwait or Iraq.
If someone had shouted out a warning, we’d have at least an hour of faffing around in the dark to do. I’m still not sure if this was bad drills or a sensible decision taken by everyone without saying a word.
Someone a few posts back asked if anyone has any copies of The Sandy Times. I do have one produced just after the libertion of Kuwait (possibly the last one). I'll try and scan or photograph it this weekend and get it posted up here.
The ST was a very good publication and well read by the trops with it's light hearted take on almost everything, it really was essential reading.
Radio Procedure:
As my unit was one of the very first to arrive and we all sat in Baldrick Lines ‘waiting for the boat’ our higher-ups decided it would be a great idea if we could help our American allies by taking up some of the slack, which is why we ended up with the responsibility of manning two sangers at the end of Al Jubayl docks with callsigns of Grey Cat One and Grey Cat Two.
With two of us allocated to each and pulling a 12 hour shift we scanned the waters around the harbour, roasted in the sun and got very bored.
Grey Cat Two Sangar, Al Jubayl, Oct 90
After a week or so doing these the admin finally got sorted and we ended up with meals brought to us and brew kit issued (water to be boiled on a hexi stove).
I was during this time that on one shift my sangar (Grey Cat Two) ran out of milk.
So I did the only thing I could do and got on the radio to ask the other sangar if they had any spare.
Now this is where I realise I’d been a little foolish. The radio was provided by the Americans and on their net.
I was promptly told off by whoever was monitoring the net. It was also at this point I realised that our coy commander, an A&SH Aden veteran came on the net to berate me as he’d managed to get a set in his office.
Then he decided that wasn’t enough and came for a visit.
I was royally dragged over the coals and, quite rightfully, put in my place for making us Brits look unprofessional.
A week later we found ourselves in an identical position with no milk at our sangar with hours to go before our relief decided that I should try something different.
‘Hello Grey Cat One, this is Grey Cat Two, over’
‘This is Grey Cat One, send over’
‘Do you have any bovine mammary fluid in your location, over’
‘Roger, over…’
And I got away with it that time. I shudder to think of the trouble I would have been in had I been rumbled!
As an afternote, our OC turned out to be an utterly top bloke. He was the 2 i/c HQ Regt 1(BR) Corps (my parent unit) and he did a hell of a lot for us without our realising until much, much later. From acquiring lots of US parkas to help with stagging on once we’d gone into the desert, to buying lots of thermos flasks and allowing local sellers to setup stalls once or twice week in Baldrick Lines who would sell you camp beds, blankets and other such things to make life a little easier.
Maj Ca*****l-Ba****n I salute you (and apologies for being a PITA that day!).
Don’t say a f*****g word!:
During the air war I was at Log Base Alpha at the HQ FFMA. We’d alternate between there (stagging on) and the HQ FMA back in Al Jubayl doing my main role as driver.
Jubayl was nice as we’d have access to decent beds and showers, however, during the air war we’d frequently be woken up several times a night for scud and air raid alerts and sleep was hard to come by. Up in the desert however it was a different matter, once 7pm had come around there was very, very little to do, and by 8pm everyone not on duty or the night shift was generally asleep.
With no sirens going off we were generally assured of a good nights sleep until the following morning when we had to stand too in the freezing cold and wet. I found out much later that most UK units in theatre had abandoned this practice as being pointless unless at the front.
It was during one of these nights that at around 2am we were all woken by a terrific BANG! and we could hear the sound roll off away across the northern Saudi desert.
A voice towards the back of the tent, which I think belonged to one of the RE Corps Lighting Troop corporals attached to us, suddenly said, or rather whispered, ‘Nobody say a f*****g word…’ as we led there in the dark waiting for the inevitable shouts of ‘GAS! GAS! GAS!’ or ‘Stand to!’.
Bu there was nothing, no one from any of the tents said a word and after a few mins we drifted back off to sleep.
We found out the next day it was a sonic boom from an allied aircraft returning from Kuwait or Iraq.
If someone had shouted out a warning, we’d have at least an hour of faffing around in the dark to do. I’m still not sure if this was bad drills or a sensible decision taken by everyone without saying a word.
Someone a few posts back asked if anyone has any copies of The Sandy Times. I do have one produced just after the libertion of Kuwait (possibly the last one). I'll try and scan or photograph it this weekend and get it posted up here.
The ST was a very good publication and well read by the trops with it's light hearted take on almost everything, it really was essential reading.
