Discussion in 'The NAAFI Bar' started by TheCROW, Jun 15, 2006.
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Just you wait until Mistersoft finds this thread! You youngsters oughtn't to make fun of us older bolder soldiers. I served in 49 PARA, as a Junior entrant and then latterly as a very, very senior person indeed. In fact it was only when I was requested to apply for 24 SAS and become their RSM/DSF/Bandmaster that I left. I kept the issue wheelbarrow of course, to ferry my decorations around in. Oh yes son, Sumatra, Java, Brazil, Kenyan Blue Mountain...I've been through the grinder with dear old 49 PARA...
49 para is an airsoft airmobile detachment of the grenadier paras..... don't mess with them or they'll come out after you...
We could tell you the full monty, however death would have to follow soon after. They are mean, hard and have no sense of humour
Send a PM to Mistersoft - he is the expert on 49 Para and is I believe their official biographer. Any information he does not have on 49 is not worth having (although he can make up the odd bit here and there to fill in gaps).
The ARRSE entry that started it all.
That brings back memories. The good old boys of 49 Para, fifty of us jumping out of a Gazelle at 75 feet. We were stationed at Oberammergurgl in Germany. The barracks was a former SS headquarters, there were still bodies in the cellars and we ruled the town. Isandhlwana Barracks was close to a girl's school and we shagged everything in sight, even the caretaker and the headmistress at the same time.
My regimental number was 4, it would have been 3 but my mate Clubber beat me to it. The laughs we had on the range firing the Hepppler and Kopp fully automatic sniper rifles the army used. Our bright red berets on our heads, we knew that one day, we would tell some stories. How we won the first Gulf War even though we were still in Oberammergurgl, the Iraqis just crapped themselves and surrendered. They know real men when they see them or even just hear about them.
Every now and then we get a chance to relive our memories. Paintball can be a real tactical challenge but it really hurts when you get hit. But real men like 49 Para don't care about paint even though it leaves a nasty stain. I'd just like to apologise to all lesser mortals who just wouldn't have handled 49 Para. We could pish it up all night, complete the 160 mile run in full kit and still have time for a sports afternoon and then in the evening, shag all the local females into orgasmic submission.
Coming soon, the 49 Para Reunion (weather permitting), tickets from the secretary:
St John Walter (Corporal Retired)
Ahh, the reunion..... can I have tickets for meself and me mate booby s. He won't need anything from the buffet, he'll just help himself from leftovers in the shitter
Thank you Cuddles, I found it. Thank you to everybody who keeeps the name of 49 Para alive. Special mention to Auld-Yin who 'did the door' at a recent function and did the slop tray and the landlord's wife at a recent meeting at the Squirrel and Truncheon. He also repeated the feat or should that be feet as he chased her from the Mecca Ballroom back to the Squirrel and Truncheon and gave her one in the carpark. This did cause a problem at the Annual Dinner Dance as a reporter from the SCUM in disguise did manage to gain entry but not at the same time as Auld-Yin. Mr Lardbucket McNasty was ejected by two members. We told just him he was not weclome but as a journalist this didn't cut any ice so he was bounced down the stairs.
Cuddles has said too much already but I am reminded of Aidan. Not the country but Aidan McGurgle the only member of 49 Para to win the GOB and live to tell the tale. It was a night assault but then I discovered somebody had drawn the curtains but why somebody would want to draw curtains is still a mystery to me. Took me ages to get it off the wall, permanent marker as well. So I pulled the curtains and it was daytime so it was in fact a daytime assault.
Revelle, Rivelli, the alarm had gone off and we had jumped out of bed. There was only the one so you couldn't be too fussy, about the bed either. But we were men and thoughts of that sort of thing were never in our heads except for that wench that worked in the Obergammergurgl Naafi. She had frickadellas that would have you dribbling and we often did, have frickadellas that is. We washed and dressed, just the one sink but we were tough, a bit dirty and probably very smelly but tough as nails though I used to bite mine. We went down for breakfast and feasted on the excellent meal. Of course years of combat had dulled our tastebuds so the meal was really crap but it filled a hole. The PSA were supposed to fill that hole but they were erecting a shower block on Ascension Island just in case a Falklands War broke out. So the hole filled we had a quick puff as it was a long way to the cookhouse and we were knackered. We collected our gear and assembled on a big flat rectangular piece of tarmac that the RSM called a square. We lined up at the slow march in quick time and in open order and presented the arms we didn't have.
The Colonel appeared and dressed us, he was going to address us but I didn't have shirt on and Aidan had his combat jacket on inside out. We all stood to attention as the Naafi wench was walking past and her frickadellas were wobbling under her sexy uniform. Aidan was a sucker for uniforms, he was a sucker full stop. The mission was explained to us. Because the SAS weren't hard enough we were too assist the Dutch police in a train siege situation somewhere in Holland where it is flat. Aidan threw down his mountaineering equipment, his ice axe and his tampons were thrown away in sheer disgust. Actually I think one of the tampons was used so not a surprise about the disgust. We were to leave at 09.00 o'clock hours and a helicopter would pick up four of us. There was Aidan, myself, Gripper and Charlie. But for security purposes we would be called Aidan, Walt, Gripper and Charlie.
The DC3 hovered over the parade square blowing away the regimental mascot and it was never seen again. We jumped in the helicopter and Charlie sat in the back as he was tail end Charlie. The DC3 engaged first and the rotors turned faster and faster and crunching it into second, the pilot pulled up the stick which was on the end of a rope and was stopping us from taking off and finally we saw the rooftops of Oberammergurgl disappear as we headed towards Holland going through the Netherlands first. Opening the door of the pressurized cabin, we got an excellent view of Germany and a stewardess brought round a drink tray then had to go back as we wanted a drink not a lousy drinks tray. The minutes went by, quite quickly as we were flying so fast but eventually we reached the railway line that led to the siege.
We saw the train in the distance and the circus of vehicles. We landed and saw the acrobats, the bloody horses but left before the clowns came on. We were marshalled to the guy in charge and as he spoke Dutch we just thought he had a sinus problem. Also as we were being marshalled it was difficult staying in the hover because of a sidewind. So back on terra firma or terra belowa sea levela we finally got to exchange a few words with the Dutch. So the game of Scrabble over we put our arrses in gear and asked for all the intelligence they had on the situation. We unfortnately had left our intelligence back at Oberammergurgl so we really needed a top up. There were hostages being held by people who weren't hostages but were holding them. That seemed all clear to me. Putting the dictionary down it became even clearer.
The hostage takers who were the ones who had actually taken the hostages but hadn't actually taken them anywhere as they were all apparently on the train but anyway, the hostage takers had demanded that the world's press should hear their grievances about how Mollusks were being ignored and the plight of Mollusks at home was being totally ignored. Tucking into a shrimp salad sandwich, we could understand how people could become so desperate and finishing off with a bag of Prawn Cocktail crisps we did sympathize but there was work to be done. Several of the hostages had tickets that would run out at midnight and the rail authority were insisting on obtaining the penalty charges whatever the cost. Of course we did later find out that the Mollusks were in league with the Crustaceans.
We set to work. We needed a diversionary tactic. We knew that things were different here in the Netherlands. Trains did fail to run but it was usually severe storms because of the flat countryside that blew signals or welded points but they weren't used to the UK railway excuses used by British Rail in its heyday and the private firms afterwards. Contact was already in place with the hostage takers and a direct phone line meant that contact with the head Mollusk was always possible. My brain was in overdrive which didn't help so I got it back, put it back in and tried to think of the sort of diversionary tactic we were looking for. Then it came to me but fortunately I was on my own, so after a quick change of underwear I was right as rain so they say. Who are they? I've always wondered but there wasn't time to lose. Then I had a brainwave. I spoke to the head Mollusk. I told him that we would have liked to move the train just a few metres but we couldn't. He was confused but he was curious. He asked why. I replied that there were leaves on the line. They all stuck their heads out of the window to look and we shot the lot. Job jobbed as they say in 49 Para.
It was a proud day as we all paraded at the palace. We were drunk but fortunately a kind policeman let us off. Getting back to the hotel and putting some clothes back on, we undressed for bed ready for the big day in the morning. We were all to be presented with the Leerdammer Order of Bravery (LOB) and Aidan because of killing more hostage takers (and three of the hostages) was to be presented with the Gouda Order of Bravery (GOB). For years we would remember the day we got a LOB on and the day Aidan finally got one in the GOB. THe award was to be presented by the most famous Dutch person in the world but because Johan Cruijff wasn't available some Queen did it instead.
Dedicated to TheCROW for his interest in the finest regiment in the world.
Not the official motto but often used in 49 Para circles.
Tempus, Tempus, Fcuk Tempus?
Time, Time, Fcuk is that the time?
St John Walter (Corporal Retired)
Apologies. Edited because I was tired and slightly drunk.
Mr Soft, I beg to differ, of course the finest, not to say oldest Regiment in the World is of course to be found here http://www.arrse.co.uk/cpgn2/Forums/viewtopic/t=36054.html the Irish Rifle Association, or IRA for short....
Inter-wegimental rivalry is a very healthy thing though, and if I recall correctly you also served with some distinction in my regiment?
Aha, all makes sense now!
Mistersoft's rendition of the train seige suddenly brings everything into sharp focus as the South Molluscs held one of the aforementioned railbourne vehicle for about twelve days before suddenly chucking their cards in (end of 1975). They had another go and this time (May 1977?) they took a school and a train but by day two the train and school were stormed in a really neat and kickarrse fashion. This took out six and left two or three to face some charges and a term in dutch subsidiary of Butlinz. Much neater than the first episode; direct and strong. Might have known that somewhere in the equation we'd find British intelligence, tactics and style.
My compliments to you and to the memory of 49 Para. An obvious source of pride and excellence that is British soldiering. Remind me to buy you a beer if I ever cross your path!
Mistersot (oops Mistersoft). Your grasp of military history is obviously trained by the proverbial 'sock' but what I cannot understand is why you are not up there with the mil-history minnows like Kegan, Holmes, Hastings, Pepys(but he seemed to like sailors - hhhhmmm).
When are Sword & Pen going to serialise - serlise - turn into a lot of short stories, the great exploits of 49 Para(plegic) ?
Sorry - I have had to edit this as it should have read 49 Para(letic).
I thang yew.
Thank you gentlemen for your kind of words. There has been a flurry of interest in the exploits of 49 Para, so to satisfy those who like a good story, the members have decided to task me with collating the full story of 49 Para and publish it in the very near future.
Of course this will take time as I will no doubt have to travel worldwide speaking to those involved, hearing their stories and letting them make the rest up. 49 Para has been involved in every conflict since time in a morial and I hope to put a different perspex on each and every conflict.
Because of the policy of HMG for an open government, papers previously secret may now be openly read and their contents divulged. The 49 Para training camp on Gruinard Island, the C-Day landings as we went a day earlier and the Battle for Lundy Island may all now be chronicled for your pleasure. Other highlights of 49 Para's involvement like for example the assistance we gave foreign security services as in the case of the Dutch train siege can now be told. I believe this excellent example of 49 Para's experteese and dillygence has already been told.
Even the mistakes, the bloopers as when in response to a coded message, we were sent to the Isle of Man to deal with what we thought was a German invasion. 'The island has been taken over by the SS' was in fact just a typing error. It should have read 'The island has been taken over by the TT'.
I hope to begin some time last Thursday and finish early next year but I do hope to preview some of the stories on that excellent site ARRSE. I would just ask if anybody actually knows where Brunei is as several of our members have been there but their insistence on having done Arctic training has been questioned by somebody.
Thank you and each and every one of you is weclome to join our organisation.
St John Walter (Corporal Retired)
Mistersoft.... Do you remember that time when we did a magical numbers jump out of a C 1something and Major punishment had let sergeant majoor pack his chute?!
Oh, what a sight it was when instead of silky blossom a packed lunch whizzed past his bewildered face. Or what about the time when in little talibanistan we came across the regtl int officer having tea and cakes with Cpl Klinger (that cross posted american clerk of turkish origin!)!
Well, I do look back with a certain fondness of all the downhill runs and meat beatings! What a time...
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