I was walking up the road and the whole of Fire Support Company was marching past including all the hierarchy. In the traditional Scot Div way, the whole of the Pipes and Drums were skirling away and the lads were swaggering like good 'uns. So all in all, a large body of men.
I barked "Morning Sir" (or similar) to the OC and started to bang up a might fine salute and as my hand started to arc up I suddenly realised....I was in sports kit. Every man jack pissed themselves laughing at me.
My first command appointment, requiring navigation, was my biggest mistake. I was happily leading my section to the grid ref given to me, when the good old DS pipes up "stop and tell show me where you are and where you're going".
I grab my bit of grass and correctly point to where we are and where we're going to. The DS then asks what route I'm taking.
"I'm going to follow this track" says I.
"Good Idea" responds the DS. "Unfortunatly, that's a contour line".
My faux pas are to many to list but one that springs to mind recently occurred this year. There I was on Church Fenton airfield with my relay truck at the end of a longish line of other relay trucks, no one else to speak to but other operators on the net
The only person I'd seen all day apart from my oppo was my mucker on the next relay along about 50 metres or so in distance.
Every so often we'd catch each others eye and do the old "tut isn't this fun"rolling of the eyes up to heaven which is where the Yeoman and Foreman live
Anyway there I was minding my own buisiness and working out if I could afford a mobile phone with a big enough memory to download decent porn whilst pulling a length of cable to the next relay.
Looking up I realised there were two figures by my mates truck so being a pleasent enough cove I raised my hand and waved calling "Alright ?" as you do.
"Good morning L/Cpl ***" came the reply from my CO and his bezzer mate the RSM
"WEEEEeeeeeee....." went my hopes of promotion in my long but lacklustre career
Was at lightning strike a while back ( uotc signals recruiting comp)random guy rocks up and starts giving me rancid chat , I say to him- '' what otc are you with SSM?'' apparently he was director of recruiting for the signals and a major to boot
Although the next day a young signals subby did the same to my TM so i guess everyone ain't perfect, or everyone bar Ocdts and signals subbys is perfect.
A similar one to Beast's (without trying to be a johnny two s**ts). As YOs we were detailed to do various jobs for the School of Artillery's annual cocktail party and beating the retreat. My job was to check off the names of the guests at the door and palm them off to another subby who would take them to the particular table where they were being hosted. Some old dude rocked up and I started squinting at him to see if I recognised him. I didn't so looked through the list to see who it could be. I was on page 3 when he leaned over to me and said "I'm probably somewhere near the top: ah there I am" It was The Master Gunner Field Marshal the Lord Vincent GBE KCB DSO.
That will be when I turned up at a Squadron bash in a toga and leathered from a Saturday afternoon of urban sport. Sat on the OCs father's lap, and proceeded to give his glistening pate the Benny Hill treatment.
Monday morning, short chat with the old man and no need to worry about sorting out my social life for the next month, he'd had a word with the Adjt and kindly done it for me.
Mine was at JCSE, we had a very strange general from a very scottish regt., it was his day to do the big presentation about Captains and our responsibilities etc.
I was running a little late and dashed into the auditorium, my way was blocked by a chap in a kilt, a very strange jumper heavy wool, a strange hat and a very large tash. I said "excuse me I am late for the General", he looked around and said "I am the General".
Looking after a friends dog at ARRC for Remberance Weekend.
Lots of foreign bods and assorted wives came back to mess for regulation curry lunch.
Dep Comd wife was a lovely Italian lady called Donna Berta Ficocello (or similar), she had a very expensive fur coat that said dog took more than a shine to. Coat was extricated and sent to cloak room. Dog not seen for some time, eventually located by very strange sounds coming from cloak room - the issue was very obvious!!
Italian lady was suddenly less lovely. Next morning whilst explaining to ARRC Comd why Dep Comd was upset, looked round to see said dog laying most enormous turd on Comd's carpet.
Chatting to a pleasant, smartly suited gentleman at a military hospital cocktail party:
"So, how did you come to be invited? Do you have a connection to the hospital?"
"I'm Director General of Army Medical Services...."
I'm a civvy but this does involve an officer I promise
I was invited to attend a "work function" in London and apparently some important people were going to be there. I tried everything I could to get out of it but to no avail. (They made me go and I didn't want to - that's my excuse and I'm sticking to it)
As we walked in I was SO nervous but I saw lots of civvy's and uniforms of all three services so I relaxed a bit but it was very obvious I felt way out of my depth. My colleague gets whisked away by some uniformed bod and there I am all alone, not knowing anyone and desperately wanting to go home. Some old boy in Army uniform obviously saw my unease/distress and comes over striking up a conversation. (Now when I am nervous I start waffling and I was still very nervous at this point.) He begins talking and I start waffling, infact to this day I don't know if I paused for breath or not, but whilst talking I could see my colleague looking over anxiously, grimacing at me and desperately trying to get back to where I am.
During my waffling I remember mentioning being married to a soldier (although I am positive I never said anything derogatory about his unit) and he was very interested on a wife's perspective. So not being one to lie, and still waffling at a great rate of knots, I 'fessed up - warts and all
After what seemed like a lifetime, my colleague arrived back and the nice old boy made his excuses and left. Our subsequent conversation went like this:
Me - "It's a shame you didn't get to talk to him, he was a lovely old boy"
Colleague - "Lovely old boy!! Do you know who that was?"
Me - "No I don't think so but ............. "
Colleague - "That was General Sir Charles Guthrie, CDS!"
Me - "Oh! I thought he looked familiar"
having leapt blindly from the LI to the RAF some years ago, i had just (like, a matter of hours ago) completed flying training as SNCO aircrew, and found myself as the only non-commissioned bloke at a leaving party hosted by my flt cdr on the offr's married quarters.
said evening quickly descended into a drunken blur, and i found myself in the kitchen tequila-racing a rather attractive young woman who, although familiar, i couldn't remember being introduced to. as is often the case in such situations, we took something of a shine to each other, and decided a sojourn upstairs to inspect the decor in the bathroom would be in order.
ten minutes later, as i was helping her test the structural integrity of the sink, there came a knock at the door, followed by the enquiring voice of the sqn boss. i was just about to quietly emplore the young lady to keep quiet in the hope he'd find another toilet, when she called out in remarkably steady tones...
"i'm okay, darling, i'm just feeling a bit sick... i'll be down in a minute"
My boss had been invited to dinner by Princess Margaret at Balmoral. As his ADC I had been invited along to make up the numbers. Also present amongst many others was the guard commander, a spotty youth (2Lt) in the RHF. As he was on duty the lad was in Mess Kit but with a soft collar. HRH (who, by the way was Col of the RHF) asked him if she was correct in thinking that the RHF wore wing collars with mess kit to which the unfortunate soul replied 'We do ma'am but only on special occasions.'