Few years ago, I was stood in the Senior Rates' platoon and I heard a despairing gasp and a crunch behind me. I looked round and a mate of mine had folded and was lying on his back, gasping for air. His tongue had gone to the back of his throat and he was clearly having snags. I broke line and knelt to attend to him. I rolled him over and into a position where his head lolled forward and his tongue broke the seal. He drew in an enormous lungful of air. The medics arrived, got him into the arms and legs position to carry him and his head lolled back, and he swallowed his tongue proper this time. The dozy twats had to wrestle him to get it forward in his throat before they got him into the ambulance. I saw him later and all he remembered was falling in to march on.
Then there was the time that a certain killick stoker altered the message on the parade ground at Sultan which read "GOOD LUCK SIR!" from the air to a departing CO. It was the same year that the Commander decided, against all good advice and some nailed on forecasting, that fine weather divisions would take place. It fecked it down, so much so and with so much ferocity, that 90% of those fell in needed new suits.
There were plenty of stokers on the deck as well you can count on that. Probably had something to do with the fact they had all been in the sun all day Saturday or Sunday for the Sultan Show, another case of great planning for the Ivory Tower!
2 dits from Sultan divisions as a tif.
1. We were being inpected by the (aged) Surg Cdr. He get to the bloke next to me in the front rank and asked "What do you do?". The answer:
"I'm in the navy sir".
2. Just after being rated up to LMEA a few of us were put in with the seniors platoon. The inspecting officer, seeing an oppo had his hook said, "Ah, someone with a hook on his arm. You'd better be careful you don't lose that."
"That's OK sir. It's sewn on".