Memoirs of The Falklands

Discussion in 'Diamond Lil's' started by Blackrat, Nov 9, 2012.

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  1. Blackrat

    Blackrat War Hero Moderator Book Reviewer

    I was chatting to an oppo of mine today and he reminded me of what must have been the messiest tour of my life.

    For those who have never been there, the Falklands was the gift that forever gave. I've spun the odd dit on here on some of my antics there, but i was reminded of the time when four of us employed a "No Toilet" rule one evening and spent the night going from bar to bar, pissing our trousers just because. Karaoke in Deanos where i would get up, destroy a series of songs, and win a bottle of Cinzano for my efforts. The night where me an my oppo pulled two local girls that didn't have beards and spent the night on the piss in the FIDF club as one of the girls held the keys. Getting the tonner back to MPA the next day was interesting due to copious vomming and the fact i couldn't stop pissing like a racehorse. I have more dits, but i want to hear from you cunts.

    I was there late '91 (i'm bloody sure it was then) and the RN ship down there was HMS Ambuscade. Judging by the Navy lot i knew down there, stories should come thick and fast.
     
  2. We flew from the boat/Diligence in San Carlos into MPA, which was under construction, as one of the lads brother was a Crab and arranged the flight in a Chinook. Then drove down to Stanley for a big party in the terminal building - we stayed in the flotels - old oil rig accomodation things.

    Anyway, being sundodgers, we were still in shit rig, to the approximate ratio of 40% pirate rig, 40% No8s (as was) and 20% civvies ('cos we were ashore, innit!). S we decided that before the big party started we just HAD to see the Governor's Taxi and Residence (and the biggest if not only tree on the pile of rocks) - as featured on TV!

    So, off we bimbles, about 6 of us I'm the Chief! On the way back into town, out jumps a Corporal Red Cap, who stops us and goes apeshit....
    HIM - what unit are you lot from?
    US - can't tell you. Submarine movements are secret.
    HIM - where is it tied up (looking at the empty berths in Stanley harbour.
    US - can't tell you - see above!

    etc

    And so it went on, with him getting himself all frothy round the lips and voice getting higher. Until........ out comes the Sarge Red Cap. He asks what's going on. Corp says these lot claim to be submariners etc etc.

    Sarge tells him to go indoors. Tells us 'next time you're in Stanley wear your fuggin 'ats!'

    My how we laughed!!

    Then we all tried to trap a WAAF gronk, then the Skipper failed to come back from the battle field tour and the Jimmy had to take us out etc etc - my how we laughed!

    Falklands - shit!
     
  3. Went there for a run ashore in 1982 but for some strange reason there were no berths available in Stanley, so we looked around San Carlos waters, no luck there as half the fleet were also looking for berths. The Argentinians had taken all the accommodation spaces and were no to keen to see us. However they saw sense after a few weeks and vacated the area, after trashing it.Went around to Stanley, but It was obvious that there were too many pongos etc who had decided to holiday there at the Sametime that it would be impossible to get a wet a the Globe so we decided tat Gzz would be a better run.
     
  4. Blackrat

    Blackrat War Hero Moderator Book Reviewer

    I worked at Radcon (part of JCUFI) in an isolated building (complete with iso container bar - more of that later) just outside of MPA. It was a bit hush hush and no-one could enter without permission from on high. One day, an old Falklands hand who was biding his time before leaving the Army, was on shift with me. The doorbell to our place went off so off trots our hero to answer the door. I then heard the following conversation;

    (Door opening)
    Hero - "Hello there. What can i do for you then?"
    Voice - "I've come for a look around if that's ok?"
    Hero - "Not really mate. It's top security here. We can't just let any swinger in here you know"
    Voice - "Well i can assure you, i'm allowed in here"
    Hero - "Is that so? Who are you then? Seefuckingbiffy? (CBFFI - Commander British Forces Falkland Islands)
    Voice - "As a matter of fact, i am"

    Door shuts. Hero looks at me, laughs and says "Fucking rats cocks. Now i'm in the shit"

    (Opens door again)

    Hero - "Sorry about that boss. You can't be too careful in this neighbourhood. I had to fuck the Jehovahs off at the high port yesterday. Come in and have a brew"

    Luckily for us he did, and saw the funny side of the whole thing.
     
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  5. Went down in 82 enough dits about that but went down again in 98 turned up in the mess on a Friday after fcuk knows how many hours in a Tristar every fcuker was bollocksed and after the bar shut all retired back to one of the guys cabins with copious amounts of vodka and bottles of tonic, I fucked off to find something to eat because I was flying to San Carlos (flashbacks there by the way) to join Norfolk, fcuking hell the Naafi area was a no go area the unit of pongos was the Irish Rangers and it was like a fcuking ghetto, no discipline and the loud mouth drunken fcukers were abusing the staff (St Helena locals) and to be honest I was ashamed to be there a total fcuking shithole with fcuk all for the lads to do except get bladdered every night andatch the Tristar arrive twice a week - really worth fighting for, mind you the WRN POSA was fcucking divs!!
     
  6. Trough nights were my favourite. Me on the bass circa Oct 1999:
     
  7. And this one makes me smile - as a Middy in July 87 - HMS DIOMEDE
     

    Attached Files:

  8. Blackrat

    Blackrat War Hero Moderator Book Reviewer

    Taken from the Back to Basics thread;

    After the first Gulf war, i was sent down to the Falklands. Clearly i had upset someone and they intended to pass me off to annoy the Crabs. This started from day one. As a fully confirmed steely eyed doer of death, i found their ways annoying to say the least. On a muster parade one morning, an RAF Warrant Officer asked me why my toecaps were not bulled. I informed him that my Squadron doesn't bull boots, we leave that to the foot guards. Fucking imbecile. Could he not see that i was a roughy, toughy, trained killer? Bullshit aside, MPA was full of bars and i spent most of the time trawling them, trying to get into the females rooms, or preferably their knickers. Needless to say i failed utterly. Clearly these crab birds were fearful of a bona fide warrior in their midst. Either that or they were fucking lesbians.

    One evening i was walking up the bloody long corridor, minding my own business smoking a fag. The following is an account of what happened next;

    Female Crab (From behind me) - "Put that cigarette out"

    Me - "Get stuffed"

    FC (Now in front of me) - "How dare you. I'm an RAF Police Officer"

    Me - "Fuck my luck. A pig in knickers"

    FC - "Do you know it's an offence to smoke in these corridors"

    Me - "Is it? I can't see any no smoking signs"

    FC - "You're standing underneath one. Put that bloody fag out"

    Me (takes a couple more pulls on fag and drops it on floor) - "There you go love."

    FC - "Don't fucking call me love. Show some respect. I'm reporting you. What's your name?"

    Me - "LCpl GS Table"

    FC - "You haven't heard the last of this. I'm watching you"

    Bully for you love. Anyhoo, as luck would have it i was in the air refuellers bar that night (the one with all the alarms in it) whereapon i spied on my power mad sweetheart sitting with some of her crab chums. Unfortunately for her, i was pissed and in the mood for mischief and revenge. I popped off to the karzi, took off a boot, removed a sock and proceded to lay a cable in it. Trying to curl one off into a sock is quite tricky, especially when you're pissing all over the place as well. After various yoga positions, i managed to leave a decent deposit in the sock and popped back to my oppos with what looked like the strangest sausage in the world. Moving my muckers to a safe distance i started to swing the sock around my head, a bit like David with his sling shot, although David didn't have particles of shit flying everywhere. When there was enough momentum, i launched the missile which flew across the bar and landed with a satisfying "Plop" sound on the coppers table. Being rozzers, their first reaction was to examine the item in front of them. "What the fuck is this?" enquired one. "Christ knows" said another. Another, much braver than the rest, pick up the mysterious sock shaped parcel with with his pen and examined it close up, only to fling it (to my utter delight) into the lap of the power mad bitch. "It's a fucking sock full of shit" he cried. The love of my life shot up as if someone had just shot a tazer up her fragrant starfish and in her haste to escape the stench, tripped over and banged her head on a chair, much to the amusement of my muckers.
     
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  9. Memories of The Falklands ... some good some not so good

    Spent most of the Conflict in Goose Green in the Casualty Clearing Station in the old fish refrigerator as part of 3 Cdo Bgde Surgical Support Team ... 6 months after getting back from the Falklands in '82 I was winging my way back down to join NP2010 as Doc on Stena Seaspread in San Carlos. MPA was still a gleam in the planners eye and to get there you were flown down to Ascension and then shipped down either on Uganda and some other boat which I can't remember!

    Apart from the fact that not a lot had changed for 6 months previous ... it was still need deep in sh*te, mine fields. One day in San Carlos had to casevac one of clanky's to Stanley Hospital so ordered a chopper and instead of the expected Junglie ... up tipped Teeny Weeny Airways in a Gazelle ... so ended up 3 up in the back of this thing ... clanky not a well pussy cat and hoping the clag would keep off long enough to get to Stanley. Eventually got him to the hospital which was still in Stanley and run by the Pongo's and then faced with the need to get back ... so hitched a lift back to the airfield and then hitched a ride on a Chinook back over to San Carlos ... an interesting experience as it has some big wheeled bang stick thingy as an underslung load which it was dropping on the top of some mountain somewhere ... Jockey must have been having fun as it swung backwards and forwards all the way with the corresponding swing on the aircraft. Got back to Goose Green and found the Bootie Boats Sqdn and asked them to run me back out to the ship so ... flat out in a rigid raider in the pitch black (we were still under total black out) up San Carlos Water ... bootie drivin knew the general direction so when we got reasonably close got the OOW to put some deck lights on ... thing lit up like a fcuking Christmas tree about 30 meters in front! Never knew those things could stop dead and I ended up in a big snotty heap in the pointy bit!
     
  10. Blackrat

    Blackrat War Hero Moderator Book Reviewer

    The Red & Green life machine is still worth a visit. We had a det up on Mt Campito and it was a short walk down to there. It was very peaceful when i was there with spectacular views. No doubt it was different in your time MG. The battlefield tours were interesting, from a soldiers point of view. I'm still surprised how we managed to dislodge them from some of those mountains.
     
  11. All my memories are post war. Never took part in the conflict.

    However! On a FI patrol I was tasked to extract 2 x pongos from the middle of a mine field!!! Drunken gits had wandered into the middle of one and duly fell asleep, when the woke up and after a hair of the dog they realised they were indeed fucked!

    Luckily a passing local called International Rescue. (or in this case Euryalus's Wasp), and off we went to extract them. Next stop Stanley where we handed them over to the duty medic who pronounced them pissed as newts! earned us a few beers at Murrey Heights a couple of days later.
     
  12. Game of Rugby goose green 82

    As our skipper was a GO he had both of the sea boats removed and replaced with 20mm cannons, so transport ashore was slow via our Gemini.

    Once all ashore a walk up to the top of the hill, where we were given a site tor, pointed out was the know mine fields that had yet to be cleared, one such area was next to the pitch, noticeable by the signs and taped off area, which was full of rugby and foot balls, no one seemed to interested in getting them back.

    Game played, it was off to the third half, which we thought would be a few tinnies somewhere at best. We were taken into a porta-cabin which had been converted to a bar, of high standard, our host then said our money was no good, and the 3[SUP]rd[/SUP] half got underway, well into the party mood someone comes into say we were to be picked up early as the weather was picking up, bollocks we thinks how rude.

    Off we goes, now dark ‘O’ Clock downhill walk to water zero lighting, once we found water we had to wait to be shuttled back, we could hear the Gemini but could not see it, eventually we could see its nav light, a puuser right angle, water now getting lumpy, so jack full of ale, Gemini cox refusing to come to close so we had to get wet and a lumpy ride back, with some depositing stomach contents during the ride.
    Conclusion good day out, good hosts shit transport.
     
  13. Not wishing to blackcat but...when the T boat I was on went down there in '87 we went on the lash in Stanley and being ratarsed thought we'd walk back to MPA but didn't realise how far it was. After a while the call of nature was too great so 3 of us walked into a field to have a slash behind a rock. 2 passing pongoes in an argentine jeep stopped and shouted out to us to walk back out of the field the same way as we'd gone in. When we got back to the road they just smiled and pointed to the minefield sign we'd overlooked!!! They did give us a lift back though.
     
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  14. Did something just as stupid, but we was sober. We was let of the ship for a leg stretch in Stanley and told not to go souvenir hunting and stay to know roads and do not got to any Argy bits of kit.
    Whilst wandering around Benny land we sees this gun thingy on top of the hill so we goes and takes a butchers, like kids playing with a big toy.
    Someone comes out of a hut in you can’t see me stuff and starts shouting at us, we made out the words mine field and thought shit, so now we had 3 of us trying to remember how we got there and no one wanting to go first, probably looked like some comical stunt from dads army.
    We make it to this guy who turned out to be a kilick steward, to the Navy boss down south, this head pops out and asks what all the noise was, the steward to him we must have looked white as sheets, turned out to be the boss man and he invited us in for a brew.
    This place had no mine field signs, as they had not been put up yet, but it was known that the arggies mined all over the place in Stanley including peoples gardens, the boss told use that one of the bomb squad guys had been injured the day before on a path thought safe.
    We looked back and laughed but it wasn’t funny at the time.
     
  15. Told to go ashore in San Carlos a couple of days after the surrender, picked up some rocks of the shoreline for the boss and some other grunters, wandered up the hill to the rapier battery, 2 pongos all by themselves in a tent resupplied once a week only drinking water none for dhobying poor fcukers it was shite, rotten weather, went back next day and got them onboard for a shower and sent em back with No8s and a load of other stuff.
    Two days later anchored in Port Stanley 0500 in the seaboat (me driving) no chart, no comms had to drop the chippies party off to do some repairs on the Governers place they were not happy bunnies blowing a bastard and no foul weather gear. Me and the Bowman went for a wander the place was trashed, dumped Argie kit everywhere locals driving jeeps with fcuking guns on the back, popped into a shop bought some wnegums fecking shopkeeper charged me a fiver - so mch for the liberators eh. Got back to the seaboot to fined the tide out and the seaboat aground in a minefield deep deep joy, shithole of a place really.
     
  16. On one T21 relieving another T21 for FI Guardship in the '90s we had an exchange at sea for a handover.

    A lot of the key players from the wardroom met by mutual helo transfer for briefings from their counterparts.
    Most of the senior rates were sent packages from their opposite numbers containing details such as operational data, technical info, contact numbers for support ashore etc.

    When my package arrived it contained a detailed map giving the locations of all the bars in MPA - and not much else.

    The T21 Gunbusters knew each other very well =D
     
  17. I had the misfortune to have taken 5 trips to that shit hole during my time in the mob. All on 21's.
    Last trip without doubt was the best. By this time, early 90's MPA was pretty well established. Lost if bars but being a PO stoker we descended on mass to the SR mess. Of course it was run by a WO crab. I'm afraid we made cunts of ourselves. Firstly you could buy spirits by the bottle :) also Port by the bottle. Needless to say we got fucking hammered. One strange thing the crabs did was to place markers on their various dept tables in the dining room. Ie a brass fire extinguisher on the firefighters table. An inert round on the armorers table. You get the picture. We thought it would be a good laugh to steal them all and bring them back onboard. Needless to say this didn't go over too well with the crab types.
    We were lucky to have been allowed back in. Our mess pres had to write their mess a bloody apology. We had to ring the bell in their mess. Of course every fucker was there that night. Cost us a bloody fortune. Another case of 'it seemed like a good idea at the time' upon reflection it was not.
     
  18. We were told to give the pongo rapier battery a wide birth, did we listen did we shit, strange little sites, ammo boxes all over the place open with rounds laying around all over, after the first group went ashore we took them red cross parcels, nutty etc. We found that the Navy foul weather clothing was crap ashore in the winter weather.
    On one of our trips down I was dropped off with a small team with tents, have rucksack and travel to survey water inlets, and draw pictures and assess if they were accessible from sea, a killick greenie and a few lads surveying for future landings?
    Did this 3 times in different areas, strange wildlife were as inquisitive of us as we were of them, massive flocks of penguins just shuffled out of our way as we walked through them, some sort of eagle that would hover just out of arms reach above your head, a little disconcerting as there talon’s looked massive.
    Some of the lads thought it would be funny to chase some penguins into the sea, they soon found out why they were high and dry, there was a stuffing big sea lion waiting for lunch in the water, which also took a fancy to the lads and chased them up the beach, they almost shat themselves as it was massive.
    We came across an old refrigeration plant, which the pongos had pitched their tents inside, and strangely they had managed to build a make shift bar, which was rude to decline their offer of a wet, unfortunately all they had was local penguin ale, best guess it was made from penguin piss, so we did not stay to long as we were out of time for our RV with a gemini
    Out and about in the wilderness was great, any locals were happy to see us, and give us good scran, Stanley was a shit hole

    Edited: this thread is bringing back some old memories; I have not visited for a long time, as civies just don’t get it, I do have some fond/funny memories of the Falkland’s, but jacks forte was to make light or see the warped funny side in any situation.
     
    Last edited: Nov 29, 2012
  19. Oh happy days! (Not) ... Not been near the place since '83 although I did see something on the TV where they've put the Regt badges of units on the walls in the old fridge plant. Can alway remember getting landed on the beach in front of the fridge plant and taken into the back where we had tents inside ... was a damn site warmer inside than outside. Scran was a bit haphazard as chefs wouldn't cook anything (potmess) until evening so lunch was ships biscuits and chocolate. Got to learn the difference in sound between the Harriers and the Etendards and watched the Harriers "lurking" just below the ridge line ... was outside in the ditch when the Etendard dropped the bomb on the hospital ... mate of mine was in the theatre when it came through the roof, bounced and disappeared into the back ... adrenaline is brown and runs down your legs! Bomb Disposal boys came and had a look and I think took the fuse out but it was left there for ages ... Think one of the Booties used it as a table! Highlight was when someone landed a box of oranges off one of the civvy liners ... you'd think it was christmas!

    Eventually got shipped out to the Hospital Ship (Uganda) ... cold ... been living in a hovel for ages ... no fresh water to dhoby ... so looking forward to a shower ... Uganda has a couple of evaps retro fitted when they turned her into a Hospital Ship and they were'nt working properly so we got told we could only have a 30 second shower ... bollocks to that! Then some nice SA tipped up with clean 8's out of the survivors kits which gave us a chance to at least crash out some lightweights and t shirts ... then they took us to scran and we found out how the [email protected] had been living wheile we were on the beach ... sat down in a "resturant" and given a menu by a P&O steward and asked what we wanted ... start at the top and work down! Bottles of wine / spirits were always available from the civvy Purser ... such a nice boy! Then of course there was the Naval Nurses ... got caught by some pusser faced OOD doing his rounds in almost a compromising position with one in a cabin ... he stomped off muttering dark things and didn't go into the next cabin which was lucky as they were in the midst of a party which we'd just left to go find somewhere a little more "private"!

    Injured Argie POW's were a laugh ... put em in the bed next to a Gurhka and they didn't move! Actually they were normally good as gold and just wanted a "bun" ... Civvy Chefs used to bake bread rolls every night and couple of the Bandy's on board who were acting as ward orderlies gave them to the Argies in the mornings and taught them to call them "buns" (in a yorkshire accent).

    Can remember walking along a beach when I went down again after Corporate and dome damn great sea lion came leaping out of the grass and chased us ... fcuking thing was huge so we legged it!

    The other place that sticks in my mind was the whaling station on South Georgia ... real spooky!
     
  20. Went there but was under stoppage of leave so volunteered duty, as it was stuffing cold run ashore rig was once only suits.
    Standing on the deck we could see little orange blobs all over the place
    One came back really pissed off with his oppos, he had fallen down an ice hole, and got jammed with his shoulders, and his oppos did not pull him out until they had finished their Kodak moment.

    Skipper took us up close to one of the glaciers that was breaking of into the oggin
     

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