My night as a spy.

Back in the day when everyone with a slightly eastern European accent was a spy, red's under the bed were the norm and Russian "trawlers" were everywhere, I became a spy.
We had just completed a Naval exercise in the Med, I believe it was '69 and the exercise was "Deep Furrow"
Anyway the Eagle and Ark were both there and the cruiser Blake as well.
The big star turn at the end of the exercise was lower deck was cleared in all ships present to witness the first ever at sea deck landing of a Harrier which came and parked on the arse end of Blake to the disbelief of all present. Except the can man but we think he was a spy anyway.
Then it was star burst for the fleet with ships popping off to all destinations for a jolly. We were coming home to de commission so we got Gib en route.
Funnily enough so did the Russian trawler that had been doing second "plane guard on the Ark.
Now I am not making the name up, whilst ashore first night I met Olga. Five foot eight blond, and as fit as shit Olga, one great big lovely Russian woman.
I trapped her in "La Pulverin" (think that's how it was spelt) and ended up at around 11pm on board the Russian "Survey ship"
She plied me with drink, food, and sex. Fuckin mountains of sex, then more sex and just to round the night off some more sex.
We explored the complexities of the Karma sutra together to the thousandth decimal point and then back again.
Now if asked whilst she was slobbering on my pecker, in truth I would have divulged every secret about British gunnery I knew.
That would have taken about two minutes tops, I was an able seaman star (3rd class at gunnery).
You can't get any lower. We talked when either of us did not have some part of the other in our mouth, about anything and everything, except friggin business like ships.
There was no pillar talk in our sleep, we didn't get any.
At silly o'clock the next morning with just enough time to leg across to the mall to get aboard without being adrift, I am way laid in the dockyard by Sgt Peppers Band. Fuckin hell they were all over me like a rash.
Dragged off to Patrol Headquarters I was, placed under the big light I was (true) and they commenced grilling me.
Now when sex smells are rejuvenated under heat from big lamps, the room soon starts to become reminiscent of Billingsgate fish market, and both the inquisitor and myself became aware of the fact that either there was spit head pheasants for breakfast, I had herring s in down my chogi nicks or there was a predominant smell of fanny permeating the room.
Having decided it was the later the stupid reg tells me "If you co operate we will let you dhobi that smell off you." "Are you fuckin kiddin" I tells him it took all night to get it like that and I know my oppos will wanna snort before I wash it to oblivion. "Dirty Fuckers" he says, "You know them then I responded"
Late in the afternoon after hours of interrogation by the Regs and the SIB, I am told to fuck off and they confiscated the secret code book I had been given, "five year plan of collective farming" telling me treason was a hanging offence.
That night in a small hotel in Gibraltar, the downfall of capitalist society was being plotted vigorously.
That's code for we were at it again and I can still remember that night with Volga Olga as if it were yesterday.
It didn't seem a "cold war" to me, and if she had of been the hinge pin of defection, then all I could say is
count me inski comrade.

 

For Olga read Ivan. Clever use of lighting and make up.

 

Добрый день старого Rumrat друга. насколько я помню наши ночи страсти на хорошем Карбункул корабль в мед в 1973 году. Секреты вы дали мне о менеджере столовой NAFFI и его путь с Smarties и младших матросов дал мне продвижения товарищ начальник 3-го класса.
Friend Ivan Popolov

 

This recurring fetish you seem to be progressing with, my arse, dresses Tamworth etc, is it just that a fetish?
It now seems to be obsessive, and if left unchecked could develop into disturbing behavioral disorders.
Am I safe or will the caped ambulance driver strike again?
Dirty pervert.
And stop with the PM's I have enough to cope with from wrecker.

 

Rummers My encounter as a potential spy did not involve any hot totty, just fat ugly men that plied us with free booze all night.
We were in Antwerp and came across some RO’s in a pub, I was called over and they tell me they had not brought a wet all night, so I joined their table, being grippoed in Antwerp sounded odd.
They were giving us all the bull as to how much they had been to the UK and knew different cities, obvious something they had read, they had no idea about UK.
These fat ugly blokes kept giving us wets, then started the questions, what do you do on the ship, can they come and visit. Can he bring his camera, what were all the different aerials for?
At this the RO’s quick as a flash declare themselves as chef’s and knew nothing and stitch me up as the comms maintainer, so now the attention is on me, so the challenge was how many more free wets could we get before they guess we no nothing or do not intend to tell them anything, as it turned out they did not stop we decided when we wanted to leave, thinking these guys are going to show up at the ship, but I did tell them they would get a strip search for cameras.
We made the choice to all leave together and get a cab straight back, next day we went and saw the Joss and told him what had happened just in case they showed up, he asked when we first became concerned why did we not leave, hello free bar, it would have been very rude to leave until we had a skin full.
Strange thing the pub we were in did not reopen for the rest of our time alongside

 

Big Russian skimmer in the same port as us, hints were dropped that if anyone went onboard on open day and got some pics or anything interesting there would be a bit of leave granted. I declined as I like my head where it is, I wouldnt have made a good spy anyway, too gobby.

 

These days with a camera on most phones, not to much of a problem, but back before mobiles cameras were not too small?

 

I think the boats camera was offered but it was one of those things with the 4ft bamboo tripod, black cloth over the head and exploding powder on a stick jobs

 

Not a spy story but bad men and pubs so here goes.
I used to fight for the Navy, and as my war office was a nurse at Haslar she knew my capabilities with my hands.
I do not claim to be a hard case or tough guy but have never been found lacking when the chips are down. Having said this fighting is not my chosen pass time when ashore especially when I have had a drink.
So we are on a night out in Brum, and she does not know the city well at all, coming from Tamworth.
She also does not drink much and by the time we hit this one pub she was under the weather. It was 1985 and she was 21 and we were out celebrating her birthday.
The pub we were in was a right dive and I took her in because years before my sister had run it. She gave it up as she was neither conversant with the intrecacise of firearms or advanced bare knuckle fighting. Yes that sort of pub and did I mention it was patronised by the Irish. Republican type Irish.
So scene set, we are standing at the bar and apart from the fact we were as welcome as pork chops in Jerusalem on a Saturday all was quiet.

UNTIL the news comes on the tele behind the bar.
Reports are coming in that the Special Air Service have shot dead three members of the IRA in the grounds of Alexandria hospital in the centre of Belfast.
Drunken wife, "YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS" pity there wasn't more.
"Come on Bab were leaving now". "But I haven't finished.......stop pulling me are you frightened of this lot of...............

 

Rummers why does the other half always have the ability to drop one in at the deep end

 

I have a dit of a recent event involving the war office I will type it up soon.
My missus don't seem to be frightened of anyone, she used to be real shy and reserved.

 

My misses belongs to the block and tackle brigade , have a wet walk a bloke and tackle anything, complete and utter nightmare, good job she does not drink much these days

 

I've put a dit about my 1955 ship visit behind the Iron Curtain at Dancing With the Bear - RRPedia if anybody's interested.

Not a patch on Rummer's reminiscences though.

 

A wet patch, if the first dit is anything to go by . . .

 

Spyish, dit doing the rounds when I was at Fasrain, Russians had bought a house on the other side of the loch from the base and monitored commings and goings radio traffic etc, also the "frogman" seen swimming round AFD60, MOD plod running around blasting off service revolvers at what turned out to be a seal, dont know if either were true. True dit, had James Bond onboard.

 

When I sold my house the intention was to buy and live on a boat. Having looked more deeply into that idea we decided not to proceed in that direction at present if ever. I had bought a two berth caravan as a temp measure and a much cheaper alternative to renting a flat or house.
I bought a bigger caravan as we have remained as yet undecided as to what we intend to do.
The small van I bought is parked on the front of my other sister in law who lives across the road from where we are staying.
I have been approached by a couple of people who were interested in buying the small van, and agreed to the one, an Irish chaps offer so we shook hands and he came and brought a twenty pound deposit to me which I actually never asked for.
The balance was to be paid within a week and I would then give him the keys.
He had not returned after two weeks so I sent a message telling him I was going to re advertise the van as it was becoming a problem for my sister in law.
He arrived at (o'clock the next night and asks for his deposit back, which I had no problem with as I had not asked for one in the first place. He got agrevated when I told him I had not got twenty pounds on me but would pay him the next day after I had been to the bank, as the local ATM is in a bookies wall and charges £2.50 to get your own money a price I will not pay.
Ok he says tomorrow then.
At 8 fuckin 30 he turns up and asks for tablets for his hangover which I supply, and he the asks if I can give him a fiver until I go to the bank.
I tell him no as I have given all the cash I had to my niece for a day trips spending money.
He leaves and comes back 1 hour later shouting I have done him and he's not a Pratt and he wants his money.
I tells him I haven't been out yet and he will have to wait until I do.
He starts yelling so my missus gets stuck in telling him what she thought and he isn't entitled to a refund on his deposit which legally he ain't but I did not intend to withhold.
He then turns his attention to her and starts threatening her. At this point I become John the Baptist again (old forces nickname) and proceed to grab hold to throw him out the gate. He tells me fuck off me I have 37 sons cousins and nephews.
I commiserate and tell him it must be fuckin expensive at Crimbo at which point he starts.
I fuckin own you he says I'll take all you've got you don't know who your dealing with. Go to the police and I'll have you wasted by my extensive family, I'm coming back with a van to empty this drum and you won't stop me etc etc etc.
I grabs him by the throat to let him know how I feel about his threats and he warns I'm a prize fighter. Prize prick I say and throw him by the throat out the back gate. He kicks the gate and I open it to part the twat from his breath. He legs it and I ain't seen him since.
About three hours later I sent my nephew to his house with his money (I'm a man of my word) and he tells him he has a contract out on me. But it's suspended.
I nearly pissed myself when he told me that as I was thinking pity the fuckin skipper never felt so compassionate with his fuckin warrant, he never suspended that fucker.
Absolute ungarnished true dit.
Last Thursday or Friday.

 

Ain't that the truth. In the Bosphorus I spent a few uncomfortable hours under a blanket on the bridge roof with the ships Hasselblad taking happy snaps of all things Soviet!!!!!

 

Was you the duty snapper?

 

Carefully aware how I answer this!!!

I took the photos!!!!

 

So did I, and if you dont want Mrs Waspie and Mrs Hasselblad to get copies, send...............