Chinese Whispers

Seeing some of the stuff which has come up recently on another topic, maybe it would give a giggle to record some of the incidents which arose from mis-understanding verbal instructions.......... here's one to kick off.....

I was a newcomer, been in the service regt less than two weeks and unhappy with the office job I'd been shoved into.  The Battery Commander rang in whilst I was alone, needed some support at his out of camp quarter.  I scribbled instructions on a bit of scrap . Wanted two men immediately, Charlie & George , he said then rang off.  Charlie M ........ was the battery runner, Gnr. George from Newcastle drove a 3-tonner. I called up the MT Clerk, got him in early to arrange transport, he brought the two anxious gunners with him.  Bdr. Bennett was puzzled, but  filled in a work ticket and arranged a driver. "Why does he want these two ?" he asked. "Dunno ", I replied " All he said was he wanted two chaps, Charlie and George, at his quarter PDQ ".   Bennett chucked down his Biro, went into NCO mode.
"You effing pillock ! What he meant was he wants two Champs, not CHAPS!"

Tac signs on vehicles was something I'd not met until then.

Classic:lol: 

I've got a problem now cartav. There have been times in my army service when things like that have happened, trouble is I can't remember a single one !

One day when detailed as Regimental Runner the RSM said, "Take my Bike, go to the NAAFI and get me 20 Benson & Hedges". An hour later I returned with the aforementioneds' cigarettes, he went ballistic "Why the delay, old boy" was one of the questions that I think he asked. "Are you unable to follow a simple order - I told you to take my bike, go to the NAAFI and get me 20 B & H, where is the problem in that"? "I cannot ride a bike, Sir".  

brum wrote:

I've got a problem now cartav. There have been times in my army service when things like that have happened, trouble is I can't remember a single one !

OK Brum ! Here's a sigs related one of many I remember......... One of the probs the sigs NCO had before an exercise was to draft the info for distribution to the operators. BHQ troop were doing a sigs exercise, putting out the five Lt. Ack Ack OPs evenly spaced on the circumference of a circle on the ground of 4300 yds radius ( I think !) from the centre point near where BHQ were located.

The sigs Bdr. often picked his code words from a single theme, this time it was related to pubs & drinking. Various code words were allocated for different aspects of the exercise, ones like Bar Maid, Best Bitter, Whisky Mac, etc. Light Ack Ack had no reason for OPs to operate after dark, sometimes they came back to the BHQ loc, this time the one NCO & two men at each OP would stay in position, it was a good number being self sufficient, ......... I loved it !.

Bob H..... the sigs NCO, had continued with his pub theme and allocated "Last Orders" for the after dark close down. One OP was anxious to get some kip, they'd had no instruction to close down so dropped a reminder to BHQ. Operator there was a new boy, he acknowledged the request, passed it on to the equally inexperienced OP officer. " Sir ! Yankee OP have asked for your Last Orders ".

That was something 2/Lt W...... hadn't expected. He thought a bit, then drafted out half a dozen paragraphs to detail the following day's activities to send over the net. Hardly something appreciated by out stations who usually had their heads down by this time.

Shelldrake wrote:

  "I cannot ride a bike, Sir". 

And similarly............ Early trg for DRs involved splitting the course in two, one jumped on the bike, the other pushed him round a simple obstacle course to get the rider used to weight. No matter how he tried, one wobbling dimwit insisted on putting his feet down. You've guessed it, it would have been an obvious question to ask, I should have checked first. He'd volunteered to learn to ride a M/c before ever going on a pushbike.

The old one's are the best.
"Send reinforcements we are going to advance, Pass it on down the trench".!!
On arrival
"Send three and four pence, we're going to a dance" !!

In a similar vein . . .

In the early 60s and knowing nothing at all about engines, I was on a Saracen course at Bovington.
Our instructor was a fierce WW2 veteran, from somewhere in Scotland, with an impenetrable accent.
During a lesson on the crankshaft, during which no one dared ask a question, we were all furiously taking notes.
Later, another instructor asked me what the hell I'd written in my book.
"Waibs"? he asked, "drellens", "cronks", "chunnels" ?
Once he'd realised who our previous instructor had been, he put us right.
Webs, drillings, cranks, journals.

Bleedin' Jocks.

Well I'll be buggered, when did I become One with Montgomery ?  

brum wrote:

In a similar vein . . .


Later, another instructor asked me what the hell I'd written in my book.
"Waibs"? he asked, "drellens", "cronks", "chunnels" ?


Bleedin' Jocks.

Can't see a problem with that, drinkies in the Mess tonight - cartav's paying!!  

Shelldrake wrote:

Can't see a problem with that, drinkies in the Mess tonight - cartav's paying!!  

I'll away an' get ma sporran !    After one more............  

Never knew whether this was some sort of army myth, but the Q PSI who told me swore it was true.  A sapper troop was tasked with erecting tentage for some grand occasion.  The  senior NCO in charge of the marquee party saw the lads were having bother driving in the big pegs, saw they needed the big mallet which was still in stores. He gripped the youngest, a recent arrival. "You lad !" he yelled " Run over to the SQMS Store and get the maul ".  So he did as he was told and came back with the storeman, his assistant & two who were drawing kit.       (You have to read it out loud, you see .)

And QM related, something that I've just come across in a book I'm reading.
Maybe it's an old army joke, but it's new to me..........

RQMS is asked why he is loathe to sign anything out.  He calls attention to the sign on the door.  "See that ?  It says ' STORES'.  If I was meant to let you have anything it would say  'ISSUES' ".

"Is that a Christmas cake or a Meringue?". Has to be read out loud, also.

brum wrote:

In a similar vein . . .

In the early 60s  and knowing nothing at all about engines, I was on a Saracen course at Bovington.
Our instructor was a fierce WW2 veteran, from somewhere in Scotland, with an impenetrable accent.
During a lesson on the crankshaft, during which no one dared ask a question, we were all furiously taking notes.
Later, another instructor asked me what the hell I'd written in my book.
"Waibs"? he asked, "drellens", "cronks", "chunnels" ?
Once he'd realised who our previous instructor had been, he put us right.
Webs, drillings, cranks, journals.

Bleedin' Jocks.

When I did my RI's course at Bovington the Instructor said I had a lovely Scottish brogue - he didn't mention my other shoe, which was a Moccasin.

1972 attached to a light regiment RA in Catterick, we had to go to wales for live firing with 105 pack howitzers, I was a young craftsman and the LAD clerk so they do not come any greener. I had to drive a land rover and with me was the tiffy weapons.

Four batteries and the LAD following behind in convoy, boy it was a long days drive and as usual some broke down and we guys had to pull over and sort it out so we got to Wales and the firing range by the time all the batteries were in place for the first session.

I got a message over the C45 to bring tiffy to one battery location as a gun had come off its trolly (whatever that meant I do not know but sounded kinda bad eh LOL) they gave me a grid ref and I wrote it down but did not confirm it.

It was dark and they were night firing so no lights on the vehicle (convoy lights only) tiffy had a little red light torch to read the map, but icky here had got the ref wrong only by one digit, and that one digit nearly got us stiffed.

Tiff said turn right and I strained to see the turning in the dark, hey its only a dirt road tiff i said, he said shut the eff up and follow it. It was like driving over a desert with not trees nor nothing and then the fun started as the batteries opened fire and we found out we were in the impact area.

There were explosions moving straight towards us and I do swear I turned that rover on a sixpence almost forcing tiff out of the side window, something was running down my leg and I was praying it was only sweat.

Next time I was given a grid ref I asked for confirmation several times.

As young, very green and naive 19 year old soldier in BAOR. When the unit (28 (BR) Sig Regitment) was put on standby for 'Snell Zug' (Quicktrain), I was going around worrying myself sick about how the whole regiment could pack everything up, including lockers, bedspaces, personal kit etc, and then load them all on to the units Bedford 3 tonne trucks.

I was worrying, and grumbling myself sick to other young, naive and green soldiers who had been posted into the unit - until some wiser soul, a 15 year veteran lance corporal with 3 good conduct stripes on his No 2s, who had been through the Suez Crisis as a National Serviceman, put us all straight - he explained in simple terms what 'Quick Train' was about. It was not about having to pack up everything including the Cookhouse knives, spoon, frying pans and everything else.

Wow- this was a relief, so us young, naive and green soldiers went over to the NAAFI Bar and proceeded to get hammered.......

There's a couple of heart rending topics in being, both posted by German girls who are seeking out a father who has done a bunk.  It would be unkind to slip these bits in the same section, but the girls' plight reminds me of some stuff which must go back to WW2, and which were regular contributions by wizened war service SNCO's at Mess Smokers.   Do they still have Smokers ?  Are they banned from indoors, relegated to the cold night air ?
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Firstly, a snatch from a song, most of which is sadly forgotten.............

          "Seven long years you love my Daughter,
            now you sail  for Blighty's shore............

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And bits from writings in biblical style which related the travels of Daniel....... I think!

  And it came to pass that Daniel was lost in the wilderness and sore
  in need of a pint, when he came upon a wayside well where a comely
  virgin was drawing water.

  She looked upon him and was pleased with what she saw.  At length, she
  spake saying " Sir !  I have looked upon thee and thy countenance  is
  favourable to mine eyes.  I beg thee, tarry a while and lay with me".  

  It is thy birthday,  thought Daniel. Get stuck in and fill thy boots.  And so it was,   he tarried for forty days and forty nights.

  And on the fortieth night she lay awake troubled, and sought comfort.
 "Sir", she said, " I must speak with thee to tell that I am with child.
  What steps wilt thou take ?"

  "Bloody great big ones ! " said Daniel. And so saying he disappeared back into the wilderness.

LOL^^

First free weekend in Germany, somewhere in the vicinity of Hameln Mike  had found a good spot for a snack. He went on and on about the wooden platter overflowing with a huge slice of wurst, smothered with brat kartofflen, salad and the whole works for 5 DM.  "You have to try it" he repeated.  So we would, even if it was just to shut him up.  He gave directions, wrote down what he'd had so the innocents lacking in local speak wouldn't go wrong.

The three of us found the spot, sat outside on the sun,  had a beer and gave the waitress the paper Mike had written on rather than confuse her with attempts at Kraut.  " Drei ?" she asked "Yeah ! Three ..... Drei ", we knew that  much.   Our order came, not what we expected.  Three bratwurst,  each one wrapped in silver foil,  hardly what we wanted.  Our confusion was obvious, the waitress tried to explain, showed us Mike's scribble.  " Here", she said, " It is written Reise Wurst.......  sausage for a travel........, you say, what ?.... take away ? ".  

Eventually the pfennig dropped, Mike should have written "Riese Wurst",  giant sausage. We all had a giggle, we ate the bratties whilst waiting for the Riese Wurst, there was no charge  for them.