18 Sqn Wessex on ex in the north German Plain, 6 weeks of the old Eternal Triangle exercises. Rocks running all matter of crap duties with the old tricks – fill the Elsans up with neat racasan so the first aircrew who deposits never goes near an Elsan ever again because the splashback seared his jewels – kept stuff down to manageable proportions. We have a new Chief Magician in charge of the techies who thought he was the dogs…… Told us one morning that from now on his men would burn the wet pit every day. Suits us said the Hooligan whilst telling me and Mac to keep our eyes on them. So early in the morn, after getting the birds off for the days tasking, Chief and his gang of flightless birds trogged down to the pit. It was roughly 5 feet by 8ft by about 6 foot deep, in the wood. Two jerry cans of paraffin went dutifully onto the pit and the burning taper thrown in….result nowt…not even a sizzle to the great disappointment of the chief. We shall have to try some more quoth the great technician and another 10 gallons of paraffin went in with still nowt so he decides he will use some petrol, but not a lot so it remained manageable. Unbeknownst to him Mac and I had been watching and had each appropriated 2 jerry cans of aircraft fuel. None of your mamby pamby Avtur, this the Avtag the old Wessex flew on – white spirit based.
So we slung the 20 gallons in when the guins were searching for a chit to get petrol. Down they came with 5 gallons of petrol, dropped it in and tossed in the lighted taper. Slight difference…. Apocalypse now, from out of the pit rose a huge fireball rapidly ascending into the sky, complete with a mushroom cloud…blowing trees with three feet trunks aside like saplings in the wind…and leaving all the high paid technoprats with fricasseed eyebrows and black faces…to which the Hooligan remarked dryly “obviously far too technical for the rocks to do it best you guys keep on trying.”
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