Combined Cadet Farce...
At school, we had to join the CCF (Combined Cadet Forces), we had no choice, it was obligatory for the first three years. Actually we did have one choice - Army, RAF or Navy.

School law followed the following principles: Army = hard & cool; RAF = cop-out wimps & Navy = gay. Of the 100, 13yr old boys singing up to the class of 1987, 70 went into the army, 20 into the RAF and 10 - the majority of whom have since come out - into the navy. I plumped for the RAF.

The school took this very seriously, the entirety of Wednesday afternoons were given over to square-bashing, boot shining and endless meetings in the 'RAF hut' - where we were taught to identify planes, how to correctly iron our trousers and how the Battle of Britain was won.

Every month, someone from the real armed forces would visit - and we did some pretty cool things. Once, they brought a life raft that you'd find attached to a Chinook. We had do dive in the pool, swim to the life raft, inflate it, climb in and row to the other side of the pool within 30 seconds. We were drilled on this endlessly - so much so, that if my BA flight to NYC ever crashes into the sea, I know I will survive.

But the biggest and best thing about the RAF was the annual training flight. We'd all pile in a coach off to Brize Norton, where after hours of safety training - which included the vital parachute simulation, where we'd leap off a desk, pull an imaginary cord and shout 'Jump Jump Sir!' in response to a mad RAFer screaming 'Jump Jump Cadet!'

And then it was time to fly. The first time I went I was shaking with excitement. I'd heard all the rumours. They let you take control! They do a loop-the-loop with you! They do barrel rolls! Even the site of the puny Chipmunk we'd be flying didn't dampen my enthusiasm. Topgun was blowing up at the time and my head was filled with Welcome to the Danger Zone, Iceman & Maverick. I couldn't fucking wait to blast some commie scum out of the sky.

First up was poor old Fitzsimmons. He'd cried on the coach journey. He cried during the training. And he continued to wimper as he was strapped into the huge parachute rucksack and had the old-fashioned, leather oxygen mask clamped too tightly to his face. The mask covered everything but his eyes and a shock of fire-red hair. The weight of the parachute forced him into a stoop and he waddled across the tarmac to the plane.

We watched as they taxied and took off on his maiden flight. Sure enough, the instructor, showing off as always, performed a gravity-defying loop and then buzzed the runway at less than 50ft. Shortly afterwards - much sooner than we expected - they came back to land. The top flipped open and out staggered Fitzsimmons, who was led by the hand back to base.

Once inside, he had a frenzied fit, clawing like crazy at his mask. The instructor calmly unfastened the clips from the back of Fitzsimmons' head - only to leap away in disgust, swearing like buggery. The entire mask was filled with vomit. It spilled out over the sides and flooded the floor through the disconnected oxygen tube. This was of course the funniest thing we'd ever seen.

Fitzsimmons was ordered to wash up and go away. He sat on the floor shaking like a leaf, all ginger hair and green complexion - not a good mix. And then it was MY turn.

Parachute on. New mask fitted. I almost ran to the plane. I climbed up, sat behind the instructor and we took off. It was beautiful. The glass canopy allowed me a 365 degree view of the world. Even more so when the instructor looped-the-loop - I could understand why Fitzsimmons lost it. He then proceed to climb almost vertically, explaining that we were going to the stall the plane as the fuel ran away from the engine. That was terrifying. Then, the fucker turned into a nose dive and bump-started the engine. The rush was immense.

'Cadet! Would you like control?' 'Yes Sir!' 'Cadet I am handing you control, do you have control?' 'Yes Sir! I have control'. And with that I took the joystick between my legs and began to fly. Keeping my eye on the attitude indicator, I kept the plane level, banked a bit and basically flew. It was piss easy.

Then I noticed the red button. On the top of the joystick was a lid. I flipped it and the most inviting big, round red button was under my thumb. I pushed it. Nothing. I pushed it again, this time holding it down - but again, nothing. They must have disconnected the gun I thought. Shame. The instructor came on the line. 'Cadet! We're going to land. I'm going in fast with some hard banking. Are you ready?' 'Yes Sir, proceed.'

We came tearing down towards base. I couldn't help myself. I grabbed the stick and mashed down on the button.

'PEW! PEW! PEW! DADADADADADADADA! BOOSH! BRRRRRR! DADADADADADADA!' I screamed my gun and bomb noises at imaginary enemies.

'Too close for missiles! I'm switching to guns! 'I'll just brake and he'll fly right past me! ICEMAN! This is Maverick!' I blithered, channeling Tom Cruise before he was gay. All the time smashing down the big red button.

'Cadet! Stop that now!' bellowed the instructor. 'You're right in my fucking ear!' I calmed down and we landed. After exiting the plane I sadly walked across the runway back to base. When I came in, the entire room was pissing themselves and about 10 uniformed, real RAF people were slowly and cynically clapping me.

Turns out the red button wasn't a gun. It wasn't even a bomb-release switch. It was a one-way distress radio frequency that connected directly to the base's traffic control tower. But at least I didn't throw up.
( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 13:14, 16 replies)

365 degree view
What's that look like, then?
( Ungersven would support SpankyHanky's patreon, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 13:43, closed)

I knew there was something wrong with that
when I read it, but my brain just went 'meh' and carried on.
(username failed moderation, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 14:51, closed)

It's a degree for every day of the year.

( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 16:06, closed)

*Grabs popcorn and waits for the self righteous brigade to arrive*
Good story.
( The Mock Turtle ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 13:53, closed)

Sorry I'm late.
Getting on this high horse takes ages.

What do you need me to take offence at? Or just Albert's general existence?
( scarpe We Stole Bikes, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 16:27, closed)

What ever you want to my old mukka.

( The Mock Turtle ™ --- Thinks you are a cunt, on, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 17:13, closed)

Call me old fashioned, but when zooming through the air in a huge chunk of metal several thousand metres above the ground, it's probably NOT a good idea to press random buttons.
Particularly not big, red ones.

Just saying.
(moon monkey is busy making memories worth repressing, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 13:54, closed)

I'm impressed
he did a loop 50ft off the ground seeing as even the venerable bulldog lost a bit of altitude doing that stuff!

Are you sure the leather mask wasn't a gimp mask though?

Nice use of the transmission button tho, I'd have done the same!
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 14:22, closed)

The image
of all those pilots clapping slowly made me chuckle. *click*
(bROKEN aRROW PUA HVI Master, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 14:32, closed)

I quite like this :)
Mostly as I was once a young air cadet myself - we were at Woodvale though, flying GROBs.

I have clicked accordingly :)
(Fleximus Rex briefly gave up lurking on, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 14:38, closed)

Me too
Although I did Chipmunks as an Air cadet, then Bulldogs in the UAS at Woodvale!

Left before they started using the grobs, makes me feel old now
(Fuckarma was masturbating into your handbag, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 14:51, closed)

Have you just cut and pasted Donkey Gums' story from last week and replaced all the tractors with planes?

( Amorous Badger NAKED BEA ARTHUR PHOTOS 4U, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 15:09, closed)

And yes...
before anyone corrects, it is 'Highway to the Danger Zone', not 'Welcome to the Danger Zone'.
( Albert Marshmallow is a completely irredeemable cunt, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 17:17, closed)

Its just Danger Zone
According to the CD I've got here
( evil_andy Stick stick stick stick sticky sticky stick stick, Fri 1 Jun 2012, 20:40, closed)

Actually on a Chippie........
.........that big red button releases the clamps that hold the wings on. They always disconnect it before taking up spotty idiot ATC erks most of whom have permanently twitching right wrists...
(Colonel Blink is now officially a pretentious prick, Sat 2 Jun 2012, 8:38, closed)

Stalling
Actually a stall is allowing the airflow to peel away from the lifting surfaces (nothing to do with the engine and fuel) You can stall a plane with full power as long as the relative wind exceeds the critical angle of attack against the wings.

Sounds likes a lot of fun though (sans vomit)
(Lurkaloid awarded wanking black belt on, Wed 6 Jun 2012, 14:06, closed)