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I never managed to get down there for a four monther despite volunteering but I did get down there for a three week holiday of sorts.
I'd been sent home on "sick" and terminal leave ( five months in total) after being told by my final med board that I was to be discharged from the service. Boredom set in rigidly after a few few weeks of doing nothing so I decided to indulge down to the Falkands to see what it was like...and I loved every minute there.
I turned up at Brize, parked my car and off I went. Arrived at Mt Pleasant and got the statndard arrivals brief along with an arrivals stamp from the customs bods in my passport and then went to my pre-organised accommodation at 38 fy. ( I think it was 38. Put it this way, it was a ten minute walk to the big NAAFI). I met up with a couple of Tornado mates on that first evening and got about organising my hols using them as my contacts when sorting out trips etc.
Sealion Island courtesy of the Brintel helicopter, Stanley, Mt Tumbledown and trip to Fox Bay all done in week one with further trips to Stanley in week two after hiring the SIF Land Rover for a few days. Week three saw me island hopping and delivering supplies and packages with the FIGAS Islander aircraft and a few days spent on Weddel with Denzil and Bella as my tour guides and supplier's of fresh eggs in the mornings.
It's fair to be said that I had a great time and not one single person questioned my presence there. I flew back with one of the Tonka mates and did the obligatory beer drinking at Ascension and got the obligatory WideAwakeAirfield stamp in my passport. Arrived back at Brize, picked up the car and drove a couple of bods home who lived in my locality saving them time and the nausea of waiting for service transport.
And then it kicked off.
Waiting for me on the floor was a hand posted letter from PSF telling me to report directly to the Chief Clerk asap. It turned out that someone on my Squadron had inadvertently told him in the Mess that I was holidaying in the South Atlantic and he wasn't very happy about that. In fact, when I reported to his office, he went absolutely harpic with with me, telling me he was going to charge me with dereliction of duty (work that out) and he'd do his damnedest to have me fizzed with anything he could throw at me. He went even more bananas when I said " Well you you can't sack me, the RAF has already done that so as far as I'm concerned I'll do what I want thanks". Insubordination was a word thrown around as I revelled in his antagonised state and he only began to become sensible again when a curious Squadron Leader (OC PSF) stuck his head around the door to see what was going on. I was kindly sent on my way with another appointment for a chat with the said S/L with tea and biscuits.
And a very nice chat it was too. OC PSF congratulated me on making a mockery of the system that had downgraded and discharged me by doing exactly what the system said I couldn't do. He also pointed to a pile of documents on his desk and said "I think you have been treated unfairly and I have evidence of this. I have no idea how these documents came into your possession". He then wished me all the luck in the world and that no disciplinary action would be taken, because I hadn't broken any rules. I've still go those documents but I never needed them. Twenty years down the line I'm in a top notch position with all the trimmings and I look back at my little Falklands jaunt with a little wry smile knowing that the RAF is still backwards in the way it administrates its people.
I'd been sent home on "sick" and terminal leave ( five months in total) after being told by my final med board that I was to be discharged from the service. Boredom set in rigidly after a few few weeks of doing nothing so I decided to indulge down to the Falkands to see what it was like...and I loved every minute there.
I turned up at Brize, parked my car and off I went. Arrived at Mt Pleasant and got the statndard arrivals brief along with an arrivals stamp from the customs bods in my passport and then went to my pre-organised accommodation at 38 fy. ( I think it was 38. Put it this way, it was a ten minute walk to the big NAAFI). I met up with a couple of Tornado mates on that first evening and got about organising my hols using them as my contacts when sorting out trips etc.
Sealion Island courtesy of the Brintel helicopter, Stanley, Mt Tumbledown and trip to Fox Bay all done in week one with further trips to Stanley in week two after hiring the SIF Land Rover for a few days. Week three saw me island hopping and delivering supplies and packages with the FIGAS Islander aircraft and a few days spent on Weddel with Denzil and Bella as my tour guides and supplier's of fresh eggs in the mornings.
It's fair to be said that I had a great time and not one single person questioned my presence there. I flew back with one of the Tonka mates and did the obligatory beer drinking at Ascension and got the obligatory WideAwakeAirfield stamp in my passport. Arrived back at Brize, picked up the car and drove a couple of bods home who lived in my locality saving them time and the nausea of waiting for service transport.
And then it kicked off.
Waiting for me on the floor was a hand posted letter from PSF telling me to report directly to the Chief Clerk asap. It turned out that someone on my Squadron had inadvertently told him in the Mess that I was holidaying in the South Atlantic and he wasn't very happy about that. In fact, when I reported to his office, he went absolutely harpic with with me, telling me he was going to charge me with dereliction of duty (work that out) and he'd do his damnedest to have me fizzed with anything he could throw at me. He went even more bananas when I said " Well you you can't sack me, the RAF has already done that so as far as I'm concerned I'll do what I want thanks". Insubordination was a word thrown around as I revelled in his antagonised state and he only began to become sensible again when a curious Squadron Leader (OC PSF) stuck his head around the door to see what was going on. I was kindly sent on my way with another appointment for a chat with the said S/L with tea and biscuits.
And a very nice chat it was too. OC PSF congratulated me on making a mockery of the system that had downgraded and discharged me by doing exactly what the system said I couldn't do. He also pointed to a pile of documents on his desk and said "I think you have been treated unfairly and I have evidence of this. I have no idea how these documents came into your possession". He then wished me all the luck in the world and that no disciplinary action would be taken, because I hadn't broken any rules. I've still go those documents but I never needed them. Twenty years down the line I'm in a top notch position with all the trimmings and I look back at my little Falklands jaunt with a little wry smile knowing that the RAF is still backwards in the way it administrates its people.