Years and years ago, I was a young soldier working in a third line support workshop. That means it was buildings rather than a mobile field support unit, and we had a small civilian contingent who worked alongside the military.
The civilians had to be treated as if they were officers with the rank of major which is a problem when you are talking about people who would never in a million years get past basic selection. You end up having to stand straight call a total ****** 'sir'.
Anyway, there was an Electronics project manager called George. He was about thirty years old, always smiling, slightly chubby, red cheeks and he dressed like someone out of an 18th century novel. He wore a roughspun tweed jacket, a waistcoat and a deerstalker hat.
One day a mate of mine was collared by the workshop sergeant and asked to fit a clapper switch in the main junction box, with great big fck off red wires that went through the board, but didn’t connect to anything. He wanted a sign underneath it labelled ‘No Break Supply’. When I asked him what it was for , he said something about George. So I said, look George is harmless, whats the problem?
‘Harmless, you must be joking, he’s lethal. He’s killed three men in unarmed combat, he’s lethal, he bores the fkers to death and I think I’m next on his hit list’
So the sergeant had a few domestic doorbells secreted around the building connected to a bell in the corridor above the switch box. (Like a school bell). He then produced the ‘No break supply’ handbook and asked George if he would take the massive responsibility, he accepted.
The idea was that when the mains went down, the emergency generators kicked in, to protect the surveillance radars, if they failed, the clapper had to be thrown to restart the sequence.
I heard the bell ring a few times over the weeks and I was there once to see the whole thing happen. I was in the Electrics office and George was in full flight, the sergeants eyes were glazed over, his head was nodding, paint was peeling from the wall. He must have reached under the desk, BRRRNG, BRRRNG. George was out of the blocks and down that corridor like a fking whippet, he threw the clapper then the bell stopped.
He came back with a huge smile and the air of a man who has performed above and beyond the call of duty. He had saved the day. Again.
I left that posting a month or so later and I am sure the bugger lost about a stone in that period
The civilians had to be treated as if they were officers with the rank of major which is a problem when you are talking about people who would never in a million years get past basic selection. You end up having to stand straight call a total ****** 'sir'.
Anyway, there was an Electronics project manager called George. He was about thirty years old, always smiling, slightly chubby, red cheeks and he dressed like someone out of an 18th century novel. He wore a roughspun tweed jacket, a waistcoat and a deerstalker hat.
One day a mate of mine was collared by the workshop sergeant and asked to fit a clapper switch in the main junction box, with great big fck off red wires that went through the board, but didn’t connect to anything. He wanted a sign underneath it labelled ‘No Break Supply’. When I asked him what it was for , he said something about George. So I said, look George is harmless, whats the problem?
‘Harmless, you must be joking, he’s lethal. He’s killed three men in unarmed combat, he’s lethal, he bores the fkers to death and I think I’m next on his hit list’
So the sergeant had a few domestic doorbells secreted around the building connected to a bell in the corridor above the switch box. (Like a school bell). He then produced the ‘No break supply’ handbook and asked George if he would take the massive responsibility, he accepted.
The idea was that when the mains went down, the emergency generators kicked in, to protect the surveillance radars, if they failed, the clapper had to be thrown to restart the sequence.
I heard the bell ring a few times over the weeks and I was there once to see the whole thing happen. I was in the Electrics office and George was in full flight, the sergeants eyes were glazed over, his head was nodding, paint was peeling from the wall. He must have reached under the desk, BRRRNG, BRRRNG. George was out of the blocks and down that corridor like a fking whippet, he threw the clapper then the bell stopped.
He came back with a huge smile and the air of a man who has performed above and beyond the call of duty. He had saved the day. Again.
I left that posting a month or so later and I am sure the bugger lost about a stone in that period
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