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Brian
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during my time with the raf liaison party in france there were some monumental 'thrashes' with various aircrew staging through.
on one such, i played jockey to a horse named 'chuck', a usaf sabre pilot, and one of a group of four en route to uk. we were taking part in a drunken game of pillow fighting in the all-ranks bar.
next day, despite the camerarderie of the previous night, chuck deceided he'd like to turn me into a chunk of burnt toast.
he leaned down from the sabre's cockpit to shake hands as the jets prepared for departure, and that's where things went a bit awry.
still somewhat hung over, i wandered towards the rear of his aircraft. there came an almighty rugby tackle from behind just as chuck hit the start button and a huge flame blasted out of the tailpipe.
fortunately, one of our number who was a bit more alert had seen the danger and flung me to the tarmac with two seconds to spare.
as chuck and his buddies flashed away over the nearby mont ventoux, i was still cursing that he should learn to use his rear view mirror a bit more.

Bri