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Lowaicue

Lowaicue

英語在香港
A Wee Scottish Tale.


A golfer is cupping his hand to scoop water from a Highland burn on the St Andrews course.

A groundskeeper shouts: 'Dinnae drink tha waater! Et's foo ae coo's shite an pish!'
The golfer replies: 'Hey buddy, I'm from America. Could you repeat that for me, in English!?'

The keeper replies: 'I said, use two hands - you'll spill less that way!
 
My great Uncle was a liberator pilot during WWII and was stationed in England (He was eventually shot down over Austria in 44, survived the crash, was captured and spent the last year of the war as a POW.).

He told me a story about how one night before a mission some fellow British pilots threw a dinner party. One thing that used to annoy my uncle was that before a mission the Brits were all "Pip pip Cheerio" and just as up beat and cheerful as could be about the coming mission where as the Americans were anxious and concerned about dying.

So during the dinner one of the British officers stands up to make a toast and say's "Gentleman, The King!". To which my uncle said in a loud voice "Fuck the King!".

The Scottsman sitting next to him turned, shook his head in disbelief and said "Oi man, you canna even approach him!"
 
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Mott the Hoople said:
My great Uncle was a liberator pilot during WWII and was stationed in England (He was eventually shot down over Austria in 44, survived the crash, was captured and spent the last year of the war as a POW.).

He told me a story about how one night before a mission some fellow British pilots threw a dinner party. One thing that used to annoy my uncle was that before a mission the Brits were all "Pip pip Cheerio" and just as up beat and cheerful as could be about the coming mission where as the Americans were anxious and concerned about dying.

So during the dinner one of the British officers stands up to make a toast and say's "Gentleman, The King!". To which my uncle said in a loud voice "Fuck the King!".

The Scottsman sitting next to him turned, shook his head in disbelief and said "Oi man, you canna even approach him!"
Click to expand...

Not far from me is a memorial to a B17 that crashed returning from a mission in Alborg, Denmark on the 25th February 1944. This year I went to the simple ceremony performed each year by the RAF to commemorate the event.

During Big Week the Eighth Air Force lost 97 B-17s, 40 B-24s, and another 20 scrapped due to damage.[ The Fifteenth Air Force lost 90 aircraft and American fighter losses stood at 28. Although these numbers are high in absolute terms, the numbers of bombers involved in the missions were much higher than previously, and the losses represented a much smaller percentage of the attacking force. The earlier Schweinfurt missions cost the force just under 30% of their aircraft; for the Big Week it was under 7%.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A7563783

http://www.360cities.net/image/memorial-morning#0.80,34.20,70.0
 
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Mott the Hoople said:
My great Uncle was a liberator pilot during WWII and was stationed in England (He was eventually shot down over Austria in 44, survived the crash, was captured and spent the last year of the war as a POW.).

He told me a story about how one night before a mission some fellow British pilots threw a dinner party. One thing that used to annoy my uncle was that before a mission the Brits were all "Pip pip Cheerio" and just as up beat and cheerful as could be about the coming mission where as the Americans were anxious and concerned about dying.

So during the dinner one of the British officers stands up to make a toast and say's "Gentleman, The King!". To which my uncle said in a loud voice "Fuck the King!".

The Scottsman sitting next to him turned, shook his head in disbelief and said "Oi man, you canna even approach him!"
Click to expand...

Cool!
 
tom prendergast said:
Not far from me is a memorial to a B17 that crashed returning from a mission in Alborg, Denmark on the 25th February 1944. This year I went to the simple ceremony performed each year by the RAF to commemorate the event.

During Big Week the Eighth Air Force lost 97 B-17s, 40 B-24s, and another 20 scrapped due to damage.[ The Fifteenth Air Force lost 90 aircraft and American fighter losses stood at 28. Although these numbers are high in absolute terms, the numbers of bombers involved in the missions were much higher than previously, and the losses represented a much smaller percentage of the attacking force. The earlier Schweinfurt missions cost the force just under 30% of their aircraft; for the Big Week it was under 7%.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A7563783

http://www.360cities.net/image/memorial-morning#0.80,34.20,70.0
Click to expand...
Keep in mind to that those B-17 and Liberators had 10 men crews so a los of 97 B-17 and 40 Liberators meant the loss of 1370 men. The attrition rate for the 8th Air Force from 1942 to 1944 was 250% for 25 missions. Meaning the average airman was shot down or killed after 12.5 flights.
 
Liberty said:
Cool!
Click to expand...

He wrote a book after the war about his adventure of being shot down over Austria, he was able to bring the plane down in a crash landing. All the crew survived. They tried to escape into France (It was the summer of 44) but were captured and interned in a POW camp. He later escaped from the POW camp and was recaptured. He very well could have been shot by the Germans for doing this and he saw captured POW's executed but the war was so close to being over that they just returned him to the camp.

He went on to become the manager of a small rural airport in New Knoxville, Ohio. A few years after he started that job he helped to teach a young kid from Wapakoneta, OH to fly and was one of his sponsors when the kid enrolled in Purdue. The kid was precocious. He was only 14 when he started comong to the airport. He would ride there from town on his bicycle. My uncle had one of his pilots take him up in an old crop duster to teach him to fly. The kid went on to earn his pilots license when he was 15. A year before he could get his auto license. The kids name was Neil Armstong.
 
Mott the Hoople said:
He wrote a book after the war about his adventure of being shot down over Austria, he was able to bring the plane down in a crash landing. All the crew survived. They tried to escape into France (It was the summer of 44) but were captured and interned in a POW camp. He later escaped from the POW camp and was recaptured. He very well could have been shot by the Germans for doing this and he saw captured POW's executed but the war was so close to being over that they just returned him to the camp.

He went on to become the manager of a small rural airport in New Knoxville, Ohio. A few years after he started that job he helped to teach a young kid from Wapakoneta, OH to fly and was one of his sponsors when the kid enrolled in Purdue. The kid was precocious. He was only 14 when he started comong to the airport. He would ride there from town on his bicycle. My uncle had one of his pilots take him up in an old crop duster to teach him to fly. The kid went on to earn his pilots license when he was 15. A year before he could get his auto license. The kids name was Neil Armstong.
Click to expand...

That makes a lot of sense. If I was forced to grow up in a shit stain like Ohio, I too would want to get as far away from it as possible. The moon probably wasn't far enough. Damn the technology.
 
tom prendergast said:
Not far from me is a memorial to a B17 that crashed returning from a mission in Alborg, Denmark on the 25th February 1944. This year I went to the simple ceremony performed each year by the RAF to commemorate the event.

During Big Week the Eighth Air Force lost 97 B-17s, 40 B-24s, and another 20 scrapped due to damage.[ The Fifteenth Air Force lost 90 aircraft and American fighter losses stood at 28. Although these numbers are high in absolute terms, the numbers of bombers involved in the missions were much higher than previously, and the losses represented a much smaller percentage of the attacking force. The earlier Schweinfurt missions cost the force just under 30% of their aircraft; for the Big Week it was under 7%.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/dna/h2g2/A7563783

http://www.360cities.net/image/memorial-morning#0.80,34.20,70.0
Click to expand...
Thank you Tom. And Thanks for not forgetting!
 
Mott the Hoople said:
My great Uncle was a liberator pilot during WWII and was stationed in England (He was eventually shot down over Austria in 44, survived the crash, was captured and spent the last year of the war as a POW.).

He told me a story about how one night before a mission some fellow British pilots threw a dinner party. One thing that used to annoy my uncle was that before a mission the Brits were all "Pip pip Cheerio" and just as up beat and cheerful as could be about the coming mission where as the Americans were anxious and concerned about dying.

So during the dinner one of the British officers stands up to make a toast and say's "Gentleman, The King!". To which my uncle said in a loud voice "Fuck the King!".

The Scottsman sitting next to him turned, shook his head in disbelief and said "Oi man, you canna even approach him!"
Click to expand...

He should have stuttered when he shouted it. :clink:
 
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