Squadron mascot

[SUBARMAN]

As Liaison Officer with the Squadron, it was pointed out to me that the mascot, introduced in 2007, has not been officially named.

It is therefore right and proper that Squadron Personnel can offer suggestions.

Zorro!

[*LJB*]

Ahh hes really sweet.

Biggles.

[majorscooby]

I think he should be called " J J " after the RAF supermarine spitfire fighter pilot , James " Johnnie " Johnson. 610 Squadron

[Scott.T]

Pilot Officer Dougie B after Douglas Barder who had tin legs, not a spring leg.....

[majorscooby]

Originally Posted by SilverSurfer

Pilot Officer Dougie B after Douglas Barder who had tin legs, not a spring leg.....

Liking that!

[SUBARMAN]

I bet DB would have had spring legs if they had been available. I bet he also would have driven a Wagon..................................

Up tailgates chaps!!!

[RobVXD]

Hiroyoshi Nishizawa

After all, he is yellow and the cars are Japanese....


If you don't know who he is, look him up on Wikipedia

[SUBARMAN]

I didn't know who he was. Blimey! And only 24. The sort of guy who would have wanted to die in combat at the controls of his plane! An ironic death!

In his favour, a man who liked formation flying. (We like formation parking). And he had plenty of pluck!

Against - he flew a Mitsubishi. The Mitsubishi are responsible for several secret raids on 555 Wagon Squadron bases, so they are a nuisance and we don't like them much!

EAST SUSSEX SCOOBIES 555 WAGON SQUADRON ADVENTURES

This episode entitled
Mitsubishi Mayhem !!!!!!!!!!!!!

Chapter 1

The hanger was quiet. Several gleaming Wagons stood in formation on the cold concrete floor, silhouetted in shards of light that cascaded from the skylight above.

Flight Lieutenant Simon “Buzz” Blaber was in the middle of a complicated metal forming exercise, known as ‘narf welding’, when he heard a dull thud, seemingly coming from a darkened corner of the hanger. He was alone in the confines of his personal workshop area, concentrating hard on fitting the latest ‘Vortex Cusp Breeze Thruster 9 Module’ to his air intake. This latest modification, he had been told by the Squadron Leader, would release another 20 BHP once cool air was forced against the Plummet Valve for a few extra seconds.

Quietly, and without a sound, he put down the ‘Deepgas Megaweld trigger harness’, that he so deftly cradled in his left arm, and took off his protective facemask, laying it silently upon his immaculate workbench. His sensitive hearing, honed from months of listening to the Squadron Leader’s intricate formation manoeuvres relayed over his headphones, picked up another sound from the darkness. His senses now more fully alert than the most alert meerkat that ever sat in the Gobi desert, Buzz moved swiftly and silently across the workshop floor. His small sinewy frame made no sound as he crept ever closer to where the source of the mysterious noises.

“I wonder if it’s those damn Mitsubishi’s again, trying to steal our Squadron secrets?” he muttered under his breath. As he slipped silently past the communications module, he pressed a red button on the carbon-fibre finished console, knowing that help would soon arrive.

Chapter 2

Out on the highway, Squadron Leader Jason “Shiny Pipes” Wright hummed to himself quietly. He and Pilot Officer Cynthia “Storm” Sharpley had just completed their fourteenth successive echelon-parking manoeuvre in Asda’s car park. He was comfortable that Cynthia has mastered all the complex squadron techniques in her new machine, the latest Legacy 3.0R Spec B in Obsidian Black Pearl. This vehicle was used by the Squadron for operations requiring stealth and understatedness, and provided the antithesis to the familiar flat-four rumble so associated with the Squadron Wagons; a sound that struck terror into unsuspecting road users and which brought tears to the eyes of onlookers in the crowds at Squadron displays throughout the land. She had done well, he thought, under his masterful tuition.

With almost imperceptible steering input, he guided his Wagon round a series of bends, gently kissing the white lines in a perfect display of controlled manoeuvring. Cynthia followed in the sleek aggressive Spec B, silently scything through the air with a soft ‘gaffagh’. Suddenly, a red beacon lit up on the dash of the Wagon. Coolly, and with precision, “Shiny Pipes” flicked the intercom switch smartly.

“Squadron Leader calling Sharpley……..over……..” he muttered masterfully. “Receiving you strength fifty-two decimal nine, Sir…….over…….” came back the immediate reply.

Very prompt and efficient, thought the Squadron Leader to himself as he flicked the Wagon this way and that for no apparent reason. Cynthia was shaping up as an invaluable asset to the Squadron, now that she had moved from transport and support duties in the Forester, to front-line operations in the newly created Sector Black Stealth Flight.

“There’s trouble back at our secret base!…….over….. ” he uttered in a curt but cool and imperceptibly calm way – the tone of a man in control!

“A-okay Sir…….” came back the reply, “I know what to do…….out……”

At the next junction, Shiny Pipes observed the Spec B peel off to the left and disappear quietly from view. He focussed now on the need to support “Buzz” Blaber back at the hanger, and the overriding need to maintain the secrecy of the Squadron lair, lest all sorts of paparazzi should show up to interview the squadron pilots on their exploits. He passed a seasoned eye over his instruments quickly, and lost altitude as the road dropped away into a valley. He deftly swapped cogs and checked his Subaru World Rally Team Chronograph with lap time facility. Cynthia would be on station shortly, he thought to himself. Having lost height, he swung sharply to the left, down the familiar approach road to the secret base. The flat-four sung sweetly as he kept the revs high, to ensure his approach was audible to anybody invading the deserted environs of the secret Squadron hanger.

Chapter 3

Buzz crouched in the darkness, his senses alert. There was not the slightest flicker of movement, or indeed sound, to be heard. In his left hand he clasped a shiny tool. He momentarily cursed the fact that his tools were always highly polished and the envy of the other Squadron pilots. He ran a very tight service bay, did Buzz! But now he knew that his position could be given away should any mysterious invader catch sight of a reflection from the shiny silver surface of his ‘four-inch Grafton Clamp’. His senses alert to every sound or movement, he picked up the familiar thrum of a flat four, howling urgently in the distance, and knew that this would prompt a reaction from any unwanted guest. The howling grew louder. Beads of perspiration formed under his Subaru World Rally Team Tommi Makinen autographed cap, and he wiped them away with the flick of a gnarled finger. He smiled grimly, and readied himself for action.

Chapter 4

Squadron Leader “Shiny Pipes” Wright taxied expertly to the perimeter of the compound, his Xenon light conversion producing beams of crystal light that cut through the gloom around the hanger. He swung the wheel over with an almost imperceptible rugger, causing the Wagon to deftly pirouette around it’s own axis, sweeping the compound with blinding light in an instant. “Gloyk! What a jolly manoeuvre!” he exclaimed in the cockpit. Sadly, there was no-one to hear. But it sounded pretty good, just the same.

This final splendid ‘dance of the Wagon’ (we shall call it) was obviously too much for the unwelcome guest, and the eagle-eyed Squadron Leader zeroed in on a fleeting movement from the dark recesses of the dispersal area. Buzz had seen it too, and he ran forward bellowing and waving his arms in a series of violent but erratic gestures. The ‘four-inch Grafton Clamp’ scythed the air. Both men were clearly able to spot that the form which darted from one dark recess to another was indeed a Mitsubishi, no doubt intent on discovering Buzz’s latest modification secrets.

The Wagon was still rolling as the Squadron Leader set the parking brake on ‘continuous forward parking mode’ and, in one deft movement, unbuckled and swung his buttocks against the lightweight door frame. The wagon was still in motion as he swung the door on its hinges and leapt into the cold night air. Those long years of practicing how to exit from a still moving Wagon – another highlight of 555 Wagon Squadron public displays – came in really handy at times like these, he thought as he arced through the air. In a dazzling display of human movement, the Squadron Leader came upright in a trice. His ‘Subaru World Rally Team re-tread sneakers in size 8’ bit into the hard tarmac as he launched himself in the direction of the moving shadow before him.

From the corner of his right eye, which was opposite his left eye, Buzz marvelled at the Squadron Leader’s exit from the Wagon, which now slewed to a halt several feet from any other objects, just as intended. That will have caught our intruder off guard, he thought as he swung the ‘four-inch Grafton Clamp’ with an expertly weighted throw into the path of the approaching shadowy figure.

This Mitsubishi was indeed a seasoned operative, and was able to twist to one side to avoid the full force of the blow from the ‘four-inch Grafton Clamp’, which grazed his torso as it clattered to the ground. However, his senses had been dulled from witnessing the Squadron Leader’s amazing vehicular dismount, and the Mitsubishi turned the corner of the hanger building sluggishly, into an unexpected situation from which there was little chance of escape.

Chapter 5

As she swung away from the Squadron Leader’s taillights, Cynthia “Storm” Sharpley squashed her perfect buttocks down in the Legacy 3.0R Spec B’s supportive leather seat. Her eyes swung across the familiar dials in front of her – still only 23.7 mpg, she mused to herself - thinking that the manoeuvre she was about to perform would not improve that figure. She flicked a lever, causing the smoothly balanced flat-six to adopt ‘whisper mode’. Judging her moment perfectly, she sent the inverted Bilsteins to their stops with a calculated swing of the steering wheel through an exact seventy-degree arc, and no more!

Her lycra suit stiffened against the g-forces and she felt the cord of her tiny thong cut into the flesh of her thigh as she strained to avoid blacking out. Focussing on the pain was a good way to maintain consciousness in such situations, she had found. What the male pilots did in similar situations, she could only guess. The Legacy 3.0R Spec B responded immediately to her controlled touch and, as her feet danced on the pedals, the sinister black shape of the elegant saloon pranced on the tarmac in the damp night air.

Her breathing became shallow once more as she swung silently towards the corner of the hanger. Suddenly, silhouetted in the powerful glow of her ‘Wang Sifted Quad-glow 50:50 Sports Development Spotlights’ was a moving shape, which seemed to her to be travelling a little on the sluggish side, considering an escape attempt was the likely intention. Cynthia ‘Storm’ Sharpley reacted swiftly and caught the body of the Mitsubishi with the soft-angled corner of the offside wing. This move glanced the Mitsubishi in a soaring arc over the sleek smooth roof of the Legacy 3.0R Spec B, which was still pirouetting gently under Cynthia’s gentle touch. With perfect timing, she gunned the electronically controlled throttle and the Mitsubishi landed with a thud on the specially toughened rear spoiler. A cry of surprise rang out as he was flung from the spoiler at a very obtuse angle into the river that ran next to the compound that housed the secret Squadron lair.

Satisfied with her performance, she regained control of her bucking vehicle and swung the machine in the direction of the two figures who cantered towards her. She adjusted her thong demurely, even though she was alone in the cabin. That was the sort of girl she was, you see.

“Tally ho, old girl!” cried the Squadron Leader breathlessly. “Swell job” echoed Buzz approvingly in unison with himself, as he stooped to re-acquaint himself with the handle of the ‘four-inch Grafton Clamp’.

“Our secret modifications are again safely protected from the villainous competitors of the Japanese Tuning Industry, and of course the local paparazzi!” announced the Squadron Leader heartily. Both Buzz and Cynthia clapped approvingly as they all made their way to the dimly-lit entrance of the secret hanger for a well-deserved cup of cocoa.

[SUBARMAN]

A captured Mitsubishi Warrior