Page 69 - Demo

67A FEW POST GRADUATION TALESThe Kur and the SchafzimmerAfter Graduation from Cranwell, I was privileged later in life to command a fighter Squadron based in Germany. In those halcyon days, there was a Squadron Exchange programme where national fighter squadrons operated alongside similar units at a host base. My outfit, exchanged with a Royal Canadian Air Force Unit based in Southern Germany. We flew mixed formation training sorties, conducted navigation and dissimilar air combat training. There were of course social gatherings. On Friday evenings at Happy hour, there was no finer place that being in the company of Canadians in their Officer%u2019s Mess. Much was learned and exchanged including some fine Canadian songs such as the famous Lumberjack Song amongst other irreverent ditties. All were accompanied by our talented squadron pianist. Suffice it to say, the happy hour extended late into the evening and all retired to their accommodation in a relaxed stateAs part of the social programme and at dawn%u2019s first light the next day the squadron was treated to the Kur Experience administered by a local Klinic. This wonderful Germanic tradition involved a four hour exposure to steam baths, ice cold plunges, more hot steam, cold showers, even more saunas, sulphur baths and ice Baths. The screams from Canadians and Brits as they were submerged in ice werememorable. This process was intended to cleanse the body of all toxins which exuded though the pores. The final part of the process was to go to the Schafzimmer, or sleep room, where the now cleansed innocents were wrapped in hot towels in a darkened room for 30 minutes. Wrapping a fighter pilot in a hot towel after a gruesome process of detoxification and, as previous, a jolly night out enjoying Germanic Fermented Liquids is not a good idea. Gaseous explosions, which were equally memorable and uncontrollable, were heard in the Schafzimmer for most of the 30 minutes therein.