🪖 TICHKUE AND THE KHALI KHOKA REPORT 🪖 (Humour In Uniform - Author Unknown) Training at the various academies of the Indian Army, whether NDA, IMA, or OTA, follows a beautifully consistent philosophy: take reasonably sane young men and women and systematically remove every last trace of comfort from their lives until they become officers. The architects of this transformation come in three distinct flavours: The Drill Ustaad: The Drill Ustaad is a species unto himself. He has never, in recorded human history, been observed in a calm state. His resting expression is that of a man who has just been personally insulted by your bootlaces. Kali Mata in full divine fury would look at a Drill Ustaad and think, "Yaar, thoda relax kar." The PT Instructor: The PT Instructor lives in eternal white shorts, regardless of season, weather, or the laws of thermodynamics. He operates on the firm belief that every cadet is, at minimum, a Milkha Singh who simply hasn't been shouted at enough yet. The Weapon Instructor: The Weapon Instructor is a man of precision and passion. He wants you to shoot like Abhinav Bindra. He also wants you to understand the bullet trajectory. And above all, he wants you to return the Khali Khoka (the empty cartridge case). This is his religion. This is his ,dharma. Losing a Khali Khoka is, in his mind, marginally worse than losing the actual bullet. Amid this disciplined madness, cadets quietly develop their most important skill: survival through sheer creative stupidity. Act One: Tichkue During a Weapon Training class at IMA, a cadet lay on the ground with his SLR, doing his best impression of a soldier in action. The instructor loomed behind him and, in the tone of a man who had lost all hope for humanity, instructed the cadet to make it look more realistic. The cadet, presumably after a deep and sincere assessment of the situation, pointed his rifle forward and announced, with full commitment: Tichkue! Tichkue! The class fell silent. The instructor stared at the back of this man's head. And thus was a legend born. From that day forward, the cadet was known by no other name. His course-mates called him Tichkue. His seniors called him Tichkue. It is rumoured that his family eventually started calling him Tichkue. To this day, somewhere in the Indian Army, there is possibly a Lieutenant Colonel Tichkue, and nobody asks why. Act Two: The Khali Khoka Some time later, four cadets set off on a navigation exercise in the jungle, live rounds loaded, rifles in hand, confidence high, wisdom conspicuously absent. The night was pitch dark. The jungle was alive with sounds. And then, movement in the bushes. One cadet, operating entirely on instinct and approximately zero rational thought, fired a live round. BANG! Silence… Now, as every cadet knows, a fired round means one thing: produce the Khali Khoka. Account for it. Guard it with your life. They looked around. They searched. The Khali Khoka, the ejected empty cartridge case, had vanished into the jungle floor as if it had always dreamed of becoming one with the earth. What followed was a brief group discussion that will never be taught in any military staff college, but perhaps should be, as a cautionary tale. Cadet 1: "We can't find the khoka." Cadet 2: "We're finished." Cadet 3: "Unless we figure out exactly where it landed." Cadet 4: "How?" Cadet 3: "We fire another round. Same position. Same angle. We watch where THIS khoka lands, and that tells us where the FIRST one is." There was a pause. The jungle rustled. And then they did it. They fired a second live round. BANG! The second Khali Khoka also disappeared. There were now two missing empty cases, two fired rounds, and four cadets standing in a dark jungle having a quiet existential crisis. They arrived at the token point. The officer looked at them. They looked at the officer. The controlled stores were counted. Two rounds were fired. Zero Khali Khokas returned. The officer asked them to explain themselves. They explained themselves. The officer, a man who had, in his career, encountered many forms of human error, listened to the complete account of the Search-By-Additional-Firing Method and reportedly stared into the middle distance for a long, long time. The group was not court-martialled. They were not thrown out. They were simply made infamous, which, in the Army, is arguably worse. To this day, somewhere in a mess hall, an old Colonel sets down his whiskey and says, "Did I ever tell you about the four idiots who fired a second round to find the first khoka?" And the room erupts into laughter. The Army runs on discipline, honour, and courage. But it survives on stories like these. #HumourInUniform #HumorInUniform #MilitaryHumour #FaujiHumour #Military #Army #IndianArmy #IndianMilitaryAcademy #IMA

#HumorInUniform An Indian Navy minesweeper was steaming slowly out of harbour, it was one quiet Sunday morning. On the bridge was this young Commanding Officer, a Lieutenant Commander sweating for his next stripe. Peering through his binoculars, he spotted the Admiral on the flagship ahead, telescope under his arms, striding the quarterdeck before colours. As the ships crossed, salutes were exchanged. Not finding his cap on the bridge, the young captain frantically grabbed the nearest thing... the cover of the binnacle next to him.....and saluted smartly. Sure enough...on return was the "UCM" ( In Navy it is You See Me) signal waiting on his desk. "For Christ's sake, what was that strange contraption on your head this morning"...said the Admiral. Without batting an eye came the prompt reply..." I guess that is the only kind of brass I am ever going to wear, Sir". The young man was promoted...😂

Why do Navy pilots prefer to be called naval aviators? Because they don’t want to be called ‘flying seamen.’ #HumorInUniform #NavyHumor

When I went into the Navy, we had more than 60,000 men in uniform. Living spaces were terrible onboard ships. It was so crowded, we were sharing lockers and beds three to one. What made it so terrible, we were starting to enjoy it. 😂😂#HumorInUniform #NavyHumor

"The good old LADY has to be PATCHED UP every month and DRY-DOCKED every 2-3 years." This was tongue in cheek from Late Admiral Krishnan as to how good old INS VIKRANT was to be kept up in ship shape #HumorInUniform #NavyHumor @IN_R11Vikrant

"No!" roared the Navy Captain. "Well, thank God for that," said ME-II Pandey as he hung up the phone. 3/3 #HumorInUniform #HumorInNavy

A jr. sailor, Pandey was on duty at the motor transport pool. The phone rang and an authoritative voice demanded to know how many vehicles were operational at that moment. "We've got five 3 tonners, 10 2.5 tonners, 3 Ambulances, 3 Buses, 6 cars & a Honda City 1/3 #HumorInUniform

𝙏𝙝𝙚𝗿𝗲 𝗶𝘀 𝗮 𝘾𝙖𝙩 🙀 𝙞𝙣 𝗺𝘆 𝙍𝙖𝙙𝙞𝙤 𝙨𝙚𝙩! #UntoldStoryNavy #HumorInUniform   The year was 1998, we had embarked on harbour patrol at Mumbai. It was well past midnight when the Walkie-Talkie set came alive: “𝙈𝙀𝙊𝙒!” The Boat Coxwain is not happy, “Iski to.. Kaun hai be?” “𝙈𝙀𝙊𝙒.” This f*%r#$ is probably someone from the COM. tower or probably a bored SEAMAN from his Sentry post.” “𝙈𝙀𝙊𝙒.” “This is Mike Alpha One. Who is this?” “𝙈𝙀𝙊𝙒.” “Is Saale ko Raat mein masti chadhi hai.” “All positions this is Mike Alpha One, “No unnecessary Radio communication. I repeat, maintain radio silence unless necessary.” In response we heard an even longer “𝑴𝑬𝑬𝑶𝑶𝑶𝑾𝑾𝑾.” This time, the Coxwain was out of his wits and let out some of the choicest expletives used in the fauj. “𝙈𝙀𝙊𝙒.” “This is Mike Alpha One. Stop this sh!t right now.” Well, he didn’t stop and continued throughout the night. The meows got lessened, once we stopped responding to him. The radio sets had their limitations, the 𝙈𝙀𝙊𝙒 guy was never found and remained untraceable. 😂 #UntoldStoryNavy 𝑻𝒐 𝒌𝒆𝒆𝒑 𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒔𝒖𝒄𝒉 𝒔𝒕𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔, 𝒅𝒐 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒇𝒐𝒍𝒍𝒐𝒘 𝒃𝒖𝒕𝒕𝒐𝒏. Pic @GettyImages

HumorInUniform An Army jawan sitting in a foxhole, eating MREs (Meals Ready to Eat) and wearing 30 kgs of tactical gear after having marched 12 miles, says: ‘This sucks.’

You know what I liked about the modern Navy? You get to buy your uniform. When I joined the Navy in the late Nineties, they had a total of three sizes for all. That’s right. Three sizes: too big, too small, and out of stock. 😂😂😂 #HumorInUniform #NavyHumor #MilitaryHumor

#Humorinuniform Board results on the way....

⚕️ THE FUN OF TAKING PANGA (पंगा) ⚕️ 🙂 Humour In Uniform 🙂 (Author Unknown - Received via WhatsApp) This is a tongue-in-cheek story of another type of 1-to-1 combat, from the annals of the 1971 war in Sarsawa. During the run-up and conduct of the 1971 war, I was the SSO in Sarsawa, a sleepy old place, then commanded by 'JOHNNY' Wohra (Wing Commander Jagdish Singh Wohra), with 116 HU (Helicopter Unit), 41 Sqn and the ARC (Aviation Research Centre), all pickled together in the Rum bottle of the common AF Officer’s Mess. Life was a ‘Jolly Good Show’. Tragedy struck when a newly minted, Roly-poly, very hirsute, directly commissioned SSC type Flt Lt ‘Doc’ was posted in. He arrived in civvies with nothing to say or show that he was from the esteemed ‘Armed Forces Medical Corps’, except a suitcase containing civil clothes, a stethoscope and other professional implements. His name began with the initials CK, and the surname was an unusual Gujju name. His boss in Sarsawa was the SMO, Flt Lt P.L. Soni, an experienced doctor, who could handle any emergency. First thing Wohra Saheb did was to make the doctor ‘report’ to the Station Barber to shear off his fuzz, head to foot, as one does to Baba the Black sheep. It took a couple of weeks, and some trips for the doctor sahab to the tailor shop in Ambala, to kit himself out with accoutrements to wear in SSQ as well as the dining hall. Due to general mobilisation, Sarsawa was chock-a-block with mirthful rascals, who decided that the unit doctor sahab must be given a proper welcome, and induction/initiation into IAF. The occasion presented itself soon, when Sarsawa decided to have a gala “Diwali” party in the Officers’ Mess, with party games and entertainment (especially camouflaged Bhang Pakodas to get everybody in the mood for a swinging party). One of the Flt Cdr of the HU, who was a living-in officer, was made the MC (Master of Ceremonies, not to be confused with the other meaning). The first party game began by distributing ‘Tambola Chits’ and stub pencils by the bachelors. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” the MC announced loudly, “Now we will play a Memory Game. An item will be placed before you for two minutes. You are invited to have a close look at the item. After two minutes, the item will be removed. After the item is removed, please write down as many things you remember about the item that was placed before you. A prize for maximum tactical observations…” There was pin-drop silence, anticipatory suspense. A dining chair was then placed in the centre of the hall, and all were asked to crowd around. The Doctor Sahab was requested to seat himself on the chair, who innocently accepted the offer and felt very happy at the “recognition” being given to him. “Ladies and Gentlemen,” the MC thundered. “The item is now before you. Have a close Look at the item, and then walk to the next table where paper and pencils are kept. Pick up a sheet of paper and a pencil, and write down from memory whatever you can remember. You are not allowed to turn back at the item; otherwise, you will be disqualified.” The MC ordered everyone to write objective descriptions of the tactical kind. The chits were then collected, and the most vital and astute observations were read out… “Object did not shave.” “Object did not bathe and is stinking.” “Object was wearing torn vest.” “Object did not polish shoes and shoe laces were open.” “Object be told to bathe twice daily and wash clothes with Lux soap.” “Instruct Object to use Eau de Cologne.” The list was long… The “Object” left the party in a huff. Perhaps he was counselled by the SMO PL Soni. Two days later, after the Met Briefing in ‘Base Ops’, the doctor positioned himself at the door, armed with a stethoscope, for Pre-Flight Medical. By and large, he let all go by, except the MC from the party. First, he took his pulse, muttering. Then he made the MC take off his shirt and probed around with the stethoscope, snorting like a warthog. “Your heart is missing beats. Report to the SSQ (Station Sick Quarters) for investigation,” he ordered with the most concerned expression. MC was alarmed, but obeyed immediately and reported to the SSQ. The Doc took his own time to first complete the sick reports, including those of “Personal servants of Officers”, while MC bit his nails waiting, wondering whether he was going to get a heart attack. Doc then took his tea break. MC could hear him loudly munching a Samosa and slurping tea from the saucer. MC could feel palpitations begin, heart thumping loudly. He started praying. Finally, when all were gone from the SSQ, the Doc called MC to the Emergency Room. With a poker face, the Doc conducted a prolonged inquisition, asking about hereditary health, past illnesses and habits, all the while noting sheet after sheet of illegible clinical analysis in Egyptian heliographic. Finally, the Doc shook his head. ‘Strip and lie down on the table,’ he ordered MC. ‘I need to do a physical examination,’ he said. From head to foot, Doc felt around. Shining a torch into his eyes, poking an otoscope deep into his ears, and banging a reflex hammer hard on his knees and tendons. “Turn around, and get into ‘Murga Position’,” he ordered MC. The doc then deliberately, without Vaseline or lubrication, conducted a ‘Proctoscopy’, taking 30 minutes instead of the usual 10. Afterwards, MC was told that he was ‘flying fit’ and could go to war. The Doc gradually made friends in Sarsawa as a gifted doctor. None dared to dare him again. People even stopped calling him and rechristened him ‘Dakitar Saheb’. None wanted ‘Proctoscopy’ as treatment even for cough and cold!! PS: Doc & MC’s names withheld. Those in Saharanpur would know these bravehearts anyway. #IndianArmedForces #IndianAirForce #Humour #Humor #HumorInUniform #HumourInUniform #FaujiHumour #MilitaryHumour #DoctorInUniform #DoctorsInUniform #FaujiDoctor #FaujiDoctors

#humorinuniform #Military #Humor 👇 wp.me/p1EM7-8kD @kayjay34350 @bkum2000 @samarjeet_n @Strat_31360 @AshTheWiz @chibskycoo @simply_mixed_up @CestMoiz @Shekhar_Q @zindadilmac @dvinod_in @mona1961talks @sujeetsanzgiri @jopriyu @hambir_m #writing #stories #management #fun

from before #RadioTimes, possibly, is this post #HumorInUniform from @ReadersDigest ? 😁 Respectfully, 😝, as always, your girlfriend is mischtaken 😂😝😂

#HumorInUniform Just another day 🤪🤣 Credits in pic

That joke went straight to the top... of the chain of command... 🤣 Video from @notinregz #TopBrassLaughs #HumorInUniform #MilitaryLife #MilitaryHumor #NineLineApparel

#Humourinuniform #humorinuniform #Military

#humorinuniform #Military #ARMY

HumorinUniform- Those who strike deep in war can create ripples of Humor too. Here's our Air Chief with a classic One. Jai Hind

🎥 Behind the Scenes with APS LNHL video! 🏒 We’re working on something special for this year’s video, and here’s your first sneak peek! 👀 From creative shots to a little humor, this video shows how APS makes their way to the tournament—and it’s guaranteed to bring a smile. Stay tuned for the full release! #apscops #BehindTheScenes #APSInAction #HumorInUniform #IndigenousPolicing #LNHL @SPAMbrand