Ok, I've been reading and loving this thread, it's one of the best one's I've seen in a long time. Had some good laughs over the stories and I figured it was time to contribute... There may be inaccuracies in this story, but it is told as I remember it.
The night before our Phase IV Infantry grad parade, we had a full blown Mess Dinner at the Officer's Mess in Gagetown. Our instructors made it plenty clear that proper conduct was expected, and while "Behaves at a Mess Dinner" was not a PO (contrary to popular belief) we could still be failed at this late stage. Blame it on being from a â Å“country Regiment,â ? but I probably had a skewed view of what was acceptable at (or after) a Mess Dinner.
We did the usual mingling beforehand and when the call came, we shuffled in and took our assigned seats. The place next to me was reserved for Col Ike Kennedy (of the Airborne) though he hadn't yet shown up. I decided that as his courses arrived, I'd make good with them. Especially the drinks. I sure hoped that he didn't show up at some point and see his half-eaten filet mignon and empty glass.
Well after 10 weeks of slogging away, a great meal and a double load of sherry, wine and port, I was not completely prepared for what came next.
We retired to the basement and sat around talking.
I quickly decided this wasn't how my night was going to end up, and tried to â Å“rally the troopsâ ? to something more interesting. There was mild interest, but cooler heads probably decided they could wait one more day to celebrate. However, my long time partner in crime (who I'll call Lt. â Å“Cohort,â ? though I suspect Doug knows who it is) was ready for action, as was the norm. From different Regiments, we'd been room-mates through all the Phases except this one, and had been the C6 team nearly every time we went to the field.
The next little while was spent coming up with a suitable plan. I don't remember whose idea it was, though I suspect it was the suggestion of an instigator that sealed our fate.
Since grad parade was tomorrow, we thought it would be eminently witty if, when the Leopards dropped their barrels in salute on the drive past, fresh fruit rolled out onto the parade ground. We armed ourselves with apples and oranges from the dinner and promptly left. We made a quick stop at the shacks to change out of our CF's, replacing them with combat pants, our course T-Shirt and generous amounts of cam. As I recall, there was a case of beer on the go as well, so we refuelled before heading out.
Knowing roughly where the vehicle compounds were in relation to our shacks, we plotted a straight line route, taking is directly through one of the only copses of woods in the entire base. (West of J7.) The forest was full of deadfall and stumps but as this is pretty much the norm for any wooded area in Gagetown we weren't slowed from our running pace.
We spent the next while running around the compounds near Range Control, trying in vain to find our tracked targets. It wasn't long before the fun started to wear off, and we decided to amend our plan. Fate had placed us near the Arty compound, where several ADATS were parked, waiting for our willing hands. Knowing full well that the Arty's guns are their colours, we had brief reservations, but after all, it
was the Artillery, and bird gunners at that.
I scaled the fence and was approaching the ADATS when out of the blue a Military Police car came screaming up the road. Lt. â Å“Cohortâ ? dove in the ditch and I, lacking cover, simply lay still next to the track of the ADATS. It seemed impossible, but somehow, someone had detected our stealthy approach. To reinforce the fact that this was no co-incidence, the MP car stopped dead directly across from us. It couldn't have been any closer without driving into the ditch with Lt. â Å“Cohort.â ?
The God of Comfortable Vehicles smiled upon us that night though, and after a few tense minutes, the MPs drove away without ever getting out of their car.
We gave each other a smug look and with Lt. â Å“Cohortâ ? keeping watch, I went immediately back to work. It was clear what had to be done. All summer the trades had engaged in friendly rivalry. Simple vandalism was unacceptable, it would be vulgar and without class. We had to use our limited supplies of fresh fruit and cam sticks to send a message to the gunners about the superiority of our trade...
Our work done, we returned to the shacks, where the party was still going on. We joined in wholeheartedly, getting to bed sometime before dawn.
The next morning, my eyes cracked open and I dragged myself out of bed. Nursing a bit of a headache, I sauntered over to the window and threw back the drapes to let in the day. I couldn't believe my eyes, and literally leapt back from the window in surprise. There, parked directly outside my window, was *the* ADATS with â Å“INF #1â ? hastily scrawled on the side facing me. Clearly jig was up, and I was about to be marched out to clean the vehicle with a toothbrush before being failed off the course in disgrace.
But wait... The ADATS was flanked by other AFV's in a line extending down the street in both directions. It slowly dawned on me that the vehicles were simply lined up in preparation for grad parade, and it was blind coincidence that the â Å“markedâ ? vehicle ended up directly outside my window.
As the sun got hotter, I watched in relief as the mixture of cam stick and fruit bits seemed to dissolve. By the time the ADATS rolled past the brass on parade, it was all but invisible to the untrained eye. The rest of the day passed uneventfully.
No good story is complete without visual aids. Here are a couple pics I managed to track down of the actual parade and the vehicles involved...
The Leopards we couldn't find, doing the fateful salute on parade. Oh how I wish I had been able to make this picture more memorable. 
The "marked" ADATS. The writing on the side is effectively invisible, which is just as well in retrospect.
