Another extraneous chore tackled by PTS was the development of 18 acres
of land on the shores of Lake Kariba which had been assigned to the Air Force
for use as a holiday resort. This became known as the Welfare Site.
I accompanied Bill Maitland on several of the early visits when we positioned
two caravans (ex Roads Dept), built an ablution block and made a start on a
brick-built chalet. Bricks were moulded on site with cement that we
hauled from Salisbury. Our efforts in this connection of course were well
known so when the need arose for semi-permanent buildings on forward airfields,
PTS was the obvious choice.
As long as our para commitments would permit, staff from PTS was
frequently in hot areas doing construction work. By "hot" I
don't just mean in the sense that there were gooks hanging about who were
always a threat to the unwary, but actually hot in the climatic, temperature
manner. In the Zambesi valley, and many other areas in the Lowveld, a
normal summer day would see temperatures of 40+, and on exceptional days very
nearly 50. Devotion to duty and determination to get the job, done no
matter what, was perfectly illustrated many times by the team of PJIs, stripped
to the waist, toiling away in the most inhospitable conditions. Tools
became too hot to handle if left unattended so the normal tool-bag was replaced
by a bucket of water in which tools were kept when not in the hand.
My ramblings about all these other things may give the impression that
parachuting and para training was being neglected. On the contrary, our
activity in this connection never waned. Boet Swart had returned to duty
with the SAS and Derek became the new OC PTS. Frank was commissioned to
fill the post of Training Officer. Bill Maitland was also commissioned
and took command of the General Service Unit at New Sarum. I was elevated
to the position of School Warrant Officer with the rank of WO2.
In 1969 it was agreed that there could be some tactical use for freefall
parachuting . At the time we left Abingdon, the Royal Air Force had
established a freefall team which, to the best of my knowledge, was then mainly
for display purposes. As trainee PJIs we had no connection with that team, or
any schooling in the principles involved. Frank Hales became our guide and
leader into the different world of skydiving.
I had completed 327 static line descents when I made my first
freefall. Unlike some of my colleagues I did not take to this new
business like a duck to water. At least ten unstable, untidy, and very
scary jumps were made before I began to feel comfortable, but I finally got the
message and started to enjoy the ride. I completed just 30 freefall descents
when things had to be put on hold. Other para commitments took precedence,
and, whilst we were thus engaged, better and more suitable freefall equipment
was obtained. Almost 18 months passed before I was able to get back to
freefall, but luckily I had not forgotten how.
In June 1971, to add realism to a search and rescue exercise, PTS
provided two parties to be "rescued". I emplaned with four PJIs and
we set off as if flying to Kariba. About half way there I selected what
looked like a suitable drop zone and from 5000 ft despatched Frank Hales and
Ralph Moore - both landed smack in the middle of my selected area at
approximately 10.05am. Flt Lt Woolcock then changed course and we got on
track as if flying from Bulawayo to Milibizi and on this path I despatched
Derek de Kock and Charlie Buchan who also landed in the chosen spot at
11.10am. That ended my participation in this exercise as we flew on to
Wankie where we stopped for the night. The following day we flew on to Bumi
Hills then Kariba to pick up our "rescued" PJIs.
In 1972 the Rhodesian armed forces were called upon to provide 2 teams of Free Fall Parachutists to compete against the South African armed forces in a spotting competition.The idea being to see how close one could land to a 150mm disc placed in a pit of soft earth about 5mts in dia. When we competed against the South Africans the year before we jumped from a Cessna 185 which climbed to 5000ft AGL without a problem carrying 4.parachutists. When it came to Rhodesia's turn to host these games we had no choice but to use what aircraft we had and these were the Trojan aircraft of #4 Squadron.These aircraft were nice and roomy and 4 parachutists were able to fit inside with ease. The problem arose when the Trojan tried to climb up to 5000 ft above Salisbury Airport already 5000ft ASL.This was just too much for this little aeroplane and it started to have engine problems.and so did the next 4. It was found that it could climb to height in a reasonable time if only three parachutists were on board but 2 would be even better. We were going to tell the South African Team about the change when they arrived at New Sarum. However on the day the competition was supposed to run the weather gods came in and decided to blow with winds exceeding 50 Kts. Parachuting competition was forgotten and everybody came to my house where vast amounts of alcoholic were consumed.
In September 1972 we formed two teams to compete against a visiting South African Forces freefall team. Each team was 4 jumpers strong and we were using our Trojan aircraft. This was a single-engine, high-wing monoplane with a rather slow rate of climb, but fortunately the whole exercise required a maximum height above ground of only 5000ft. The competition consisted of just spot jumping with each team score being the combined distance of each member from the spot. I was first to jump in my team and, to do the spotting, I would climb out of the aircraft with one foot on the wheel and, gripping the wing strut, I could give directions to the pilot. When on the point of release that was all I had to do - release and the team would follow as quickly as possible.
During one of our practice jumps I nodded to the pilot that I was going
out and waited for him to throttle back as usual. I gripped the strut -
placed left foot on wheel and eased up and out. Then - "Oh -
Shit". I fell off. The pilot had forgotten to apply the brake so as
my weight came on to it the wheel spun and away I went. Jumping from the
Trojan was one thing but falling out was a completely different matter.
The other unusual occurrence to befall me was on my final descent of
that competition. As No1 in the team I was opening at 2000ft and the
remainder were opening higher to form a stack so that they could each
individually aim for the spot after the man before had cleared. I pulled
rip cord correctly but nothing happened as it should have. To operate reserve I
started a roll onto my back but as I started this I felt the pack snap open and
the main chute deployed. The opening shock was very uncomfortable as my
position was lousy but it was comforting to see a normal canopy above me.
The ground party got quite agitated and I was threatened with being grounded
for opening low to set an example. My assertion, that I had acted
correctly, was ignored so I received a torrent of abuse as was the wont of
certain fellows. Fortunately one of the South African officers had had a
similar experience and he demonstrated how the delay was caused.
The freefall parachute is pulled from its pack by a spring-loaded
extractor chute which is attached to a sleeve in which the main canopy is
stowed. The top coil of this large spring, after many repeated packings,
can be seen as a circular outward impression in the outer pack material.
When the rip cord is operated heavy elastic cords pull the pack open allowing
the extractor to pop up, catch the air flow and proceed with its work.
These elastic cords are secured to eyes on the pack by metal hooks. It
was demonstrated to us how these hooks can become snagged on the raised
impression of the extractor spring and if, in the unlikely event that one on
each side become hooked simultaneously, the pack would not be able to open.
By starting the roll onto my back I had disturbed the airflow
sufficiently to cause the pack to flutter and dislodge the hooks allowing them
to open the pack correctly. Thereafter such a reoccurrence was prevented by
simply making a single twist in the elastic so that the hook was facing
outwards when set.
My parachuting career ended in December 1972. Somewhere along the
line I had sustained an injury to my back (lumbar spine) which required
surgery. Whether that occurred as a result of one of the 456 parachute
descents that I made, or as a result of my many failed attempts at high flying
gymnastics on the PTI course, I cannot guess. It was, however, a nagging injury
that had worried me for many years but which I chose to ignore as long as I
could.
I remained at PTS for several months until promoted to WO1 and posted to
Air HQ as assistant to the recruiting officer, Sqn Ldr Alan Cockle. That
was another very interesting duty which took me to all corners of Rhodesia
where we exhibited our wares at Trade Fairs and Agricultural Shows. I also
visited every High School in the country.
In 1975 I was granted permission to attend a full-time course at the
University of Rhodesia where I graduated in 1977 with a Bachelor of Accountancy
Degree. I was then commissioned as Admin 2 at Air Force Headquarters.
Throughout this time I was, of course, still a PJI at heart and was
always thrilled to be called back to PTS on the odd occasion when they needed
an extra pair of hands. My final connection with parachuting matters was a most
unpleasant one. I was detailed as the convening officer of a Board of
Inquiry into the first and only static line parachuting fatality.
I retired from the Air Force shortly after that and was transferred to
the Officer's Reserve. My civilian job then was Admin Manager of a tea and
coffee estate in the Chipinga area so I became Adjutant of the Chipinga
Volunteer Squadron. My first and last parade with this squadron was
attending a formal dinner to mark the dissolution of the squadron
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