EARLY DAYS AND OTHER THINGS BY TREVOR SMITH episode 4

This photograph shows Sgt Trevor Smith handing over the silver parachutist to the Commanding Officer of the Royal Rhodesian Air Force Parachute Training School Flt/Lt R.T.D.Smith for safe keeping.

In August 1967, before the Bush War intensified, and after basic training of the SAS, things became very quiet at PTS so when we learned of an Assistant Physical Training Instructors course to be held at the Rhodesia Light Infantry. Tony Hughes and I applied for permission to attend.  As a 30 year old Flt Sgt, I and Frank Hartry, a colour sergeant in the SAS, were the old men of the course.The fitness training and most other activities I found to be entirely enjoyable, but two aspects of the course proved to be way beyond my ability.  First was gymnastics - no way was I able to do anything more than the most simple vaulting and some very basic floor exercises.  The high bar to me was merely equipment on which I could do a respectable number of pull-ups but that was my limit.  After attempting what was described as a grand circle I vaguely remember releasing my hold but instead of being anywhere near making a landing on my feet I crashed back into the wall bars.  The wooden bars were not damaged but I was.

Second skill for which I was not naturally gifted was wrestling.  WO Len Monson, a good buddy with whom I often played tennis, was the man in charge of our course and he was tipped to be the Gold Medal wrestler at the forthcoming Olympic Games.  Unfortunately that was the year that Rhodesia was banned from competing so Len was not able to prove his worth.

We all did the best we could and after several sessions Len decided to give us all a taste of the real thing. He lined up all 14 members on one side of the mats, and one by one he demonstrated the start.  I was about 10 in line so I thought that by the time he got to me he might be just a bit tired -  how mistaken could I have been !!  Each with one knee on the mats, bending forward with our heads side by side and one arm gripping the others neck we awaited the signal to start. That signal came after only a few seconds but even in that short time I felt as if my head was being wrenched from my shoulders.  Len had a very powerful grip and yes, in my humble opinion the Gold Medal was his.

Tony and I were well capable of keeping up with the best of them on road runs and other endurance activities but the one area where we proved to be the best was in the swimming pool.  We both achieved a Silver at Lifesaving while the others managed only Bronze. We returned to New Sarum in November and our new PTI skill was soon employed as we became very involved in organizing the early morning PT for the endless Territorial Force intakes at the Ground Training School.  National service was then a top priority for school leavers in Rhodesia.

On one of these intakes I met Brian and Alan Solomon, twin lads who were then rated at Nos 3 & 5 on the Rhodesian tennis ladder.  Their elder brother Frank was the reigning champion.  My own tennis ability was only just sufficient to play in Salisbury's second league so at every opportunity I arranged to play with these comparative experts.  During one of my tours as Guard Commander at FAF2 (Forward Airfield 2 - at Kariba) I found both these lads there so tennis was arranged at Kariba Primary School.  After playing there a few times I was approached by the twins who told me we had been invited to play at Lake View Hotel.  "Nothing special Mr. Smith - Bunny Clarke just suggested that we might like to play there for a change and it's a lot closer to our camp."

Liars. We arrived to see a notice proclaiming an exhibition match between "Rhodesia's Top Tennis Players" and inviting all to attend.  I later learned that similar notices had been displayed throughout the village and at the other hotels.  There was not much entertainment in Kariba, so we found a sizeable crowd awaiting our performance.  Only then did I realize why it had been suggested that I wear white socks and a shirt rather than my regular scruffy vest.  But they did not let me down completely - I was partnered by Alan and Brian took to the court with "Legs" Linnell, another top quality player.  Throughout the "match" great care was taken to feed the ball to me on my better side so that I could make a pretence of being a player to equal their ability.  The complimentary beers after our show went down very well.

As well as PTS having the best volleyball team at New Sarum, we also got involved in another sporting activity - archery.  Sqn Ldr Peter Lowe was a keen archer, so to provide him with a practice range we constructed a couple of targets and stands and set them up in the area of our Outdoor Exit Trainer. We all had a go at this new sport but Frank Hales and I got quite serious about it.  We purchased the only archery equipment available at the time - two very well-used tubular steel bows.  With this antiquated gear we joined Peter at the regular Sunday morning meeting of the Salisbury Archery Club.  Our skill improved to the stage where Frank and I both equaled the Rhodesian record for a round known as the "Springbok".

Eventually we acquired better recurve composite bows and practiced regularly.  This was noticed by certain SAS officers who reasoned that such a weapon could be very useful as a silent killer or even to deliver an explosive head.  Fitted with a delay fuse this could be used for sabotage work on fuel supplies and the like.  It could have worked, but the need to try it for real never arose. The experiment was an interesting diversion.

Archery magazines carried articles about bow hunting and this fascinated Frank who determined to try his hand at this.  He ordered a hunting bow and when it arrived he got down to serious practice.  On a working trip to the Air Force Welfare Site at Kariba, Frank constructed a hide alongside a trail where we had regularly seen bush pig and other game making their way down to water in the afternoons.  Frank had cleared with the local game Ranger to shoot bush pig as that was considered vermin and a hunting license was not required. The hide was just 30 yards from the trail and we were positive that Frank could deliver an arrow exactly to the target with no chance of a miss.

Two days passed without sighting a pig. Many small antelope passed without even noticing him so we were convinced that the hide was good. On the third day Frank set off about 4.00pm to his hunting spot which was about half a kilometer from our camp.  The remainder of our party settled down to enjoy a couple of frosty beers. Just before dark an obviously flustered Frank burst into camp "Bloody elephant."

His patience was being rewarded.  Slowly sauntering down the trail was a big pig which stopped every now and again to nibble on exposed roots or other piggy delights.  Stealthily and quietly Frank raised the bow and prepared to draw the arrow. Just as he had the quarry in his sights a dense dark shadow fell over him.  Glancing to his side all he could see within touching distance was the front leg of a huge bull elephant. Bow was abandoned, and Frank's hunting ideas were instantly replaced by the need to escape.  He could not remember how he'd left the hide and scuttled back to camp but in the morning when I went with him to check the scene we found one side of the hide had been flattened by his hasty departure and on the other side very clear imprints of the elephant spoor.  The bow and arrows were lying undamaged where they had been dropped.  The silent movement of a beast as big as an elephant is the envy of every bush soldier.

Our additional role as PTIs  did not go unnoticed at New Sarum.  Tony and I were soon roped in to provide some fitness training for other interested fellows. We set up, in PTS, a circuit using our normal para training gear and other basic stuff that we either made or "stole". Lunchtimes would see as many as 20 or 25 airmen and officers pulling, pushing, lifting and shoving to a strict routine supervised by either Tony or me.  A good healthy sweat was guaranteed and the circuits became quite popular with those concerned with health and fitness.

After one of these sessions as we were tidying up, the peace and quiet was shattered - a loud explosion rattled the building. Rushing out we found that a practice 'smoke' bomb had fallen from the trailer on which it was being moved and had detonated on impact.  One man was lying to the side with a blood soaked gash in the crotch of his overalls. While still thinking how to help the poor fellow we were shoved roughly aside by John Boynton who immediately ripped the overalls open, thrust his hand into a frightening wound in the man's upper thigh and with his bare fingers pinched off the artery that was pumping steadily away. In due course an ambulance arrived and the victim was removed.  John's previous training as a medic in the British Army certainly saved this man a lot of blood - maybe even his life.

John's general demeanor was somewhat serious and he often appeared to be quite dour but this in no way detracted from his performance as a reliable and very capable PJI.  The exact opposite in nature was Mike Wiltshire whose ultra-quick, cockney humour often had us in stitches of laughter.  One illustration of this quick wit was the story I heard of his reaction whilst serving as guard commander at one of our forward airfields.

A suburb of Salisbury known as Arcadia was home to a large number of our coloured community and these lads also performed the national service.  On this particular occasion, a vehicle with a defective exhaust was heard approaching the camp at breakneck speed from a considerable distance. The cloud of dust finally revealed a "Bearcat" (modified Bedford RL) heading for our gate.  Crouched over a machine gun mounted on the cab was a coloured corporal with a belt of ammunition slung over his shoulder.  The look of grim determination alone would have deterred any attack on that vehicle. As it shuddered to a halt Mike casually waved a greeting and said, "Oh, Yes welcome - you must be Lawrence of Arcadia."