EARLY DAYS AND OTHER THINGS THE TREVOR SMITH STORY episode 1

Trevor Smith and I first met on board a RRAF DC4M as we were winging our way to the UK and the uncertain future of jumping out of serviceable aircraft in flight. We became firm friends and had many adventures in the UK and later back home in Rhodesia. Trevor was the most dedicated PJI I have known.He was always able to coach even the slowest trainee to reach a satisfactory standard, and with some of the soldiers we had to train this was no mean feat. In slow times the staff of the Parachute Training School would make full use of the station squash courts. Trevor and I would battle it out for hours at a time, I was younger and  thought I was fitter, I would rush about the court and Trevor would hardly get up a sweat as he beat me time after time. At times when the terrorist war intensified I knew I could always count on Trevor to drop whatever he was doing to help us out. I am sure he will be remembered by the very many men he taught to parachute. This is his story and I hope you, dear reader enjoy it. Soft Landings Derek de Kock 

EARLY DAYS  &  OTHER THINGS

By Trevor Smith

“Corporal Smith - report immediately to the Station Commander”.  On the bicycle and pedal quickly from the guardroom at the Royal Rhodesian Air Force, Thornhill gate to the HQ building.  “What the hell had I done wrong now?  Why would CO want to see me?”  Normal instructions for special events came through the Adjutant never direct from CO.

The Station Warrant Officer ushered me to the CO’s door, rapped sharply, opened the door and announced, “Corporal Smith, Sir ,”  I marched to the front of his desk, saluted smartly and stood rigidly to attention.  “Sit down Corporal.”  That was a relief – if I was due a bollocking I would not have been allowed to sit.

"You made an application to be trained as a Parachute Jumping Instructor and I'm pleased to tell you it has been approved."  "Yes Sir, thank you Sir  …  but Sir, that was made some time ago and I thought it had been shelved so that's why, just last week, I submitted my application for discharge."

Displaying a typed sheet from his desk the Group Captain asked, "Is this what you mean?"  "Yes Sir."  "Well make up your mind - do you still think you could be a PJI ?"  Several seconds passed while I tried to understand the question.  Then my fuddled brain interpreted what the three letters meant - PJI -  Parachute Jump Instructor.  "Yes Sir, I do Sir, but what about.."  I got no further as the CO smiled, crumpled the paper and aimed it directly into the WPB.  "I've never seen that.  Now report to the Adj and he'll fill you in on details."

And that was my first step into a whole new world.

In August 1957 I'd left my home town of East London in the Union of South Africa, and had enlisted in the British South Africa Police in Salisbury, Southern Rhodesia.  I was happy to take the oath of allegiance to Her Majesty after leaving South Africa where I was disturbed by the then developing political situation.  I enjoyed my time serving in this elite force where, in my young life, I experience many things which most folk only read about.

Whilst serving in the BSAP, I met and married Marjorie-Rose.  Poor woman could never have realized what she was letting herself in for but I'm happy to say she is still by my side.

The Royal Rhodesian Air Force had a vacancy in its Provost Section, so, after the great experience of police life, I was delighted to attest and serve in that post.  Unfortunately the type of work was not as I'd imagined it to be and I became quite bored with the routine.  A notice in force orders caught my eye, and although I'd never seen a live parachute drop, I decided that being a PJI would be a lot more fulfilling that just a military type policeman.  Months after applying for consideration for this course I'd heard nothing so I decided to leave the RRAF and seek more satisfying work elsewhere.  Thanks to the understanding attitude of a certain Group Captain this was ignored and the door was opened to the most challenging and exciting chapter of my life.

I got ready to leave for the No 1 Parachute Training School at RAF Abingdon.  With great haste my dear wife and our two small children (the youngest only weeks old) were bundled into our aged station wagon and we drove to East London where they would spend the time of my absence with my parents.

 I returned to Thornhill, Gwelo, and packed up our meager household furniture and left details of financial commitments with the station Welfare Officer. Then I went to New Sarum from where we departed in one of our RRAF "Canadair" transport aircraft.  The flight to England suffered a delay of a couple of days as military flights over France were banned whilst General de Gaulle sorted out some trouble he was having with Algeria.  We were stuck in Malta and it was only then that I got to know something of my five fellow trainees.

The senior man was Chief Technician Bill Maitland.  Bill was a carpenter - not just any old chippy, but a highly skilled man certified to work on aircraft.  He had seen service in the paras in WW2 and was a founder member of the Salisbury Skydiving Club.  This made Bill the only one of the group who had first-hand knowledge of parachutes.

Mercer (Jock) Thompson was an airframe/engine fitter who had trained initially with Central African Airways.  Jock was born of Scottish parents who had immigrated to Rhodesia when he was an infant.  He had been educated in Salisbury but, judging by his accent, one could be forgiven for thinking he had just arrived from the Highlands.

Norman Suttie and Algie Posselt were from the Supplies Section and both were looking for something more demanding than being "jam-stealers" as they were scathingly teased by other servicemen.

Derek de Kock had entered the RRAF as an apprentice and had trained as an instrument fitter at RAF Halton.  The confines of an air-conditioned workshop were probably somewhat depressing for this outdoors type who enjoyed his fishing, hunting and wide open spaces so what could be more enticing than this parachute course?

We six, in April 1961, joined course No 532 as section 5 at RAF Abingdon, and commenced training with one of the regular British Army intakes.  Our instructor was Sgt Ken Kidd who stayed with us through this basic course and right up until the time we qualified as PJIs on 25th August.  Ken's experience and his professional, but relaxed manner was tested to the full as he slowly and steadily transformed these colonial yokels into PJIs who could match any in the world.

The PTS motto "Knowledge Dispels Fear" was brought to life as Ken applied the key rule of the school to our crowd. That three "F" rule - "Firm, Fair and Friendly" - made PJIs in the RAF into very different animals to the normal blustery approach generally applied by most of the army instructors previously encountered by trainees. We got to understand how important it was for trainees to develop complete confidence in the PJI and also how important it was to have an unvarying routine for each stage of the parachute training and the ultimate descent.

That was brought home to me in a manner that I will never forget. We had drawn straws for jump positions in our first descent and I had the honour of being the first Rhodesian to exit the balloon. The lurch as the balloon started its climb was a little unnerving, and the gentle swing of the cage, coupled with the complete silence, was eerie.  Then the jerk as the balloon reached the end of the cable at which point Ken ran through the checks of my parachute and casually said "OK Trevor - all well - go as you like."  No barked command "Stand in the door!" which I knew would be followed by the sharp clear "GO".  Well I was unnerved.  I froze and looked at him in anguish. Ken laughed, patted me on the shoulder and immediately reverted to the correct drill and of course I responded as he knew I would.

After completing the eight jump basic course we were each assigned to a PJI who was at that time instructing a basic course.  Under the guidance of this PJI we were introduced to the proper instructional techniques and we were drilled in the routine as, under close supervision, we applied these skills to the unsuspecting trainees.

Throughout this phase we continued to make parachute descents after despatching our trainees. A special 'treat' was laid on to give us experience in one of the techniques which was taught as part of basic training. On 27th June, we emplaned on a Hastings and were flown to make a water jump into Studland Bay on the south coast. This was my 16th jump and, after splash down into chilly water, I floated about in my lifejacket and watched a team of Royal Marines recover my parachute before they came to take me aboard their 'Gemini' inflatable.  Then one of those surprises that underlines how our world is getting smaller - one of the fellows who hauled me aboard just grinned and said "I know you - played rugby against your team in East London."  It turned out that after schooling in South Africa he had come to the UK and had joined the Royal Marines.  To celebrate our unusual meeting he managed to smuggle to me an extra ration of ship's rum whilst aboard the recovery vessel.  That, along with my change into dry clothing, was greatly appreciated.

The five brand new  Royal Rhodesian Air Force  Parachute Jumping Instructors ( PJI ) getting ready to emplane  a Beverly Aircraft at RAF Abingdon UK in 1961. From Left to Right  Flt/Sgt W.P .Maitland, Sgt N. Suttie,   Sgt D.J.G. de Kock , Sgt T.P. Smith, Sgt M. Thomson. We were the founding members of the RRAF parachute training school at RRAF New Sarum.