CHAPTER 37 SHOWING OFF AT THORNHILL OPEN DAY

SHOWING OFF PTS STYLE

The Commander of the Air Force was impressed. He came up to me and said “That was bloody clever”. The crowd were impressed - one even yelled, “Christ! Those are men!” Dammit, I was impressed too. So much for aeroplanes, and helicopters; HALO parachutists are better scene-stealers any day.

 It was October 1972, and there was an at-home day at Thornhill Air Base – an opportunity for the Air Force to strut its stuff in front of family, friends, and the media. I drew the short straw and elected to jump out of a Trojan from 3000 feet and do about a 15-second delay. This meant pulling the ripcord at around about 1000 feet, which is inclined to give one a sense of impending doom.

The plan was that the Trojan would fly in front of the crowd, and make one hell of a noise. Suddenly the power would be turned off and the noise would, dramatically, cease. Then, I would operate a smoke grenade attached to my foot, which was dangling outside the door. I’d jump, fall like a brick to 1000 feet, open my parachute and land, to much applause of course, somewhere near the crowd.

Well, this last part did not happen. I landed on the other side of the runway, close to the fire section, who kindly gave me a lift to my star-struck fans. I took my bow and then waited for the air display to continue.

The Hunters did their thing. The Vampires did their thing. The Helicopters did their thing and last of all, the Dakota stole the show by coming in at 15,000 feet. A stick of eight PJIs jumped out, all were trailing smoke on their feet, all the smoke worked (for once). Every member of this stick then turned onto a given heading and did a Max Track to 2000 feet. Finally they all opened their parachutes and landed in a circle around the airfield, each one about a km apart. It was a magic display, and on this day, because all the smoke grenades worked, it was like looking up the inside of a funnel. Damn, damn impressive!

As the war heated up, things became more serious and we no longer had time to give demonstrations. But at this stage, it was considered a great morale booster, a bit of a recruiting drive, and a chance to show our military might. We also took part in the occasional parachuting competition, and in September 1971, we formed our first Defence Force, parachuting team for a competition against our nemesis, the South Africans.

The basic idea was to hurl yourself out of a Cessna 185, then try to land on a 150mm diameter disc, which was placed in the middle of a circle about six meters in diameter. Sounds easy enough, but when you’re coming in from a great height, at great speed, with the variables of wind, and parachute type to contend with, it’s not that simple.

The Rhodesian team was not restricted to the PTS staff but also included some men who were sky divers with the local club. One of these was Major John Peirson who rivalled Mike Wiltshire in the joke telling department.

A rookie at competitive jumping, I was a little unsure of how to go about it. So I just did my usual thing, come in downwind over the target, turn into the wind when I thought appropriate, and do a proper parachute landing, hopefully on top of the disc. The scoring was such that you were given points based on the distance from the disc where you hit first. If you landed 100 centimetres away from the disc, your score was 100, 200 centimetres away, it was 200 etc.  So as in golf, the lowest score wins.

I managed to do fairly well, and in fact only lost the best on target on the third day because, although I had been offered a re-jump, I was happy with my score of less than one metre from the disc on six consecutive jumps. I was always a cocky bugger!

The South Africans were amazed at our accuracy. They would come in downwind the whole way and land by sticking their feet out and sliding in on their backsides. This was not the PJI way. We did it properly, complete with parachute landing roll on every jump. And, the results would show, our way was better.

This photograph was taken with the Rhodesian Army/Air Force Parachute team and the South African Combined Services Parachute team and includes the South African Minister Of Defense. We were about to board the huge single rotor Super Frelon Helicopter behind us. From Left to Right Major Garth Barret Rhodesian  SAS, Flt/Lt Frank Hales PJI (kneeling),Sqn/Ldr Derek de Kock PJI, Sgt Rich Carrol Rhodesian Air Force Safety Equipment Worker, Sgt Iain  Bowen PJI,  Major John Peirson Rhodesian Army,is seated second from the left in front of the South African Minister Of Defence. Unfortunately I am unable to name the South Africans in this photograph especially after 45 years. The down wash from the huge rotor on this helicopter caused me to somersault soon after I stepped off the lowered ramp but Frank Hales and I still got the base going very smartly. I wish we had been able to do more than the one jump from this chopper the next jump would have been better.  


Whilst we were in South Africa on this particular competition, we had the opportunity to do a fun parachute jump out of a Super Frelon helicopter. This was probably one of the most frightening things I’d ever done up to this time. The idea was for me and Frank Hales to go off the lowered ramp at the rear of this huge chopper and form the base for a big freefall star.

This photograph shows a South African Air Force Super Frelon Helicopter similar to the one we jumped from. It was capable of carrying 38 combat equipped soldiers. Bigger than our Dakota's


The ramp was lowered. Frank and I walked to the end of it, and, although we were about to jump out of the silly thing anyway, I felt extremely unsteady as there was nothing to hold onto. It was a lot like walking the plank. Anyway, we managed to stand there for a while on the run-in and pretty much just fell off when ordered to do so.

 I clearly remember this particular incident because of the insecure feeling I’d had. This defies logic as I was about to jump off it anyway, so balance really did not matter.  The other thing I remember about this jump was the tremendous, and totally unexpected, down wash from the massive rotor blades.

Frank and I very soon had the base going and I think we eventually formed an eight man star before we ran out of time and deployed our parachutes. I would have loved to repeat the jump but unfortunately we were only given one opportunity.  

In September, 1972, we were again involved with a competition against the South African parachutists. The difference this time was that jumping would take place at New Sarum and we would jump from the Trojan.

This Photograph shows some of the Rhodesian combined services parachuting competitors who were about to climb aboard the Trojan aircraft behind us. We would  jump out and try to land on a 150 mm dia disc placed in the middle of a ploughed up area of our DZ off the end of runway 32  Salisbury Airport. The Trojan could take 4 parachutists in the cabin with ease but it was under powered and struggled with the load at Salisbury Airports altitude of 4896 ft ASL. During the selection stage of our competition a fair number of these aircraft had engine problems due to the max power required to get us up to 4500 ft AGL. The photo shows Iain Bowen, Trevor Smith, Derek de Kock,      John Pierson. Kneeling Unknown, Richard Carrol, Ralph(The Rat) Moore.  


The Trojan, as the Rhodesian Air Force called it, was an Aermacchi Lockheed AL60C aircraft which had been obtained in 1967. It had a reasonably spacious fuselage and 4 Free Fall parachutists could fit inside comfortably provided they were not required to carry suspended loads. It could also be flown with the starboard door off.  PTS did a number of trial jumps and frightened one or two pilots by having four of us hanging on to the strut outside the starboard side of the aircraft and then all letting go at once.

The problem with the Trojan was it did not have enough get-up-and-go. All it did was make a lot of noise. It was better suited to operations at sea level, not the 5000ft ASL of Salisbury Airport.  In about two days of training, I believe three or maybe four aircraft had engine problems. They were just not designed for this sort of caper. 

The problem was solved when it actually came time to do the competition. The wind was blowing in excess of 40 knots so we all retired to PTS and drowned our sorrows in beer. The best way to end any competition – I’m betting, as in the previous year, we would’ve kicked South African arse!