CHAPTER 39 WATER JUMPS JAMES BOND STYLE

Now, I’m not saying I was conceited, but I did fancy myself as a bit of a James Bond back in the day. As I was the Training Officer, and, in my mind at least, the so-called expert on everything parachuting, I’d often jump in collar and tie. Then, in true Bond fashion, calmly gather my parachute, fix my tie, and walk off after landing. Smooth.

Whether he decided to cramp my style, or whether it was a genuine error I don’t know, but once, whilst carrying out trials we were dropped onto a bush DZ. The then CO of the parachute school, Boet Swart, was the DZ Safety Officer, and had selected a very nice, although slightly damp, flat area. So damp, in fact, he could float the DZ panels on top of the water amongst the very soggy grass.

As it was early in the morning, and the sun was just rising, I could not tell that this was very wet.  Of course, I tried to get as close to the middle of the cross as I could.  And I did. I landed practically on the middle- in about four foot of smelly, icy cold water. I was now one very soggy, very stinky, and very angry James Bond. I swore revenge.

This photograph shows a very happy looking Toney Hughes being dragged from the water after his jump it was always great to see Toney  jump into the lake whenever possible.

This photograph shows Mike Wiltshire after his water jump being returned to shore by one of the many volunteers who pulled us from the often cold lake Macillwaine Waters.

Water jumps were always a favorite past-time for the PJIs, mainly because it meant we could frighten the pilots. These drops were laid on for aircrew, who’d come to the Parachute Training School for one day’s ground training and then jump into Lake Macillwaine. From here they’d be retrieved by the Police, the Game Rangers, or anybody who had a boat and happened to be around. It was good fun and was enjoyed by most of the aircrew who volunteered to do this.

It also gave the PJIs who’d been too badly injured to jump onto hard ground, the opportunity to parachute into a much softer environment. People like Tony Hughes and Trevor Smith always had a place on these occasions and were always welcome.

In 1969 the Parachute Training School carried out a water jump for most of the staff,  a number of Rhodesian Air Force pilots and some Army VIP's. This photograph shows the people who took part from L.to R. back row  Boet Swart (PJI), Tudor Thomas (Pilot), Derek de Kock (PJI), Peter Walls (Army), Gen Kieth Coster (Army), Ted Brent (Pilot), Norman Walsh (Pilot), Brian Penton (Pilot). Front Row L.to R. Brian Robinson (SAS) Trevor Smith (PJI), Tony Hughes(PJI), Peter Briscoe (Pilot), Unknown (Pilot), Rich Beaver (Pilot). On this occasion I jumped with an X type double blank and landed on the shore from where I acted as the DZ Safety Officer for the water jump. Notice the James Bond look with the collar and tie. Trevor Smith was the dispatcher on this occasion and he and Tony Hughes were the course PJI's. 

It was on one of these jumps I finally had the chance to get my revenge on Boet Swart. As the DZ Safety Officer, it was my job to direct the dropping aircraft from the ground. I carefully guided them, “Left, left, a little to your right” until it was perfectly positioned. Boet landed right on target, on the soggy, stinky muds of the shore. I laughed and laughed. Boet, not so much.  Revenge was sweet but I was always careful after this to make sure I was being dropped in the correct place when Boet was the DZ SO.

 My own first water jump took place in the UK where we jumped into the icy sea off Portsmouth. It was extremely chilly. After I was fished out by the Navy, I was handed a tot of navy rum to warm up my insides. In those days H.M. Royal Navy issued rum on special occasions and this was one of them. After downing it I was all for jumping overboard again. My outside was still cold, but my inside had a nice warm feeling. It was most enjoyable. And would prove even more so in the much warmer waters of Rhodesia.

After the drops at Lake Macillwaine, the Dak would invariably do a beat-up over the water and I would do my level best to hit it with a Vary Pistol. Once I swear, I damn near put a green into the door. The dispatcher, who was looking out, actually ducked.

Another time the PJIs tried to trick me, and chucked a dummy out without a parachute. They then shouted over the radio “We have a whistler.” But you have to wake up pretty early to trick me – the way it tumbled was not like a human being.

Then there was the time Frank Hales jumped with scuba gear. On landing in the water, he operated his Capewells, which jettisoned the canopy and swam away underwater. The cops, who grabbed his canopy and pulled it in, were very concerned when there was nobody on the end. The method of retrieval of parachutists who had landed in the lake was always the same. The parachute would be pulled in first, then the pilot, or parachutist on the end would be plucked out of the water. Parachutes were at least as important as pilots to PTS.  Don’t tell the pilots! 

Men of all ranks were keen to get in on the fun. Parachuting is very democratic – no matter what your station in life, everyone responds the same to gravity, and everyone, no matter their rank, had to go through the same training and procedures before parachuting.

Our first station commander after the PTS was established, was Group Captain A.O.G. Wilson. He was a real character and had the most bone-crushing handshake I’ve ever come across. Now of course, Archie (as he was known to one and all), was not going to miss out on doing a parachute descent onto his turf and insisted we teach him.  I was given the task of training him after hours, and we were all sworn to secrecy. I doubt there would have been any issues with Air Force command, but the feisty and formidable Mrs Wilson, (Lorna) was an entirely different story.

This photograph shows Flt/Lt Smuger Smith RAF our first OC PTS holding the silver parachutist presented to the Rhodesian Air Force Parachute Training School by IRVIN parachutes on the 1000th military parachute descent. Group/Capt A.O.G. (Archie) Wilson with beer in hand helped us to celebrate the occasion. The civilian gentleman was the IRVIN/ GQ rep who presented the Trophy.  

So, when we took-off with the very first course, on 9^th November, 1961, good old Archie was in tow. We dropped a PJI drifter, who landed on the DZ. On the next run in, I called Archie up to action stations. When the red light came on, I yelled “Stand in the door,” which Archie did with great force. I had hold of his parachute harness, and it was a strain to keep him from leaping out immediately. When the green light came on, I just let go and he shot out like a champagne cork, almost taking the door with him.

After we landed, it needed to be repaired before the course could do their first jump. I subsequently found out this was not Archie’s first parachute descent after all. He had an unplanned exit when he bailed out of his fighter aircraft during World War II. He was, in fact, a member of the illustrious Caterpillar Club.

 Sometimes, General Peter Walls would show up at the Parachute Training School at an ungodly hour and would be utilized as the drifter for the basic course undergoing training. Now, the drifter’s job was basically to jump out of the aircraft, float down till he was just above the ground, and then pull down on his lift webs to slow his drift across the ground. I do believe that Number 1 Parachute Training School, Rhodesian Air Force, was the only unit involved in parachute training to utilize the services of a General in order to avoid injuring ordinary soldiers. General Walls was a fantastic supporter of the Parachute Training School and gave us every encouragement.