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"War Stories"
Have read with interest various accounts of "worst" and "most memorable" flights undertaken by members of the JP community. Here is a "war story" that happened to me. Feel free to comment and/or add your own.
After leaving school, I had to do two years of National Service, commencing in July of 1977. I was fortunate in that I was accepted into the South African Navy (I became a "puddle pirate" for two years). I trained as a TAS rate (Torpedo and Anti Submarine). After an eight month stint on a small Ford Class Seaward Defence Boat (a.k.a. a "vomit comet") I then spent four months on a Type 12 (similar to the old British Leander class) frigate. Now as a TAS "rate" (another word for matelot), we trained on SONAR and associated weapons systems (which included a Westland Wasp chopper - here is the aviation angle), demolitions (GREAT fun blowing up all sorts of things with all sorts of explosives) as well as the training with our on board SCUBA divers.
So, our frigate was equipped with said chopper and we had great fun in tracking and chasing Russian nuc subs all over the South African coast line - we had (and still have) a 200 mile fishing limit off the coast from the Kunene River (bordering Angola and Namibia in the west - remember Namibia - or South West Africa as it was in those days was " South African territory") all the way up to Kosi Bay (border between Mozambique and SA) on the east coast.
So, one day, out at sea in the area around Gough Island (pretty darn wild weather at those latitudes) we were doing "evolutions" with our Wasp. I was part of the flight deck crew - we rotated duties to gain experience with all associated anti sub systems. Our exercise was performing air/sea rescue evolutions. The chopper would come in over the quarterdeck (remember we are steaming into some "wild water" at approximately 15 knots with our "boat" pitching and rolling like a dolphin on speed), hover, lower harness (which was a cable with a "strap" that you would lower over your head and lodge under your arm pits - and hold on like hell) and then lift off with the "passenger" dangling beneath, circle the ship - turn and lower the "passenger" back onto the flight deck.
That was the theory. I was "volunteered" to be the "passenger". Now, the important bit to the story, was that three days previously, I was the passenger in the back of the Wasp - we had our pilot and his 2-IC up front, with the Flight Engineer and myself in the back. I was there for the "joy ride" and we were practising bombing a small and moving towed target (not allowed to hover and drop). We (the sailors) had money on the aviators ability to "hit a target" and each miss was commented on by myself "back-seat driving". Things like "can't hit a barn door" and "better luck next time" obviously was remembered when the aviators stood us rounds of beer afterwards as we (sailors) won the bets. This "sledging" came back to haunt me - the story goes on.
I was duly hoisted aloft by the lads driving the WASP. We climbed (I am now "hooked into" this "harness" and hanging on with associated force about ten meters below the chopper). And we climbed, and we climbed some more. Our ship (2700 tonner and 200 odd feet long) was now the size of a Leggo block. At +- 2000 feet the "pilot" (sod him, the BASTARD) switched on the loud hailer and commenced with. "Ladies and gents, this is your captain speaking. We are now cruising at two thousand feet and the weather outside is "kak" (Afrikaans for "sh!t"). Drinks will be served shortly by our flight attendant and we wish to inform you that bets are opening for the next bombing contest. As we were unfairly slagged off during the last contest, we now wish to demonstrate the "in the event of ditching into water, you will find your life jacket under your seat" procedure."
With that we DESCENDED at a RATE OF KNOTS. Yes, I was dunked into the cold briny a few times before completing this "exercise" and being unceremoniously dumped back onto the flight deck. That was not the end of the saga. Later, I was called to the ward room and was given a "stiff dram of Scotland's Finest" and we had a laugh about the episode. I then became a "regular back seater" in the said Wasp.
In closing, these chopper drivers were VERY, VERY GOOD. Part of their training involves "cliff flying" in the Drakensberg (range of mountains) to learn all about flying in narrow confines with gusting winds coming in at all angles - mistakes involved "rescue and RECOVERY". In fact, one of my teenage days buddies was in the Navy with me, left for the airforce and flew PUMA choppers as well as Mirages before leaving to hussle one of SAA's 747's around the globe.
Them were the days, me-friends. Have fun........
After leaving school, I had to do two years of National Service, commencing in July of 1977. I was fortunate in that I was accepted into the South African Navy (I became a "puddle pirate" for two years). I trained as a TAS rate (Torpedo and Anti Submarine). After an eight month stint on a small Ford Class Seaward Defence Boat (a.k.a. a "vomit comet") I then spent four months on a Type 12 (similar to the old British Leander class) frigate. Now as a TAS "rate" (another word for matelot), we trained on SONAR and associated weapons systems (which included a Westland Wasp chopper - here is the aviation angle), demolitions (GREAT fun blowing up all sorts of things with all sorts of explosives) as well as the training with our on board SCUBA divers.
So, our frigate was equipped with said chopper and we had great fun in tracking and chasing Russian nuc subs all over the South African coast line - we had (and still have) a 200 mile fishing limit off the coast from the Kunene River (bordering Angola and Namibia in the west - remember Namibia - or South West Africa as it was in those days was " South African territory") all the way up to Kosi Bay (border between Mozambique and SA) on the east coast.
So, one day, out at sea in the area around Gough Island (pretty darn wild weather at those latitudes) we were doing "evolutions" with our Wasp. I was part of the flight deck crew - we rotated duties to gain experience with all associated anti sub systems. Our exercise was performing air/sea rescue evolutions. The chopper would come in over the quarterdeck (remember we are steaming into some "wild water" at approximately 15 knots with our "boat" pitching and rolling like a dolphin on speed), hover, lower harness (which was a cable with a "strap" that you would lower over your head and lodge under your arm pits - and hold on like hell) and then lift off with the "passenger" dangling beneath, circle the ship - turn and lower the "passenger" back onto the flight deck.
That was the theory. I was "volunteered" to be the "passenger". Now, the important bit to the story, was that three days previously, I was the passenger in the back of the Wasp - we had our pilot and his 2-IC up front, with the Flight Engineer and myself in the back. I was there for the "joy ride" and we were practising bombing a small and moving towed target (not allowed to hover and drop). We (the sailors) had money on the aviators ability to "hit a target" and each miss was commented on by myself "back-seat driving". Things like "can't hit a barn door" and "better luck next time" obviously was remembered when the aviators stood us rounds of beer afterwards as we (sailors) won the bets. This "sledging" came back to haunt me - the story goes on.
I was duly hoisted aloft by the lads driving the WASP. We climbed (I am now "hooked into" this "harness" and hanging on with associated force about ten meters below the chopper). And we climbed, and we climbed some more. Our ship (2700 tonner and 200 odd feet long) was now the size of a Leggo block. At +- 2000 feet the "pilot" (sod him, the BASTARD) switched on the loud hailer and commenced with. "Ladies and gents, this is your captain speaking. We are now cruising at two thousand feet and the weather outside is "kak" (Afrikaans for "sh!t"). Drinks will be served shortly by our flight attendant and we wish to inform you that bets are opening for the next bombing contest. As we were unfairly slagged off during the last contest, we now wish to demonstrate the "in the event of ditching into water, you will find your life jacket under your seat" procedure."
With that we DESCENDED at a RATE OF KNOTS. Yes, I was dunked into the cold briny a few times before completing this "exercise" and being unceremoniously dumped back onto the flight deck. That was not the end of the saga. Later, I was called to the ward room and was given a "stiff dram of Scotland's Finest" and we had a laugh about the episode. I then became a "regular back seater" in the said Wasp.
In closing, these chopper drivers were VERY, VERY GOOD. Part of their training involves "cliff flying" in the Drakensberg (range of mountains) to learn all about flying in narrow confines with gusting winds coming in at all angles - mistakes involved "rescue and RECOVERY". In fact, one of my teenage days buddies was in the Navy with me, left for the airforce and flew PUMA choppers as well as Mirages before leaving to hussle one of SAA's 747's around the globe.
Them were the days, me-friends. Have fun........
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