I have never been a
member of any SADF Veterans Organisation for numerous reasons. Many have asked me
to join them but I have always declined and walked away. That is until my old
Parachute Sappers (specifically by name of Chappies van Zyl) twisted my arm to
the point that it almost broke.
I finally relented when
the founder of ‘Rooiplaas’ (Nico Beneke) graciously—and without Chappie’s
violence—convinced me to find a home with them.
I therefore dedicate
this short piece to the men of Rooiplaas…a great group of ex-paratroopers from
1 Parachute Battalion…A true paratroopers’ community (http://www.rooiplaas.co.za)
To my new ‘home’, here
is a story I wish to share with you all:
My sapper section (at
that time, very few sappers were jump qualified) and I arrived in a cool
Bloemfontein in early September 1978.
Our mission was to
support an exercise of 1 Parachute Battalion known as Exercise Caledon Downs, an operational training exercise in the
Wepener area of the Orange Free State.
Having no clue what
equipment was required for the training exercise, we left Bethlehem (22 Field
Squadron) with an old Bedford truck laden with mines, mine detectors, assault boats,
explosives, and a mobile water point (I need to emphasise that whoever came up
with the name ‘mobile water point’ must have been delusional!)
On arrival, and while
my men wandered around the battalion area like lost sheep—or rather lost sappers—I
attended the Orders Group (O Gp) for the exercise. Amongst the paras, the
rumour mill was already hard at work—this they said, was to be a rehearsal for
a large scale airborne operation into Angola.
The battalion’s pathfinders
were to freefall into the designated target area under cover of darkness, and
mark a drop zone (DZ) for the incoming parachute assault early the following morning.
In my absence, the men
found what appeared to be a deserted bungalow and they would seek me out later
to give me a bed they had ‘scored’ for me.
In the meantime, I left
the O Gp feeling rather dejected after receiving our orders. There would be no big
demolition tasks, no clearing or laying of minefields, no assault river
crossing…only a damn water point for the paratroopers.
Giving my orders to my
sappers was akin to addressing a rugby team that had suffered its worst loss
ever. They were utterly disgusted at what they were supposed to do to support
the exercise.
Early the next morning,
my sappers, under the capable command of my troop sergeant Cpl L Steyn, left
feeling rather miserable for a grid reference somewhere in the eastern Free
State.
The following day, I was
to jump with (then) Major Anton van Graan’s HQ element while my sappers drove
to a grid reference specified in the O Gp.
Being a well-trained
sapper officer, I snivelled around for the rest of the day, fearful I would be
given a task I was unable to do—that is, until a Major Grundling found me
hiding in a deserted bungalow. After giving me a severe dressing down, he
finally told me where to report to the next morning.
Due to the nature of
the exercise, we were not going to jump with Personal Weapons Containers (PWCs).
Instead the parachutes would simply be strapped over our battle order
equipment.
On the road to the
airport, there was great excitement. On arrival, we kitted-up and waited…Soon
we were all shuffling off to board the C-130s.
I was part of the
second wave and was to jump second in Major van Graan’s stick on that fateful
day of 7 September 1978.
After the usual “Stand
up! Hook up!…” the door opened and out we went.
The green canopy
billowed…Phew! But there was no time to admire the view.
I recall two things
very vividly: (1) We were very low and (2) I saw a barbed wire fence and a
large anthill next to it…I knew I was going to meet the one or the other.
And I did.
No amount of pulling on
the risers or trying to climb up the canopy worked. It all happened too fast.
After a very hard
landing and what I thought was a broken foot, I limped off to find my company
commander, Major van Graan. I was certainly not going to show the paratroopers
that I had been hurt. Sapper pride took hold.
It was then that I came
across Captain Blaauw (I think it was David but I am not too sure anymore!) looking
rather forlorn and visibly upset. On asking if he was okay, he told me that
Major Grundling had landed in a farm dam and drowned. I was shocked but also
realised that had any of us landed in a dam, the weight of our equipment would have
dragged us down. Plus, as it was still early morning, the water was freezing
and those brave troops who tried to rescue him were simply unable to do so.
In addition, several
other paratroopers had been hurt when they went off the edge of some high
ground.
Needless to say, and
despite the great loss to the battalion, objectives had to be assaulted, captured
and consolidated before we could move on to the main objective which was a farm
house some distance away.
And so I hobbled across
the Wepener fields, humping my equipment and trying to keep my pose as best I
could.
After a river crossing
(I thought we were supposed to do that with the boats we brought from
Bethlehem!), my sappers finally arrived later that afternoon to collect me and
ferry me across to the water point where we spent the rest of the entire
exercise—purifying water for the paratroopers.
I had not broken my
foot but instead, had very badly bruised the sole of my foot. To this day, I
have an aversion to anthills.
After the exercise, we
made the long trip back to Bethlehem.
We never did deploy for
the great air assault operation that was rumoured to be in the offing…but we
all went to war.
And now, almost 39
years later, I have become a member of the Rooiplaas Paratroopers’ Community—a
long time to find a home amongst men who share common values. I am still a
sapper at heart but also feel at home with the paratroopers of Rooiplaas.
Thank you Nico,
Chappies and all other members of ‘Rooiplaas’ for welcoming me into your
community. .