Norway, ‘81 or ‘82 (the events will lead someone to pin it down), and Sgt Golf along with pilot whose name escapes me, is running in at 10 000’ for a free fall drop over the frozen lake at Bomoen. Jumpers are literally in the door, when a serious sounding abort message comes up. Sgt Golf drags the jumpers back in, shuts door as ordered, and back to Bomoen strip.
Turns out, Simon The Pieman (OC 33) had had a ‘heavy landing’ in a whiteout (the cab was f***ed, but there was no heavy fallout) and help was needed. We set off directly.
The day got worse en route, when we hear that the AAC gazelle (there is a link, I promise) carrying JEngo and a snco groundie to the site really did Cat 5 in in a whiteout. Three bad injuries, as it happens.
Golf aids his driver to the most carefully recced 0/0 landing you’ve ever seen!
Anyhow, we loaded up the AAC non com pilot and headed off for the Norgie hospital. Couple of mins in, the army boy beckons me over. Over the noise, he gives me what- I swear- is brewing into a real deathbed declaration. “My jacket pocket, please, my jacket pocket.” I was wetting myself, and being supportive like in the war films. “You’ll be fine”, says I.
“No, you must take it for me”, says brown job. I stuck my hand in his pocket, and pulled out an envelope, thinking, ****, this is his will for his missus or something.
With his final, but not dying words, he croaks, “You must keep this safe…..It’s the squadron beer fund for up north next week”.
Man deserved a medal for his loyalty! Yes, I handed over the kronks. Never got his name.
CG