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Malta 2004

Once again Alan Ash and myself found ourselves travelling to the beautiful Island of Malta for a Close Protection course. This time we took with us a group of potential CPOs from England who were all applying to different companies for work in Iraq. Some had military experience. A few had combat experience, all had security experience in one form or another. This course was different from previous ones. All the training was to be aggressive combat body guard training to give the students an insight into the brutal workings of the Iraqi terrorist..

The course takes advantage of a short break

The students had a day in which to sort themselves out and acclimatise to Malta and then the training started in earnest. We used for the training area a derelict hotel which we had used before and the surrounding grounds. With the hot weather, rocky terrain and derelict building we had the ideal Iraqi scenario.

Goza

First day was spent refreshing military skills which did not take too long as all the students were raring to get stuck in to the training. It took very little time for the group to start working together. That evening was spent looking at the Island and visiting many of the local bars. A good time was had by all although the evening ended early due to a mixture of jet lag and fatigue.

Advance to contact

Up for breakfast and the team travelled back to the training area. This time they were introduced to basic CPO skills and in particular walking drills. Just as they were getting confident they were taken onto embussing and debussing drills which required eyes in the back of your head when faced with a principle who does not want a bodyguard team and resents you being there. Its hard to believe that someone who's life you are trying to prolong does not take the threat seriously and gos out of his way to give the team a hard time however they do exist and the bodyguard has got to be aware and ready for them.

Anti-Ambush drills

On one scenario, Simon ,the youngest on the course was acting as Bodyguard to the principle. One car was disabled in the attack and as the back up vehicle pulled alongside to effect a rescue it to was disabled. Shouting "I have a door, I have a door" He propelled the principle towards the open door of a nearby building. Two of the team went into the door before them to clear the room. The rest of the team closed in behind using their bodies to shield the BG and principle while putting down covering fire with their Glock 17s.. Inside the building the team started to take casualties from a determined enemy supplied by some of our Maltes friends. The team had almost gained the safety of the last room when a training grenade rolled across the floor towards them. Two of the team reacting well to the scenario yelled "Grenade" and threw themselves onto the BG and principle. Unfortunately one of them being a Scots Guardsman and both being the biggest blokes on the course they succeeded in crushing the very people they were trying to protect. After the grenade had gone off they got up but as they started to breath again another grenade was thrown in. The reaction was repeated although this time the victims had to be peeled from the floor. We were getting more casualties from the protection part then we were from the enemy. Shit happens.

Clearing the route for vehicles

The students took it in turns changing their positions in the roll playing so they all had a chance to experience each position in the team and what difficulties they would experience. No one wants surprises when you do the real thing. Classroom work followed with lessons on Threat assessment, voice procedure and all the boring stuff that a good COP needs to survive in the trade. A few beers and a meal out finished the day leaving all the students thinking back over the days activities. A converted quarry was the venue for the combat shotgun and small arms training. This was the first time many of the group had fired the shotgun and we specifically wanted them to see the damage such a weapon could do at close quarters to a vehicle.

Mobile patrol skills

They played out ambush and anti ambush scenarios firing at a vehicle from the position of an ambusher on the ground and then as a CPO firing from the back of a truck. By the end of the day the weapons handling was vastly improved as was the shooting.  Very few targets were being missed and the target car was slowly disintegrating..

Presentation in the British Legion with Sir Anthony Hayes

 By the end of the week the students were conversant with convoy drills and vehicle ambush techniques. A slide show of some gory photos from Iraq was the highlight of one evening which left no body in a hurry to go out for a meal.. All too soon the course came to an end. The last day was spent sight seeing and buying presents for the folks back home. The end of course buffet was held in the British Legion hall in Velletta with Sir Anthony Hayes and his good lady wife presenting the certificates. Sir Anthony praised the team and wished them luck for the future. We were fortunate enough to have a senior officer of the Maltese defence force and his Security advisor present at the presentation. This may lead to work for the team in the near future.

Shotgun handling

Preparing a target car

Deliberate shoot

Taking the fight to the enemy

Thailand and Cambodia 2004

by Robin Talbott

http://www.worldextremities.org/index.html

I know you all have been waiting for my story to appear on my website. Sorry for the delay.  It seems that my return needed a much needed soul search in order to put the journey into prospective and into words.
 
As most of you know, I gathered up prosthetics and went on a journey to Thailand and Cambodia with Jason Snailham and the Pathfinders. On October 21st, I flew out on a journey to the other side of the world and to another world in it's self. We began military training with parachutes, training tower with the Thai army and met up with other pathfinders there. Bangkok was interesting; we saw a number of interesting parts of the city from the filthy poor to homes surrounding the palaces. The roads there and the driving was absolutely crazy
and the sound of horns were constant and steady.
 
The training went on for a couple days; we wore military uniforms, boots, hats and jackets in about 100-degree weather with 100% humidity. Was tedious to say the least, but yet the surroundings of the gorgeous foliage and the sounds of birds unlike ours here in the states seemed someone pleasant.  While there, the main things we had to remember was to watch for Cobras, mosquitoes, and remember that they drive on the other side of the road from what they do here in the states.  So, when crossing the road on foot, you look in the opposite
direction for the on coming cars, not like I did and almost got hit by all the on coming traffic. Whew, close call.
 
I don't think the Thai Special Forces could have been any more hospitable to us. We had two sections of training. I decided to choose the static line since I have never done static line and after the training, probably never will actually do it from a flight vessel. I like free fall way too much to give it up even for one jump. Also as most of you already know, I am an amputee skydiver. So this is why this trip has gone forward and was a must to become a very successful trip.
 
On to Cambodia. We arrived and checked in to our hotel. No one carries toilette paper by the way, you must have your own, shake it dry or use a water hose or pan to dip into the water hole they have next to the toilette, hole or wherever they have appointed a place to potty to wash yourself and then dare pull your britches up on the wetness. Eeeewwwwwyyy.

Once in Cambodia, Phnom Penh, we checked into our hotel and was picked up by an officer of the Royal Cambodian Special Force 911 team and taken to Kambol Camp where we met up with some of the airborne troops. We talked for a short while, looked around at their packing hanger, and studied the dropzone and their thousand obstacles we had to avoid during our next day skydive. On to their
open pavilion to observe where we would eat the next day. Oh, there is a beautiful beige ox tied up. I think I'll head over and pet him. How sweet and what beautiful eyes. Then I heard "sure Robin just pet your dinner before you eat em" "yeah right"! After a long and much hotter and humid day in comparison to the almost unbearable heat in Thailand, off we went to our hotel.  We rented a boy with a motorcycle. Looking down the streets you wonder, would I be safer to ride with one of these guys to the money transfer station or walk... really, it was safer to ride. I don't know how cause there didn't seem to be any rules on the road. There were not very many cars but thousands of these motorcycles and some carrying families of 5. Some had 50 live ducks in their baskets.

While some were quacking if they were lucky enough to be the first ones in the baskets tied by their feet.  Others weren't so lucky if they were to be part of the over flow, their quacks became more and more faint until they actually hung over the sides beating their selves literally to death with the road. I am so glad that we weren't witnesses to what happens to the overflow of people hanging on for dear life to the sides, front, top and backs of trucks and vans. So we dared, we got on the back after looking over the driver to see if his body parts were still intact and how many scars his body contained. it kind of told us the story of how good a driver he was. "Ah ha, nice skin, I'll take this one!" We hired the drivers for the day then shopping for more uniform
items. We ate at a tourist (mostly Europeans) restaurant on the bank of the river where I got my first eyes view of just how many amputees, homeless and beggars there were. Man I don't think I have ever seen so many amputees and deformed people on one block in my life. Not just one limb, but MANY with two, three and even four. As they approached us asking for handouts, I showed them my leg and they backed off watching me curiously and with smiles breaking on their
faces.

We bought books from a double lower limb amputee and then as I turned to go back up to the balcony of the restaurant.   we were face to face with another double arm amputee selling books. I thought this was a great thing that they weren't begging, rather they were selling something for their living.

I bought a book from him and observed the use of his stumps to pick the books and even exchange the money we gave. The books they were selling were all books about the Khmar Rouge regime, Killing fields, and children of the mines and such.
Years and years of killing in one way or another have without a doubt devastated their country. People are still stepping on mines left and trying to pick up the pieces of over two million of their people who were ordered slaughtered by the regime, families who were torn apart, drove them from their homes to work in forced labour camps, and executed captives in front of children, children were beat and killed, babies ripped from their mothers arms and murdered and if the mothers cried out, they were killed too. People were tortured beyond our comprehension and innocence was taken from children and brutal dismemberment took place. The khmar Rouge began their horrible control by taking all persons in power, doctor's teachers, workers and any one of any intellect what so ever and ordered them murdered. The hope and spirit of these people became only the hope for Kmar Rouge revolution dependent on the children to obtain. It was these Children's faces we saw in Cambodia those days of our visit and is now the
faces of the young men and woman left to pick up the pieces. The Viet Nam war was also going on during many of these years and land mines were left by many countries involved in that war. These mines left are still blowing up two people on an average per day! SOMETHING MORE NEEDS TO BE DONE TO HELP THESE PEOPLE
RESTORE THEIR LIVES!
 
Jump day!  Our special force courtesy shuttle arrived early to take us to their base where we would jump from a donated Russian helicopter.  The clouds hung very low and the winds were strangely blowing with gusts to a dead almost eerie calm.  Of course we were grounded until something opened.  As I sat and talked with many of the soldiers and told of my amputation and my skydiving, word spread and before I knew it I was surrounded by dozens of curious on lookers asking many questions through an interpreter.  I was then approached by the free fall instructor "master" who said with a huge smile on his face as he
puffed out his proud chest stating who he was and that he has 29 free fall jumps. I thought "oh, my God, this is scary".  I guess they have to start somewhere. This is also the purpose of the Pathfinders, to take donated parachutes to them, teach them skydiving in areas of both static line and free fall, packing, repairing and teaching skills.  How much can they learn twice a year for a couple days each visit?
 
The sky opened, the wind died down and now a load of static were up and under canopy.  Ooops they landed in the rice paddies but all came back proud that they did their PLF and evidence shows on their sides and mud marked their points of impact.
 
Now it was the static and free fallers turn.  The helicopter was loaded. It was amazing they could get it off the ground, but surprisingly it did. Jason Snailham pointed to the back at all the little eyes peaking out and smiling at me. He stated that they were there to watch me jump out. Seemed to be an amazing thing for a woman to free-fall.  Never heard of there and also that I was an amputee and could do it. They all wanted to see this. Oh, boy, the pressures on. I must have a great skydive, not land in the mines, or paddy fields, oh, and let's not forget the thousand obstacles including all the flag poles with very sharp points at the tops.  As I got ready to exit the helicopter, the kids
came rushing out of their hiding places towards the door, My heart raced as I wondered how many of these precious faces were going to fall out with me.  I motioned for them to all get back and the only way I could communicate with them in the few moments I had was to give them a mean face and a hand motion to stay back. They obeyed and Thank God for that!   Now I am out and under canopy, I am looking for my landing area and spot every place I am not to land at first. No, not there, left turn.  The wind took me and threw me to the right and
collapsed two of my cells, quick back to the left and inflated my cells. OK, all is good.  I was so adamant about having a good landing cause all eyes were on me.  The television news reporters and cameras were there too and as a woman free faller, amputee and as a special guest of the Pathfinders and Royal Cambodian Special Force 911 group, I had to have a smooth, stand up landing without incident.  I did!  Yeah!  I did!

We celebrated, had an award ceremony, and drank with these wonderful sweet people.  Let's not forget the ox. The had a couple men rotating it's carcass over an open fire. Tasted pretty delicious actually. What I couldn't eat and meant no disrespect for was the duck soup. Not the meat of the body, but the whole head in the centre of my bowl. Couldn't do it.

Got my wings there that day, a certificate of skydive and was called
Airborne Sister. This was my ticket for World Extremities to feel safe about bringing in prosthetics.  What an honour to be in the presence of these fantastic loving people.

 I spent some time in the following days, visiting places with the Pathfinders even though we broke the group apart.  Some of the superiors had more work to do and I was ready to go and do what I came for. Making my contacts with the rehab centers.  We flew to Siem Reap, went to Anchor Watt, saw the 5000-year-old ruins.  Visited the mine hutches called museum, saw thousands of mines (not active). Along the miles of roads leading to the mine museum were blocked off
with rope and signs of cross bones warning of live mines just 25 feet from where the dirt road was on both sides.
 
We visited the handicap international run by Belgium and governed by
Australia.  Made my contacts there, visited with the amputees and also polio victims. I held a 5-month-old badly deformed by polio.  Observed their make shift wheel chairs and crutches, their hammocks and military medical stretchers they slept on, holes to potty in (can't see how they do it when most don't have legs. The rehab centre for Cambodia is "state of the art" for them.  I promised them that day that I would deliver and keep delivering as long as I live the much-needed prosthetics.

I came home and found that through Dana Bowman, he is willing to donate the two warehouses he has of prosthetics if I can supply the shipment.  What a great thing and now, I must fund raise for my return trip in March to make good on my promise to deliver.

The Pieces of Eight are willing to make a trip this June or July to do a
skydiving demonstration for fund raising for World Extremities.  This is now in the works.
 
My experience was life changing, heart breaking, and heart warming, 
I have special thanks to the following people who made this journey with me. I couldn't have done it without them.  First and foremost: Jason Snailham (friend, fellow skydiver, and Pathfinder from the UK, static and free fall).  Ean (pathfinder, static and free fall).  Rocky Frie (United States Pathfinder, static).  Bill (United States Pathfinder, static). Wayne (UK Pathfinder, static). Wayne's beautiful sweet wife Nina (Bangkok Thailand, completed tower training static).  Nina's sweet and beautiful sister Ploy (Bangkok Thailand, completed tower training static).  Russell (United States Pathfinder static and made first free fall in Cambodia congratulations!). Sum (Singapore Pathfinder, static).   Maamar (Hong Kong Pathfinder and backbone.  Static, free fall) his lovely tiny smile faced girlfriend Som, Thailand, completed tower training static) and the Special Forces of Thailand and Cambodia.  And many thanks to the residence of both places for changing my life forever!
 
Thank you all!

Robin Talbott

Arnhem 2004

Parachuting: By Al Murray 

Before I jumped onto Ginkel Heath I had not parachuted before. I had always wanted to  my father had been a parachutist in the TA, and I have clear memories of being about 5 and going to see him jump from a balloon and being yelled at when I tried to pick up his reserve by its red pull handle. Parachuting probably strikes most people as a dangerous thing to do. The utterly worn out joke: why jump out of a perfectly good aircraft? only gets repeated endlessly because its got such an air of truth to it, a friend of mine who's a pilot said this every time I mentioned the jump [which was, ill confess, pretty often].

But Ive always wanted to parachute  at university I was all set to do a jump for charity but broke my arm falling down nothing so dangerous as some stairs at a  railway station [the stairs had been well lubricated by several pints of lager if you see what I mean] .  So it never happened and getting round to it was always going to be unlikely. I've read a great deal about parachuting, and about the esprit de corps that it engendered in the men who fought in the wars airborne armies. However, jumping out of an aeroplane seemed a strange way to find out if what Id read was true. But when the opportunity to jump with the Pathfinder Group on the 60th anniversary came up, well, I cant say I jumped at the chance because that would be a bad joke, but it seemed too good to pass up.

As the Road to Berlin has as its central strand the idea that I would try to get as close as I could to the notion of ordinary men doing extraordinary things the perfect accompaniment to the programme about Arnhem was obviously a parachute jump; and parachuting counts for most people a an extraordinary thing to do. The Airborne mystique, that lies at the heart of the Arnhem story was really only something I could properly investigate by parachuting. I've ridden in tanks, waded ashore from a landing craft, fired a flamethrower and sat in a Spitfire, but the parachuting was to be by far the most intense of these so called stunts. When we discovered the Pathfinders, we couldn't believe our luck.  The Pathfinder Group have decided to keep the techniques used by the British in World War Two alive, in commemoration and also, I suspect, because they admire the men who fought as airborne soldiers even more than I do. For the programme this was a fantastic stunt, the only problem was I would have to learn how to parachute

The plan was to go for two days training at Texel Parachute Centre in northern Holland and qualify for my Dutch wings [which does sound like something rude now I think about it, but that's just the way my mind can turn over] .  We had to fit this into our filming schedule and we were to film the training, which made things not exactly awkward, but cameras can sometimes make situations seem not as real as thy could be the camera can become the situation rather than, say, the lesson about how to open your reserve chute in the time you have left to you as you hurtle towards the ground.  I had to fit pieces to camera into the day, and it made some of the other trainees quite self conscious, but in the end, things were too serious to let the camera get in the way of things.

When our group sat in the Antonov , Ian Marshall, our instructor, told us that we weren't going to get into the aeroplane unless we were going to jump out. And that's what lies at the heart of parachuting, you have to have made the decision to jump out of the plane long before you even put a chute on.  And I suspect that I made the decision to jump out of the plane months, if not years, before it came to my turn at the door in the Dakota.

Training at Texel was pretty straightforward.  Apart from the afternoon lecture about the terrible things that could happen to the chute, getting a mae west, a line over, a 643tg streamer, the static line being shredded by flak damage [!] and the parachute simply not opening, Ian treated me as though I wasn't an idiot, but he didn't expect me to get it right away. The thing about Ian is he's the statistics seven and a half thousand jumps, he's pulled the reserve 65 times, so when he says that a twist in your rigging lines may look bad but it isn't a malfunction, you really have to believe him. Not that he'd been with me on the way down

Parachuting with a round chute a PX1 Mk4, reassuringly the most reliable chute in the world  is pretty much as basic as it can be. As an introduction to parachuting it had a certain purity, just as the way my arse feels now also has a certain purity [more on that later] . In the end the weather let us down, at Texel we had lots of great dramatic skies to film, which look good and foreboding in the programme, but the upshot was I didn't get my five practice jumps though I did pass, and Ian deemed me competent to jump on the Saturday.

The training boiled down to a series of drills  drills that I felt I really ought to get to grips with. They spun round and round in my mind, the three mornings before the jump I woke up at five o'clock reciting one thousand two thousand three thousand four thousand check parachute over and over. This lack of sleep has translated into beautiful bags under my eyes for the programme about Arnhem, but the obsession I developed about the drills meant that when it came to learning how to parachute it seemed eminently sensible. One of lads favourite refrains was that the parachute doesn't know you're an idiot, it doesn't know you're trying to kill yourself and it made his point quite neatly [he should keep it in the act].

Jumping from the Dakota on a static line although it requires what seems like a huge act of individual will is actually about surrendering yourself to the kit, to the drill and to physics. If they all do their part you don't have to think or decide at all. You've decided to jump ages ago, if you get the drills right you'll make a clean exit, the chute will open nice and cleanly and you just have to keep your feet and knees together, elbows in tucked in, chin on chest and that should be that. When I jumped I felt attached to the plane via the static line, then attached to the sky by the parachute and then attached to the ground by my backside; there was never a moment when I felt as though I was unsupported.

Pathfinders, who had every reason to be suspicious of me, after all, a comedian? Why would he want to do this? But the first night in the pub near Texel involved a warm welcome, a few pints and something else dark and noxious in shot form, and videos of  the drops they did at Ranville in Normandy this year for the D-Day anniversary in June, with everyone jeering at the shabby exits some of the group had made [young Rory in particular]. But watching the video made it all seem very possible the film of everyone in the plane was just as I had imagined everyone keyed up ready to go, but no great drama, no great scene, besides the otherwise incredible scene of everyone jumping out of the door and floating to earth.

Ian had told me that the descent would take about a minute but that it would seem far less.  He wasn't wrong. Even now I don't know if iv taken in the experience properly. If anything what happened was simply a set of drills. I went out of the door with commitment as recommended I don't know where I was looking. Some people had said to look at the horizon, others said that looking back into the plane would help, but I'm not even sure that I even looked anywhere. Emplaning had been simple enough, the Dakota pulled up and we got on. I was 12th in the second stick, Bruce Cox wanted to jump number 13 and who was I to argue? The flight was enhanced shall we say by lads line in terrible jokes. Before the jump Jason Snailham who was also on hand to truss me up in my harness like a eunuch with a bondage fetish had told me that it was show time, and in many ways it was; before a show the last thing I want is someone in my face cracking lame ones. I know why he was doing it, but it was fucking annoying! Before a show I like time on my own with me myself and my thoughts, or whatever I want to do. And what I wanted to do was look out of the window!! 

When we got to Ginkle, the second stick stood up, hooked up, and all of a sudden they were gone.  It was all so matter of fact, though there were nervous glances and sweating brows and then as I saw the chutes opening below the plane and falling down towards the heath I was struck by the beauty of it as they spread out across the heather the green parachutes were a breathtaking sight, a sight that I had only ever imagined seeing.

This was what was exciting me far more than the notion that I would be jumping out soon. Then we stood up, hooked up and shouted out checks down the stick. I heard myself shouting, number 12 OK and the call run down to the front of the plane. Then suddenly it was Go! Go! Go! GO we shuffled forward, automatically, looking at nothing but the guy in front of mes head if anything at all, holding tight to toggle on the static line. I wish I could say that my heart was pounding, but I was utterly focused on getting out of the door neatly. Go! Go! Go! Go I wasn't counting how many had gone but before I knew it  in fact I don't even know if I knew it,  I was there at the door and Go! I was gone. Concentration. I was focused entirely on my drills, nothing else. I bellowed the count to four, and looked up. The chute was there but I had twists  I yelled Twists and pulled them out, checked the canopy and all was fine. I looked around me to see if I would collide with anyone, was in the clear, and surprised my speed of descent. The air current was making me drift to the left, so I corrected, yanking hard to the right. This steadied me and I seemed to be heading straight down. Looking back I wish I'd had a little longer to get to grips with the chute as I descended, and read more of what was happening wind-wise, but it was my first jump, and we only left the plane at a thousand feet so I suppose I'm excused.

Once I thought I was sorted and on the way down I began to recite my mantra feet and knees together. In an exchange of texts with my dad, while waiting to emplane, his main advice, and the advice of paras of every vintage who I'd been chatting to at the bridge at Arnhem the night before, had all centred around this one thing  feet and knees together. One para had recommended chanting something on the way down so as not to anticipate the ground coming up, and feet and knees together seemed eminently sensible. Someone on the ground was shouting it up to us as we sailed down. I looked around and the sensation of flight began to give way to one of descent  not too rapid but rapid enough. I kept chanting, but missed the cross wind, or at least misread the direction I was heading in as I fell. With feet and knees together I landed  I felt no shock in my legs, but the wind caught the chute in precisely the direction I wasn't expecting and pulled me wham! down onto my backside. It fell like being kicked in the arse by a boot with a steel toe cap. Then as I lay somewhat confused the chute inflated and began to drag me along this went on for what must have been 2 seconds but it felt like an eternity. Cursing, my knuckles grazed by the heather, I managed to deflate the chute, get up, run around and begin to pack it up

Already I could hear the cries of medic coming from where the two guys who had jumped ahead and behind me had landed. I was so stunned by what had happened, the jump itself, and bewildered by the landing, and seeing that medical help was on its way, I thought it best to get to the RV, especially as a camera had turned up to film my reaction to having landed like a sack of shit. It has to be said the drop was so quick, the landing so unceremonious, my concentration on my drill so intense that the whole thing had been like a dream, the fact that there was now a camera in my face didn't help. And what I really didn't want was film of anyone injured

So i did jumping at Ginkle Heath help to me understand how it was for those lads back in 1944? It's hard to say frankly maybe I need to do it again to get a proper appreciation of it. Some of the guys jumping with me suggested that it would ruin parachuting for me, that nothing could follow jumping into Ginkle Heath, 60 years later, with a veteran behind me in the stick, from a Dakota.

 Certainly, if you wanted to experience parachuting 1st or 6th Airborne style, you couldn't draw up a better wish list.  What I did learn is how intense their training must have been, how a jump together would get the men pumped up, would give them a common bond. Having worn a chute

 very similar to the one they dropped with you get a sense though only fleeting of how heavily laden they would have been as they jumped behind enemy lines, and of how although parachuting is, in essence, a mechanical process, it requires everything from the individual self discipline and will power. I don't know if I possess either of these in any great measure, but there's no doubt when you read the history of the Battle of Arnhem, that that's exactly what the men brought with them when they stepped out the door of perfectly good aeroplanes that weekend in mid-September.

Al Murray ,Actor and Comedian, jumped with Pathfinder at Arnhem this year whilst filming an episode of "The Road to Berlin" a TV series documenting major events of WW2. This episode dealt with the Arnhem drop and the difficulties facing the Paratroopers

_______________________________________________

Operation MARKET 2004

John Frost Bridge in Arnhem  

September 16th 2004, 60 years after the start of Operation Market Garden, the operation with the goal to end the war by Christmas 1944. A lonely Dakota takes off from Soesterberg Air Force base in Holland and sets off on a south-eastern course. It's destination: the John Frost Bridge in Arnhem. On board Para’s of Pathfinder all dressed in 1944 Parachute Regiment uniform.

This bridge was the last of 7 bridges that had to be captured in 1944. Unfortunately this bridge could not be captured and held until the ground forces arrived. One of the reasons, which led to this, was that the drop zones for the para's were almost 12 kilometres away from the bridge. On this day in September 2004 the John Frost Bridge was officially reopened after being renovated. Part of the events of that day was a parade of veterans crossing the bridge from the Northern to the Southern bank of the river Rhine. One of the highlights of this special day was the parachute drop that Pathfinder was going to perform. All Para’s were to drop over the John Frost bridge and land in the field next to the bridge. A static line, round canopy, jump at this location had never been done before. All Para’s onboard the Dakota were well aware that seeing Para’s landing next to the bridge might be emotional for the veterans. This because landing close to the bridge is what should have been done 1944.

 Around 12.00 hours local time the Dakota arrived at the John Frost Bridge. In four runs all Para's were dispatched over the John Frost Bridge. The drop zone was only 400 x 150 meters big and bordered by  

 the bridge, trees, houses and the river Rhine. Everyone landed on the DZ, no injuries. I dare to say, Pathfinders finest hour in it's 10 years of existence. Thousands of spectators watched a perfect parachute display.

Pathfinder wishes to thank the following to make this jump possible:

- Survival Equipment Services for the equipment and good advice

- Robert van Essen for some splendid flying

- (Dutch) Royal Marines, Amphibious Support Battalion for the loan of life jackets

- Airborne Commemoration Committee (Arnhem) for the transport.

Brord

____________________________________________________

Whilst the rest of my planeload was dressed as WWII British paratroopers, I was wearing the uniform and equipment of a soldier of the elite 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion (the uniform and equipment were mostly modern reproductions by the way).

We jumped onto an area the D-Day planners designated Drop Zone "N", just outside of Ranville. Our jump was the first time this particular drop zone had been used as such since 1944 - the area usually being used as fields for barley and sugar snap peas.

As a stick, we shuffled towards the open port-side door of the aircraft... "NUMBER 1 JUMPER IN THE DOOR!"... "GO!!!" One by one we moved forward and took up our position in the door, paused for 1/2 a second, then we'd feel a slap on our left shoulder and the Dispatcher yelling "GO!!!" in our ear. Number 1 out (Patrick, veteran of the Suez campaign 1956), Number 2 out, Number 3 out, Number 4, Number 5 out (I'm next!). Now I'm at the door, I push my static line towards the Dispatcher, place my left hand on the left-side of the door frame and my right hand on the right side, I slide my left foot forward to the edge of the sill - my boot tip sticking out into the slip-stream - I look down and see the ground moving - I look up and focus on the horizon. "GO!!" - leap out and snap my legs together, press my elbows into my sides and tuck my head down to the front. Loudly, I count through the exit and opening drill "ONE THOUSAND" - I'm falling, carried along by the slip-stream. "TWO THOUSAND" - I start to roll slightly forward and to my left. "THREE THOUSAND" - I've rolled further forward and see the tail of the aircraft passing overhead. "FOUR THOUSAND" - I see the suspension lines play out and feel the firm tug as the parachute opens and my descent is slowed. "CHECK CANOPY" - I look up and make sure that my parachute is fully deployed and that there are no holes or tears in it. It’s perfect. I can now relax for a few seconds and enjoy the ride. What a feeling!

As I was sitting by the side of the road waiting for the rest of our jumpers to drop and come in, a little French girl about 7or 8 years old came up to me with a notebook and a pen. She smiled kind of shyly and held them out to me - it took me a second to realise, she was asking me for my autograph! As I signed "Lawrence Holsworth, 1st Canadian Parachute Battalion commemorated", I notice that she's already collected the signatures of several other jumpers. I was very touched by this sweet gesture.

Due to the severe security precautions and road closures, I was unable to get to Juno Beach to witness any of the official Canadian ceremonies. So instead, two of my buddies and I went to the museum at Pegasus Bridge and got our jump log entries for the day before stamped with the "Pegasus Memorial" stamp. We also found a veteran of the Oxfordshire & Buckinghamshire Light Infantry - the British glider troops who captured the bridge over the Orne River - and he signed our logbooks for us.

	More information about the history of 1 Canadian Parachute  Battalion, and their actions in Normandy, can be found at: www.junobeach.org/e/4/can-tac-par-e.htm
___________________________________________________   ARNHEM 2004..THE 60TH Anniversary of the battle.  PATHFINDER JUMPS INTO THE HISTORY BOOKS               I looked out of the DC3 Dakotas jump door and saw the most beautiful sight. The John Frost Bridge two miles away and coming up fast. Hardly any wind, blue skies, perfect conditions for a round parachute decent onto one of the most famous battlefields in the history of the Airborne forces. Twenty six members of Pathfinder stood hooked up at action stations. Every jumper tensed and waiting for the order to go. The fact that we were making history was not lost on our members. This was the DZ that if used in 1944 and been used successfully, may have shortened the war in Europe for anything up to a year.             The jumpmaster lay on the aircraft deck, half leaning out of the door to get a better look at the DZ. He squirmed back into the aircraft sheltering his mike from the slipstream and gave course corrections. The aircraft dipped its right wing and moved a few degrees to starboard. I glanced out of the door again and looked at the DZ. It looked like a cricket pitch, not much bigger and stopped at the base of the girder bridge now lined by thousands of spectators, many who were waiting for us to overshoot and land in the river.             The day before , during the briefing my jumpmaster had said to me that it might be an idea to bring the drop height down a bit in order to get everyone safely onto the small DZ. Although it was within regulation diameter, the slightest breeze could send us all into the river and although we were all wearing life jackets I did not want anyone to end up there least of all me. I had agreed but in the excitement of the occasion I had forgotten this conversation. The details of the ground, trees and buildings we were sweeping past in crystal clarity. The Number two standing immediately behind me was staring past me at the Dutch countryside streaming below at a fast rate of knots. Above the roar of the aircrafts two engines he shouted in my ear. “ We are a bit low Roy, are we doing a dummy run”. I turned to the jumpmaster and asked the same question. “Bit low Ian?” He looked at me with that grin that you expect only madmen to have. His reply” Yes, GO! caught me by surprise but my drills took over and as I drove out into the slipstream I remembered that grin. The slipstream hit me, or maybe I hit it, either way my feet started to come up and then the static line jerked my body forward as the rigging lines played out and the PX Mk 4 parachute cleared the pack. The slipstream caught it and hurled it backwards away from the aircraft and over my head. I don’t remember carrying out the safety count but my experience was taking over the situation.             “Check canopy” I thought loudly to myself and there above me was a fully inflated ,round, army green parachute. The same sight that thousands upon thousands of Paratroopers before me had witnessed and then let out that sigh of relief. I looked down and found Arnhem bridge immediately to my front and about one hundred and fifty feet away. We were bang on target. It could not have been more accurate if it had been a bombing run. A brief though flashed through my mind. I was the first paratrooper ever to see the bridge this close under a round parachute. This had never been done before. It was a brief thought as I looked around for the DZ smoke and realized I was facing the wrong way. Luckily we had decided to jump PX Mk4’s that had been converted to steerables by Pete and Del, our good friends and equipment sponsors from Survival Equipment Services. These we had proved before worked perfectly and I pulled the right toggle all the way down to initiate a turn inland. No sooner had I completed the turn than the ground rushed up met me .I just had time to adopt the PLF (Parachute landing position) and I was down.                         I executed the normal landing roll that all paratroopers experience and that bears no relation to the perfect position our PJIs at Ringway, Abingdon or Brize Norton had taught us, feet, arse and head. It knocked the wind out of me momentarily but I got to my feet with the same stupid smile on my face that you expect from a first time jumper. As the DZ party ran over I looked up in time to see the other five jumpers in the stick land perfectly on the drop zone. As we rolled up our chutes and made our way off the DZ to the RV point stick after stick of jumpers repeated our actions and all landed safely without mishap.              We lined the road still wearing our parachute harness with the chute piled on the floor in front of each parachutist. The aircraft came around again but this time at a far greater height. The jumpmaster exited the aircraft in free fall, our tribute to the jump masters and Air Despatch teams that also took a major part in these missions. For a second it looked like he was contemplating landing on the bridge but then though better of it and swooped of to land on the DZ. As he passed by the bridge I realized he had replaced his helmet with his Red Beret whilst under canopy. Smart arse, that would cost him a round of beers. For its final run the Dakota came in low down the river trailing red smoke and climbed as it reached the bridge. A cheer went up from all around. It was impressive.             With all jumpers and support party lining the route we waited for the real heroes of the day, the veterans. Some came over on the back of motorbikes, others in military vehicles as old as they are, a few, the stubborn ones walked the full length of the bridge unaided. The Dutch military had provided a couple of soldiers to help support each veteran if he needed it. One gentleman, clearly in pain and in some distress passed my position at the end of the bridge. Two Dutch soldiers who dwarfed the chap, clearly large six foot Dutch men,  made to grab him as he stumbled. He shrugged them off and saw us. There was a determination in his eyes as he regained his composure, held his head up and marched past us to the rapturous applause from Pathfinder members and the public. I looked at the people around me. There was not a dry eye in the house. During the next two days Pathfinder completed four more DC3 drops onto Ginkle Heath. Over one hundred and sixty of our members jumped with over one hundred other members and their families in support. Five were injured but have born their injuries in true Airborne fashion. I am proud of the lot of you.             I left for Iraq the day after the Arnhem anniversary events were over and did not get the chance to thank everyone.  I would like now, to take this opportunity to thank everyone who took part in the events and those many behind the scenes who worked tirelessly to make this happen. You are too numerous to mention but we all know who you are. Lastly I would like to thank all the veterans who set us such a high standard for us to follow. We in Pathfinder have tried in the past and will try in the future to live up to your standards. These are big boots to fill but we will do our best in true Airborne fashion to spread the word and keep alive the Airborne brotherhood. Sgt Roy Mobsby (5 Abn Bd retired) Jump/Operations Co-ordinator Pathfinder Parachute Group UK             Ed. Note. This account is from only one jump. Other jumpers from the four other chalks are invited to write in their own experiences.               Ed. Note. I expressed my disappointment to one of the Arnhem veterans. “Its a shame the 60th is the last official anniversary event” I said. He looked at me with a stern glare as if I had shit in his beret. “We will tell them when it’s the last one” He said. Standby for the warning order for Arnhem 2005 I guess.