Gunship Over Angola

Dr Van der Laan was known far and wide by everyone who’d ever been through a medical exam at the MMI, which was where aspirant SAAF pilots began the pilot selection process by undergoing psychological testing, a thorough medical examination and psychological and vocational evaluation. The MMI was also where all Pretoria-based aircrew underwent their annual medical assessments and where aviation-medicine-related issues were tackled and solutions to problems developed. Dr Van der Laan was a leading specialist in aviation medicine, and many pilots, both military and civilian, owe their careers to the insight, skill and intellect of this remarkable officer. I am honoured to be one of those.

After a detailed recording of exactly what had happened to me, Dr Van der Laan seemed quite certain that the ‘shrapnel’, while possibly being a contributory factor, was by no means the cause of my problems, and he set about getting to the bottom of the matter. This involved conducting testing whereby I was subjected to 15 or so allergenic agents. These were injected just under the skin on one arm, with the same 15 agents being rubbed into small incisions in the skin of the other arm.

Within minutes, hives were breaking out all over my body, mucus was streaming from my nose and eyes, and sensitive areas became inflamed. Mercifully, heavy doses of anti-histamines were administered and someone found me a bed in the Institute. I slept for the next 24 hours.

Dr Van der Laan discovered that I was hyper-allergic to dust, grass and feathers. All these allergens abounded in the environs of Langebaanweg in particular, but also throughout southern Africa. The treatment regimen he developed for me involved my having to undergo twice-weekly injections thereafter of a substance he concocted in a laboratory. It turned out to be a successful way to desensitise me to the agents to which I had developed such a strong allergic reaction. The measures quickly took effect, for which I am eternally grateful.

A month or two later, and without actually openly castigating the ‘work’ done by the Mutilator of 1 Mil, Dr Van der Laan muttered under his breath about how the Mutilator appeared to have done little to alleviate my allergy problem. On the contrary, it seems that the SMR/INE had created quite a lot of scarring to, and permanent swelling of, the mucus membranes in my nose.

‘Still,’ said the good doctor after working his desensitisation magic on me for a few weeks, ‘I believe that I can reduce the swelling of the mycosa sufficiently to enable you to return to flying training, albeit that unpressurised jet flying may not be on the cards for you.’

*

After just a few more weeks at Training Command, my grounding was lifted and I was delighted to be returned to flying training. I did not go back to FTS Langebaanweg and the Imps, but rather was sent to CFS Dunnottar and the Harvards that I enjoyed so much.

I was joined there by another candidate officer (CO) by the name of Brian King. I cannot remember the circumstances surrounding his posting to Dunnottar as my fellow pupe, but we were to complete our wings training there on Harvards, just as ‘11 Fighter Wing’ had recently done. I was delighted, and sailed blissfully through the months that followed, with flying in the mornings and ground school in the afternoons.

One of my instructors during that second phase of my pilot training at Dunnottar was Major Denzil White, an immensely skilled chopper pilot who became famous for his legendary exploits during his later tenure as a Puma pilot at AFB Durban. I was told that he broke many hearts in the greater Durban area when he finally tied the knot. One day, while we were cruising along on a long navigation exercise somewhere over the Eastern Transvaal Highveld, out of the blue and without any prior warning or relevance, Major White’s microphone clicked on and he said to me, ‘Joubert, when you get married some day for the first time, for God’s sake, marry for money!’ Then his mic clicked off.

Nothing else was said for the rest of the flight.

Like most young men of that time, I failed to heed this invaluable advice.

Days turned into weeks and weeks into months, and my final wings test was approaching fast.

To relieve the stresses of flying training, I had taken to leaving the base (without permission, so AWOL) each Wednesday evening at about 18h30 and travelling to Pretoria to play tenpin bowling in a formal league team that comprised five players – me, two gay hairdressers and two of the most striking red-headed ladies that I have ever seen. With time, my luck held again and one of the ladies deigned to go out with me, and for a short while we became something of an item.