A short story.December 1969, 20 years old, I am standing around in the airport outside Windhoek, Namibia, waiting for a departure to Johannesburg in South Africa.
The only one there from the military, I am neatly dressed up in my "step-out" uniform, ready to start my ten day pass.
Back in those days, in South Africa, we had to do compulsory military training, (conscription), with me posted to Windhoek for a one year term of duty.
I have never flown before..Arrived in Windhoek by train, about 6 months prior, a 3 day journey from SA. So yes, I am excited to say the least.
But, alas, we wait and we wait.. It is like 45 C outside. Everywhere you look outside is shimmering in the heat. Authorties in control won't allow our plane to take off.. 707 I think it was. Word goes around that the air is
apparently too hot and thin for takeoff. Boarding will only be allowed once it has sufficiently cooled off. Maybe evening time.
Then, out of the blue, walking through the waiting area, arrives four Air Force guys in uniform. One of them spots me and to my surprise, comes over to talk to me. Surprising because I am but a low life conscript, and
these are permanent force gentlemen, probably pilots no less.
"We're on our way to Pretoria" he tells me. "You can hitch a ride with us if you want". Pretoria or Johannesburg.. 30 miles apart so no biggy here. In any way, hitchhiking was the mode of transport in those years.
I gladly snatch up my kit-bag and promptly follow them. No idea HOW we're getting to Pretoria. Yet....
Outside on the ramp, in the heat, we briskly walk past a number of hangers. Then finally we get to there. There they are, ground crew busy firing-up an old Douglas DC3 for the trip! DC3, South African Air Force.
I found it very very hard to contain my excitement I can tell you. Even then, in those days, the DC3 was legendary. And not as plentiful as you may think.
But at this stage when we arrive, only the starboard engine is running. There seems to be problem with the port engine. It seems to lazily crank over at each try, and that's all they're getting out of it.
There is all sorts of pointing, waving, thumbs up, thumbs down. Standing behind and at a bit of a distance, I observe this carry-on in wonder. Wondering what's wrong, wondering if I made a wise choice.
I hear them decide they need a fresh battery. A fresh battery is wheeled out from the hanger.
Now I kid you not....That engine roared into life when it fired, with such verocity that the whole wing/airplane bounced up, bouncing the wheel clear off the ground. For a moment there the other side wing tip almost
touched the ground. The mother of all flames were shooting out of the exhausts, a scene together with the smoke and smell I will never forget. Then as if this is the most natural thing on earth, in less than a minute, both engines
quickly and happily settle down to a deep majestic drone, as if in proud symphony.
But I am not sure
...is all OK...? I am very excited, but also very apprehensive. It MUST be OK I thought. Look how happy everybody else is now. 
Then quickly I am urged to get on board, ready to go.Inside the DC3 was totally unladen. Empty. I mean empty without any seats either...or so I thought. Turns out there are a number of fold-up seats against the fuselage sides. A wooden fold-down frame with a canvas
strap to sit on. That was it.
Then pretty soon we're on the runway in position for take off. I remember briefly wondering...how come the DC3 can be permitted to fly, and the civilians not? Who cares!
My apprehension is now pure excitement, joy and adrenalin.
Down the runway you can feel it picking up speed. Surprisingly slow mind... Must have been halfway down the runway when I felt the tail end lift. By now I am staring out the port hole watching the world go by.
Clearly we are not airborne yet, actually going painfully slow to my liking. I watched us pass the airport buildings, and you can clearly hear those two engines up front are maxed out. Unbelievable the noise inside this airplane too,
rattling and squeaking, and that I never expected...
Finally, lift off. Hardly had we lifted, when I could see the perimeter fence pass underneath us. I realized instantly, that was close. Very close. And then, suddenly, but for the engines, the noise is gone.
From here onwards I could tell this DC3 was struggling to gain height. For more than an hour we were barely clearing the tallest trees. All the while I sit transfixed, glued to the window.. I can see a myriad of footpaths well
trodden through the veld by the locals..interconnecting small villages the one to the other. Some to watering holes, some who knows where. Herds of cattle here and there. A brand new moment in life to take in.
Gradually the trees became smaller and smaller. I sensed we had gained some increase in speed. The ruggedness of Africa slowly crawling by, finally over the South African bush lands to the beautiful lush green Pretoria.
We arrived at Pretoria, Waterkloof MB some 4 hours later. Slow by any one's standards.
But what an unforgettable experience. What a magnificent airplane is the DC3..trusted when no others were allowed, completely trusted by those pilots for them to get in and go...WITH MY LIFE IN THEIR HANDS
And my one year in Namibia? The best year of my life...by a mile. By any measure. But that is a different story.
