You know you’re having an exciting Sunday when you can actually hear your heart beating in your ears. This is no mean feat, considering the fact that your heartbeat is audible over the racket from the rotor on a camouflaged Alouette III helicopter – one of five flying in formation over fields full of startled cattle. You’ve somehow found yourself several hundred feet off the ground in a 1960’s helicopter, wearing camouflaged gear, with the strap of an R4 rifle looped over your shoulder. You’re clinging tight to any available hand-hold as your pilot banks the doorless helicopter into a steep turn and heads for an open field, marked out by plumes of coloured smoke.

Your ‘chopper’ takes a dive groundwards and skids to a halt. ‘Bravo’ company tumbles out and into a ‘V’ formation, extending stocks on their rifles. Magazines on, safety off. “Form a line!” shouts the Bravo company leader, bringing the four other companies to order as the helicopters rush skywards again. Ahead, the enemy camp. Your objective is to retrieve a cargo box from the heart of the camp and return to base with it. Systematically, the line advances – crouch, fire, move, crouch, fire, move.

Your rifle kicks into your shoulder with each round you fire, hot bullet casings streaming from it. Until they don’t. The trigger won’t yield and there’s no satisfying puff of smoke from the barrel of your gun. Jam! A spent casing protrudes from the breech, blocking the bolt’s progress. Drop, pull the bolt, whack the magazine, fire again. All good. The company leader calls a halt and orders the extraction team into the tent in the enemy camp, its defenders prone. Back to your company with the load shared between two of you. More crouching, and a retreat as the other companies cover the flanks. Rotor beats signal the return of the helicopters, gliding over the hills as you try to push strains of ‘Ride of the Valkyries’ out of your head. They bounce to a standstill and the companies run towards them, heads bowed. In seconds, you’re up and away, mission accomplished.

The experience is the closest thing to a military operation a group of ‘civilians’ are likely to get. Run by Mantis Extreme and Group 73, the Helibourne Assault Operation is a weekend course which gives paying customers the chance to participate in a realistic ‘Ops Juliet’, with specialist training from a group of highly-skilled individuals with extensive experience in specialised units such as the South African Special Forces, Police Special Task Force, Presidential Protection Unit, Police Dive Unit and Crime Scene Investigation. The only course of its kind anywhere in the world, the weekend is spent doing intensive drills in firearm handling and safety; tactical fire and movement; helicopter familiarisation and safety; helibourne assault training; camouflage techniques and battlefield communications. The cartridge which jammed up your R4 was a blank and you won’t spend days digging pit latrines – but otherwise, the course crams months of military training into a weekend. You’re hardly likely to lead a covert unit into battle after two days’ training, but you’ll know how to handle a gun, move in formation and not get carpaccio’ed by a helicopter.

The logistics list issued ahead of arrival delivered a few chilling veld school memories for those old enough to remember the mandatory week-long school excursion to the depths of the Lowveld to be fed terrible food and spend an inordinate amount of time checking nobody had substituted your toothpaste for Deep Heat. ‘1x sleeping bag, pillow, torch, 3x pairs socks, 1x pair ankle-high boots, 1x bar toilet soap’, topped the list, along with – worryingly – ‘Medical Aid Card’. No firearms, narcotics or alcohol are allowed. It’s a weekend of adventure – not a bush-based blowout. “Please let the cargo box be filled with cold beers,” was your mantra as your company advanced on the enemy camp, while the strap of your helmet tried to forcibly shift your chin towards your adam’s apple. No such luck. The Group 73 team takes safety very seriously. The instructors all bear amusing nicknames in the interests of protecting their identities, since some are still active operatives. There’s nothing quite like being shouted by a shaven-headed man called ‘Cupcake’ for not correctly securing your weapon, to remind you that you’re not playing games.

On arrival, you’re greeted by a row of drafty army tents, filled with rows of mattresses on boarding-school grade frames. On each bed, a pressed metal ‘varkpan’, a ‘tactical helmet’, a brown t-shirt, camouflaged shirt and pants, and chest webbing with an alarming number of straps. The tents are arranged around a central fire, with ablution facilities – a toilet, a shower powered by a wood-burning ‘donkey’ and a row of waist-high funnel-type arrangements, dug into the ground. “I hope I don’t have to explain what these are for,” sniggers ‘Otto’, logistics manager and organizer, as he shows each new arrival around.

The opening-night presentation in ‘the classroom’ – a cluster of hay bales arranged under a parachute – gives details on the weekend’s schedule and a history of the Alouettes. After that, war stories are told long into the night, as instructors relax enough to give censored glimpses into genuine battlefield experiences and some participants hark back misty-eyed to long-ago compulsory military training.

Saturday sees the ‘recruits’ put through a number of drills, which are repeated until everyone is comfortable. Questions are encouraged, but slacking off is not. ‘Cupcake’ sees everything and isn’t afraid to shout – paying customer or not. In the afternoon, everyone comes together to apply their newfound skills into a battlefield simulation – which is the point where you realize that you suddenly have a lot to remember.

At lunch, you’re introduced to the ‘rat packs’ your Uncle moans about when he gets slightly tipsy at family gatherings. A far cry from those, though, these MRE (Meal, Ready-To-Eat) packs are specially-imported for Group 73 and mirror exactly what American forces have been issued with on operations. The food is filling and surprisingly tasty, with a hit being a heat pack which boils up packets of pasta, stew or chicken & noodles in minutes, with the addition of just half a cup of water. You’ll be surprisingly hungry after a day of doing camouflaged lunges through the fields outside Cullinan and a packet of powdered pudding at the end seems like a great reward – especially in the absence of a frosty lager. They really are serious about the ‘no alcohol’ rule.

On Sunday morning, you’re up early and practising drills again. As the time for the operation draws nearer, you’re handed your own rifle for the first time, and issued with a magazine of blank rounds. Off to the staging area and excitement builds as weapons are checked, each company standing in front of their helicopter and trying to remember all the instructions – and taking selfies. The instruction comes in, and it’s time to board. The sweet smell of avgas fills the field as the helicopters start up. A crackling instruction comes in over the radio and the Alouette tips forward at an impossible angle, almost dragging its nose in the dirt as the rotor hauls your company skywards – and onwards to the drop zone.

Operation successful. Back at camp, the cargo box is opened to reveal a package of Group 73 coins – one for each participant, a time-honoured tribute to the Special Forces. At the end of the presentation, a cheer replaces applause as another box is opened. There’s cold beer after all!

For more information about upcoming operations, visit www.group73.co or www.facebook.com/group73.co. The Helibourne Assault Operation cost R7 700 per person, all-inclusive.

*This article was featured in the November 2014 issue of khuluma.