because I hesitated for a split second before I jumped. Then I went. The harness tightened as the cable caught my weight, and I slid down.
I landed without incident. That one and the two other tower jumps were no question the least-enjoyable experiences of my paramilitary training.
Soon, with the PLF technique mastered and the tower behind us, the day for our first real jump arrived, sunny and warm with few clouds in the sky. This prospect had weighed on us for months. We rode a truck to the airfield, where a two-engine, World War II-era, C-47 transport waited.
We strapped on our parachutes, military T-10 models. We assembled next to the plane, chatting nervously among ourselves. After a briefing we boarded. The cable to which we would fasten our static lines looked ominous along the ceiling. My stick was second this time. We sat on benches stretched along each side of the aisle. The main parachute and reserve chute felt bulky and uncomfortable, but no one complained. Each man held the hook attached to his static line in his right hand. Everyone tried to act casual, but the tension was readily apparent.
We took off and the pilot flew a large spiral around the field, gaining altitude with each pass. Then he leveled off and straightened out.
“We’re on final,” the copilot shouted back.
We all waited for the next command, the one we had practiced on the ground, first in the tower and then inside a mock-up plane. Everyone knew exactly what to do.
“Stand up!” the jumpmaster shouted, followed soon by, “Hook up!”
On command, the four men in the first stick shuffled forward. Mike Deuel, the lead jumper, swung into position at the door, his hands gripping each side of the frame. I could see he was gripping it hard as I sat waiting in anticipation. I wasn’t afraid, just intrigued by the prospect of leaping out of an airplane.
I could hear the assistant instructor speaking to the men in the first stick: “Your first jump will be the best one ever—enjoy it!”
The jumpmaster leaned out the door looking for the drop zone. When he stood up straight, and the jump light flashed on, we knew it was close.
“Go!” he shouted at Mike, swatting him on the butt.
Mike jumped. The rest of the stick quickly shuffled forward, swung into position, and at the jumpmaster’s command headed out the door, each receiving the standard butt swat. All four men jumped within about eight seconds.
The rest of us sat transfixed. With the first stick gone, all we saw was sky. The jumpmaster hauled in the four static lines.
The pilot circled for another run over the drop zone. When he straightened out we heard the cries again.
“We’re on final!”
“Stand up!”
Now my stick stood, hooks in hand, with me third in line. We wore serious, intent expressions—because we were serious and intent.
“First jump will be great,” the assistant repeated.
I barely heard him, as I strained to hear the next command.
“Hook up!”
We snapped onto the cable. I gave my hook a hard jerk to confirm it. We also checked one another. I stared at the door.
Soon I’m going to jump. Imagine that!
“Move to the door!”
We shuffled forward. The first jumper swung into position. I wasn’t even thinking at that point, just reacting.
“Go!”
The first man leaped out, receiving the swat as he left. The rest of us followed, just like in the tower and the mock-up. I moved forward quickly, planted my left foot, pivoted on it, and swung my right foot to the edge of the door. Just as I grabbed the doorframe, I got the command and the swat—and I jumped. No thinking, just discipline and practice. That part was over in an instant.
The slipstream caught me immediately and swung me sideways. I felt no sensation of falling. I saw the tail of the plane go by and disappear. The chute deployed behind me and I fell gently under it like a pendulum.
It was quiet. I looked around, realizing that everything had gone properly. I felt good, watching the base spread out below me and the river off to the side. I also saw the drop zone and happily concluded I was headed right for it.
Great!
As I drifted slowly downward it seemed clear that the jumpmaster and pilot had done their jobs well. We all would be landing in the middle of the large field that was our target.
I relaxed. It was a splendid day, no wind at all. Then I heard the instructors yelling from below.
“Loosen up, bend your knees, relax!”
Apparently my legs were locked stiff as a board, but I didn’t realize it. As my stick neared the ground, the instructors became more insistent. Nothing penetrated. I was staring straight ahead waiting for my toes to touch the ground so I could smoothly roll into my perfect PLF.
But it wasn’t perfect. In fact it was terrible, exactly wrong. I landed backward because I hadn’t used the shrouds to control my direction.
So my heels hit first—wrong!
Butt next—wrong!
Then with a thud the back of my head banged onto the ground. Thank goodness for the helmet, which no doubt prevented a concussion given the force of the impact.
I was down, albeit with a ringing in my head, but I had made it; nothing broken.
I stood up, gingerly.
One of the instructors immediately got in my face.
“Dammit, Holm, don’t you listen?”
“To what?”
“To me, when I give you instructions!”
“Sorry, I didn’t hear you.”
“Well, next time listen up, goddam it!”
The instructors had been talking to me all the way down via loudspeakers. So intent was I on making a good PLF that I didn’t hear them at all—I didn’t connect that I was the “number three man in the stick,” as they had kept repeating.
I started thinking about how my first operational landing might go.
About half of our group made similar mistakes, though mine was probably the worst, and nobody did it perfectly. On the other hand, nobody got hurt on landing.
The only injury was to Bob Manning, a well-liked guy with great potential as an operations officer. Despite the checks and double-checks, Bob’s static line had gotten under his arm as he hooked up. When he jumped the line immediately deployed his chute, jerking his arm upward. Fortunately the line did no serious damage; it just gave him a nasty bruise. But that didn’t stop Bob from making the rest of his jumps and completing
