One minute

“One minute” growled the jump master

His single index finger aggressively shoved in my face.

“How the hell did I get here?”

1985 C-130 1500,' T-10 Friar DZ Fort Benning, Georgia

This was not my first jump. I have experience. I am no one jump chump. Although I don't remember the first and the second I didn't follow instructions and it hurt. The landing, not the jump.  I did it PFL (Pretty Funky Landing) rather than the recommended PLF (Parachute Landing Fall).

  And I thought the black hat on the swing land trainer was just messin' with us. The Swing-land trainer is basically a parachute harness on a rope. The trainee climbs a platform and swings off. Somewhere mid-arc the black hat releases you and you try to land properly. This requires that you get into the landing attitude. Feet and knees together, knees slightly bent. Head and arms like a boxer covering up. The mental attitude is: “if I do this right; it will hurt. If I do this wrong; this will really hurt and maybe break something.”

  His index finger woke me from my daydream. I look a little bit like Barney Fife, wide eyed and scared. But as I turned around to pass the jump signal back I put on my best scary guy face. One minute!” I shouted. Good, the dude behind me looks more terrified than I am.

  That minute past so fast, and yet, so slow. Before I knew it I was standing in the door. 'This is awesome!' I thought. Just then, a tap on the rear and I took the great leap of faith.

  Our team had arrived a few weeks earlier. Fresh out of air traffic control school we were ready to conquer. No one told the Army. Our awesome team leader had apparently never worked in a joint environment. He went into the head office and informed them that his team had been standing around for several hours waiting to in-process. Soon we were running around Fort Benning in the summer heat doing details. It might have been for the best. Every time we were bored we tended to get in trouble.

“1001 1002 1003 1004” Snap dack a doddle ker flack and the parachute opened. “This is so cool.” I thought as I checked the canopy and attempted to slip into the wind. A round parachute can be deformed by pulling the risers and you can steer a little. Mainly you are at the mercy of the wind, your jumpmaster, the aircrew and the accuracy of the data they have...but mostly the wind.

  A few seconds in the air but they were sweet. Prepare to land. Don't reach, don't anticipate. First the balls of your feet hit, then rapidly followed by you calf, thigh and back. The Army called it your push up muscle when in fact it was your latissimi dorsi. Never argue with the Army when you are in their school.

 Surrounded by black hats I picked up my chute and moved out to the collection point. As long as you moved out like you had a purpose they wouldn't hassle you. Unless they were bored…but that is another story