Airborne!Geoff Michael

As a teenager during the sixties, I watched my share of World War II movies which often featured airborne troops parachuting behind enemy lines.  The one that always stood out in my mind was "The Longest Day," a stirring recounting of the events leading up to, during, and after the D-Day invasion on the beaches at Normandy.  Just after midnight on June 6, 1944, Captain Frank Lillyman led his team of 101st Pathfinders out the door of a C-47 transport and landed in occupied France.  Behind them came six thousand paratroopers of the 101st Airborne Division and D-Day had begun.

Running into heavy German fire as they approached the designated drop zones, many of the aircraft took evasive action and scattered the jumpers over a huge area.  By the end of that first day, only twenty-five hundred men had reassembled in their assigned units.  After they had secured the key roadways, the 101st proceeded toward the town of Carentan, a strategic junction for the Allied forces that had landed at the Omaha and Utah beachheads.  They battled for five days to defeat the entrenched German forces and to hold their position until armored units could arrive to reinforce their defenses.  It was during this attack that Lieutenant Colonel Robert Cole became the first member of the 101st to earn the Congressional Medal of Honor.

Over the years, the airborne forces of the United States have had no shortage of heroes like Lt. Col. Cole.  I considered it an honor and a privilege to join the ranks of those who had attended Army Airborne Training at Fort Benning, near Columbus Georgia.  Along with other members of my class and the class of 1974, I arrived there on a particularly hot and muggy day in June, 1971.  To say that this place had history and tradition would be an understatement and we all knew and respected that fact.

I could see the heat shimmering in waves off the tarmac as we stepped off our C-141 Starlifter.  When we arrived at our barracks, we were assembled in formation to meet our group commander.  Although we would be training alongside a few hundred Army troops, we were told that we would be kept together as an Air Force unit throughout the training.  However, it was made clear that we would not receive any special treatment as officers in training.  We would be given the same demanding training that every enlisted infantryman would receive, including morning runs, frequent inspections, and other physical conditioning which would be conducted every day, rain or shine.

The training was split into three segments of one week each: Ground Week, Tower Week, and Jump Week.  Ground Week consisted primarily of learning how to land safely and control the parachute on the ground.  Unlike current-day sport jumpers who use steerable, rectangular canopies that can glide you to a gentle, stand-up landing, the military at that time used the 1950s era T-10 chute.  Its primary purpose is to get you to the ground as fast as possible without seriously injuring or killing you.  A paratrooper is a sitting duck for ground fire, so a soft landing is sacrificed for a speedy trip to the ground.  The circular T-10's rate of descent is 22 to 24 feet per second which is roughly twice that experienced with today's sport chutes.

We practiced our landings by jumping from fixed, elevated platforms of varying heights into sawdust pits.  The basic concept is simple enough to ensure that you don't land standing up, or absorb the impact with your face or your back.  So, we were taught to take the impact along the side of the body in a continuous motion from the feet, up along the hip, and right up to the shoulder.  The trick was to properly orient your body because it was impossible to steer the chute to make sure you would be moving sideways upon touchdown.  To accomplish this, we were taught to rotate our bodies at the point of impact, if necessary, and then go directly into the rolling motion to distribute and absorb the shock of the fall.

Airborne training consists entirely of static line jumps where the cord to pull your chute open is engaged automatically as you fall away from the aircraft after exiting the door.  To ensure that the ripcord doesn't get entangled after exit, the body must be in the proper position to minimize potential problems.  We practiced exits on the ground by jumping through a mock door over and over again.  We were also taught to count through the sequence of events as the chute unfurled over us, and visually check for proper deployment at the end of the sequence.

We spent part of the week training on the 34-foot tower and the lateral drift apparatus.  The tower is designed to test and refine the exit procedures as well as body position after exit.  We were fitted with harnesses that were attached to a cable, simulating a static ripcord.  The ripcord was attached to a steel cable which extended laterally from the top of the tower to a point on the ground about 100 feet away.  When we exited the mock door, we assumed our jump position and counted through the deployment sequence as though it was an actual jump.  During this time, you slid down the cable toward the ground and executed a landing upon impact near the end of the cable.

The lateral drift apparatus consisted of a cable which extended horizontally at a slight angle between two fixed points, a few feet over our heads.  Mounted on the cable was a handle assembly which rolled along the cable from one end to the other.  We would step up and grab onto the handles at one end, roll along the cable several feet, then let go and drop to the ground, executing our landings.  The assembly could be rotated so that we were forced to land with forward, backward, and sideward momentum, simulating a variety of wind conditions.

We began Tower Week by practicing mass exits from the mock door and the 34-foot tower.  Mass exit training simulated actual jumps from an aircraft, where the paratroopers line up behind the jumpmaster and exit the mock door in rapid succession, one right after another.  Accomplishing this smoothly and effectively is a necessary element of ensuring the safety of the jumpers and maximizing the probability of hitting the designated drop zone.  Loiter time over the drop zone is minimal since the aircraft are flying in close formation and can't easily change their positions once they are committed to the drop sequence.

The suspended harness was designed to simulate your drop position after you have jumped from the aircraft and your chute is fully deployed.  This is achieved by strapping you into an actual harness with the four risers attached to a stationary frame above your head.  Once we were suspended from the harness a few feet above ground, we were instructed on how to use the risers to exercise some measure of control over lateral drift.  By pulling on the two opposing risers, you could lower the leading edge of the chute into the wind and slow the drift rate somewhat.  We also practiced proper body orientation in preparation for landing on the swing landing trainer.

The three massive free towers are perhaps Fort Benning's most distinctive and noticeable landmarks.  These 250-foot towers would provide us with the first real experience of free-falling from the sky.  Each tower had four circular racks to which the canopy was secured in its fully deployed mode.  We were organized into teams and each cadet had the responsibility to secure one of the chute's clips to the rack.  The jumpers were then strapped into their harnesses and hoisted to the top of the tower.  Then one by one the racks released the parachutes allowing the jumpers to float to the ground.  The idea was to practice all the skills we had learned during Ground Week.

Finally, Jump Week arrived and I was glad that all the training was behind us.  Our first day was like every other summer day in Georgia hot and steamy.  We were transported to Eubanks Field where the Fairchild C-119 Flying Boxcars were parked on the ramp, ready to go.  We climbed aboard with all our gear strapped on.  Emotions were high and there was definitely a feeling of excitement and anticipation in the air.  The past two weeks had been physically challenging to say the least, but it was now a mental challenge more than anything else.

I was already sweating profusely, not from fear, but from the heat, humidity, and the forty pound weight on my back.  It only got worse as we climbed aboard our plane and crammed next to each other in the troop seats.  The flight crew cranked up the engines and edged our plane in line for take-off.  My first reaction was that they should have nicknamed this the "Rattletrap" instead of the Boxcar.  It seemed like every rivet, joint, and moving part was creaking, groaning, squeaking, clanging, and moaning as we taxied into position.  When we got the green light for take-off and they really revved up the engines, I thought I must have fallen into an egg beater.  The aircraft shook, bounced, and vibrated all the way down the runway until we rotated and left the ground into the hazy sky above.

Once aloft, the rattling got a little more subdued but I was quickly reminded of how noisy it was in the cargo bay.  I began wondering if all this wasn't part of the Army's master plan.  After all, here I was in this old, slow, rattletrap of an airplane, sweating like a river through my fatigues, my ears ringing like a church bell from all the noise, and stuffed into what amounted to a flying sardine can.  I couldn't help but think that the quickest way to end this misery was to jump out and be done with it.  It also occurred to me that this was a far better option than risking a landing in that crate.  The sooner I got out that door the better.  If the Army had a strategy to motivate us to jump, it was definitely working to perfection.  I couldn't wait.

As our formation approached the Fryar Drop Zone, I started to go over everything I had learned in my mind.  I didn't really need to since we had practiced the steps so many times they had become automatic.  This is just the way it should be.  In a wartime situation, a paratrooper has enough demons to contend with without trying to remember how to jump out of an airplane.  I had the luxury of not having to worry about enemy fire on the way down or landing behind enemy lines.

Before I knew it, we got the order to stand up and hook up to the static line.  There were two lines just above head level running the full length of the cargo bay.  I was on the left side and there were about ten jumpers ahead of me.  I grabbed my ripcord and clasped it to the line and yanked downward on it to make sure it was firmly attached.  Suddenly I heard the jumpmaster shout "STAND-IN THE DOOR" to the first jumper in line.  Then I heard "GO" and out the door he went.  Things went quickly from there as the rest of us shuffled to the door en masse.  I didn't even have to move my legs because the jumpers behind me were providing enough forward motion to push the entire line up to the door.

When there was only one jumper left in front of me, I could actually peek out the open door of the airplane and see the ground below.  I never looked down again.  I heard the jumpmaster command me into position and I quickly stood in the door with my eyes straight ahead, arms fully extended, and my palms placed firmly against the outside skin of the aircraft.  I heard "GO" and I thrust myself out and away from the fuselage as far as I could, simultaneously tucking into position while my ripcord trailed behind me.

I could feel the tug as it extended fully and was yanked loose by the static line.  I was into the three second counting sequence when I looked up and saw my canopy unfurling above me.  It was a beautiful sight, but the thing that struck me most was the dead silence.  After feeling like a kernel of overcooked popcorn bouncing around inside the C-119, I was now soaring gracefully with the birds in the relatively cool, early evening air.  I looked around and saw several of my comrades above and below me and we all started yelling "AIRBORNE!"

We had jumped from low altitude, so we didn't have long to enjoy the ride down.  I could see my fellow cadets all around me and an amazing picture was painted by all the parachutes that now dotted the sky.  The sensation was thrilling to say the least and a true sense of accomplishment overcame me.  This was the first of five jumps and I knew that it could never get any better than this.  I checked my position and it looked like I would come down smack dab in the middle of the drop zone.  I could see that some of the initial jumpers from the first few aircraft in our formation had already landed.

At first the rate of descent is hardly noticeable because there is nothing to gauge relative speed against.  While it felt like I was just floating aimlessly on the air currents passing over the field, as I approached the ground I got my first sense of just how fast I was moving.  I was drifting laterally to the left so I pulled as hard as I could on the two right risers to lower the edge of the canopy into the breeze.  This would help to slow my lateral motion and make for a significantly smoother landing.

The ground was now approaching at a pretty good clip and I was still pulling on the right risers as hard as I could.  It had slowed my leftward drift to a few knots and I got into position for landing with my feet squarely together and knees slightly bent.  My combat boots hit with a resounding thud and I rotated just slightly so that I could roll along my left side, absorbing the shock from my hip up to my shoulder.  Then I reached up and released the canopy from my harness so that the wind wouldn't drag my chute and me along the ground behind it.  Then I grabbed the edge of the chute and began to roll it up and force the air out of it.  Landing with a T-10 chute is something analogous to a controlled crash in an airplane.  If you do it right, you will walk away with a few scrapes and aches, but no permanent damage.

Our next three jumps were from the C-119 and with the exception of a few sprained ankles, they all went off without a hitch.  The jump we were all looking forward to, and somewhat anxious about, would be our final jump from a Lockheed C-141.  Up until just a year earlier when the C-5 had become operational, the C-141 had been the largest cargo aircraft in the inventory.  The prospect of jumping out of a jet for the first time was a little daunting when compared to the slow and rickety Boxcar.  One of the greatest dangers would be getting caught in the turbulence of the jet wash since the exit doors are behind the engines on either side of the aircraft.  To avoid this problem, there are specially installed thrust deflectors that block the jet exhaust of the two inboard engines.  They open like giant doors on a hinge and rotate out from the skin of the aircraft to protect the jumpers from the blast as they exit the doors.

On our last jump day, we loaded into the C-141s with equal measures of excitement and trepidation.  Although jumping out of a jet was certainly more intimidating, it also had its advantages.  It was more comfortable, climate-controlled, much quieter, and got us to the drop zone faster.  In fact, unlike the C-119, there wasn't much motivation to jump out of this aircraft.  The quiet didn't last long, however.  As we approached the drop zone, the doors were opened and the thrust deflectors were fully extended.  We were ordered to hook up and the first few jumpers exited in front of me.  As I got closer to the door, the whine of the engines and the blast of the exhaust was more than enough to make me want to get out that door as fast as possible.

Our graduation ceremony was held late Friday morning at the south end of Eubanks Field on the Airborne Walk.  Continuing the tradition of our fellow alumni who had come before us, all of the Academy cadets had successfully completed the required five jumps and received their basic parachutist wings.  The ceremony was capped with congratulations by our training staff, who praised us on our determination, physical ability, and team spirit.

Many years have passed, and I can still say with pride that I survived four take-offs in a C-119, but that I have never landed in one.  Ever since those three weeks at Fort Benning ended, whenever I am flying I can't help but look out the window of the plane and imagine myself stepping up to that door and jumping out into the wild blue yonder.  Sometimes it's a little hard to believe I actually did it so long ago, but I probably wouldn't trade that experience for anything.