Airborne!! - Training

Monday, March 17, 1969

Dear Diary,
I started airborne training today.  After meeting the other 32 candidates and listening to the briefings given by the commanding officer and the instructors, I realized that this is going to be one heck of a demanding exercise!  The first thing that happened is that we all lost whatever rank we had – I was no longer a captain, but just a f#*#&** grunt.  We are, however, all in the same boat.  There are 4 other officers, another doctor, a pilot and a lieutenant from the Black Watch.  About one third are “blue jobs” (RCAF) and there are a couple of medics amongst us.

We were shown a film about the Yank airborne school which is apparently not much different from ours.  They, too, place a lot of emphasis on physical training (PT) – for example, I had to run a mile in eight minutes in combat gear just to make it onto the course.  I darned near didn’t pass even though I had tried desperately for several weeks to get in shape .

The instructors opened a T-10 chute which is the standard for the airborne.  It is 35 feet in diameter which seems large, but is quite porous in order to hasten the descent and minimize controllability as it is necessary to get on the ground as soon as possible to avoid enemy fire and it is not a good thing to have 60 or so paratroopers bumping into each other in the air as that could have fatal results.  We were then shown how to don the harness and attach our reserve chutes – the harness is darned uncomfortable, particularly on the shoulders and in the crotch.  We will be wearing the harness and reserve a good deal of the time during the course thereby developing a tolerance to pain, or perhaps callouses in vital areas.  Then the instructors ran us through aircraft drill, necessary for having many jumpers exit the airplane in the shortest time possible.

Then, PT.  Man, that was tough!!  A lot of running, push-ups, chin-ups, and sit-ups.  I was pretty bagged at the end of the first session.  However, most of the days will be spent exercising.  We will start the day with a five mile road run at 0630 followed by PT.  We will always move at double time and will do five chin-ups every time we enter the hangar.  Also, if the instructor thinks that you have made any boo-boos, you have to do between 10 to 50 push-ups or perform a crab walk around the hangar.  The day ends with another 5 mile road run and another session of brutal PT.  I am really stiff and sore this evening.
I can’t help questioning why I am here – what did I do to deserve this??  Like many things there are many cause factors, the main one relates to TGIF.  Every Friday after work the various messes have TGIF.  Booze is cheap and spouses are not permitted in the mess.

 CFB Rivers had several activities – 408 Tactical Fighter Squadron, 4FTS (Flying Training School), and the Airborne School and I was stationed there as the Base Medical Officer and Flight Surgeon.  Having bolstered my courage with a couple of drams of the demon rum, I allowed myself to say to one of the airborne officers “I wouldn’t mind trying that.”  Woops!!  The very next day Pat and the kids and I were hiking in the forest in Riding Mountain Provincial Park, when we encountered one of the airborne instructors who stated “I hear you are on the parachute course!!”  Woops again!!  I was always the type of character who liked to try new things so I graciously (well, sort of graciously) accepted the challenge, even taking personal leave to give it a whirl.  So here I am.

Tuesday, March 18, 1969
This morning I was in agony!!  I could hardly move when the alarm went off at 0500.  I had to roll out of bed onto the floor and slowly and painfully claw my way up the wall of the bedroom.  After the road run, I loosened up a bit and reminded myself to pick up some “Heet Liniment” that might ease the stiffness.  I learned that the philosophy of the school was to break us down physically and then build us up. Whoa!!  Never heard of that before.  I am certainly breaking down.

Today we spent the first two of many hours to come on the flight trainer, a.k.a. torture rack.  We hang suspended in our harnesses 20 minutes at a time and perform various drills – today, the points of flight procedures and turns, tangles and operation of the reserve chute as well as drift, oscillations and slipping.  We also spent a few more hours of aircraft drill and learned the six different ways of landing.

The PT was gruelling and after we cleaned up the hangar the bathtub felt good.  Upon retiring, I applied some of the Heet to my back, hips, and shoulders.

Wednesday, March 19, 1969
During the night I must have been sweating a lot as the Heat liniment washed down into some of my naughty parts wakeing me up pronto.  I changed the name of “Heet” to “Inferno” as well as other names that don't bear repeating !!  In the morning I was so exhausted  and my back and neck felt very weak and my shoulders were excruciatingly painful.  However, after the road run, I loosened up considerably.  On the torture racks we learned how to avoid obstacles; area, long and pinpoint.  We also had a workout on the landing swings.

Thursday, March 20, 1969
Today, we spent time on the torture racks with full winter kit including rifle, snowshoes and ruck sack.  Ouch!!  My hands are starting to toughen up.

Friday, March 21, 1969
Well, I’ve survived one week.  It will be nice to have a rest for the weekend.  Monday, we go to the mock tower on which a lot of people chicken out.

Monday, March 24, 1969
The morning road run came early.  I was extremely tired.  We spent the morning reviewing what we had learned and then headed to the mock tower.  In the door you stand 32 feet above the ground, the height where man’s fear of heights is maximum.  Was I scared?  You bet!!  I was number two out of the tower.  My exit was rather poor and I bounced a lot.  You drop about 15 feet  and then the trolley runs down the wire at quite a speed.  The sensation of falling is quite disturbing – like a very fast elevator.  I don’t know how I managed to jump.  I just did.  My last couple of exits were better.  One man chickened out and was whisked off the course and away from the base STAT!!  You weren’t even allowed to mention the word “fear” or you were cleared off the base in record time and were on the way home.

They are really putting the pressure on us now.  The PT was rough and I must have done over 100 push-ups.  Those of us who remain feel pretty smug about having weathered the mock tower.  There is a rumour that we will make our first five jumps out of the Otter rather than the high tower in CFB Shilo as the school is moving to Edmonton and they don’t want to move the towers.

Wednesday, March 26, 1969
We finally finished with that damn tower.  The young lieutenant from the Black Watch washed out.  He was able to overcome his fear and exit the tower but not properly, so they sent him home.  Too bad, as he was the most gung ho soldier on the course, other than the tower, and he even had the guts to exit though his body was paralyzed with fear.  So now I’m number one out of the Otter and Herc.

Friday, March 28, 1969 – The First Jump
Well today was it!!  The dawn was clear and it was about 12 below and OK for parachuting.  I guess that the waiting was the worst part.  We drew our chutes and sat on the J-stage benches after dressing and going through the rigger and jumpmaster checks.  You hear the plane land and taxi up and the jumpmaster tells you to put on your helmet and you walk out to the aircraft wondering what the heck you are doing here.  I was to be number three; Major Cesar, CO of the school was number one and his son, Pvt. Cesar was second in the stick.
The pilot climbed the airplane to 1200 feet and before we knew it, we were over the DZ, ready to jump.  You sit on the floor with your legs outside of the plane in the slipstream.  My heart was pounding and my stomach was in my mouth.  Time seemed to stop.  Will I be able to get out the door?  Somehow, when the command was given, I went – more of a conditioned reflex than anything else!  I felt myself falling and saw the horizon tilting as I rocked to the left from the prop blast.  I counted to four thousand as drilled into me, probably faster than I should have, and then looked up.  There it was, a beautiful, full, white  canopy - the tears came welling up in my eyes - I was so happy to be alive!  There was no sensation of movement except that the ground appeared to be coming up.  I looked around and spotted four more chutes at different levels, frosty white against the deep blue sky.  I hit the ground hard and was dragged by the wind across the packed snow, having one heck of a time collapsing the canopy in the wind.  Finally the chute cooperated and, after coming to a halt, I field rolled it and made the rather long trek through the snow drifts to the DZ shack where I met the other chaps.  The RCAF corporal who jumped with me finally had color in his face and his eyes regained a more human appearance. 

We were all very euphoric as we had made our first jump and proved to ourselves that each of us had the courage (or stupidity) to actually jump from a perfectly serviceable aircraft!

That was the last jump of the day as the wind had picked up, 15 mph being the limit.  But number one jump was over and I had made it!


Courage is rightly esteemed the first of human qualities... because it is the quality which guarantees all others.

Winston Churchill