Airborne!!–From Otter to Hercules

Some folks have asked me about the diary format of the Airborne!! sections.  In fact this is about the only time in my life that I actually kept a journal.  Also, the letter is a summary of an actual letter that I sent to Aunty Jean in 1969.  She commented that the description of the night jump was, to her, beautiful and vivid and that she could imagine the sights and sounds of that night.

Probably the most uncomfortable jump was number three from the Otter.  By that time, my fear had lessened and I was more aware of the sensations of parachuting.  Because the Otter is relatively slow, you tended to drop about 300 feet before your canopy opened and I began to experience the sensation of falling and forgot about some of the techniques, for example on number four, I landed with my feet apart, resulting in having to do 50 push-ups.  As I had pulled a muscle in my groin during the last PT session, I was in great pain and hoped that I would not land drifting rearwards, which I did on every single jump.  You can’t turn the T-10 so you land in whatever position you had when your chute opened.

Back to my diary:

Sunday, March 30, 1969

Number five, the last Otter jump went well, though there is that constant companion – fear.  As I was drifting rearward, I watched as the other jumpers left the aircraft and observed the rather beautiful spectacle of their parachutes blossoming against the pure blue sky.  I concentrated on keeping my feet together and made a nice gentle landing - if you can say that any landing with the T-10 is gentle!  Landing has been compared to jumping off the top of a van moving at 15 mph, also described as hitting the ground like 10 pounds of manure in a 5 pound sack!  However, the instructors were pleased with my performance and indicated that I could go on to the next stage – the Hercules.

In retrospect, I would comment that the Otter jumps were worthwhile and I felt that I could parachute from anything!  I am still scared of jumping.  The feeling of relief when that big beautiful canopy opens is almost overwhelming.  The biggest thrill was the first jump.  I almost cried like a baby on the way down when the canopy opened.  I guess I’ll never experience that tremendous euphoria again.

Now on to the Hercules.

The C-130 Hercules (Hercy Bird), purpose built for the military, is commonly in use around the world as a tactical airlift airplane.  It is used in the military to deliver up to 64 paratroops at one time, equipment, or even buildings that are designed to fit in the cargo area.  From a passenger comfort standpoint, it was awful, but being coddled is not the motivation behind the design as far as delivering troops is concerned.  Having terrific short field take-off and landing capabilities, the bird is in common use on civvy street all over the world, especially in areas like Canada’s arctic region or the jungles in Africa or South America.  It is also used in forest fire fighting, search and rescue, meteorological research, air to air refuelling of helicopters, and as a weapons platform.

From the standpoint of delivering paratroops, it can hold up to 64 fully outfitted paratroopers and exits can be made from the side doors or, less traumatic, from the rear ramp – also utilized for loading and unloading.  The ramp can also be used for airborne delivery of materiel.  One of the units in CFB Rivers was tasked with finding methods of dropping military vehicles on palettes.  The best way was to have the trucks, jeeps, armoured cars and artillery mounted on corrugated cardboard, the corrugations running vertically thereby absorbing the shock.  The joke was that all of the vehicles had very low mileage – but all of the mileage was straight down!

But I digress.

Tuesday, April 01, 1969

Today was our first encounter with the Hercules.  We reported at 0745 but were informed that the plane had returned to Edmonton due to engine problems.  So we played volleyball for a while and I returned to the office to catch up on some paperwork.  After lunch the Herc arrived so we kitted up and embarked on our first Herc jump.  I was number one on the stick, as usual, and we jumped at 1530.  The experience was extremely noisy and very violent because we jumped from the side doors, directly behind the propellers.  You leap into a more than 200 knot wind.  I was spun violently to the left as if struck by some giant’s fist and the chute opened in a flash, within a second or so, in front of me due to the prop blast.  I experienced a wild swing under the chute, though missing part of the spectacle as my steel helmet was thrust down over my eyes.  The landing was pretty good.

After supper we did another side door jump in daylight.  This time I was number 16 on the starboard side, the last man out.  I was, in addition to my rifle and snowshoes, carrying a very large and heavy pannier reaching from the ground to my chin which necessitated waddling like a duck on the way to the Herc.  Remember that paratroopers are always dropped behind enemy lines and have to carry everything that is needed, then securing the DZ (Drop Zone) until the second and third drops carrying heavy equipment and support, such as medical personnel, are able to arrive safely.  The landing was quite gentle this time as I dropped into snow up to my waist.

Then came the night jump already described.

April 02, 1969

Today, we completed our requisite 10 jumps, but not without incident!  Number 9 was ok, but the wind picked up beyond safe velocity (about 15 mph) so we couldn’t drop into Rivers.  After waiting in the J-stage (Jump –stage) hangar we were informed that the wind was more favourable in CFB Shilo, east of Brandon, Manitoba, so we donned our equipment and then headed for the aircraft.  After a relatively short flight to Shilo, we made our jump.  My brother, Graham, who was 17 at the time, was invited to film the exercise with my 35 mm camera, hence the photo of me in the stick.

We departed the aircraft as usual, but Capt. “Buck” Rogers had a parachute malfunction.  Because Graham was snapping photos, the whole incident was caught on film.  Descending at a great rate of speed, Buck undid his reserve chute and tossed it out in front.  However the lines tangled with the main chute risers so he pulled the reserve in and launched it once more, and it tangled again.  So he pulled it in again.  Glancing down, he saw that he was about to hit, so he tucked the chute between his legs and prepared to do a high speed PLF (Parachute Landing Fall).  Fortunately, he landed in about a meter of snow and survived, uninjured.  Also, Buck was a wiry, very fit officer knowing enough to relax, and that helped to save him from serious injury or worse. The worst thing that he had to endure after that jump was field rolling two parachutes instead of just one!

One of the student jumpers experienced one of the most serious things that can happen to a soldier – his rifle came loose from the halyard, not being properly secured, and free fell to the ground.  A soldier should never, ever lose his weapon!!  All of us had to conduct a fairly lengthy search for the rifle but it was never found.  It is probably still buried under the Manitoba prairie on the Shilo DZ!

In the meantime, back in Rivers, Pat was performing her routine chores in the house when there was a knock at the door.  As she approached the door, she saw the silhouette of a military officer in the window.  Knowing that I was jumping into Shilo and that, in the event of a bad accident, the Chaplain would visit the family, she thought the worst had happened.  Fortunately it was just our next door neighbour, an Air Traffic Control officer, and not the Chaplain, so she breathed a sigh of relief.

The next day, we proud paratroopers were presented with our airborne wings in a ceremony inside the Airborne hangar.

I made one more jump from the Hercules, a ramp jump, later that year. I completed that jump so that I could collect my thirty dollar per month jump pay.  Buck Rogers and I were the last out of the plane and we both were caught in a thermal so we soared high over the base for much longer than usual.  We watched from our high perches as the plane landed, taxied in and shut down.  We could chat with each other and hear the other jumpers on the ground wondering aloud why we were still up there, probably envying both of us.  As a coincidence, one of our fellow jumpers that day was a US Army Colonel on his way to Viet Nam to take over as Commanding Officer of the famous 82nd Airborne Regiment.  I don’t know whatever became of him.

Buck later became a psychologist, practicing in Calgary.

Courage is doing what you're afraid to do. There can be no courage unless you're scared."
— Eddie Rickenbacker
World War I hero