and the next we were both falling through the sky. Then he was suddenly close behind me as we hurtled down, adjusting my leg straps.
I have already confessed that I don’t like heights, and I now discovered that I was the worst freefaller ever to take to the sky. I was flipped on to my back so many times I began to feel like a pancake. Whenever I managed to correct my position, I’d start spinning and then be flipped the other way.
Any movement you make with your hands or legs while freefalling at 120 miles an hour causes a reaction. To show you what I mean, if you put your hand out of the sunroof of a car travelling at 80 miles an hour, the wind pressure will slam it backwards against the rear edge of the aperture. Now imagine doing 120 miles an hour – 176 feet per second – with your entire body feeling the force. The slightest movement unbalances you. Though others get the hang of freefalling soon enough – and many of them come to love it – I was never able to sort myself out, with the result that I was completely useless at it.
I did eight jumps in about four days, after which the instructor told me that I was not only a danger to myself, I was a danger to other people in the sky as well. To be honest, his words were music to my ears, because it meant there was not much chance of them ever using me for freefall.
Three years later, during exercises in Jordan, I used to amuse myself by joshing Air Troop about their having to be crazy to like jumping out of aircraft. In return, they poked fun at my almost legendary lack of freefall prowess. It was all good-natured stuff – except that, one day, they suddenly asked me if I was going to jump with them the next morning. They had reckoned that I would say, ‘Fuck that for a game of soldiers’ and simply walk away. Only I didn’t. To their surprise – and mine – I said ‘Yes.’ I immediately regretted it, but having put my pride on the line, I had no option but to go through with it.
There was worse to come. John, the parachute-jump instructor and himself an expert freefaller, told me that I’d be using a square-shaped parachute for the jump; ‘It’s all we’ve got with us,’ he said. I had only jumped before using the standard large round chutes. With them you always got a canopy. You might get twists, and they didn’t steer very well, but they’d always get you down. The square parachutes were highly steerable, and thus far more useful to men trying to land in a precise location, but if you got twists in the cords you had to cut the chute away by pulling two clips on your shoulders, then go back into freefall and pull your reserve.
Having had all this explained to me by John, I was definitely having second thoughts. Seeing this, he simply said, ‘OK. I’ll pin you.’ What he meant was that, when the time came for me to jump, he would stand on the tailgate of the aircraft with his back to the exit. I would stand facing and holding on to him. Then he would step off and I would fall forward and go into the freefall position. He would therefore be able to keep me stable while I was doing whatever I had to do to try to maintain my position. Then, when we got to 3,500 feet, he would let me go as I pulled the chute, and that would ensure a full canopy.
Once again pride overtook me, however. Grateful as I was for his help, I heard myself saying, ‘Tell you what John, why don’t I just jump on my own? Otherwise they’ll all take the piss out of me. Then you come and pin me straight away and get me stable.’ Not really being aware of my utter ineptitude, he agreed, so we went and did a bit of training on the ground for an hour because I hadn’t done any freefall for three years.
The next morning, I strapped on my parachute and all the other paraphernalia, wondering, not for the first time, what I’d let myself in for. Air Troop had twelve men jumping that day from 13,000 feet. I was to go first, followed by John and the rest of the guys. After a
I have already confessed that I don’t like heights, and I now discovered that I was the worst freefaller ever to take to the sky. I was flipped on to my back so many times I began to feel like a pancake. Whenever I managed to correct my position, I’d start spinning and then be flipped the other way.
Any movement you make with your hands or legs while freefalling at 120 miles an hour causes a reaction. To show you what I mean, if you put your hand out of the sunroof of a car travelling at 80 miles an hour, the wind pressure will slam it backwards against the rear edge of the aperture. Now imagine doing 120 miles an hour – 176 feet per second – with your entire body feeling the force. The slightest movement unbalances you. Though others get the hang of freefalling soon enough – and many of them come to love it – I was never able to sort myself out, with the result that I was completely useless at it.
I did eight jumps in about four days, after which the instructor told me that I was not only a danger to myself, I was a danger to other people in the sky as well. To be honest, his words were music to my ears, because it meant there was not much chance of them ever using me for freefall.
Three years later, during exercises in Jordan, I used to amuse myself by joshing Air Troop about their having to be crazy to like jumping out of aircraft. In return, they poked fun at my almost legendary lack of freefall prowess. It was all good-natured stuff – except that, one day, they suddenly asked me if I was going to jump with them the next morning. They had reckoned that I would say, ‘Fuck that for a game of soldiers’ and simply walk away. Only I didn’t. To their surprise – and mine – I said ‘Yes.’ I immediately regretted it, but having put my pride on the line, I had no option but to go through with it.
There was worse to come. John, the parachute-jump instructor and himself an expert freefaller, told me that I’d be using a square-shaped parachute for the jump; ‘It’s all we’ve got with us,’ he said. I had only jumped before using the standard large round chutes. With them you always got a canopy. You might get twists, and they didn’t steer very well, but they’d always get you down. The square parachutes were highly steerable, and thus far more useful to men trying to land in a precise location, but if you got twists in the cords you had to cut the chute away by pulling two clips on your shoulders, then go back into freefall and pull your reserve.
Having had all this explained to me by John, I was definitely having second thoughts. Seeing this, he simply said, ‘OK. I’ll pin you.’ What he meant was that, when the time came for me to jump, he would stand on the tailgate of the aircraft with his back to the exit. I would stand facing and holding on to him. Then he would step off and I would fall forward and go into the freefall position. He would therefore be able to keep me stable while I was doing whatever I had to do to try to maintain my position. Then, when we got to 3,500 feet, he would let me go as I pulled the chute, and that would ensure a full canopy.
Once again pride overtook me, however. Grateful as I was for his help, I heard myself saying, ‘Tell you what John, why don’t I just jump on my own? Otherwise they’ll all take the piss out of me. Then you come and pin me straight away and get me stable.’ Not really being aware of my utter ineptitude, he agreed, so we went and did a bit of training on the ground for an hour because I hadn’t done any freefall for three years.
The next morning, I strapped on my parachute and all the other paraphernalia, wondering, not for the first time, what I’d let myself in for. Air Troop had twelve men jumping that day from 13,000 feet. I was to go first, followed by John and the rest of the guys. After a
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