The Last Jump
By rawkstarjt
- 473 reads
The whir of the propellers and the distant hum of the engines only served to spur my anxiety. I hated flying, and the mere absence of the ground beneath my feet sent chills down my spine. So, ironically enough, I decided to enter the Air Force. I was now in my last week of jump training in Delaware before I received my license. As the airplane began to ascend, I started to rethink my life.
"John Ross! my instructor hailed over the din of the engines. "You nervous?
Nervous was not the word to describe my feelings at the time. Terrified, anxious, those were words to describe me. The parachute attached to my back cut off the flow of blood leading to my head, so much that when I stood up to reply I nearly fell backwards toward the open hatch door.
"Now don't get too anxious," he called as I regained my balance. "The ground instructor will be there to coach you the whole way, just like practice."
"Just like practice," I recited to myself. You can't die in practice.
The plane reached thirteen thousand feet. This was the moment of truth. "Don't freak out, don't freak out," A cold sweat began to form around my neck. Sweat dripped from my hands as I clutched the railing. I stood up. Anxiously, I stepped toward the open door. Even though I had seen it a hundred times before, the spans of nothingness, thirteen thousand feet deep, chilled me to the bone. The instructor's voice brought me back to reality.
"John, when I say three you jump, okay?" I double checked my altimeter, the rip cord, and my sanity. Two out of three, I guess.
"Okay," I heard myself say.
"One, two, three!"
I squeezed my eyes shut and breathed a prayer as I felt myself lurch away from the plane.
When I fell, I got the same familiar rush of adrenaline kicking in. The feeling of falling, dropping from a high building; it stayed for ten seconds, my stomach in my throat. I wanted to scream, but the air rushing past me ripped the air out of my gut. No words came forth, and then calm. A peace overtook me as my body reached equilibrium with the surrounding air. Altimeter says ten thousand feet. Still okay. Everything was fine until I decided to open my chute.
The altimeter read five thousand feet, so I decided it was time to pull the chute. I reached behind my back to pull the rip cord and as soon as I opened it I knew something had gone terribly wrong.
The world around me began to spin violently. Up, down, across, back, sideways, I had no control over my direction. At that moment I realized that I couldn't feel my arm. It had gotten tangled in the parachute and was twisted in the ropes. I checked the altimeter. Three thousand feet and steadily dropping. I had to react, to think quickly, to do something! But fear had overcome me. There was no way I was going to move; I was frozen solid and was going to die.
"John, listen to me! Pull the chute.
" What?
"Pull the emergency chute!
I had forgotten about the ground instructor! He had probably been screaming the whole time. Now, at the brink of defeat, I had stopped wriggling enough to listen to him.
"John, pull the emergency chute! he annunciated each word with frightening sincerity.
Hastily, I grabbed across my chest with my free arm to pull the chute. As it released, my arm was nearly yanked off. I felt another rip as the emergency parachute was dispatched.
The arm previously held hostage by the chute was my altimeter hand. I checked it. One thousand, five hundred feet. I knew this was going to be a rough landing.
As I saw the ground steadily approaching, I followed the instructor's guide to tuck and roll. If I survived this, I promised myself, I would never take a flight, let alone parachute, again.
I hit the ground, bounced about ten feet, and lay still. My head spun. Dazed, I got up. My instructor asked if I was O.K., then he walked me to the hospital. They gave me a clean bill of health. Exasperated, I stumbled out of the office. My instructor was waiting. As he stood there, I wondered what possible thoughts could be going through his head. Finally, I asked "yes, commander?
"John, you need to go up for another jump. This is the last time, and then you'll get your license.
"But sir¦
"That's an order!
So with that, I got ready for another run. As I sat, waiting for the departure with a cold glass of water in my hands, I felt something was wrong. I felt and uneasiness in my stomach. It wasn't that I was nervous, I just didn't feel right about the whole thing. For the first time, I felt unsure of what to do next, why I was where I was, or if the military was the right thing for me.
I soon shook off these feelings for random thoughts of anxiety; I could not let paranoia rule my life. The instructor called my name and I dutifully went to him. As the plane began to take off, my mind began to wander. I thought of home, of family, of tearful good-byes. I looked downward at the Air Force base. It consisted of a now toy- looking building, rapidly shrinking into the distance.
Then the motor caught my eye. I wondered what it would sound like if the engine were to stop. I was about to dismiss the feelings as nonsense when I heard it.
"Put, put, put, cough, cough, then silence.
"What the¦I looked over into the eyes of my instructor. Pure terror was etched onto his features.
From then on, it was utter chaos. As the plane began to fall I gripped onto the nearest rail. I started to sense that familiar feeling in the pit of my stomach beginning to grow. The plane hit at an angle so we just slid forwards. Overturned, the instructor slammed into the wall that divided the cockpit from the cabin. We lay still. The silence was only broken by the moaning coming from my instructor who was lying in a crumpled pile against the wall.
I checked myself to see if I had sustained any injuries. Remarkably, I was relatively unharmed. The plane had hit at just the right angle. A few more degrees and the plane would have been crumpled, demolished as it collided with the unforgiving cement. The wings on one side were ruined.
My instructor had gotten up, looking visibly shaken. We got out of the wreck as began to walk to the main building. As we both stumbled to the C.O. office, he explained to me.
"I've never seen so many unlucky coincidences in my life. You should never parachute again.
"Well, guess that's it then.
"Look, John, I think I can get you an assignment overseas, how does that sound?
"Fine, I think I can handle that. I could handle it, that's for sure. I had survived a faulty parachute jump and a plane crash. All I needed now was a break. I knew my instructor was thinking the same thing. But with all the political red tape that would follow, the debriefing, the¦.
"O.K., he interrupted, as he reached into the file cabinet. He picked out two manila folders. One had my name on it, and the other had his. "I know that the military is awful when it comes to helping out their injured. 'Everyone is expendable and replaceable,' right? Anyways, I'm going to destroy my folder containing the waver and collect my rightly deserved money. It's the least they can do for me after all I've done. Make your own choice, and with that, he proceeded to tear up his insurance waver and walked out.
I sat there, stunned, wondering if I should do the same. They could discharge me if they wanted, but I didn't think so. Or, they could give me an overseas assignment. That wouldn't be so bad. Reluctantly, I put my folder back into the file cabinet. "Oh, well, I wonder what it's like in the Philippines. And with that, I walked out of the office, never to parachute again.
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