There was little to do within the plane but to sit on the narrow red nylon and gray aluminum seats and wonder about what the next few minutes of your life would mean to you.

The seating arrangement—if you could call it that, was courtesy of the US Army. “Fill it up! Fill it up! Fill it up all the way to the front men, and quickly”!

We crowded into the cramped airplane, an Air Force Reserve C-119, and struggled down into our seats.Our equipment was strapped and buckled tightly to us, further complicating the seating.

Sitting there and listening to the roar of the plane I felt as if my fellow travelers on my right and left were actually sitting on “my” seat! A sudden bounce confirmed the fact that what little exposed flesh not covered by my equipment and other gear was rested upon an aluminum brace with a bolt sticking through it.

I shouted to the man on my left to move, but was unheard due to my speaking directly into into the bundle on my chest, and shouting into the roar of the plane with the air rushing in through the open doors. I suffered through the rest of the ride after another bounce brought my rear to a patch of nylon seat.

On the opposite side of the aircraft were twenty others like myself and the the ninenteen men on my side of the plane. The forty of us looked all alike except for the different white numbers taped onto our steel helmets. There was little order to the numbers for many men had disappearred since we had all started together more than five hundred strong just a couple of weeks earlier.

Occassionally I caught a glimpse of the Gerogian countryside as the aircraft banked for a turn as it maneuvered onto our course. I could see little but trees and glimpses of the sprawling Chattahootchie River. I hoped for not so many trees at our destination. We had been told after our crossing of the river on our final approach to the drop zone that there would be no more water.

I remembered the briefing before take off. “Cross winds at Fryer are max at 10 knots at jump altitude blowing East to West”. We would approach from the South. The Jumpmaster told us again of the safety procedeures. “If you are hung up and wish to be cut loose, place both hands on top of your helmet, and you will be cut free, release your reserve chute immediately.” “Don’t worry” I told him silently, “just have that knife ready if need be”!

I forgot the roaring, and uncomfortable seating as we were signalled to our feet. After struggling into a standing position with the weight of our equipment tight against our bodies, we all faced the Jumpmaster standing at the rear of the plane.

I remember how he looked between the open doors of the plane, standing in the bright sunlight with the wind pulling and sucking at his body. His heavily starched uniform ripped about him like nothing more than cotton gauze. The wind is fierce in that area of the plane, and it can pull you out if you are not cautious.

The Jumpmaster took us through our final preparations. We had done it all so many times on the ground, but this time it all seemed so very much more important, and it was!

“Hook up”! We attached our yellow nylon static lines to the cold and greasy steel cable above our heads.

“Check Static Lines”! We checked to make sure the lines were not mistakenly wrapped around our arms, necks, or legs. We were told many times of the danger of injury, broken bones, or death that could be caused by a mis-routed static line.

“Check equipment”! One final check to make sure helmets and associated gear was on, on tight, and on correctly.

“Sound off for equipment check”! We passed the word from the front of the plane to the Jumpmaster that we were all okay. Safety NCO’s were touring the aircraft making adjustments, and insuring that we all were, in fact, “Okay”.

“Stand in the door”! My stomach contracted as I inched toward the door and the first man in our file was pushed and held in the aircraft door by one of the assistant Jumpmasters.

Everyone in the rear was pushing forward towards the door, trying to be ready at their turn, we were ready to jump!

“Go”! shouted the Jumpmaster, and his assistants sent one man each hurtling out the door and rushing past the tail of the plane. I don’t remember moving my feet, or hesitating at the door, but I could hear parachutes opening, but noticed the light, saw the door as it went by me, and realized I too was falling through space!

The nylon canopy exploded into bloom above me and jerked me upright as the roar of the plane became a distant hum, the plane becoming only another object in the sky as it drew away from me. I had jumped!

Georgia air was all around me, unbelievably below me, and I was hanging in it in an Army parachute. I thought of the tag carefully sewn into the parachute cover on my chest “Parachute-Army-Individual-Type T-10”…..and I loved it. I loved the Army, and I loved that moment.

That Gerogia air was quickly turning into ground and grass and I was forced to try to remember my landing instructions. I didn’t. I collapsed onto the ground and my parachute fell down about me, and I laughed! I laughed, and I laughed.

Ifinally got to my feet saying “Damn”! “Damn”! “Damn”! I stood weak kneed and happy and realized I had never been more afraid in all my life.