Happy Birthday to your son and thank you for your service.
Last edited:
Snubby in Vietnam
- Thread starter SF VET
- Start date
When the Iraqi retreated from Kuwait, they stole, robbed, plundered, and severely punished the Kuwaiti people. When I talked with Saudi interpreters, their universal opinion of the Kuwaiti people was that they were a very non-violent culture, kinda like a pacifist gentle people, and in a bad position being adjacent to Iraq. Which had their Republican Guards, and a history of even using gas on the Kurds in their northern border areas. We began to get a lot of wounded non-combatants from that part of the war zone, including infants and children.
Many of the children were suffering from severe malnutrition and dehydration, to the point of being near death's door. Their mothers did what they could for their children, but the basic needs of their families were often beyond their reach.
Here, a toddler, whose legs are severely swollen, most likely due to a low serum albumin level, usually seen in this country with a nephrotic condition kidney failure. But in this poor child's case, it was undoubtedly due to just a severe lack of any essential protein in his diet. I had no micro-laboratory available, where essential lab values could guide my care, but it was obvious what the lab abnormalities would have been. You couldn't just give them the usual foods because their gut was equally in bad shape, and couldn't absorb much at all. In the US, there are special infant formula for just such conditions, but in the desert, we had no such special nutrition.
Here such a child is on one of our nurse's laps, and as far as I can recall, this child lived, partly because we were able to provide nutrition by going the breast feeding mother her own nutrition.
This child's puffy, swollen legs would have looked very scrawny and thin in a few weeks.
I got my Vortex 4-16 scope mounted on my new Winchester 70 yesterday. Doing it right took me several hours. Can't wait to zero it in.
So stay safe, and all the best in these troubling, dangerous times.
NAM VET
Many of the children were suffering from severe malnutrition and dehydration, to the point of being near death's door. Their mothers did what they could for their children, but the basic needs of their families were often beyond their reach.
Here, a toddler, whose legs are severely swollen, most likely due to a low serum albumin level, usually seen in this country with a nephrotic condition kidney failure. But in this poor child's case, it was undoubtedly due to just a severe lack of any essential protein in his diet. I had no micro-laboratory available, where essential lab values could guide my care, but it was obvious what the lab abnormalities would have been. You couldn't just give them the usual foods because their gut was equally in bad shape, and couldn't absorb much at all. In the US, there are special infant formula for just such conditions, but in the desert, we had no such special nutrition.
Here such a child is on one of our nurse's laps, and as far as I can recall, this child lived, partly because we were able to provide nutrition by going the breast feeding mother her own nutrition.
This child's puffy, swollen legs would have looked very scrawny and thin in a few weeks.
I got my Vortex 4-16 scope mounted on my new Winchester 70 yesterday. Doing it right took me several hours. Can't wait to zero it in.
So stay safe, and all the best in these troubling, dangerous times.
NAM VET
When I first looked at your photo, I thought it was a healthy, happy, chubby little child. Then I read your post. When I made it in to Kuwait City, that first week of March, ‘91, I saw what the Iraqi Army, more likely the Republican Guards, left behind. What I personally witnessed and then heard of via “official channels “ was not wide spread, but it was enough. An army in defeat without strong leadership is an army out of control.
Last edited:
F4phantom
US Veteran
We left VN on Thursday, june 6th of '68. Headed to Okinawa to pick up stored uniforms and get our shot card updated. The day was really hectic since we were leaving the next morning. Had to stand in line to get our shots and when it came to my turn, I gave my shot card to the Corpsman. He was mad because they made him work a longer tan normal shift. I needed three shots. He asked me I wanted them and I told him one in the right arm and two in the left arm. He proceeded to put a needle in my right arm and then two in my right arm. He then pulled the right needle out slowly and did the same for the two in my left arm. When he finished my right arm was moving backwards and a gunney behind me grabbed it and said not to do it. I was going over the table. As I was putting my shirt on I heard the GySgt tell the Corpsman that if he did that to him he was coming over the table. In the squadron the Corpsmen were told by the doc that if he heard of any complaints from the Marines he would administer their shots.
I got home around 0500 on a Saturday morning. I was still on far east time. Jet travel is great. I told my parents that I was not tired and was going to stay up. My dad worked in the mill and he went back to bed since he had to go to work. Later in the day as my mother was doing her usual chores, we were sitting having a cup o f coffee. Well in the small mill town they had a siren that went off every day at 1500 hrs to tell everyone that the day shift was done. That siren went off and I flew out the door and when I hit the backyard I realized where I was and got a little embarrassed. I went back into the house and my mother was standing there with her eyes wide and looking a little puzzled. I explained to her that when we were hit with incoming that they sounded a siren just like the one in town. It took a couple of days to get adjusted.
I called an old girl friend and arranged to meet her the next day. I hadn't slept for the last two days and when in country only half slept at night, besides I worked mostly 1800 to 0600 while I was in the squadron. I told my parents to wake me early the next day. When I did wake up it was nearly time to go and meet my friend. I asked my parents why they didn't wake me. They said they tried but I slept through all the banging of pans and shouting. It seems I slept a solid 24 hours straight. What a difference being home. I did meet my friend and explained why I was late.
The next joy was the receiving barracks at MCAS Beaufort. I got there around the 4th of July. Everyone thought it was funny to toss a couple of M80's in the stairwell and watch all the guys come running out in their skivvies. Wasn't funny.
Happy birthday to your son.
I think someone posted earlier that perhaps people don't want to hear these stories. Respectfully, they're wrong. I grew up in the 60's and early 70's, sitting on the living room floor, watching the Vietnam reports on the 6pm news every day. You guys were heroes to me then, and you're heroes to me now.
M E Morrison
Member
I will also say "keep them coming". these stories bring back memories.....
I am in the same boat. I was born in 61, and watched everything there was to watch about the war. I remember listening to the Ballad of The Green Beret over and over on my little 45 record player.
Our neighbors son came home on leave and I kept asking him what it was like to be a green beret. I remember him just chuckling and looking so slick in his dress blues.
Looking back on it he was a 22 year old, but to me he was the embodiment of an American, which all of you who served are as well. Thank you for all you have done and god bless our troubled country. We need all the help we can get.
Last edited:
I sincerely appreciate your thoughts and condolences, and also hearing from other forum members about their own military experiences. So far, the moderators haven't shut this thread down yet, so I will continue.
When I DROS'ed from RVN in Oct, '72, I checked into the 5th SF at Bragg, and for the next 18 months was CO of A/1/5, completing the "Q" course, and becoming Flash Qualified. We had fun travels all over the world, this and that, often training with other countries special OP units. And some of us, although not me, were rotating to Vietnam and back on 45 day TDY status, the longest brief deployments permitted. I heard the pay was good. Usually for air strike controls and teaching now to use the new TOW anti-tank missiles. Many of the other SF chaps were veterans of the Son Tay Prison Raid. I learned a lot about that mission, much of it not in any books about it.
About every other weekend, when I was not overseas, I would drive the 300 miles up to the DC area to see my then four year old son. I had accomplished my divorce as soon as I had returned Stateside, and never saw my former wife again after that court hearing. She died of a brain tumor 5 years ago, shortly after her husband died of the same thing, never had any more children. I only heard about it some months later. I had some long-repressed "issues" with that. Let me assure any other vets that seeking professional help is nothing to avoid or be ashamed about
I thought it would be a good idea to be jump master qualified for my team, so signed up for the small SF jump master school. About a dozen or so of us. I think it was about three weeks, first a week of just learning now to rig and inspect a jumper for a safe jump, the last two weeks just jumping our buddy over and ofer, countless times a day. Had to learn about impending water landings, now to drop thru trees, (keep your legs together!), and the six minute out jump command sequences. I still recall them perfectly. While the 82nd still used the old T10 'chutes, we had the new toggle semi-steerable chutes. The modern chutes were not yet invented.
I am afraid of heights, like most of us are, but for some reason, leaning out a banking C130's side door wasn't frightful at all. Us jumpmasters would often just lie on the floor and look out to check for the red marker flags, and of course, for things like hovering helicopters, and water. I never had to make a water jump.
We of course coordinated with the AF loadmasters standing by us.
This post is getting long, so will continue in a moment.
SF VET
When I DROS'ed from RVN in Oct, '72, I checked into the 5th SF at Bragg, and for the next 18 months was CO of A/1/5, completing the "Q" course, and becoming Flash Qualified. We had fun travels all over the world, this and that, often training with other countries special OP units. And some of us, although not me, were rotating to Vietnam and back on 45 day TDY status, the longest brief deployments permitted. I heard the pay was good. Usually for air strike controls and teaching now to use the new TOW anti-tank missiles. Many of the other SF chaps were veterans of the Son Tay Prison Raid. I learned a lot about that mission, much of it not in any books about it.
About every other weekend, when I was not overseas, I would drive the 300 miles up to the DC area to see my then four year old son. I had accomplished my divorce as soon as I had returned Stateside, and never saw my former wife again after that court hearing. She died of a brain tumor 5 years ago, shortly after her husband died of the same thing, never had any more children. I only heard about it some months later. I had some long-repressed "issues" with that. Let me assure any other vets that seeking professional help is nothing to avoid or be ashamed about
I thought it would be a good idea to be jump master qualified for my team, so signed up for the small SF jump master school. About a dozen or so of us. I think it was about three weeks, first a week of just learning now to rig and inspect a jumper for a safe jump, the last two weeks just jumping our buddy over and ofer, countless times a day. Had to learn about impending water landings, now to drop thru trees, (keep your legs together!), and the six minute out jump command sequences. I still recall them perfectly. While the 82nd still used the old T10 'chutes, we had the new toggle semi-steerable chutes. The modern chutes were not yet invented.
I am afraid of heights, like most of us are, but for some reason, leaning out a banking C130's side door wasn't frightful at all. Us jumpmasters would often just lie on the floor and look out to check for the red marker flags, and of course, for things like hovering helicopters, and water. I never had to make a water jump.
We of course coordinated with the AF loadmasters standing by us.
This post is getting long, so will continue in a moment.
SF VET
Over and over, jump each other, picked up and back to the airfield, jump again, switch places, and go for another. We leaned how to rig these big padded strapped "boxes" for carrying heavy gear, under our Reserve 'chutes. By the way, I never once had to deploy my reserve. We were taught to count to four, " one thousand two thousand three thousand four thousand" and if by four we had not felt our opening shock, to just pull the D ring. The saying was. "....when in doubt, whip it out!". We of course had some standard jump refresher, like to how to release from our chute if being dragged by the wind, something the Army added to the parachutes after the fatalities on a windy day some years before when the jump pathfinders did not abort the jump when the strong winds come up.
The cargo box was attached to our rig by about a ten foot strap, which we would rubber band into a tight bundle, and supposedly just before landing, pull two release straps, the box landing just before we did. In theory.
When I had been in Ranger School years before, a school jump master rigged a PRC 25 radio to me, with this sort of strapping, and in a night jump in Florida, I pulled the two release straps, when I landed, found he had not actually attached the radio to my harness, and it was lost forever in the swamps. I just showed the AI the incorrect rig, and he told me to just move out. I am sure that radio is somewhere in the Everglades yet.
Anyway, one of our classmates was a really short LT, so when he had his "box" under his reserve, his boots just about didn't touch the ground. All of us had waddle out to the the aircraft, but he had to sort of turn around and drag his "box" behind him.
Up in the air, it was his turn to "stand in the door', as our C130 began to bank into its drop run, some miles out form the DZ. As he struggled to waddle to the side door and get into his position, we watch him just fall out of the plane, minutes before the DZ. The AF loadmaster looked back and down, and just told the next two trainees to stand up for their own buddy jump. Maybe people falling out of his plane was a common occurrence, he didn't seem to fret about it at all.
When he met up with us later that day, he told us he had landed far out in the reservation, and was later picked up and was back non the worse for his experience.
I later did jump my team in overseas op's, always of course nite drops. Once, I lost my own M16 along the Russian border.
A few days ago was passing Ft Jackson, SC, on my way down to do some work on our beach cottage, and stopped just outside the main gate, at a Chick Fil A, and chatted with a captain when I noted his SF shoulder patch. When he walked out I yelled "...Captain, and he turned, and I gave him the Six Finger command for "Six Minutes", which is when the jumpers get ready to jump. He laughed and replied "... yes Sir".
More later... and all the best. SF VET
The cargo box was attached to our rig by about a ten foot strap, which we would rubber band into a tight bundle, and supposedly just before landing, pull two release straps, the box landing just before we did. In theory.
When I had been in Ranger School years before, a school jump master rigged a PRC 25 radio to me, with this sort of strapping, and in a night jump in Florida, I pulled the two release straps, when I landed, found he had not actually attached the radio to my harness, and it was lost forever in the swamps. I just showed the AI the incorrect rig, and he told me to just move out. I am sure that radio is somewhere in the Everglades yet.
Anyway, one of our classmates was a really short LT, so when he had his "box" under his reserve, his boots just about didn't touch the ground. All of us had waddle out to the the aircraft, but he had to sort of turn around and drag his "box" behind him.
Up in the air, it was his turn to "stand in the door', as our C130 began to bank into its drop run, some miles out form the DZ. As he struggled to waddle to the side door and get into his position, we watch him just fall out of the plane, minutes before the DZ. The AF loadmaster looked back and down, and just told the next two trainees to stand up for their own buddy jump. Maybe people falling out of his plane was a common occurrence, he didn't seem to fret about it at all.
When he met up with us later that day, he told us he had landed far out in the reservation, and was later picked up and was back non the worse for his experience.
I later did jump my team in overseas op's, always of course nite drops. Once, I lost my own M16 along the Russian border.
A few days ago was passing Ft Jackson, SC, on my way down to do some work on our beach cottage, and stopped just outside the main gate, at a Chick Fil A, and chatted with a captain when I noted his SF shoulder patch. When he walked out I yelled "...Captain, and he turned, and I gave him the Six Finger command for "Six Minutes", which is when the jumpers get ready to jump. He laughed and replied "... yes Sir".
More later... and all the best. SF VET
LoboGunLeather
US Veteran
Fear of heights is a natural reaction shared by most of the population. Back in my basic training days we were treated to an orientation and recruiting session by a group of great looking young men in sharp uniforms with bloused jump boots and the coveted silver wings on their chests. Very impressive for a bunch of 18 year old boys!
I remember having it calmly explained to me that the two most dangerous parts of any airplane trip are the take-off and the landing (which is quite true, nearly all accidents happen during those two operations). So, by jumping out we could avoid half the danger of the airplane ride!
That made perfect sense to my young mind! I signed up, and right after infantry AIT I was assigned to the 4th Student Battalion, Fort Benning, GA for parachute training (more commonly called jump school). Week #3 was jump week, 5 parachute jumps using T-10 chutes on the static line, C119 and C130 aircraft.
After jump school there was a period of several weeks before my class at Pathfinder school started. I remained at Fort Benning as a casual tool for the jump school cadre. Jumped nearly every day. Led PT drills and daily runs (typically twice daily, total about 5 miles per day).
On to Pathfinder training. More parachute jumps including helicopters (CH-47 and UH-1), rappelling, infiltration, scouting, maps, compass course, radios, signaling devices, and the basics of air traffic control for airborne and airmobile assaults, medical evacuations, extractions, and resupply operations.
One would think that eventually the fear of heights might become a thing of the past. One would be wrong! Parachute jumps are usually described or recalled using a scale of 1-to-10 known as the Pucker Factor, a measurement of how far up inside your abdomen your anus ended up puckering.
On to Vietnam. I was invited by our ARVN counterparts to attend their parachute training, and received the Vietnamese parachutist badge
To this day while standing on a high ridge or on a roof top and looking down I still feel at least a reminder of the old Pucker Factor. On top of a two story house is just about the right height to cause me to prepare to drop my equipment bag and prepare for my PLF (parachute landing fall), trying to remain aware of wind direction and velocity on the ground, etc.
About age 50 I was running a roofing company, made the mistake of stepping off the edge of a roof and dropping about 10 feet. It hurt, but I am still proud of my reflexes, pulling my legs together, flexing my knees, tucking and rolling on impact, and bouncing right back to my feet, about 30 years after my last training jump.
I remember having it calmly explained to me that the two most dangerous parts of any airplane trip are the take-off and the landing (which is quite true, nearly all accidents happen during those two operations). So, by jumping out we could avoid half the danger of the airplane ride!
That made perfect sense to my young mind! I signed up, and right after infantry AIT I was assigned to the 4th Student Battalion, Fort Benning, GA for parachute training (more commonly called jump school). Week #3 was jump week, 5 parachute jumps using T-10 chutes on the static line, C119 and C130 aircraft.
After jump school there was a period of several weeks before my class at Pathfinder school started. I remained at Fort Benning as a casual tool for the jump school cadre. Jumped nearly every day. Led PT drills and daily runs (typically twice daily, total about 5 miles per day).
On to Pathfinder training. More parachute jumps including helicopters (CH-47 and UH-1), rappelling, infiltration, scouting, maps, compass course, radios, signaling devices, and the basics of air traffic control for airborne and airmobile assaults, medical evacuations, extractions, and resupply operations.
One would think that eventually the fear of heights might become a thing of the past. One would be wrong! Parachute jumps are usually described or recalled using a scale of 1-to-10 known as the Pucker Factor, a measurement of how far up inside your abdomen your anus ended up puckering.
On to Vietnam. I was invited by our ARVN counterparts to attend their parachute training, and received the Vietnamese parachutist badge
To this day while standing on a high ridge or on a roof top and looking down I still feel at least a reminder of the old Pucker Factor. On top of a two story house is just about the right height to cause me to prepare to drop my equipment bag and prepare for my PLF (parachute landing fall), trying to remain aware of wind direction and velocity on the ground, etc.
About age 50 I was running a roofing company, made the mistake of stepping off the edge of a roof and dropping about 10 feet. It hurt, but I am still proud of my reflexes, pulling my legs together, flexing my knees, tucking and rolling on impact, and bouncing right back to my feet, about 30 years after my last training jump.
when I was in the 5th Group, late '72 to early '73, it seemed like the army, at least in SF, was really "loose-goosey", for want of a better term. I mean what we did, where we went, and how we got there and back just seemed to be either unorganized, or maybe some higher ups just said "send some SF out there to do their thing." Which was fine with us. Some of the company commanders and senior NCO's were frank alcoholics. But for me it was a refuge from the regular army with all the racial and wartime discontent, and just surly draftees.
Back then it was a tradition for SF troops to only wear their jump wings, and any foreign jump wings, but no CIBs, or any other awards or "decorations." And only SF wore a beret, the only other special headgear were the riggers and their black base ball caps. Personally, I kinda hate to see everyone in some color of beret now days. You had to earn a green one. By the way, it took time and care to get our berets to come down just right on the right side. No dork berets for us.
Nearly a decade later, when was a MD, and not now in SF, and back again at Bragg, now married with three children, I was at a beer party one eve with a group commander, who had had a NVA .50 cal take out one of his kidneys, and he mentioned he was taking a battalion over to Morocco in the AM, and asked me I wanted to go along. Called my hospital commander and asked my wife if I could go, both said sure. Mentioned I did not have a passport, my friend COL just told me to not get arrested.
We were planning a jump with the Moroccan airborne guys, and when we went out to watch one of their jumps, a whole lot of their jumpers, using old US T10's were coming down with whole gores torn out of their 'chutes, and some with huge blood stains on them. We were going to have to use their 'chutes, but our CO seeing how dangerous it was for us, cancelled our participation. So no Moroccan jump wings for us.
I worked at a Moroccan medial clinic, and they had this French whole body X-ray machine. They were proud of it, and showed me how it worked by telling some private to just stand in it, and it revealed his whole body skeleton. All I could think was how much radiation the soldier was getting blasted with. Did some fun shopping in Fez, down in their Casbah. I will tell you that Moroccan women are just beautiful. When we went to the beach for some sun, the Moroccan women were fully covered, but it was revealing to see French women sunbathing topless. One of our officers had been a HS quarterback so we kept throwing our football over by the French ladies. Of course, I took my trusty Pentax along, and got some great shots in their cities and their med clinic. I still really like coucous.
We went in sterile uniforms, no patches or name tags, and no berets.
I was beginning to plan my future medial career.
All the best... SF VET
Back then it was a tradition for SF troops to only wear their jump wings, and any foreign jump wings, but no CIBs, or any other awards or "decorations." And only SF wore a beret, the only other special headgear were the riggers and their black base ball caps. Personally, I kinda hate to see everyone in some color of beret now days. You had to earn a green one. By the way, it took time and care to get our berets to come down just right on the right side. No dork berets for us.
Nearly a decade later, when was a MD, and not now in SF, and back again at Bragg, now married with three children, I was at a beer party one eve with a group commander, who had had a NVA .50 cal take out one of his kidneys, and he mentioned he was taking a battalion over to Morocco in the AM, and asked me I wanted to go along. Called my hospital commander and asked my wife if I could go, both said sure. Mentioned I did not have a passport, my friend COL just told me to not get arrested.
We were planning a jump with the Moroccan airborne guys, and when we went out to watch one of their jumps, a whole lot of their jumpers, using old US T10's were coming down with whole gores torn out of their 'chutes, and some with huge blood stains on them. We were going to have to use their 'chutes, but our CO seeing how dangerous it was for us, cancelled our participation. So no Moroccan jump wings for us.
I worked at a Moroccan medial clinic, and they had this French whole body X-ray machine. They were proud of it, and showed me how it worked by telling some private to just stand in it, and it revealed his whole body skeleton. All I could think was how much radiation the soldier was getting blasted with. Did some fun shopping in Fez, down in their Casbah. I will tell you that Moroccan women are just beautiful. When we went to the beach for some sun, the Moroccan women were fully covered, but it was revealing to see French women sunbathing topless. One of our officers had been a HS quarterback so we kept throwing our football over by the French ladies. Of course, I took my trusty Pentax along, and got some great shots in their cities and their med clinic. I still really like coucous.
We went in sterile uniforms, no patches or name tags, and no berets.
I was beginning to plan my future medial career.
All the best... SF VET
ron_c
US Veteran
I, also, am afraid of heights, but found looking out the door of an aircraft and descending down didn't have any effect on fear of height. The descent was over too quickly and it was really great after seeing your chute had deployed and everything was ok. Even to this day when I watch a jump on youtube or see a photo of a jump, I can still feel the falling sensation.
The first time we jumped or rather pushed out from a UH-1D Huey, we were told to count to 6 by whole thousands. We were jumping at 1600 feet instead of 1250 feet from the Huey. We were told not to look to early to see if the chute was open and it was more of a free fall straight down jump as compared to the other aircraft. Those 2 extra seconds were like "come on, open already".
Our first jump out of a UH-1D Huey was with the 82nd in Dominican Republic in '65, sent there as Peace Keepers and after we were out, I started looking at the drop zone and couldn't see it. All I saw was sugar cane, very tall sugar cane at that. I thought, boy, did they screw up and drop us in the wrong place, but no, the sugar cane field was the drop zone. Forget about doing a Parachute Landing Fall, there was no way and you landed standing up in 8 to 10 feet tall sugar cane.
The last jump we made from a UH-1D and a fog bank started coming in and I was hoping we would land before it covered the ground, but no, the fog bank covered everything very quickly. I made a quick look where the trucks were located and thank goodness they honk the horns to guide us as you could not see anything it was so thick you had no idea when you were going to land.
Attachments
Last edited:
ron_c
US Veteran
I have always felt the same way, the SF guys went through a lot to earn the right to wear a beret and only the SF should be allowed to wear a beret. I don't get why other units wear a beret, even if it's a different color. Same thing in Viet Nam, SF guys wore the Tiger Strip fatigues, then others started wearing them. Chu Lai, Sept of '67.
Attachments
ron_c
US Veteran
well, actually I did quickly turn to one side and shoot a quick pic of one of the French ladies. that slide is somewhere in my files, if I can find it one of these days I will post it.
On second thought the moderators would not let me do so. You'll just have to take my word about that day on the beach. When some of the local lads handled our football, they had no idea what a non-round soccer ball was used for. We showed them.
I talked with one of the Marine guards, who told me about how one day he avoided being shot. He noted two motorcycle riders coming up from behind him, wearing helmets. No body in Morocco wears helmets, esp with their visors down. So just as the two riders drew up next to him, he spun the wheel of his Suburban and jumped a curve too quickly for them to follow as he sped off in the other direction.
Situational awareness. All the best SF VET
On second thought the moderators would not let me do so. You'll just have to take my word about that day on the beach. When some of the local lads handled our football, they had no idea what a non-round soccer ball was used for. We showed them.
I talked with one of the Marine guards, who told me about how one day he avoided being shot. He noted two motorcycle riders coming up from behind him, wearing helmets. No body in Morocco wears helmets, esp with their visors down. So just as the two riders drew up next to him, he spun the wheel of his Suburban and jumped a curve too quickly for them to follow as he sped off in the other direction.
Situational awareness. All the best SF VET
Sistema1927
US Veteran
I don't like to stand on a swaying bridge, but have no problem in an aircraft. Several times in ROK, I rode to Seoul in a UH-1, and since one of the pilots was a buddy I could stand at the open door to see the scenery.
My Dad was Airborne, so as a young man I did some sport jumping, just to prove to him that I was as macho. Jumping out of a fixed wing aircraft was a piece of cake, your forward speed converted to downward, and I never had the sensation of falling. However, one Saturday our normal plane was grounded, and the jump school had obtained the use of a Bell Jet Ranger. It went up to 10K and hovered, and we jumped out of it. A completely different experience. That made you feel like you were falling before you stabilized in free fall. Whereas on most Saturdays I would jump a couple of times, on that day once was more than enough.
Funny enough, Dad wasn't impressed. He told me that jumping higher than 500 feet was cheating, the lower the better.
My Dad was Airborne, so as a young man I did some sport jumping, just to prove to him that I was as macho. Jumping out of a fixed wing aircraft was a piece of cake, your forward speed converted to downward, and I never had the sensation of falling. However, one Saturday our normal plane was grounded, and the jump school had obtained the use of a Bell Jet Ranger. It went up to 10K and hovered, and we jumped out of it. A completely different experience. That made you feel like you were falling before you stabilized in free fall. Whereas on most Saturdays I would jump a couple of times, on that day once was more than enough.
Funny enough, Dad wasn't impressed. He told me that jumping higher than 500 feet was cheating, the lower the better.
Standard training airborne parachute drops are at least 1250 feet, but combat drops can be from no lower (supposedly) than 600 feet because lower does not allow time for a reserve parachute to deploy. No doubt some of the WWII drops were even lower, like the Corregidor jump. I think I mentioned earlier that about the time I was about to resign my Regular Army commission, out of Nebraska's ROTC program four years prior, some recruiters came around and asked if we wanted to sign up for HALO, one year of nothing but jumps and then HALO jumpmaster school. No other duties like guard or SAO or other. I thought about it being single and unattached, (sort of, I had met a really wonderful young woman at the NC coast, a long story....) but decided that my life goals then were in another direction.
So took "the long view" of my life, which has served me well in the past decades, and headed back to Nebraska for 18 months of pre-med. I was a relentless and razor focused student, determined to be at the top of every class I took. The army taught me that.
I learned a lot about myself in those first four years.
Now after another cup of coffee, time to get back to work painting our porch rails down near Charleston.
Next post, I will relate some of the sad and tragic jump incidents I was part of.
Now, all the best... SF VET
So took "the long view" of my life, which has served me well in the past decades, and headed back to Nebraska for 18 months of pre-med. I was a relentless and razor focused student, determined to be at the top of every class I took. The army taught me that.
I learned a lot about myself in those first four years.
Now after another cup of coffee, time to get back to work painting our porch rails down near Charleston.
Next post, I will relate some of the sad and tragic jump incidents I was part of.
Now, all the best... SF VET
Sistema1927
US Veteran
Dad was jumping in the early 1950's, as part of the 508th Regimental Combat team. They were training to jump into Korea, but were never needed. He has told me that they regularly jumped in training at 500' AGL, possibly lower, and for some of those jumps they didn't even wear reserve chutes, knowing that they would be useless. A couple of oscillations after main canopy deployment, then the PLF.
A much better man than me, Gunga Din, I was jumping with typical 60 second freefalls, pull at 3K AGL, with a square steerable chute, plenty of time to deploy a reserve, and on a good day a stand up landing.
A much better man than me, Gunga Din, I was jumping with typical 60 second freefalls, pull at 3K AGL, with a square steerable chute, plenty of time to deploy a reserve, and on a good day a stand up landing.
Attachments
A throwback here. Middle of the Delta, out west towards the Cambodian border, next to the Plane of Reeds. One of those places I would spend some time at; as usual, lethargic local South Vietnamese troops. Mostly would spend their day drowsy and sleeping, but it was pretty hot. But one would think if I, from the US, could work in it, they, having spent their entire life in that climate would have been able to muster more enthusiasm and energy than they seemed to be able to accomplish. As usual, it aways comes down to leadership. They never patrolled, or went out on any nitetime ambush OP's. And for sure, the local VC were out and about in the dark hours, collecting taxes and commandeering food from the cowed local people.
This wire looks like a formidable obstacle for any assaulting VC, but their sappers were the best in the world and could get thru anything. Wear almost nothing, to avoid being hung up in the wire. Even the flag hangs limply. Representing their impotence.
I am sure a year later, when the country fell in a matter of weeks (like the Afghan collapse last month) these troops threw away their weapons and changed into local garb, and ran for their lives.
A purely defensive strategy never wins wars. You have to take the battle to the enemy, and make him respond to you, and not just react to what your foe is doing.
Finished my porch work, so will take the day off tomorrow, maybe walk on the beach if the rain holds off. Wife will be joining me in a few days. Need to wash my Alfa Romeo.
All the best.... NAM VET
This wire looks like a formidable obstacle for any assaulting VC, but their sappers were the best in the world and could get thru anything. Wear almost nothing, to avoid being hung up in the wire. Even the flag hangs limply. Representing their impotence.
I am sure a year later, when the country fell in a matter of weeks (like the Afghan collapse last month) these troops threw away their weapons and changed into local garb, and ran for their lives.
A purely defensive strategy never wins wars. You have to take the battle to the enemy, and make him respond to you, and not just react to what your foe is doing.
Finished my porch work, so will take the day off tomorrow, maybe walk on the beach if the rain holds off. Wife will be joining me in a few days. Need to wash my Alfa Romeo.
All the best.... NAM VET
LoboGunLeather
US Veteran
Parachute jumping is an intense experience, and military jumps can be particularly stressful. The intended purpose is to deploy the entire contingent of soldiers onto the drop zone very quickly in order to achieve a concentrated force on the ground as rapidly as possible. There is very little comparison to sport parachuting in which the object is to enjoy the experience.
The aircraft typically used for airborne assault operations are usually cargo planes, unarmed, relatively slow, and flying at altitudes below any requirement for supplemental oxygen. There are two "jump doors" located toward the rear of the cargo areas, one on each side of the aircraft. The paratroopers (or trainees) are arranged in "sticks", typically about 25 or so along each side of the plane, sitting in folding web seats for the trip. On approach to the designated drop zone there will be a warning order conveyed with a shout and hand signals, typically indicating six minutes until the jump is to begin.
The next command (again with hand signals) is "stand up", and the lines of soldiers rise from the web seats. Remember that the aircraft is maneuvering to maintain a direct approach, and the winds aloft and atmospheric conditions may affect anyone's abilities to stand easily. Having a full body harness for the parachute, the parachute pack on the back, a reserve parachute at the belly area, an equipment bag attached to the harness around knee level, and your weapon slung securely (usually about 60 lbs. or so of gear), none of these things make it any easier, and you are always in close contact with others in a moving airplane.
The next command is "hook up", the hand signal indicating the need to connect your static line to the overhead cable.
That is followed by "check equipment". Each soldier will visually and manually check his buddy's gear, physically yanking and tugging at every part of the harness, face to face, then on the back. Assuming everything is right, there will be a slap on the shoulder. Then everyone faces to the rear of the plane holding onto the static line clipped overhead and in close contact throughout the line.
On final approach the jumpmaster will announce "stand in the door". The first soldier in line (traditionally the more senior personnel, platoon sergeants and/or platoon commanders) will step to the jump door, grip the opening with both hands and prepare to leap forward into the slipstream of air passing the fuselage (perhaps 90MPH or more).
On command of the (hopefully well-experienced) pilot, the command will be given to "GO" with a strong slap on the shoulder. The first guy in line will throw himself out into the slipstream and the next man will stand in the door.
That will continue at a rate of about one soldier out the door every couple of seconds until the entire stick is in the air, then the jumpmaster will follow as the last jumper.
The primary objects of the exercise are to deploy the entire contingent very quickly, usually under a minute for 25 to 27 men on each side of the aircraft to go out the door. It is important that everyone remain in close proximity to each other, rather than to have people widely scattered on the drop zone. A concentrated and cohesive team on the ground is the immediate goal.
Combat jumps are done at the lowest possible altitude, given weather conditions and terrain. No one wants to be riding a parachute too long while entering an area inhabited by other folks who don't want uninvited guests, and have weapons to make a contest of the situation. At minimum altitudes the actual time from exiting the airplane until on the ground can be as short as 30 seconds or so, perhaps a minute. Definitely not a long, lazy, enjoyable ride down as might be the case in sport parachuting.
Leaving the aircraft and entering the slipstream is an experience commonly referred to as "prop blast". The moving air (actually the aircraft and human bodies moving through the air) is a physical force that slams you, and can twist your body, tumble your body, and completely disorient the mind. As this happens your static line is engaging, then ripping open the pack around your parachute and deploying the canopy. As the canopy opens there is a sudden braking effect, filling with air and quickly dragging the jumper from 90 or 100MPH forward velocity to about zero forward velocity. Always best to have your harness properly and snugly adjusted, particularly the two web straps passing around the groin area, as all those forces are suddenly applied to the body.
Very quickly you find yourself transitioning from a very loud aircraft and high velocity blasting air into a much quieter and more peaceful atmosphere. The noise of the airplane moves away very quickly. There may be some sense of motion from swaying back and forth under your canopy, and as you look down there is a definite sense of downward velocity as the ground is quickly coming up at you.
The old T-10 parachute is not a sport model. Very little controlled steering. It is possible to pull downward on one side of the suspension harness and induce a bit of spiral effect that (hopefully) keeps you headed toward a nice place to land, or away from ugly terrain features you might hope to avoid. Maybe. Never hurts to try!
As the ground reaches up to reclaim you there is plenty to think about. Your equipment bag is attached at waist level with a release to drop it free on a strap (about 15 or 20 feet long, IIRC); let it go too soon and it will drop to the end and yank hard on your harness, potentially affecting your body position as you make your final approach to the ground. Ideally, release it to fall directly to the ground without distraction or disorientation.
Then it is all about feet and legs together, knees flexed to absorb the impact, and the tuck and roll in whichever direction is required by ground wind or oscillation in your harness under the canopy. As soon as your weight leaves the harness the canopy should quickly collapse, but may just as easily capture any ground breeze with enough energy to drag you over the ground. That is when the quick-release feature of the harness is needed, a simple connection at about center chest area that can be struck with one hand to disengage the four primary straps of the harness and release you from the contraption. Grabbing one of the risers will cause the canopy to deflate and fall to the ground, then it can be bundled and rolled up for recovery.
There you are! Quick and easy! What could possibly go wrong? Sure, you might end up in a tree, or you might break and ankle or slam your tailbone hard enough to cause a compression fracture in the lumbar spine, but hardly anybody ever breaks his neck or ends up in a power line.
It seems that I overlooked the possibility of leaving the aircraft and mentally counting out the 4 seconds that usually allow the parachute to deploy, then not experiencing the joy of full canopy inflation. At that point the human body would essentially be in free-fall mode, rapidly accelerating toward Mother Earth. Time to engage the reserve parachute, a much smaller unit mounted about belly height with a handy D-shaped ripcord to tear open the pack and (hopefully) deploy a little 15-foot mini-parachute intended to slow you down enough for the ambulance to find you easily on the ground. That is, if your thinker continues to function after the shock of not having a functioning primary parachute!
Interesting memories:
1. Primary parachute deployed as expected, but accompanied by a loud cracking sound. Looked up and saw that one panel of the parachute had ripped open from bottom to top. This allowed air to escape and caused both a more rapid speed to the ground and a wide spiraling path. Bit of a hard landing with less than optimal control. (Parachutes are not "single use items", they are reused many times).
2. Watched two other guys converge, one directly over the other. This caused the upper parachute to lose inflation and the soldier ended up on the canopy of the other guy beneath him. He had the presence of mind to pull himself off the side, dropping away, and both guys landed safely. Enough altitude to make it work, that time anyway.
3. One trainee exited the aircraft on command, tumbled in the prop blast, then found his head and helmet stuck in the apex of the next guy's inflating parachute. Then his own chute inflated, yanked him clear, somehow tore the helmet from his head without breaking his neck.
4. Parachute riggers hangar at Fort Benning, where the riggers packed each parachute on long work tables, hundreds of rubber bands to contain all the suspension lines, and sewing each pack shut to allow it to rip open as the static line pulled the parachute out. Over the big doors was a banner announcing "IF IT DOESN'T WORK BRING IT BACK".
Enough old memories for one night.
The aircraft typically used for airborne assault operations are usually cargo planes, unarmed, relatively slow, and flying at altitudes below any requirement for supplemental oxygen. There are two "jump doors" located toward the rear of the cargo areas, one on each side of the aircraft. The paratroopers (or trainees) are arranged in "sticks", typically about 25 or so along each side of the plane, sitting in folding web seats for the trip. On approach to the designated drop zone there will be a warning order conveyed with a shout and hand signals, typically indicating six minutes until the jump is to begin.
The next command (again with hand signals) is "stand up", and the lines of soldiers rise from the web seats. Remember that the aircraft is maneuvering to maintain a direct approach, and the winds aloft and atmospheric conditions may affect anyone's abilities to stand easily. Having a full body harness for the parachute, the parachute pack on the back, a reserve parachute at the belly area, an equipment bag attached to the harness around knee level, and your weapon slung securely (usually about 60 lbs. or so of gear), none of these things make it any easier, and you are always in close contact with others in a moving airplane.
The next command is "hook up", the hand signal indicating the need to connect your static line to the overhead cable.
That is followed by "check equipment". Each soldier will visually and manually check his buddy's gear, physically yanking and tugging at every part of the harness, face to face, then on the back. Assuming everything is right, there will be a slap on the shoulder. Then everyone faces to the rear of the plane holding onto the static line clipped overhead and in close contact throughout the line.
On final approach the jumpmaster will announce "stand in the door". The first soldier in line (traditionally the more senior personnel, platoon sergeants and/or platoon commanders) will step to the jump door, grip the opening with both hands and prepare to leap forward into the slipstream of air passing the fuselage (perhaps 90MPH or more).
On command of the (hopefully well-experienced) pilot, the command will be given to "GO" with a strong slap on the shoulder. The first guy in line will throw himself out into the slipstream and the next man will stand in the door.
That will continue at a rate of about one soldier out the door every couple of seconds until the entire stick is in the air, then the jumpmaster will follow as the last jumper.
The primary objects of the exercise are to deploy the entire contingent very quickly, usually under a minute for 25 to 27 men on each side of the aircraft to go out the door. It is important that everyone remain in close proximity to each other, rather than to have people widely scattered on the drop zone. A concentrated and cohesive team on the ground is the immediate goal.
Combat jumps are done at the lowest possible altitude, given weather conditions and terrain. No one wants to be riding a parachute too long while entering an area inhabited by other folks who don't want uninvited guests, and have weapons to make a contest of the situation. At minimum altitudes the actual time from exiting the airplane until on the ground can be as short as 30 seconds or so, perhaps a minute. Definitely not a long, lazy, enjoyable ride down as might be the case in sport parachuting.
Leaving the aircraft and entering the slipstream is an experience commonly referred to as "prop blast". The moving air (actually the aircraft and human bodies moving through the air) is a physical force that slams you, and can twist your body, tumble your body, and completely disorient the mind. As this happens your static line is engaging, then ripping open the pack around your parachute and deploying the canopy. As the canopy opens there is a sudden braking effect, filling with air and quickly dragging the jumper from 90 or 100MPH forward velocity to about zero forward velocity. Always best to have your harness properly and snugly adjusted, particularly the two web straps passing around the groin area, as all those forces are suddenly applied to the body.
Very quickly you find yourself transitioning from a very loud aircraft and high velocity blasting air into a much quieter and more peaceful atmosphere. The noise of the airplane moves away very quickly. There may be some sense of motion from swaying back and forth under your canopy, and as you look down there is a definite sense of downward velocity as the ground is quickly coming up at you.
The old T-10 parachute is not a sport model. Very little controlled steering. It is possible to pull downward on one side of the suspension harness and induce a bit of spiral effect that (hopefully) keeps you headed toward a nice place to land, or away from ugly terrain features you might hope to avoid. Maybe. Never hurts to try!
As the ground reaches up to reclaim you there is plenty to think about. Your equipment bag is attached at waist level with a release to drop it free on a strap (about 15 or 20 feet long, IIRC); let it go too soon and it will drop to the end and yank hard on your harness, potentially affecting your body position as you make your final approach to the ground. Ideally, release it to fall directly to the ground without distraction or disorientation.
Then it is all about feet and legs together, knees flexed to absorb the impact, and the tuck and roll in whichever direction is required by ground wind or oscillation in your harness under the canopy. As soon as your weight leaves the harness the canopy should quickly collapse, but may just as easily capture any ground breeze with enough energy to drag you over the ground. That is when the quick-release feature of the harness is needed, a simple connection at about center chest area that can be struck with one hand to disengage the four primary straps of the harness and release you from the contraption. Grabbing one of the risers will cause the canopy to deflate and fall to the ground, then it can be bundled and rolled up for recovery.
There you are! Quick and easy! What could possibly go wrong? Sure, you might end up in a tree, or you might break and ankle or slam your tailbone hard enough to cause a compression fracture in the lumbar spine, but hardly anybody ever breaks his neck or ends up in a power line.
It seems that I overlooked the possibility of leaving the aircraft and mentally counting out the 4 seconds that usually allow the parachute to deploy, then not experiencing the joy of full canopy inflation. At that point the human body would essentially be in free-fall mode, rapidly accelerating toward Mother Earth. Time to engage the reserve parachute, a much smaller unit mounted about belly height with a handy D-shaped ripcord to tear open the pack and (hopefully) deploy a little 15-foot mini-parachute intended to slow you down enough for the ambulance to find you easily on the ground. That is, if your thinker continues to function after the shock of not having a functioning primary parachute!
Interesting memories:
1. Primary parachute deployed as expected, but accompanied by a loud cracking sound. Looked up and saw that one panel of the parachute had ripped open from bottom to top. This allowed air to escape and caused both a more rapid speed to the ground and a wide spiraling path. Bit of a hard landing with less than optimal control. (Parachutes are not "single use items", they are reused many times).
2. Watched two other guys converge, one directly over the other. This caused the upper parachute to lose inflation and the soldier ended up on the canopy of the other guy beneath him. He had the presence of mind to pull himself off the side, dropping away, and both guys landed safely. Enough altitude to make it work, that time anyway.
3. One trainee exited the aircraft on command, tumbled in the prop blast, then found his head and helmet stuck in the apex of the next guy's inflating parachute. Then his own chute inflated, yanked him clear, somehow tore the helmet from his head without breaking his neck.
4. Parachute riggers hangar at Fort Benning, where the riggers packed each parachute on long work tables, hundreds of rubber bands to contain all the suspension lines, and sewing each pack shut to allow it to rip open as the static line pulled the parachute out. Over the big doors was a banner announcing "IF IT DOESN'T WORK BRING IT BACK".
Enough old memories for one night.
