Bill left the headquarters building with a heavy load on his mind. As
far as he could see, he had put himself in such a position that he had
to make that parachute jump. He went to the supply building and found
Sergeant Ruhs. Several parachutes were spread out on the floor and
Ruhs was inspecting them.
“Sergeant, you never told me that we had received those parachutes,”
said Bill.
“No, sir, I didn’t,” replied the parachute sergeant. “They came while
you were down at Roseburg.”
“How many are there?” asked Bill.
“Enough to equip each plane with two and then have several for
reserve,” replied Ruhs.
“Are they standard articles of issue now?”
“Regulations will soon come out requiring all Army pilots to put on a
parachute for every flight,” replied Ruhs. “The orders will be very
strict about it. As soon as the orders arrive, all pilots and
observers will have to wear them every time they go up.”
“How can a pilot get into his plane and handle his controls with one
of those bulky things strapped to his back?” asked Bill, whose idea of
parachutes was limited to the large, bulky balloon type chutes.
“You evidently haven’t seen the latest model,” said the Sergeant.
“This new type is called the seat pack. You sit on it in the plane
just the same as you would a cushion. The straps fit over the
shoulders just snug enough to operate satisfactorily, but not so tight
as to be uncomfortable.”
“Well, I might as well break the sad news to you,” said Bill. “I
volunteered to jump from a plane during the demonstration tomorrow.
Tell me all that I must know beforehand.”
“I am sorry that you volunteered, Lieutenant,” replied Ruhs. “I was
hoping to have that pleasure myself.”
Bill looked at the Sergeant in surprise. Ruhs had intimated that it
would be a pleasure to jump from a plane.
“Have you ever jumped?” asked Bill.
“Several times,” replied Ruhs. “I rather like the sensation and take a
jump at every opportunity.”
That statement changed everything for Bill. He would jump now to get
the experience. If he had to wear a chute on all flights, he ought to
know how to use it. Some day something might happen to the plane and
he would have to jump. That being the case, he might as well eliminate
all tendencies of hesitating to jump from the plane right now and not
wait until circumstances made an immediate jump imperative.
“Tell me what I have to do, then,” said Bill.
The parachute Sergeant picked up a parachute and arranged it so that
the pack was suspended from Bill’s back.
“This is a back type,” said Ruhs. “When you jump tomorrow you will
have two chutes on, a back pack and a lap pack. That is to insure that
at least one will open. While we have never had a failure, it is
always well to be prepared for the unforeseen. These chutes are
training type. That is, they are much larger than the service packs.
The larger area gives a greater supporting surface and you will not
hit the ground so hard. You can open both of them as you drop if you
wish.”
“How hard do you hit the ground with one of these?” asked Bill.
“With the service type, it is about the same as jumping from a
fifteen-foot wall. With the training type, the falling speed is much
slower.”
By this time Bill had both chutes strapped to him. One pack was on his
back and the other hanging down in front of him.
“Now what do I do when I want to jump?” he asked.
“Climb over the side of the plane and count three. By that time you
will have cleared the wings, tail surfaces and landing gear. Then pull
this ring. The parachute will fly out and open up. The best jumpers
always bring their rings back with them.”
“How can you find that ring when you are flying through space?” asked
Bill.
“It doesn’t make much difference whether you find it right away or
not, for you will be sure to find it before you drop very far. I have
found out that even though I am falling head first, I have had no
difficulty in locating the ring.”
“Don’t you drop down feet first?” asked Bill.
“You start that way, but before you get the chute open you will have
turned quite a few somersaults in the air. The main thing is to count
three after leaving the plane, and then pull the ring far enough so
that the pins holding the pack together are entirely removed from the
lugs.”
“Is there anything more?” asked Bill.
“That’s all there is to it,” replied Ruhs.
Bill removed the chutes and started for town. If Sergeant Ruhs had
made several jumps, there was no reason why Bill shouldn’t make one
and get away with it.
Bill found that he could not concentrate on the various events which
were taking place the next morning. He was nervous about the jump in
spite of all attempts to view the matter in a matter of fact way. The
morning dragged interminably. The Governor and all the other officials
inspected the field and planes. The baseball games were played and the
trap-shooting events took place, but Bill found it hard to concentrate
on them.
There was a large crowd out at the field by the time that the luncheon
was served. The speeches were finished and the pilots started for
their planes.
“Here’s wishing you luck,” Bob Finch said to Bill.
“I am glad that I am to be the first officer in the Squadron to jump,”
replied Bill. “Some of these days some of the rest of you may have to
jump under circumstances not quite so favorable. At least I will know
how it feels.”
“I will take mine when I have to,” said Bob. “It takes nerve to jump
overboard just for the experience, and I can’t see myself doing it
now.”
The afternoon’s flying events started with the two Flights leaving the
airdrome in formation. Each was led by its Flight leader. The two
formations went through various evolutions and then joined together
into one large “V”. These planes had scarcely landed before the radio
plane went up, and Lieutenant Liggett kept the crowd interested by
telling stories, singing and giving information as to what he could
see. He talked into the radio installed in the plane, and the
monologue was repeated through the loud-speakers on the ground.
In the meantime Bill was getting his parachutes adjusted. Captain
Smith watched him for a moment and started away, only to return.
“I think that I will fly the plane from which you jump,” he said. “I
will take you up to two thousand feet and head into the wind. You must
estimate the velocity of the wind so that you will drift back to the
field after your chute opens. That shouldn’t be so hard, for the
airdrome is quite large.”
“I would be very much pleased if you would pilot the plane,” said
Bill.
“I will get the plane started now, and as soon as you get fixed up, we
will take off,” said Smith as he went away.
“Are you sure that everything is all right?” asked Bill.
“I packed these chutes this morning,” said Ruhs. “They should function
perfectly. Remember, do not pull the rip cable until after you have
counted three. When you land, bend your knees slightly so that you
will not get so much shock.”
“I’ll try and remember everything,” said Bill, and started for the
plane.
He found it rather cumbersome walking on account of the two parachutes
hanging from his shoulders and the web straps around his body. He came
up to Smith’s plane and climbed in. Everything was ready for the jump.
The day was clear, not a cloud in the sky. A slight wind was blowing
from the northwest, but not sufficient to drag Bill after he had
landed with the parachute open. There was a big crowd assembled along
the danger line in front of the plane watching the two airmen. Bill
heard the loudspeaker report: “Bill Bruce is now about to take off to
make his parachute jump. I think that Captain Smith is piloting the
plane. I can’t see who it is from here, but it looks as if the plane’s
number is ‘0’, and the Captain never allows anyone else to fly his
plane.”
Smith taxied across the airdrome and the plane was soon in the air.
They climbed until they reached the two thousand foot mark and then
Smith headed into the wind and flew toward the airdrome. Bill watched
the ground pass under the plane, but hesitated in plunging out over
the side of the cockpit. He at once realized that it took more nerve
to actually make the jump than it did to agree to make it while
standing down on the ground.
Smith throttled the engine and gave Bill the signal to jump. Bill
stood up in the cockpit and steeled himself for the ordeal. He wanted
to make sure of having that ring in his hand when he had counted
three, so he grabbed the ring before climbing out of the cockpit. He
stepped up on the seat and held onto the side of the fusilage with one
hand and the ring with his other. The hundred-mile wind made it hard
for him to retain his balance and he swayed back and forth against it.
Bill put one leg over the fusilage and the wind pressure became more
intense. It threatened to drag him back along the fusilage. In his
efforts to stay in the cockpit, he pulled the parachute ring and the
chute went out of its pack.
Fortunately Bill had one leg still in the cockpit and could retain his
grip on the plane. More fortunate still, the parachute did not open
but went out like a string and streamed straight to the rear just over
the tail surface. Bill did not know what to do next, so he stayed
right where he was.
Captain Smith was watching when Bill pulled the rip cord. He
instinctively grabbed the collar of Bill’s flying suit to help hold
him in the plane. They were now in a most perilous situation. If the
parachute now opened, it would drag both of them through the tail
surfaces and probably both would be killed. If Smith released his hold
and the chute opened, Bill would be dragged through the same surfaces
and he would be killed or severely injured. The tail surfaces would
then be so badly damaged that the plane would be uncontrollable. In
that case Smith would be out of luck, for he did not have a parachute
on.
Both Smith and Bill had the same thoughts at identically the same
time—they were in a mighty bad fix and could see no way out.