Combat Control pipeline: Airborne school experience ( book series)

The following post is from a book I'm hoping to have complete soon.  It contains experiences from the Combat Control pipeline.  The is about my first experience at Army Airborne school at Fort Benning, near Columbus, GA.

From- The Spaces in Between ( a self published Novel)

 Fort Benning Army Base, near Columbus Georgia, was hot and humid in the summer, just like Tennessee. Back then, it was the only place the U.S. military sent personnel to learn the art of static line jumping.  The terrain was familiar to me.  With the red clay and tall Georgia pine trees all around the base, it was more normal to me than the Texas landscape.  The fragrant smell of the pine trees instantly brought me back to visiting my grandparents near Charleston, South Carolina.  It felt kind of nice to be back in familiar territory, even though I wasn’t looking forward to the training.

   It was the first time in my short military career that I'd stepped foot on an Army base.The barracks in the Air Force were not that nice, comparable to a college dorm room, but the Army barracks were a shit hole.   The rooms did not even have doors on them.  The buildings on the base seemed about 30 years older than the Air Force’s.

     

I heard the C-130s flying around all day, with its distinct roar, all day long.  Different classes were jumping everyday. I'd see all the circular green chutes floating down to the ground from a 1000 ft. static line jump, and the C- 130 flying away.   This base mainly trained the Airborne division of the Army, which included rangers, but there were special ops members mixed into the classes.

I learned quickly that mixing special ops guys into the same class with the Army infantry guys, many who just graduated basic training, made for an interesting experience. Many groups, like the Navy SEALS, had already graduated most of their training, but they were treated like the basic Army infantry guys. It was not different for the PJs or Combat Controllers in the group.

     

Static line jumping was very dangerous compared to the HALO jumps we would do later on in the pipeline.  The parachutes, called T-10 D parachutes, were a very thin material in a circular shape, green in color.  It was what the army used to get troops on the ground fast in World War II and still used today.  The parachutes were very basic and unable to steer or control.  If you really needed to change the direction of the landing path, grasping one side of the lines and slowly pulling down, like climbing a rope, would angle the chute and hopefully change the path slightly.  It was called “pulling a slip”.  Pulling a slip meant you were heading for danger like power lines, trees, or other jumpers.

     

The course was 4 weeks long.  The first three weeks were spent standing around in the heat learning how to do a parachute landing fall or PLF.  Because the chutes were thin, and the purpose of static line jumping was to get on the ground fast from a low altitude jump, the jumper fell at a rate of twenty feet per second.  This meant landing would not be a soft landing standing up.  It was a fall to the ground.  Landing on one leg, meant it would break.  This was why I heard of so many guys with pins in their legs.  It was easy to break a bone.  It happened every class.

    

 Unlike HALO or traditional skydiving where the jumper pulls the ripcord, our parachutes were hooked to a long cable in the plane by a long strap.  The strap is connected to a long metal cable that ran through the center of the C 130.    When the jumper exited the plane, the strap immediately pulled the chute open.  It was every bit as dangerous as it seemed.

     

In order to land properly and safely, we practice the PLFs for an entire week.  It was a long and tedious time starting on small blocks; we jumped off of them hundreds of times.  Although we were shown a proper PLF move, it was hard to do while not falling through the air.  From a standing position, we fell to our side, pulling arms in tight, feet and knees together, rolling to the side of legs, side of the back, and followed through until our few were in the air.  It made sense, but I heard it usually went feet, ass, and then head.  We heard from the beginning of the course, until we stood at the opening at the side of the plane staring at the ground moving beneath us,” keep your feet and knees together, and don’t look down!” 

     

The first three weeks were not too exciting, but it was interesting to see the quick process of teaching guys to fall out of an airplane.  We would progress from the ground, to jumping off blocks, to higher blocks to a mock plane at ground level, learning how to exit the plane.  Then moved to a  mock plane in the air with a cable out the side.  We exited the plane and rode the cable like a zip line.  In a way it was like an amusement park.  We stood around in line, sometimes for hours, and took a ride down a zipline several times.  I wasn’t afraid of heights, but the mock plane was about 50 feet in the air, making me a little nervous.

     

I heard from trainees ahead of me in the pipeline, that Airborne and Survival school were a joke and very easy.  The airborne instructors, called “blackhats”, treated the physical training like it was difficult. 

The black hats mostly dealt with army infantry, so they tried to be intimidating making the runs hard, and calisthenics difficult.  They wanted airborne school to be special; it may have been for the army guys.  For us three Combat Controllers, and fifteen Navy SEALs attending the course,it was a joke.  We needed the five jumps to move onto bigger and better things.  

     

After going through the “ gut check” at Lackland, AFB, airborne physical training ( PT) was a breeze  We stood out from the infantry guys with our clothes.  During the physical training exercises, we wore our brown shirts, short black shorts, and low cut socks, like the Navy SEALs. The one Marine Recon guy wore the same shorts, but his T-shirt was green.  The army guys had on gray shirts, long blue shorts, and tall white socks. There must have been over 50 of them in our class. 

     

  We were our own community, and for the most part were left alone by the Airborne instructors ( black hats) screaming at people during PT sessions and runs.

     

     “ You guys CCT?”, asked one of the SEALs, on one of our first PT sessions.

     “ Hooyah”, we responded.  Hooyah meant a lot of things in the special ops community.  Yes, no, maybe, or anything else, when used in the right context.

     “ Fuck yeah!”, he said. It felt like were instantly a part of their group, which was good because there were 15 of them, and they certainly had no problem keeping the attention away from me. They treated the entire course like a joke. I understood why.

      

     All the SEALs looked about the same.  None of them looked weak. They did not look superhuman, but there was an inner strength possessed by every one of them.  An inner strength we were already developing.  Many had the same short stocky build as myself, but a few were taller and skinnier.

      

On a long slow boring run before the even more boring day of learning to fall, we ran in a group formation during our morning PT session.  We sang different songs than I’d learned as a CONE.  I liked the Airborne songs the blackhat sang as we trotted along.

     He sang and we repeated: “ From the East!”

“From the East!

“To the West!”

“To the West!”

“ Whoooo, Haaaaa!”

 “Whoooo, Haaaaa!”

 “Aiiirboooorne!”

 “Aiiiiirbooorne”!

 I looked up to see one of the SEALs running backwards holding his groin with one hand, and the other in the air like Micheal Jackson.

       

“ Hey fucking Navy!”, the black hat shouted glaring at the guy.  The instructor was a short, pudgy guy wearing his black hat proudly.

       Without being asked, the SEAL dropped down and did what must have been 50 push ups.  

       We ran away from him, I wondered when he would stop.  

     

 “ Hurry up!” was all the black hat could manage to yell.

    

 Some of the army guys were getting winded on the run.  They took the opportunity to stop and watch the SEAL doing push ups.  As I zig zagged to run slow enough for the pace I heard,  “ Get in line Navy!” To the back hats, we were all Navy SEALs. They probably had no idea what a Combat Controller was. 

     

     In the early morning hours the day of our first jump, we formed up to put on our parachutes, and be inspected by the jump masters.  Arms on my head, I spun around as my equipment was fully inspected.  I was feeling very nervous that morning.  The day I could not imagine when I first joined the Air Force was here.  I was going to jump out of an airplane.  Would I be able to do it?

      

In the formation, the black hats gave us a briefing about the jump.  “ Everyone will exit the aircraft!”  If you freeze up or are too scared, we will throw you out!”, the back hat shouted.

     If I got on the plane, I was going to exit.  I looked around at the SEALs and the other CCT teammates. They seemed fine.  If they were scared, they were hiding it well.  

     

As we boarded the C-130 on the tarmac, I had a strange feeling my brain was trying to work out.  I was boarding a plane I would not land with.  Minutes from the time of boarding, I would face one of the biggest fears of my life.  At least I would not be the first one out of the door.  I was in the middle of the line.  Being first would have been terrifying the first time.  We all did a shuffle into the plane with our chutes on.  We walked up the back ramp of the C130.  It’s engines were running and the distinct roar was loud as I entered the inside.

     

There were benches on both sides of the aircraft we would squeeze into tightly.  It was a military aircraft, so it was bare bones inside.  An empty fuselage like the inside of a semi trailer,aside from red cargo nets. 

      

I heard the four C-130 engines rev high as the plane lifted off the ground.  There were no windows, so I just looked around at everyone else on the bench across from me.  Some stared straight ahead, some had their eyes closed.  A few of the SEALs looked like they were already sleeping.  Most of the Army guys looked terrified.  I wondered how I looked.  I held onto my green reserve chute strapped in front of me and hoped I wouldn’t have to use it.

           

The sound of the back side door opening was loud.  The daylight lit up the dim fuselage.  I peeked around at the guys sitting on the rows of benches.  I could see the nervousness in their eyes.  Even the SEALs looked a little intimidated.  My heart was beginning to race as I heard the jump master yell, “ 10 minutes!”  His voice was so faint, I had to read his lips.

     I was too far back to see out of the side door, which was good, I could barely stand as the jump master yelled, “ 5 minutes”.  I stood and hooked the static line to the metal cable running above my head down the center of the aircraft.  There was a light system that looked like a traffic light, on the side of the plane.  It was red.  

  I was staring at the back of the guy’s helmet in front of me.  The loud noise of the door being open and the engines was deafening.  Jumping out of a plane was in the back of my mind since I read the brochure in the recruiter’s office.  It was about to happen.  I had a feeling of fear, excitement, and an uneasy feeling of forcing my body to do something that felt completely wrong.  I looked for the green light.  

     I was finally calming down.  Heart rate felt good.  I was gonna be okay.  

     

“ Go!”, the jump master screamed.  I saw the light turn green.  There was movement in the line in front of me.  The airborne shuffle was beginning.  The shuffle was exactly that.  One foot in front of the other with little shuffle steps. I felt like we did the Airborne shuffle on the long boring PT runs.

I saw people going out the door.  I saw the jump master screaming.  I was getting closer.  The sound of the windy doorway and engines was becoming super loud.  I saw the ground, 1000 feet below, and it rushed by.  The pine trees looked like toys.

    

 I made the turn to the doorway and stared at my feet, but I caught a glimpse of the red clay and pine trees moving swiftly below the aircraft.  I looked back down at my feet and jumped out of the doorway. I wanted to yell.  It sounded like I jumped into a hurricane. The wind noise from the props, and speed of the aircraft was overtaking my mind.  My eyes were closed.  I felt the tug of the static line pull the parachute.  In a few seconds, I heard the sound of the C 130 flying away.  I was floating down to the Earth.  I looked around at the other jumpers.  They were everywhere.  We invaded the sky.  I heard the faint sound of someone yelling through a bullhorn.  I could see the instructors standing in the field yelling at the jumpers coming down.  

     “ Keep your feet and knees together!  Look at the horizon!  DO NOT look down!”, the back hat screamed through his bullhorn. It was the same thing repeated to us over 1000 times in the class. Keep your feet and knees together, I repeated in my head. Look at the horizon! Don't look down!

       I saw the ground coming fast. We fell at a rate of 20 feet per second. This is stupid!, I thought. I prepared for the landing.

  “ Keep your feet and knees together!" ,the bullhorn blared. I began to squeeze my knees together as tight as I could and braced for the impact. I closed my eyes and saw all the green chutes I saw while floating down seconds before. BAM! I hit and rolled to the ground; I was surprised how hard I hit.  But, I was okay.  That is all I gave a shit about. I didn’t move.  I felt an intense exhaustion overtake me.  The adrenaline rush was over, as I felt a slight hint of nausea.  I stared at the sky as I listened to the screaming through the bull horns.  “ Keep your feet and knees together!”

      

All five required jumps were done on the same afternoon.  There was no time to reflect on my first experience.  I had a few minutes to drink some water before we were getting our parachutes inspected again by the jump master for our second jump.      

     

The second time going up was scarier than the first because I knew what to expect.  I knew what the fear felt like seeing the ground below the aircraft as I threw myself out of the door.  As the plane lifted off again, I thought it was happening too fast.  It did not register yet that I’d made my first jump out of an aircraft.  In the military, especially special ops, training moves very quickly, like a fire hose of information coming.  I tried to grasp all I could.  All I really had to do was jump out of the airplane, keep my knees and feet together, and of course, don’t look down.

     

I heard discussion about the winds before we lifted off for the second jump.  If the winds were above a certain velocity, no jumps were supposed to happen.  Things could get ugly, especially with new jumpers, if the wind picked up.  I was hoping the jumps would be cancelled for the day, so I could slow the course down because five jumps seemed like too many for one day.  But, we boarded the plane again, and I hoped for the best.  

     

The door opened once again, and I heard the jump master shout, “ 5 minutes!”  I waited during the longest 5 minutes of my life, once again.  The light turned green and the airborne shuffle began.  I saw the

first few go flying out of the door.  The light turned red as I shuffled toward the open door.  I saw the jump master waving his arms, and I tried to read his lips. 

“ Too windy!” the guy in front of me shouted. 

I breathed a sigh of relief.  I saw the jump master intensely gazing out of the door with a serious look on his face.  Not the day to jump.  I was already planning on what I’d do that night.  I wanted to go out and drink.  I wanted a strong beer buzz at some old smoky bar.    

     “ Go!”, I faintly heard a shout from the jump master.  It was so faint, I only knew I heard it after the line was moving again. 

“ What the fuck?”, was all I could think.  The Airborne shuffle was in full swing, and I was going out the door.  Like when I went upside down on a swing as a child, I tucked my chin in and grunted as I looked out the door at the moving ground.  I hesitated for a split second, but I jumped out letting out a “Goddammit!”, just above conversation level.  

I heard the sound of wind, like sticking my head out of a moving car, then a tug as my chute pulled.  I heard the bullhorn, but this time the voice sounded much more urgent.  There were guys landing just beside the woods that bordered the jump zone.  I looked down and I was overflying the woods.  “ Oh shit!”, I said out loud.  I knew from the rumors, landing in a tree was bad. 

I pulled a slip, but I felt like nothing happened.  I tried again, pulling on the straps below the chute. I pulled and pulled.  The trees were coming fast. The dreadful thought sank in that I would land in the trees.  I did not have time to panic or think about what to do.  The tops of the pines were almost at my feet.  

     

Landing on a tree was going to happen.  I was still in disbelief as I crashed through the top of a pine tree.I felt scratches through my BDU pant leg, the pain was almost nonexistent because of the adrenaline surge.  Once through the top part of the pine tree, my heart sank.  There were no more limbs toward the bottom of the tree.  I was falling, but my chute was catching the limbs at the top to slow the fall a little.  I forgot what I was taught;  I was falling like a crash test dummy toward the ground.  I was looking down as my left foot hit the ground before the right.  I heard a tiny pop, but because of the adrenaline, I thought maybe I was alright. 

     I was on my back, and I stayed on the ground for a minute.  The sound of bullhorns and the airplane in the distance.  I felt nauseous from pain setting in on my scraped leg and the twisted ankle.  I got up to run back to the drop zone, but I was limping.  I emerged from the forest on that sunny afternoon, which may have been my last training exercise of the pipeline. Something was wrong.  I kept running as fast as I could.  My heart was sinking.  If the fight on Easter Sunday did not end my hopes, that injury could have ended my career as a CONE.

     I heard a shout from a bullhorn, “ Hey Air Force, are you hurt?”  That time he knew I was Air Force because of my BDU uniform.

    

 I just kept looking down and shouted “ Negative Sergeant!”

    

 I limped through the open field of the drop zone in a panic,  and saw another jumper try to PLF on the ambulance driving around.  I heard some laughter from the black hats, but it turned to concern as he looked like a dummy falling to the ground.  I may have found it funny, but at the time, I thought Airborne school was pure bullshit. 

      

When I arrived at the area where all the other jumpers were telling their stories of excitement from their last jump, taking off their equipment and laughing, the medical personnel saw me sitting on the grass and walked over. 

     “Take off your boot, Air Force”, a young man in Army BDUs said.

 

 I did as instructed and pulled my boot off.  My ankle began to swell up before my eyes.  I almost cried.  I hate being injured and immobile.  But, the fact that I could be removed from training, made me want to crawl into a hole and hide.  I was off to see the Army doctors at Fort Benning.

The result of my fall was a broken tibia. Well, actually just a hairline fracture, but I knew I couldn't train for a while. I'd have to fly back to San Antonia to figure out my fate. I planned for the worst, a medical disqualification. My mood began to sink lower, as I sat alone in the old Army hospital alone with my thoughts.