1989, A quite corner of England was about to be rocked with the rumble of 700 Paratroopers decending at 20ft per second from the night sky above.
Preparation began the day before. A bustling nest of activity far from the Drop Zone (DZ). Strapping, fitting and checking equipment. Preparation being key!
The day was hot, dusty and dry. My 95lb bergan was heavy, on the limit of safety for my parachute. I led the way to the C130 Mk 3 and was to be first out of the aircraft. Port Side. 45 personnel per side.
We stacked our bergans and boarded the aircraft...
It was to be a BIG jump, 8 aircraft, 90 troops per aircraft (side doors) and ammunition pallet (back ramp).
Sat there interlinking legs with the guy opposite, crammed into the airframe, we took off with so much accelleration, the only thing stopping you sliding down the aircraft was the person next to you and your seatbelt.
7 hours of rollercoaster style Low-Level flying lay ahead.
An hour before P-Hour (Parachute Hour) the bergans were distributed.
P Hour -40 mins the order to 'STAND UP & FIT - EQUIPMENT' was given out...
Guys were vomiting, the lights switched to RED for night vision preservation and the air grew HOT with anticipation.
The seats were folded out of the way... I attached my bergan. Fitted my reserve parachute, stood up and hooked myself onto the aircraft Jump wire.
P Hour -20 mins, the order 'CHECK EQUIPMENT' was shouted. This is it, my last chance to check myself over. The aircraft was banking violently at low altitude. Standing began to ache!
P Hour - 10 mins - 'ACTION - STATIONS' was given. Doors were open and we shuffled our way to the door.
The cool wind rushing into the aircraft was a welcoming refresher. As i stood in the door, staring out into the blackness of night, I was about to plunge into a void of faith. I looked to my left and out of the back ramp i could see a convoy of C-130's following closely behind. All about to carry out the same actions.
THIS IS IT! Pulse rising . . . . . Waiting for the GREEN LIGHT . . . . . Waiting . . . .Waiting . . . . .
The RED light illuminated, the scream of 'RED-ON' was broadcast and with a loud roaring / rushing sound, the large ammunition pallet on the back ramp was released.....
I knew then, I had around 5 seconds to go. The Green 'Jump-light' came on. GO!
I THREW myself out into the blackness and rode the 125 knot slip-stream into oblivion whilst releasing a roaring cry of defiance shout and listened to my canopy 'pop' open around 3 seconds later... relief! My bergan was released and I carried out my well rehearsed procedures... There were guys all around me. Muffled shouting rang into the air - 'STEER AWAY', 'WATCH OUT' and so on.
I could just about make out my drift. As i dipped below the horizon everything went really dark and i prepared myself for landing. I reckon it was gonna be a 'front-right'. Reduced my drift, compensated my feet and again, waited for the ground to hit me at 20 ft per second.
BANG - My feet slammed into the soft ground and i rolled... TOUCH-DOWN!
It must have been 5 minutes before silence decended upon that long stretch of moorland that night...
There were 40 casualties, mostly ankle related, one broken pelvis and a couple of leg fractures.
Dawn was just about to break. The 5 day exercise had begun.
This is the story behind the picture below, taken that morning.....
Knowledge Dispels Fear