A Veteran's Journey

Trivia Questions (Answers @ end)

1. Who said, “The three best things in life are: a good landing, a good orgasm, and a good bowel movement. Landing on an aircraft carrier at night is one of the few opportunities in life where you get to experience all three simultaneously.”
2. In what movie did we hear, “I only gamble with my life, never my money.”?
3. In what song (and who sang it) did we hear the following?
   Remember the day I set you free
   I told you you could always count on me darling
   From that day on, I made a vow
   I’ll be there when you want me
   Some way, somehow

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Thanks to those who commented on my previous blog, “#54 – Westpac ’75 Carrier Aircraft Squadrons.” Several comments were spot on and reminded me of things I’d forgotten. Here’s a few more shared “memories:”

• “Some of the best days of my life. Wouldn’t have missed it for the world.”
• “I miss the A-6 Intruders and F-14 Tomcats.. the last two great aircraft the Navy flew.”
• “The good old days, how I miss them.”
• “I was on there with ya’ Andy, and the WESTPAC before that..”

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Next week’s blog will be posted on Wednesday, not my usual Tuesday. I launched “A Veteran’s Journey” a year ago on Veteran’s Day. It’s a special day for lots of reasons. I’m a Navy veteran… a proud Navy veteran.

If I had a nickel for every time I’ve said, “been there, done that,” I could probably retire. Oh wait… I am retired.

But the term, “Here, hold my beer,” is a phrase that became popular in the 90s. I had to look this up, but Dr. Google reports the comedian Jeff Foxworthy started using this phrase in his act in the 1990s.

There are so many memes on the Internet that use this catchphrase, I think we all “get it.” It was very common in the South a few years ago. Oftentimes, “Here, hold my beer” involves a “dare,” or a “one-upmanship.” I know I’ve used it many times in conversation.

But back in my Navy days, 1973-77, the phrase didn’t exist, or at least I never heard it. But I can certainly relate to some of those things I did in my younger Navy days when, “Here, hold my beer” would have been appropriate.

Let me tell you about one time… that time when I began to Skydive.

My First Jump

When I was at Florida State University at the ripe old age of 17, I took the opportunity to learn to skydive. My parents were very protective during my childhood (that wasn’t a bad thing). But at the time, I felt like I was the only kid on the entire planet that couldn’t do this or that in my earlier years.

Anyone else?

They wouldn’t let me scuba dive, though during high school I managed to sneak in a dive with a friend now and then.

They wouldn’t let me ride a motorcycle, though I had a friend who showed me how, and I borrowed his bike a few times. With all that parental protection when I was growing up, I figured it was time to test the waters now that I was out on my own.

So, I tried skydiving. I made two jumps while at FSU and thought it was the next best thing to sex, though… I wasn’t experienced at either.

I only got through my freshman year at FSU; I flunked out with a 07. G.P.A. Then I got smart and joined the Navy.

Fast forward… a few months later, after Boot Camp.

Lakehurst, NJ Skydiving Club

It just so happened that there was a skydiving club at NAS Lakehurst. I made three more jumps including my first Dummy Rip Cord Pull, or DRCP. That’s where you simulate pulling your own rip cord even though you still jump with a static line connected to the plane that (hopefully) automatically opens your parachute.

I had two thoughts floating around. One, if I had a pilot’s license, I could “trade out” flying for skydiving, since both cost about the same. I don’t remember the cost of skydiving, but it was probably around $20 per jump. I do remember when I got my pilot’s license while stationed at NAS Agana, Guam, the cost for the plane rental and the cost of the pilot instructor was about $25 per hour. So, that would be a good tradeoff.

I also thought that since I was an avid scuba diver, adding in skydiving and the Navy, there might be a possibility of becoming a Navy SEAL. Yes, that wild & crazy thought crossed my mind. However, I had torn cartilages and ligaments in one of my knees from one too many “pick up” football games. While I had these thoughts of grandeur, the reality set in—no way, no how. So that thought lasted about 1.2 seconds.

Why?

Now why would anyone jump out of a perfectly good airplane? Good question!

It is hard to explain, but once you do it, it is truly exhilarating. That can be said about a lot of things… Here, hold my beer!

On my skydiving adventures, we took off in a tiny airplane with passenger room about the size of a large can of tuna or a Honda Accord that held five people.

There’s only one seat in the plane for the pilot. The rest of us crazies are crammed in the cockpit, sitting on a flat wooden floor with both a main parachute on your back as well as a reserve chute on your chest. If you hadn’t flown in a plane that size before, it… well… it adds to the “excitement” of the experience.

The pilot takes off and continues to circle and climb until the plane reaches about 3,000 feet above the ground. That’s when he cuts the engine and the plane begins to glide.

The skydiving instructor, or Jump Master, is up front and opens the starboard door, which on this particular Cessna skydiving plane swung up and locked into position under the plane’s overhead wing.

Jump!

He tells you to grab the wing strut and step out onto the platform. You look down and ask, “What platform?” There is only an 8- by 8-inch step down there… Yeah, that’s the one. You grab the wing strut while still sitting on the floor of the plane and swing your legs out.

The plane smoothly glides through the air and the wind speed is about 70 miles per hour. Your legs get swept aside and you struggle to bring them back to that little itty-bitty platform. It’s similar to driving down the interstate at 70 miles per hour and you stick your arm out—lots of wind resistance.

Once you have a hold of the wing strut and you firmly plant your feet on that little teeny step, you then swing out and put your full weight on the step. You are now outside the plane.

The next part is easy—the instructor looks directly at you and yells, “Go!”

You look back at him and seriously ask, “Who, me?” like there’s someone else out there on that teeny-tiny platform with you.

You’re taught to first jump a little to get off the step then let go of the wing strut, all the while trying to remain spread eagled.

Fortunately, other than letting go, there is no thought process other than the occasional “Oh shit!” or “Geronimo!” depending on whether or not you had your Wheaties that morning.

Static Line Jump

During your first few training jumps, your parachute cord attaches directly to the airplane with about a 20 foot strap called a static line. When you jump, the static line pulls the main parachute open so you don’t have to worry about anything—unless of course you find yourself hosting a “Mae West” which in itself is another “Oh shit!” moment.

Let me take a moment to explain…

A Mae West is when one of the parachute cords loops over the top of the parachute, making two smaller billows, similar to what some would consider Mae West’s bra. But that rarely happens, and if it does, that’s what your reserve chute is for.

If you don’t know who Mae West is, then you don’t know what you’re missing. While you’re Googling her, also Google W.C. Fields while you’re at it. There are some hilarious YouTube videos. You’ll thank me later.

I didn’t know it at the time, but those jumps at Lakehurst, NJ would be my last ever. I have never regretted skydiving, nor do I feel like I need to do it again. It’s just one of those things you want to prove to yourself and I could add it to my growing Been There, Done That list. Or these days, “Here, hold my beer!” list.

DRCP – The Exhilaration

I made a grand total of five jumps: four were static line and one was a DRCP. I can remember that my last jump was just as exciting as my first. There was that buildup of excitement, the reality of moving into position, the “oh shit” moment, the exhilaration of floating down to earth, and the anticipation of the landing. All combined, it was one hell of a ride, no question about it.

And yes, each time I either yelled or sung a song on the way down. Why? I have no clue, but I just felt like doing it at the time. Marty Robbins, “Strawberry Roan” comes to mind.

I’ve said this before and I’ve blogged about it many times. Working on the flight deck of an aircraft carrier (USS Kitty Hawk, CV-63; ’75-77) and being so close to launching aircraft and landing jets… well, that adrenaline is a constant rush. And that same type of adrenaline is what I felt while skydiving and fighting fires.

One more…

My father-in-law, Dr. Rufus K. Broadaway, who passed away a few years ago at the tender age of 95, was in the 82nd Airborne during World War II. I wrote about him earlier when he faced his “Baptism of Fire” at La Fiére Causeway.

He once told me that he took off five times in airplanes before he ever landed in one… think about it (you’ll get it). That’s how paratroopers earned their “wings.”

Years later, I accompanied Rufus to several of his 507th Parachute Infantry Regiment reunions and met several of the men with whom he served. It was an honor and a privilege to be with him—another one of my heroes.

I remember attending a reunion several years ago at Fort Benning, GA—home of the US Army Airborne School.

Besides attending the Ranger graduation ceremony (another group of heroes), we had the opportunity to “jump” from one of their short 30’ towers. It wasn’t really a jump per se, but it gave me the opportunity to slip on a harness and “jump” (or in my case, slide out) of the tower on a zip line and glide for a hundred yards.

I was a little anxious and told myself that my 245 pounds was only “slightly” heavier than the 175 pounds I carried 35 years earlier when I first jumped. And I was only 30 feet off the ground, as opposed to 3,000 feet.

But when I came back to meet up with Rufus, he had that glint in his eye and asked if I wanted to do it again. We both laughed when I said, “Nope, one and done.”

Here, hold my beer!

Stay safe, my friends.

Until we meet again,
Andy

Andy Adkins is a US Navy veteran (’73-77) and the author of several books. His newest novel, NEVER FORGET, is the story of A Vietnam Veteran’s Journey for Redemption & Forgiveness. NEVER FORGET is FREE (eBook, PDF) for all veterans. Download your FREE copy HERE.

Previous posts mentioned in this blog:

• #54 – Westpac ’75 Carrier Aircraft Squadrons
• #4 – From Civilian to US Navy
• #35 – US Navy “A” School (ABH)
• #44 – When Life Hands You Lemons…
• #26 – That Adrenaline Rush
• #34 – No Better Place to Die

Answers

1. Almost every Navy carrier pilot.  
2. The Mummy (1999), Rick O’Connell (Brendan Fraser).
3. Ain’t No Mountain High Enough (1970), Marvin Gaye; written by Valerie Simpson, Nicholas Ashford.