It was a beautiful Spring day in Munich, Germany back in 1957. We
loaded the C-119 "Flying Boxcars" and took off from the military air base in Munich.
It was our annual Army Training Exercise with the entire 188th Airborne Infantry
Regiment. We had forty men per stick and eighty men per aircraft. We flew
the "V of V's" formation; waves of three by three aircraft forming several V's in several
waves. After we were airborne we flew around for a couple of hours while the other
aircraft joined the formation. Lots of guys were getting air sick from the noise and
vibration. Finally, the red lights go on as we approached the drop zone and the
jumpmaster signals and yells, "GET READY! STAND UP! HOOK UP! CHECK
YOUR EQUIPMENT! SOUND OFF FOR EQUIPMENT CHECK! STAND IN THE DOOR!"
Finally, we're over the drop zone and on go the green lights.
Both sticks pushed rearward with anxious paratroopers to exit the doors. I was
in the center aircraft, center V, third wave, and there were paratroopers all around me
falling through the sky. It was spectacular. We were jumping on the famous
"Rock DZ" outside of Munich at 1,250 feet with full combat gear. I was jumping a
full pack and a BAR strapped to my side. I exited the door in true form and went
through my count, "hup thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand." Just
then, my T-10 blossomed on opening like a huge silk mushroom. I looked up to check my
canopy and heard my old buddy, Don Godwin, bouncing off of my chute. Don yelled "hey,
I've got a malfunction!" Just then, he slid off of my canopy and fell below me.
I grabbed his silk as it passed by my side and rolled his chute up in my arms. I yelled
"hang on buddy, I gotcha!" We both floated down on my T-10 with plenty of time to spare.
I released my GP bag at 100 feet. The bag hit the ground, then Don hit the ground with
a perfect PLF; then me, THUMP (feet, ass, and head). "Wow, what a ride" Don yelled, shaken
from the incident. "Yeah, totally awesome. Lets go have a beer" I replied.
Oh, we lived to fight another day. Yes indeed, those were the days. We were elite
paratroopers of the 11th Airborne Division. They called us "Hell's Angels."
That was 45 years ago and we still talk about it to this day.
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