88 AMERICAN SPY
down. The static line chute deployed, jerking me upright, but forcing my
too-large helmet down over my eyes. My first jump is going to be a night jump!
I pushed the helmet up but did not see the landing zone. I was headed
toward the historic river that ran alongside the landing field and marked
the boundary of the Farm. I toggled the chute and turned myself around.
After I’d endured nausea-inducing heat, noise, and fumes (and
unwanted kissing) inside the plane, it was a relief to be outside and
descending through the serene fresh air. The view of the Farm from above
was spectacular. Unfortunately, there wasn’t much time to enjoy it, since we
jumped from only 1,200 feet and would be on the ground shortly. When I
was about one hundred feet above the ground, I lined myself up with the
X on the drop zone, turned myself into the wind in order to slow my final
descent, and concentrated on not looking at the ground (that would cause
your legs to bicycle and could result in injury). I then noticed that someone
had just parked an ambulance about ten feet from the X. Afraid I might
land on top of the ambulance, I broke protocol and turned to run with the
wind for my final fifty feet. This sped up my descent, and I crash-landed on
the unforgiving ground without any semblance of a proper PLF. Miracu-
lously, I was not injured.
An instructor came running over to see if I was okay and then to chew
me out for my crazy maneuver.
“What the hell were you thinking?” he shouted, incredulous.
“I was thinking I’d rather not land on top of the fucking ambulance,
which some fucking genius just parked on top of our fucking X. That’s
what I was thinking.”
My second jump and PLF went beautifully, and I was looking forward
to our third jump, out the back end of a Chinook CH-47 helicopter. We’d
shuffle down single file and jump off the ramp, which was sometimes slip-
pery from hydraulic fluid, but otherwise it made for a nice and easy plat-
form from which to take the plunge, sort of like diving feetfirst down a
giant drain, and easier than forcing yourself out of a cramped Twin Otter
doorway.
After another hot, nauseating flight and lots of circling the drop zone, I
followed the guy ahead of me and exited the helicopter as planned. On the
way down, I realized that there was no wind at all to turn into. Nothing to
slow the descent the final hundred feet. I dropped fast and did my best to