Although he had needed Jeff’s assistance once or twice, Faith had generally remembered how all of his kit was supposed to fit together for the jump and easily passed through JMPI. He was feeling pretty excited, but pretty nervous too. His stomach was already queezy, and the heat and the pressure from his parachute harness weren’t helping. Whereas some jumpers prefer a loose harness, Faith preferred it all to be nice and snug. The only thing he feared worse losing a bicep to a static line injury was losing a smaller, more sensitive piece of his anatomy during the opening shock if the straps between his legs were too loose.
In the inevitable waiting around that usually accompanies even the best-planned airborne operations, Faith was able to talk a bit with the DCO, and even got to speak briefly with the Group commander, who had noticed Faith’s distinctive “cherry jumper” helmet. Shortly before the two chalks were due to line up, J.D. approached the chalk to rehearse the jump sequence one more time. Even though it had to be boring for the more experienced jumpers, Faith was grateful to have this one last chance to go through everything before they got onto the plane.
“OK, so that’s actions on the aircraft,” J.D. concluded. Remember, when that green light comes on, no one jumps until I yell “Green light, go!” When the red light comes on, that is your indication to stop. I will sound off with “Red light!” but I will not try to physically stop you from exiting the aircraft. Whether you jump or not is up to you.”
When the final rehearsal was complete, J.D. arranged the chalk in the order in which they would exit the aircraft. “Hey sir,” he said to Faith, “Since this is your cherry blast, I’ll let you pick where you jump. I put the less-experienced jumpers either first or last, so fewer other jumpers are in the way if there is an issue. Which one do you want?”
Thinking that it would be better on his nerves to not be the first to jump, Faith chose to be last. “I’ll push the stick, if that’s good with you.” <author note: a stick is a subcomponent of the chalk>
“OK, the cherry is going to push the stick out,” J.D. said. “Any other questions, sir?”
“Yes, just one, why do they call you “J.D.?”
J.D. smiled but said nothing as he turned and called for pass one and pass two of chalk one to board the aircraft.
Faith really didn’t feel nervous until the ramp came down and the wind rushed in. He felt a sense of uneasiness grow as he repeated the commands called out by J.D. and prepared to hook up his static line. The Casa is an extremely cramped aircraft, and Faith found he could not stand up fully erect. The small plane was also badly buffeted by turbulence, reminding Faith of driving down a badly potholed dirt road. The heat, the turbulence, and the anxiety were making him sick to his stomach. He hoped he jumped soon. As he stood and hooked up his static line to a steel cable that ran along the length of the plane, he found he couldn’t stand erect on the plane, the ceiling was too low. But he found that he was tall enough to bend his neck forward and brace the top part of his shoulders on the roof. This helped stabilize him against the turbulence. He hooked up his static line when instructed to do so, and sounded off for the checks of static line and equipment. He noticed his right leg was shaking. Noticeably. He hoped it was from standing in such an awkward position and not from a rising sense of fear.
Faith wondered if Jeff was going through his “Dune” mantra. He tried to recite it mentally but couldn’t get past the first sentence. That was fine. The Dune mantra was Jeff’s thing, Faith would have to find something else as a source of personal strength.
“30 seconds!” Jeff cried out from the rear of the aircraft. This was really about to happen. He was really about to jump out of an airplane after 12 years of inactivity. Doubt creeped into his brain. Did I hook my harness up correctly? Would I remember how to steer, how to land? What if my arm got tangled in his static line? When do I lower my rucksack? Why the hell did I sign up for this?
Just then, he felt a stinging slap on his right buttcheck. Startled, and smarting, he turned his head to see the DCO smiling wryly.
“Welcome to 2nd Group!” he shouted over the roar of the wind and the plane’s engines. “This is what we do!” Sitting beside him, and also smiling, the Group commander gave Faith a thumbs-up. The Group command sergeant major, sitting on the opposite side of the DCO, scowled and said nothing. This, Faith later learned, was the CSM’s usual expression in any given situation.
The pain and the shock of the slap on the butt snuffed out the fear that had been trying to pry its way into Faith’s brain. “This is what we do,” he repeated to himself mentally. The fear that had fled from him was now replaced by a surge of adrenalin. “This is what we do.” He was in one of the most coveted jobs in the most prestigious Special Forces Group in the Army. A second command. There were 80 men and women down there on the ground from the MID. His MID watching him. Testing him. Seeing what he would do. He would not fail them. He would not fail himself. His leg stopped shaking. He no longer felt an overwhelming urge to puke. His whole body relaxed. “This is what we do.”
“Get ready!” J.D. bellowed.
This is what we do.
“Green light, go!”
The job of stick pusher was to make sure all of the members of the stick exited the airplane in a timely manner. Faith found there was no need to push, the line of jumpers moved steadily ahead at J.D.’s direction. Finally, it was Faith’s turn. He saw the land moving beneath the ramp of the Casa and felt… nothing. It was a good feeling. He handed off his static line to the safety with textbook precision, and pivoted towards the ramp. At that moment, the whole aircraft shuddered under a massive buffeting from turbulence, causing Faith to stumble in the aircraft. At that moment, the light blinked from green to red. Feeling that his momentum was going to carry him out of the plane whether he tried to stop or not, Captain Scott Faith jumped off the Casa’s ramp, and into the lore of the 2nd Special Forces Group.
