Memoir: Hot War - Cold War | Page 2

so, had contributed to the historical
records of an important era in American history. The experience
enhanced communications and respect across the generations.
I wrote to the students about my work as a parachute rigger in the war.
To set the stage, I described the parachute's purpose: to lower a weight,
that is, a person or a cargo, slowly and safely from a place in the sky to
a place on the ground. In time of war, the one-way trip down might be
aircrews that were forced to abandon their airplanes because the craft
could no longer remain airborne. During World War II, hundreds of
thousands of airborne soldiers parachuted from transport aircraft with
their weapons as part of military operations. At least equal in numbers,
cargo parachutes lowered food, weapons, and other essential supplies
and equipment to the fighting forces and to isolated civilian
communities. Parachutes also have a wide range of uses in peacetime,
for instance, emergency escapes from disabled aircraft and other
airborne systems, to slow an aircraft on the runway after a high-speed
landing, sport parachuting, 'fire jumpers' in fighting forest fires, rescues
in terrain that lacks easier access, and more.
Parachutes must work the first time; there are very few second chances.
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In September 1941 I was a civilian parachute rigger for the Air Service
Command at Patterson Field, near Dayton, Ohio. My job was to repair
and service-pack man-carrying and cargo parachutes for United States
Army Air Corps flying personnel, Army parachute troops in training,
and American and friendly foreign nations' special operations in which
the United States was involved in various parts of the world.
The months from September through November of 1941 were busy
times for our shop. The conflict raged across Europe and on
battlefronts in Asia and Africa. The United States Armed Forces
accelerated their training programs, and Americans were active in the
war zones of other nations. The parachute shop, in which I worked, as
in most other industrial areas at Patterson Field, and dozens of other
bases throughout the United States, was on a round-the-clock

seven-day workweek.
Damaged man-carrying and cargo parachutes were brought to our shop
in large quantities from United States training bases and overseas
theaters of operations. Often, the parachute harnesses, which are
wrapped around the jumpers to lower them safely, were shredded,
canopies were ripped, and canopy containers and emergency survival
attachments were scorched and gory. I was in a crew that fixed
man-carrying parachutes, and then drop-tested a dozen or so that were
randomly selected by the shop foreman from each two or three hundred
that had been given a major repair and packed for service.
The test consisted of attaching a service-packed parachute to a
120-pound weight or canvas-covered dummy, loading the weights or
dummies into a C-47 airplane, and connecting a metal hook at one end
of a 30-foot lanyard to the parachute rip cord and the other end to a
cable stretched tightly above the airplane door. The door was lashed
open. Each of the two men on the test crew wore a parachute and
they were also secured to the airplane frame by a short heavy belt so
that they would not accidentally fall from the aircraft.
The pilot took off and circled the field at about a thousand feet.
Approaching the drop zone, the co-pilot flashed a warning light above
the door where the parachute handlers were stationed. At the next
signal, the handlers, one on each side of the dummy, heaved it out. The
lanyard, when fully extended, pulled the ripcord, and the canopy
extended, opened, inflated, and descended. The ground crew tracked
the drifting parachute, guessing at where it would most likely touch
ground.Â
Ground crew work is not dull. I remember how we would spread out,
and watch the dummy as it fell; there were times we had to move fast
to get out of the way. As soon as we knew where the parachute would
land, we'd run toward it and, as soon as we got to where it was, haul in
one of the webbing straps to spill air from the canopy, and get it all
together with the least possible damage to the parachute and to
ourselves.Â

There were times, even on a relatively calm day, when a gust would
pass across the field and inflate the canopy before we got to it. A
partially inflated canopy in a gentle breeze can drag a heavy dummy
and parachute along the ground faster than ground handlers can run.Â
I'll always remember chasing a parachute and its dummy that a sudden
gust dragged, rolled, twisted, and bounced along in a field we were
using for