PARACHUTES AND PARATROOPERS

     I have never jumped from an airplane; nor at this stage of my life do I anticipate doing so.  We have a friend who was a member of the famed 82nd Airborne some years ago and he still has fond memories of the time.  During my Army basic training at Fort Jackson, S.C., in 1962,  there was an airborne company just across the street from our company area and we thought them a bit macho, always chanting 'Airborne, airborne' during their morning run.

    My sole close encounter with a parachute occurred that Fall.  After basic, I was assigned to the Third Army Flight Detachment at Fort McPherson in Atlanta.  My grand-parents lived close by in Alabama.  One Friday, two Captains flew in from Fort Rucker, Alabama, for a brief errand on post.  I asked if they would be returning via Montgomery and if so, could I catch a hop.  Well, they could go that way and since they were in a single engine L-19, I would need a parachute.  My section sergeant gave me a week-end pass and orders not to let the pompous First Sergeant know.  I checked out a parachute from the Supply Room, stashed it in their aircraft along with a few personal items for the week-end.  Though given a quick tutorial in how to use the parachute, I had already concluded that if matters reached that level of severity, I was likely already dead from a coronary.

   It was an uneventful flight and I had a good visit with kinspeople, even though my Uncle Sam (really his name) who did not know of my arrival was a bit surprised to see a parachute on his living room floor when he came home from work.  Getting back to my post became another matter altogether.  Not daring to check the parachute with luggage lest a clerk pull the wrong lever and have open parachute all over the place, I kept it with me on the bus ride back to Atlanta.  I was billeted off post in a private residence some dozen miles or so from downtown.  My plan had been to call the hanger and have someone provide transportation to my quarters.  No one was there except the CQ (Charge of Quarters) who was prohibited from leaving.  By now it was late on Sunday night and being AWOL at roll call the next morning was not an attractive outcome.  Finally I hit upon a  'life saver'.  I telephoned the fraternity house at Georgia Tech of the same national fraternity of which I had been a member some years earlier at another college.  I explained my situation, adding that I would be recognizable outside the bus terminal because I was in uniform and carrying a parachute.  There was a long silence and I realized how 'odd' that must have sounded.  At any rate, in a few minutes a couple of guys appeared and drove me home.

    All of that is frivolous compared to the 'real stuff' that occurred seventy years ago today (June 6, 1944) as paratroopers jumped into German Army-held regions of France.  As a small way of remembering and honoring, I have again watched portions of Band of Brothers.  "Hero" is a term that gets tossed around much too easily but those men, who frightened though they were, were heroes all.  I have especially thought of 'Mr. Len' (see earlier post with that title) who was part of the D-Day force, as well as two other men whom I knew when a boy and later learned that they had survived that 'Longest Day'.

    And, now on today's news, there is a story of Jim 'Pee Wee' Martin who was among those jumping into Normandy that morning and now at the age of 93 just jumped again.  Of this last jump, he said, "It was wonderful, absolutely wonderful. . . . I did not compare [with 1944] because there was not anybody shooting at me today."   (Mr. Martin maintains a Facebook page that can be accessed by doing a web search with his name.)

    Often in these posts, I note what I deem the necessity of contradicting the stereotypes of aging.  Horrible things do occur to folks in the post-65 cohort (as noted in my last post).  However, there are things we can do to 'hedge our bets', such as good nutrition and exercises like walking.  While I include Mr. Martin among the WWII heroes, he also deserves that accolade for his recent actions and attitudes.   He acknowledged that he was motivated in part by 'ego' in making this last jump to demonstrate that "I'm 93 and can still do it. . . . And also I just want to show all the people that you don't have to sit and die just because you get old. Keep doing things."  He plans to jump again next D-Day.  While I do not plan to join him in this endeavor, he is a great encourager for keeping fit and healthy.
    " Geronimo !!"
                              Satchel