Rick Hunter gazed up at the scaffold from which he was, in a few moments, going to jump. It looked high, thirty feet to the platform. He could see the big fan up there and two SEAL instructors reading off a list.
There was a slight knot in the stomach of the veteran Commander. Standing here in this huge aircraft hangar, waiting his turn, was not much short of an ordeal.
Most of his younger colleagues were already experts, having completed the compulsory course at the new SEALs airborne training facility — regarded since 2009 as essential for modern Special Forces. But Rick had never done any parachute course, mostly because, as the most powerful swimmer on the base, he'd been too busy underwater.
And now the instructors were getting ready to begin the first jump.
'Okay, sir, come on up.'
Rick walked to the iron ladder and began to climb. At the top he stepped onto the platform and looked over the edge.
'Jesus Christ,' he muttered. 'It looks damned high.'
By now they were buckling the harness around him, checking the line that was attached to the fan. 'Okay, sir,' snapped the dispatcher. 'All set. You're going to do about half a dozen of these, so let's get the first one over. It's dead easy…step to the edge and jump out when I say Go.'
Rick stepped.
Another instructor moved over to unbuckle him. 'Knees together…feet together for the landing,' he snapped. 'Remember, sir, that's what we're doing, practicing landings.' Rick was so pleased to be on the ground, alive, he actually smiled.
And, by the end of the afternoon, he was more or less perfect. But because of the time pressures, he was scheduled to face the Tower, which was more than twice as tall, thirty minutes from now.
From the bottom, it looked high and flimsy, and Rick stared straight up the iron ladder. The instructor said, 'Okay, Commander, up you go. And don't worry about this, it's a cinch.' But halfway up the ladder, Rick made the mistake of looking down. He had to admit he was scared shitless.
He heard the voice, pressed on, and reached the platform.
Rick looked down, and he might as well have been on top of the Empire State Building. People actually looked smaller.
Rick closed his eyes and went, forcing himself once more into space.
The high fan whirred and bit, slowing the jumper right down. 'Looks good…very nice…' called the instructor on the ground, as Rick landed gently. 'Three more of those, you'll be ready for the balloon.'
That took place at 0700 the following morning, Friday. And Rick found himself staring up at an enormous balloon anchored in the sky, thirty feet above the ground. Way below it, at the bottom of the cable, was a flimsy- looking standing metal cage. It was big enough to hold six people.
Rick, the lone pupil, was guided in by the dispatcher. The single bar that served as a door was slammed across, and, on the signal, the cage began to move upward with the balloon, its cable being slowly released, unwound from a winch truck.
'You'll feel it tilt all the way up there,' said the instructor. 'When it clicks off at the top, the angle will change and we'll level out at eight hundred feet. That's when we've arrived.'
For the first time, Rick debated whether he might right now declare his nerve had gone. He was more or less struck dumb by fear, but he could control that. Through the low metal-grid rails, he could see the ground slipping away beneath him, as the balloon rose to the dropping height.
The master of Hunter Valley was not enjoying this. Up and up they swayed, the rising wind now whining through the bars of the cage. Rick hung on to the section of the wall nearest to him, knuckles milk white in the eerie silence of the ride. He touched his parachute pack, gripped by the unnerving silence.
He could not for the life of him imagine he was going to jump out of this cage, and probably plummet to his death.
Just then the cage swayed back into a level position…
'Okay, sir, check parachute lines on the static line right above your head…that's good…step forward…'
Rick stayed where he was, gazing out around him, aware of the manifest truth that he could see half of California from here.
'Right, Commander, over here, sir…'
Rick came forward, planting his lead left foot on the toe of the cage. The instructor checked the parachute line. Rick placed his left hand on the outside of the doorway. Someone pulled off the bar, the single bar that stood between him and instant death.
'Now, when I tell you to go, you
'Yes.'
And Rick Hunter hurled himself out of the cage…into thin air…and as he fell, he felt himself leaning back, his feet riding up in front of his face. Never had he experienced such a chill of fear.
Then high above him he heard a crack, and a billowing sound, and he began to swing back, and his feet began to ride downward, and suddenly he was going slower and his body was at the right angle. Staring above him he could see the parachute had miraculously deployed and the canopy was right up there, and he might not die after all.
And now, temporarily safe, he remembered the drills. And he looked about him, to the left and to the right and especially downward. He knew he was supposed to be going forward, slowly, and he pulled down on his forward lift webs, adjusting his feet for the landing.
Down below he could already hear the instructors on the ground barking commands through their megaphones.
The ground was now coming up to meet him. Rick kept his knees together, shifting the angle of his feet, as he had been taught.
Moments later he hit the ground, not too hard, and went immediately into the roll. But when he stood up the chute began to pull him across the ground, as the wind took it again.
Rick obeyed, and broke free of the parachute. He packed up calmly and headed back toward the Navy Jeep, a slight swagger in his stride.
'How was it, sir?' asked the driver.
'No trouble,' he replied jauntily.
With two instructors Rick climbed aboard the aircraft. It was raining lightly, and they took off into the skies above San Diego to make Rick's first airborne parachute jump.
The main objective right now was to become familiar with the noise, the turbulence, and the need to watch the hand signals from the dispatcher and the lights above the door.
