As you can see, the entire schedule for the third week of BAC is designed to provide at least five opportunities for each student to jump from actual aircraft. The jumps must include drops from both C-130 Hercules and C-141B Starlifter transport aircraft. The jumps must also include a mix of day and night jumps, with single and mass jump scenarios mixed in. All BAC jumps are done with the basic T-10 parachute system at a nearby DZ just over the Alabama border.[18] Known as Fryar DZ, it is a fairly large DZ (over a mile/almost two kilometers long) that is both wide and soft (the ground, that is!). It also is less than a five-minute flight from the airfield at Fort Benning, minimizing the turnaround time between training missions.
The third Monday, Week 3 of BAS, begins with the now-standard 4-mile /6.4-kilometer PT run, followed by an indoor academic period to prepare them for their first jump. This includes a particularly terrifying safety film on how to deal with parachute malfunctions. While unusual these days, such emergencies do take place. With the finish of the safety film, the students are bused over to the equipment shed for the issue of their parachutes and other equipment.
These are supplied by Company E of the 1/507th, which provides packing and maintenance services for the Jump School. These parachutes are lovingly maintained in a shed near the airfield by an expert staff of parachute packers. Inside the shed are a series of long tables, where enlisted technicians lay out the T-10s, fix any problems, and hand-pack every one. This matter of hand-packing is important, since a fabric device as complex as the T-10 simply cannot be assembled and packed by a machine. Only human hands and eyes have the sensitivity to feel inconsistencies in the canopy folds, or note wear on shroud lines. Parachute packing is not so much a skill as an art form, and the personnel of Company E know that.
Packing a T-10 main canopy starts with the rigger taking a previously jumped parachute from a recovery bag, and spreading it along one of the long packing tables. Once the chute is spread and inspected for wear or tears, the rigger makes sure that there are no tangles in the shroud lines, and begins to fold it. Folding the T-10 main canopy takes only a few minutes, with the rigger basically doing the exact reverse of what the slipstream does when the parachute deploys. The packing involves a lot of folding, kneading, and tying off cords to get the parachute down to a tiny fraction of its inflated size. One of the oddest things about parachute packing is the practice of securing various flaps and parts with what looks like shoestrings and rubber bands. These are frangible ties, which are used to hold parts of the T-10 in place until they are subjected to specific loads upon release of the static line. Once the static line yanks the T-10 canopy free, the cords and bands break, releasing various parts of the canopy system, allowing it to inflate safely. This assumes, of course, that the riggers have done their job properly. It only takes a skilled rigger a few minutes to fold a T-10 and secure it to its backpack bag. Once the packing job is completed, the rigger signs the parachute log, certifying that it is safe to use and ready to be issued. This is done regularly because a T-10, properly packed and maintained, is good for up to one hundred jumps.
We were invited to watch a group of Week 3 BAS student go through their first jumps, and were excited at the opportunity. Around noon, Monica Manganaro and Major Rob Street drove us down to the flight line to follow the students through what would probably be one of the most memorable experiences of their lives. When we arrived, the BAS students were already getting ready for their jumps. Dressed in standard battle dress uniforms (BDUs), Kevlar “Fritz” helmets (also called “K-Pots”), and jump boots, they would jump today without any loads. Jumps later in the week would have them carrying simulated loads, similar to what they would carry on operational drops. Once the trainees were in their harness/parachute rigs, they were bused to a dilapidated old shed on the edge of the airfield to wait their turn to walk onto an aircraft for their first jumps. The shed, which dates back to World War II, has no air-conditioning, and was blazing hot and deathly humid. We watched the first group of students waiting to walk out to their assigned aircraft, looking a little nervous. Only large fans did anything to keep the air moving, and the students sat on long benches, sweating and checking each other’s gear as they waited.
At 1400 (2:00 PM) it was time for the student paratroops to load up. Out on the ramp were a C-130 and a C-141. The BAS students were led rapidly out to their respective aircraft, and the plane engines started soon after. Watching the lines of young troopers marching up the ramps of the transport aircraft was impressive. This day, Major Street would himself make a proficiency jump (to help keep his jump qualification current) from the C-141 with an MC1-1 steerable parachute. He would be the first one out of the Starlifter.
As the two aircraft taxied off towards the runway, Ms. Manganaro, John, and I hopped into our car (thankfully air-conditioned!), and headed over the Alabama state line to the Fryar DZ, to watch the drops.
On the lead aircraft (the C-141 Starlifter), the short flight to the DZ gave the jumpmasters and loadmasters just barely enough time to go through an abbreviated pre-drop checklist. As the flight crews established an orbit around the DZ, they gave the jumpmasters a warning to get ready, and the jumpmasters went to work. At ten minutes to drop, the BAC students were ordered to get ready. First the personnel sitting on the outboard seats were ordered to stand up, followed by the inboard group. Once everyone was standing, the student paratroops now formed into a pair of 16-person lines (called “chalks”) running down the port and starboard sides of the aircraft. Ordered to hook up the static lines of their parachutes to a wire (the anchor line cable) running the length of the cargo compartment, they each did so, then gathered up the slack and began the short wait until the jump. At five minutes to go, the students were ordered to “check static lines” to make sure that they were clear of obstructions, and then to check the rest of their equipment. This done, the jumpmaster had each jumper sound off an “OK!” signal. By now the jumpmasters had opened the side jump doors, and the flight crew had slowed the aircraft to 130 knots and had begun to watch for the DZ. At this point, the aircraft started the approach leg to the Fryar DZ.[19]
It was almost 1430 (2:30 PM), the planned time-on-target (TOT) for the first stick of students, by the time we reached the Fryar DZ. The sun was blazing down viciously with the temperatures near 100° F/37.8 °C. With the humidity over 80 percent, this gave us a heat index of over 115° F/37.8 °C. That is a killing heat which can cause heat stroke or exhaustion in a matter of minutes. To protect us, the medical corpsman assigned to the DZ safety vehicle immediately gave each of us a plastic water bottle, and ordered us to start drinking it as fast as we could comfortably do so. He also told us that when it was empty, we were to refill it from a large cooler and keep drinking. So rapidly were we sweating off moisture from our bodies that it was almost impossible to avoid at least a minor case of dehydration. Along the DZ, several dozen Black Hats were getting ready for the first jumpers of the afternoon.
Then the Drop Zone Safety Officer (DZSO) called, “Five minutes!” meaning that the first stick of student troopers would jump shortly. The aircraft steadied up at an altitude of 1,000 feet/305 meters, and dropped speed to 130 kn/240 kph. About this time, we heard the four jet engines of the Starlifter heading into the DZ. Up in the C- 141, the jumpmasters ordered the jumpers at the head of the lines to stand by. First up would be Major Street with his steerable parachute. Standing in the starboard side door, Rob watched as the DZ came into view, waiting for the signal light to go green. At the same moment that the light flashed, the jumpmaster yelled,
This turned out to be an excellent idea, because we got a chance to see one of the more bizarre anomalies that can occur in the world of the airborne. Earlier in this chapter we discussed the huge loads that tend to be
