"TIME! STOP WHATCHA DOIN!!..."

          It was early Monday morning here at Bragg and I was sitting outside the Advance Airborne School, commonly referred to as Jumpmaster school hoping I can get into the T-11 Jumpmaster course.
          Since we no longer jump T-10s and MC-1s within XVIII Corps, I can’t perform any duties as a Jumpmaster.
          As I sat in my car, I began to reminisce on Jumpmaster school back in 99 as well as my very first duty as a Primary Jumpmaster aka a PJ.

****

          October 99, it was a long week at Knox doing SIMNET and CCTT but we were almost home. The first pass was complete and everyone exited the bird; as I bent forward to readjust my ruck as beads of sweat tricked down my face.
           I am the PJ…this is the shit I thought to myself. One more pass and we are done and I can get outta this damn bird.
           I straightened up and I handed my static line to my safety, SSG Luckie, looked over at Kermit (aka SSG Martinson) my AJ (Assistant Jumpmaster) and gave the nod.
           And so it began….the song of the Jumpmaster. Sung by thousands who have earned the title before us; always the same and always in unison.

        “TEN MINUTES!!”
          We shout, thrusting our hands and arms forward, fingers extended and spread so all can see. The sweat begins to increase and the adrenaline begins to gather.
          No sooner than the words leave our mouths - it’s echoed by the remaining Geronimo’s from Delta Troop on our bird.
          I look over at Kermit and give the nod…

         “GET READY!!”
           Again, our arms fly forward like two synchronized swimmers in a pool.
           This time fingers extended and joined, palms facing the jumpers. You can smell the sweat and musk in the air.
           The roar of the C-130 can be deafening at times or sweet enough to sing you to sleep like a mother and her child.
           A glimmer can be seen in the eyes as they unbuckle their seat belts. We lock eyes once again.
           Ensuring that we are both ready. We will continue this until we have exited the bird ourselves; unless we get lazy and shoot for a “Jumpmaster pass.”

          “OUTBOARD PERSONEL…STAND UP!!”
            The command is echoed by all and those on the outboard side of our bird stand.
            The bird bucks like a bronco as the pilots simulate a low level flight into the awaiting DZ (Drop Zone).
            The jumpers move to their feet steadying themselves on what ever they can place their hands on; doing their best to keep their right hand over the ripcord grip and doing the dance until we give the command….

          “INBOARD PERSONEL…STAND UP!!”
            The remaining hooahs rise and struggle to their feet.
            Some are aided by those already standing and our Safety shouts “PUT YOUR SEATS UP!”
            Everyone is on their feet with rucks dangling between their legs pulling down on their harnesses.
            30lb rucks, 65lbs or parachute on any given day, it can make a grown man cry.

           “HOOK UP!!”
             All the jumpers unhook their snap hooks from the carrying handles and raise them high to the anchor line cable; pulling downward seating it then taking the opposite hand and grabbing the safety wire and routing it through and bending it down.
             Ensuring that it stays in place on the anchor line cable….

          “CHECK STATIC LINES!!”
            Making what many would view as the universal hand sign for “OK”.
          “LAST TWO JUMPERS TURN TOWARDS THE SKIN OF THE AIRCRAFT…SECOND TO THE LAST JUMPER CHECK THE LAST JUMPER’S STATICLINE.”
           We watch them do their check and a wait for all movement to cease.
            Luckie and the other safety move forward to start their checks.
           Ensuring the pack closing ties are present, static lines are routed properly and the safety wires are inserted and bent down on the jumpers snap hooks...

        “CHECK EQUIPMENT!!”
          They echo our command and check vital areas of their personal equipment.
          After their check is complete and no ones moving Kermit and I check ours.
          By this time the temperature in the bird seems like 90 plus degrees. The heat, the motion of the bird in flight mixed with the engine fumes can be brutal for some and cause a reaction that is unwanted by any on an aircraft like we.

        “SOUND OFF FOR EQUIPMENT CHECK!!”
          I, as well as the jumpers do their best to remain on their feet while they give each other the “Tap,” which is always accompanied by “OK.”
         When it reaches the number one jumper he thrust his arm forward looking me in the eye and shouts…“ALL OK JUMPMASTER!” I smile, wink and tell him, “YEAH, IT’S GONNA BE ALL OK!!”

          By this time Luckie and the other safety on Kermit’s door are back and I’m waiting for the Air Force Loadmaster to turn the aircraft over to me.
          Yeah…here I am, 30 years old, a Staff Sergeant in the Army and I’m about to take control of an Air Force C-130. This is an amazing feeling. I grab hold of the railing and lock eyes with Luckie.
           I know what he’s think as he knows what I am thinking…this is the shit right here!! This is what we do. I can feel it, the chute is heavy, I’m sweating and this ruck is kicking my ass.
           Seeing how I wore it for the previous pass instead of waiting until the final one to hang it.
          Come on loadie I think to myself, open up these damn doors already.
           The loadie is peering out the window of the paratroop door looking to see when the wind deflector is extended and I wait for that sign. That sign being him raising a hand to either side of his helmet.
           I can feel the bird conduct it's "Three minute" slow down. There it is…the hand is up and his lips are moving. The navigator is surely telling him we are here. 
           Yeah! He bends forward, grabs the handle and raises the door. The bird is succumbed by what feels like hurricane winds. 
           The rush, the smell, bright light, Ahhh….damn this feels good. You can hear the jumpers whoop and holler as they all know we are about to get outta the bird.
           The loadie secures the door in the up position and turns to me, saying the three little words so many before me have longed to hear, “ARMY…YOUR DOOR!”
           I turn towards Luckie, “SAFETY, CONTROL MY STATIC LINE!”
           I hand it off and grab the door.
           Reach up and ensure the pit pin is present, kick left and right on the jump platform before slamming my foot down and tracing the trail edge of the door.
           Once back erect, its time for the lean.
           The sweat now gone, cool air blowing over my body and my BDU’s flap uncontrollably; man...this is the shit.
           Out I go locking my arms leaning my body outside the aircraft as far as it can go.
            I flash back to jumpmaster school earlier that year and remember the sequence.
           Out, forward, up, rear, down back out and roll back into the bird. I look at my number one jumper and yell “YEAH” with a lil wink.
           As I enjoy the view I spot my one minute mark. I turn over my left shoulder looking for Kermit.
           He turns and we do the nod; thrusting my left arm out displaying just one finger and shouting, “ONE MINUTE!!” I stare back out the door.
           Enjoying the wind on my face and the Fort Polk training areas we pass over glancing down and viewing some of the routes we will be driving on later in the month.
           My mind wanders as I stand in the door, scanning for my thirty second mark.
           I think back to Jumpmaster school and that cold brisk morning, soon to be a defining moment in my career.
           That moment being the dreaded Jumpmaster Pre-Inspection test commonly and lovingly referred to by many simply as JMPI.
           This one single test is a make or break you at Benning’s Jumpmaster School because if you don’t pass on test day, which was Monday for me…you go home.
           It is the single most “stress induced course” in the US Army.
           The course itself is a gentleman’s course. No yelling, screaming or demands made on you.
           It’s simple…either you pass or you fail. All the stress you feel is placed on you; all by yourself because the course is stress free.

 

**** 

           I had spent all weekend practicing my sequence and I felt pretty good. Nomenclature was a lock and I just had to trust the sequence as they say.
           Follow your trace hand and the deficiencies will just pop out at you.
           Yeah easy for them to say, they were already Jumpmasters. We sat in the class and got our final brief before waiting for our turn to go to a testing station.
           A Black hat enters and calls out the next few to be tested…and I’m one of them.
           I move to my testing station and receive my final brief from my grader.
           There sits three jumpers, one combat equipped (that means the jumper has a ruck sack and a M1950 weapons case with a weapon in it) and two Hollywood (a nick name we use for jumpers not with combat equipment).
           You are given 5 minutes to JMPI the three jumpers which are all rigged with deficiencies.
           Each one is assigned a point value with minors and majors. Major deficiencies are worth 31 points.
           And like many schools you need a 70% to pass so if you miss a major…you automatically fail.
           And to add to that, you also get docked points for any violation of the proper sequence in which you’re required to check the jumper.
           So in short you not only need to find all major and minors, you need 70 points and your time can’t be more 4:59 in order to pass.
           Now, they are kind enough to tell you that there will be a maximum of two minors and one major hidden somewhere on the jumpers.
           So you could have none or you could have three…you just don’t know.
           Now lets add some more to your plate.
           Any deficiency you find must be called out by its proper nomenclature name and it’s location in relation to the jumper not you.
           This means if I see it on my left, it’s actually the jumpers right and thus I must call it the right.
           The instructors have all been here at some point in their careers.
            For some of my classmates, this is their second and or third time in jumpmaster school. All are here again because of failing JMPI.

          “Would you like a 1 minute warning,” my grader asked in a calm voice.

          “Yes Sergeant,” I replied.

          “If there are no questions Jumpmaster, time starts when you turn and face your jumper.”

            I took a deep breath, paused, turned and said, “PLACE YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD AND TILT YOUR HEAD TO THE REAR!”
           And so it began.
           I was somewhere between my second and third jumper when I heard one minute and began to move faster.
           Panic set in and I moved as fast as my hands would allow.       
          When I reached the backside of the final jumper and was finished with the trace of the saddle I gave him the seal of approval, a slap on the forth point of contact.
          I was breathing as if I had just finished running a two mile run with a 6 minute mile pace.
          I looked at my grader and waited what seemed like hours for him to say, “5:15, you went over on time Jumpmaster.”
          My heart sank, my hands were cold and sore from the previous week in the circle and I had just now failed my first JMPI test.
          I was crushed. I couldn’t go back to Polk having failed and I couldn’t call my father (who was a master rated Jumpmaster too) and tell him I failed.
          Overwhelmed with emotions tears formed in my eyes as he explained what I had done wrong.
          I’m a grown ass man with tears in my eyes looking at another grown ass man.
          I felt neither shame nor embarrassment…this was JMPI.
       “ Calm down Jumpmaster,” he calmly said.
        “Your good, your sequence is good. This afternoon when you retest, you just need to move a little faster. Ok?”
          As I took a breath and wiped my eyes I responded with a “Roger Sergeant.”
          As I moved to the “Tree of Whoa” all I could think of was I failed.
          The Tree of Whoa was this huge tree out behind the building were all who failed would assemble, feel sorry for themselves, you know….whoa is me.
          When I arrived at the tree I was met by others who had also failed their first test; most seemed to be in good spirits while I was crushed.
          We were told we could stay and practice or go get some chow and relax some but be back at 1300 to retest.
           I left and came back as directed. My Troop Commander was also in class with me and had failed his first test too.
           At least I found something to smile about. But that was to add more pressure.
           No way could I leave without passing. No way could I go home with my Commander passing and I failing.
          Not after he had told my Platoon Sergeant he thought I was a “Weak NCO.”

          So there I am…standing in front of another black hat waiting to retest.
          I got my brief and he asked, “So what got you this morning Jumpmaster?”

        “Time Sergeant,” I replied.

        “And your sequence?” he asked.

        “I’m good Sergeant, he said it was good.”

       “Ok then Jumpmaster, you know what you need to do. Trust your sequence and pick your pace up”, he said with a smile.
       “If there are no questions Jumpmaster, time starts when you turn and face your jumper. Good luck.”
         Here I was again, my last chance.
         I took a couple deep breaths, bounced up and down shaking my arms trying to loosen up, turned and said, “PLACE YOUR HANDS ON YOUR HEAD AND TILT YOUR HEAD TO THE REAR!”
         One Hollywood, one combat equipped jumper down and I was down to my last Hollywood jumper.
         I was feeling really good as I left his ballistic helmet and found my first deficiency.
         Inside I breathed a sigh of relief, I was on track. The jumper’s right canopy release assembly was improperly assembled.
       “Right canopy release assembly not assembled properly!”, I shouted as I made my way to the left canopy release assembly I realized I said it wrong.
         Shit…its ok Ding, you’re good and you have time.
         Just as I had it in my brain and was about to spit it out I grabbed the reserve carrying handle with my right hand placed my left on the jumpers chest pulled up and out and before the words could come out there it was…MY SECOND DEFICIENCY!!
         The waistband was not routed through the waste band retainers.

          I froze…I froze and screamed, “AHHHHHHHHH! AHHHHHH!!!!”

          I could hear my grader, “Work it Jumpmaster, work it!”

          Move Dingle, move or you are gonna fail I said to myself. You will fail if you don’t move! You have time!

        “AAHHHHH, GO!”, I shouted you got this.

       “Right canopy release assembly improperly assembled, waistband not routed thru waste band retainers...TURN!!!”

         It seemed like a blink of an eye and I was tracing the saddle of jumper number three.
         I slapped him on the ass and stood erect; breathing much harder and faster than this morning.
         I could barely breathe and I looked at my grader. He glanced down at the stop watch and turned it to me.
       “4:59 Jumpmaster, you made time,” he said.
         However, I was speechless.
       “You almost lost it there Jumpmaster. Ok, lets add up your sequence violations and see if you passed.”
         I wasn’t safe yet and I was still breathing heavy.

       “Ok Jumpmaster, you got 70%, you passed...you're a GO.”

       “YEAAH!!!!,” I screamed.
         I grabbed my score sheet and ran across the field towards the control table.
         As I sprinted, I looked over and saw another of my classmates running too…all smiles.
         He had passed too. JMPI was over…I was three days away from earning the title…Jumpmaster.
         And to add the icing on the cake, my Commander failed his retest.

****

         I blinked one time and I was back in the bird as I scanned left I saw it.
         There it is, thirty seconds. I turn to find Kermit and see if he has his. He does.
         We turn and face the Jumpers, “THIRTY SECONDS!!”
         The jumpers turn and pass the thirty second sign amongst each other.
         Outside air safety check, one last time…out I go. I come back it and find Kermit.
         We nod and I turn and step back out of the door.
       “DROP ZONE COMING UP…STAND BY!!”
         My number one jumper hands his static line to Luckie and rotates into the door.
         I position myself so I am behind him and looking for the green light.
         There it is…like a bright shining star in a sea of darkness. The green glow of light fills and fuels my soul with a sense of pride and accomplishment that only a select few will ever know.
         As it charges my body and soul it gives me the strength to slap that number one jumper on his forth point of contact all the while shouting “GREEN LIGHT GO!!”
         He exits and I can hear Kermit shouting GO on his door.
         I turn my attention to the remaining jumpers as they rush to the door in a controlled hurry.
         Like ballerinas at a Ballet, gracefully, fluidly and some cumbersomely they get to the door and exit.
         Some gracefully and others hell, they simply fall out the door.     
         Watching to make sure their arms are extended, creating a one second interval which typically creates enough space and hopefully no one gets into a high altitude entanglement.

         The light is still green and I can see the last few jumpers make their way to the door, plenty of Drop Zone and plenty of green light.
         I smile as the last man gets sucked out the door. I turn over my left shoulder to watch Kermit exit his last man.
         He’s out and Kermit makes his way to the door and with a flash, he’s gone too.
         I turn to Luckie and hand him my static line with a smile and check to make sure I still got a green light.
         Yeah…there will be no jumpmaster pass for us. And with that, my last thought before exiting, “Yeah…this is the shit. This is what we do!”

****

          Man it seems like it was a life time ago I did my first PJ going into Geronimo DZ.
          Time has passed and with the hours spent in the circle last week, I’m now T-11 certified.
          And can once again perform duties and yeah…I can JMPI jumpers too.
          That Friday as I found the deficiencies and slapped that last jumper on the leg I was reminded of my first time in Jumpmaster school in January of 1999.
          Here it is, 13 years later, I’m finishing Jumpmaster again and ready to perform the duties.
          This small trip down memory lane is dedicated to my father who graduated Jumpmaster school back in 1966 and to all the Jumpmasters out there who have felt the pain of the circle, the sting of knowing you didn’t make time, watching your first jumper exit, leaning out the bird conducting a “Clear to the rear” and the phrase that we have all echoed, “TIME STOP WHATCHA DOING. FACE CENTER CIRCLE, ROTATE ONE JUMPER TO THE RIGHT!!”

“JUMPMASTER!!”