I hated tightening the strap across my chest. It made my chest feel uncomfortably congested, sometimes even interfering with my breathing. So one fine day, I conjured a brilliant idea. I decided not to tighten that strap. What was the harm? Now my chest would feel much more comfortable. Smart, wasn't I?
Upon jumping, my canopy was deployed, but before I could tilt my head up to check that my canopy had deployed (as was the standard procedure), something unexpected happened. The sudden upward momentum caused by the open canopy jerked the loosened strap up violently. The strap hit my chin hard.
But there was no time for pain.
I feared getting choked as my chin was forced up by the strap which felt like a hangman's noose. Fortunately, I could still breathe, although with some difficulty. (The irony of it all - I had thought that not tightening the strap would enable me to breathe more easily. I wasn't as smart as I had thought.)
Now the danger was that I couldn�t see properly. Because the loose strap was forcing my chip up, my field of vision was limited. It was especially hard to look down; I was descending blindly. May God have mercy on my butt if there was anything sharp on the ground where I was landing.
I managed to steer myself to a field. From the little that I could see, it was an open grassy field. But because of my limited vision, I couldn�t be sure. In a few seconds, I would touch ground. I hope there�s nothing sharp down there or my butt will hurt really bad. I braced myself for the worst as I waited for the impact.
One . . . Two . . . Three . . . . My legs felt the forceful impact of hitting something. I rolled to the side as we were trained to do upon landing. I removed the sickening strap from around my chin. Then I stood to check if I was injured. I lifted my left leg; it felt fine. Lifted my right leg; felt fine too. I didn�t land on anything sharp. I had indeed landed on an open field. Thank God.
Since then, I have learned my lesson. I tightened the chest strap before every jump. It was foolish of me to ignore instructions, foolish to choose an option for comfort's sake only.
Habituation
"The most dangerous are your 5th to 7th [I can�t remember the exact number; the sergeant might have said 4th to 6th] jumps, not the first few jumps," a sergeant warned. "You tend to be watchful during your first few jumps. Fresh from airborne school lessons, you remember all the procedures clearly, and so you execute them. But not so later. Many jumpers get injured on their 5th jump onwards.�
I had always wondered why this was so. After army, while studying at Stanford University in 1995, I attended a psychology class by Professor Terry Winograd. I can�t recall the topic of discussion, but it was related to my following question. So I asked the class why the 5th to 7th jumps were more dangerous than the first few jumps.
A man in his fifties (he was probably not a student taking the class for credit, but auditing for extra knowledge) talked about �habituation." He said that when a task becomes a habit, you tend to become less alert; you tend not to consciously follow the rules and procedures.
I agree with him. I would add my own hypothesis: that after this slightly vulnerable period (may be 5th to 7th jump) and beyond, you become an �expert." That is when your skill level and experience becomes proficient, resulting in few injuries, even fewer than your first few jumps. But the middle zone (possibly 5th to 7th jump) remains dangerous because �habituation� has set in, but you are not yet an �expert."
Hard Landing Ahead
Now back to our army days. In our jumps, we tried to land on soft surfaces like grass or sand which would lessen impact upon landing. An instructor warned that bad landings caused ninety percent of all parachuting injuries.
Fortunately, I had always landed on soft surfaces, mostly grass. That was going to change one day when we jumped over an airbase. Somehow my usual landing accuracy failed me, and I was about to land on a runway. Not having landed on a hard surface before, I braced myself for the worst. If I execute my roll perfectly upon landing, I should still be all right. (We are trained to roll upon landing to help absorb the impact.)
But perfect I wasn't. Upon landing, instead of rolling, I let my hip hit the runway. I felt a slight pain that persisted to the next day. The medical officer gave me light duties for a day.
That was the extent of my jump injuries. I am grateful to God for protecting me in all my parachute jumps. I was not a particularly skillful jumper, but I made it with only one minor injury. Many others were not so fortunate, as the next story shows.
"Congratulations, Johnny!"
Johnny's bunk bed was next to mine. He has one of the cooler heads in our company. He was a logical and rational person, not easily swayed by emotions. A devout Christian, he was also principled, standing by his beliefs firmly.
One day in our bunk, we discussed gambling which was a common practice among army personnel. Neither of us gambled, but I asked him why he thought that gambling was wrong since gambling wasn�t explicitly forbidden in the Bible. He gave a very clear and well-reasoned answer. Vainly, I tried to poke holes into his argument, but each time he answered wisely to my rebuttals. So, he knew his values and convictions.
Our company was divided into two batches for the airborne course. Johnny was in the batch that took the course first while I was in the second batch. On this morning, Johnny's batch had just returned to barracks after their very first training jump. We were excited. Clusters of men gathered. The second batch was eager to hear some �war stories� while the first batch was only too happy to share.
�Yes, of course I was terrified."
�No, I wasn�t afraid at all. I knew I would be fine."
�I don�t believe you."
�The landing was hard . . . .�
�It was fun. I can�t wait for my second jump . . . .�
I walked into my bunk to search for Johnny. I found him sitting quietly on his bed. He looked fine. He made it. I felt relieved. I asked him about the jump, expecting him to talk eagerly about his successful first jump. Instead, he sighed. After a few seconds of silence, he said slowly but deliberately, �I am injured."
�You are injured?�
�Yes, my legs."
I couldn�t see his legs because my bed was blocking my view. So I moved nearer to him and to one side. His right ankle was in a big white cast which extended almost to his knee. �What happened?� I asked.
He said he hurt his foot upon landing. His ankle was so badly hurt that the surgeon had inserted a screw to realign it. The screw would remain in his ankle for a year. He was thus out of commando training.
�Everyone is congratulating me,� he said, sighing again.
�You are injured, and everyone is congratulating you?� I said, not sure I was hearing right. I leaned forward.
�Yes, everyone's congratulating me. They envy me for being out of the training, but they don�t realize that my injury is long term."
I understood Johnny as well as those who congratulated him. The training was so demanding that many could think of nothing but relief from the present ordeal. Yet, Johnny, true to his logical self, had a point too. He may be spared the training, but he had to live with this injury which might remain long after our training was over. I didn't argue with him on this.
I was slightly injured only once, landing on a runway as described above. I thanked God for protecting me through all my jumps.
Airborne Video Clips
Paratroopers jumping - 4 minutes. The way our U.S. counterparts jumped and the aircraft they used were similar to us.
Airborne School - 3.5 minutes.
Jump School - 4.5 minutes.
Bad Jump Exits - 4 minutes.
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