No day is a good day for a parachute jump, or so I am whining. There are actually many halcyon days out there that are bright and beautiful for airdrops. However, my chickens**t fear refuses me to take notice of the glory of jumping on a light weather day.
My battalion colonel was a true admirer of days with beautiful weather. He just loved a good ol’ daytime light-weather jump and was blatant about moving the schedule around vigorously to allow himself enough time to slip away and strap-hang on another unit’s airborne operation.
Colonel James, or James Roosh as was his name, would sit high in the saddle and jump any day.
However, some days, (most days, I say), I would pout that the winds low on the ground were suddenly squirrelly and too rough to jump in. That flags a man as cowardly; an event you shouldn’t want to invite upon yourself for fear of being shunned.
Once, even the good Colonel Roosh happened to get tangled in a parcel of squirrelly air. And it dragged him out over the nearby golf course.
He was having too much fun to chop away his canopy. And when he landed, instead of stowing away his parachute, he politely allowed himself to be dragged the near breadth of the golf course until he uttered his classic phrase:
“AHOY THERE… MIND IF I PLAY THIS ONE THROUGH??”
Not even the post commander could possibly be mad at that episode. As for me I look at the event, decide if anyone was hurt, or any property damaged, and if I can say negative to both questions then there was no reportable event. PLAY BALL!
By Almighty God and with honor,
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