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My first night jump was during SFOC. We were jumping a postage stamp DZ in a noticeable crosswind using MC1-1 chutes. The jump altitude during the MACO briefing was 1250 ft. I remember going out the door of the C-130 and after going thru my sequence I looked down at billowy masses that looked like clouds. Of course they weren't and the whole team ended up in the trees. I was lucky, coming to rest suspended about ten feet above the ground. The student officer filling the 91B slot (a guy named Barrett who had been one of my TAC officers when I was going thru OCS not more than two months prior) was not so lucky. He initially landed in the top of a tree and his chute deflated; he broke free and then fell fifty feet to the ground, breaking his leg. Made me an instant believer in luck.
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No one knows whether you're a genius or an idiot until you open your mouth and remove all doubt.
Don't know where I'm goin', but there's no use in bein' late.
I've never been lost. I've been a mite confused at times, but never lost.
I'm not lost! I know where I am; I just don't know where everybody else is.
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