Well I don’t see a sign that says this thread is closed yet.
So there we were, 18,000 feet above Yakima, nighttime HALO Op Circa late 1980’s.
The RP was off and we were dropped way off. There was no chance of making it to the DZ. But I was unaware of it at the time.
All the standard DZ markings were used to include bean bag light arrow and a white strobe.
I looked and looked and nothing was making sense and none of the landmarks registered. So of course with that being an area of deep gnarly ravines, mesa’s and canyons the “ah shit” factor was present.
I kept monitoring my altimeter, compass and desperately peering intently below for any sign of the DZ.
Suddenly, “there it was! “ A very faint white flashing light! Eureka! At least I can see the strobe.
I set up my approach looking for faint outlines of other canopies of my team members, chem-lights and the like. An entanglement under 1000 or so feet at night would most likely be fatal.
Just as I was getting ready to lower my combat equipment I could see a canyon wall looming out of the darkness. I was headed straight for it.
I quickly turned 180 degrees. Another canyon wall. “Shit, I’m in a box canyon”…at night, god knows where.
Another turn, 60 degrees this time, then SMACK…I slam into the bottom of the canyon into a slight slope. I laid there stunned, pinned under my ruck. I roll the ruck off, put my weapon into action and start to get my bearings. I see canyon walls all around. The “strobe light” going “click…click…click…” about 50 feet away.
“WTF”? “Where is everyone?” “ This ain’t the DZ”.
I go over to the “strobe.” It’s an electric fence, surrounding a large pen yard, set on 4’ tall steel fencing poles. Perfect for impaling a jumper landing in a dark canyon at night. The electric charge line is contacting a blade of grass and making a white spark with each cycle of the fence charge. That was my “strobe”.
“Well, at least I didn’t land on one of those 4’ Punji-Sticks and ram it through myself Vlad The Impaler style….”
I look up the rise, a small hill. At the top is a faint porch light hidden under an overhang. I head to the top of the rise on this canyon floor and see it’s a trailer. A few outbuildings are in dark perimeter shadows. I walk around the corner towards the door to knock. This was in the days before cell phones and radio was making no contact. So I needed to get back to the DZ so they could get accountability.
I round the corner and am staring down the barrel of a .357 magnum. “FREEZE MOTHERFUCKER”, the grizzled biker commanded.
I halted and calmly said; “whoa there fella, take it easy I’m a Staff Sergeant ___________with the United States Army Special Forces. We just conducted a night time parachute operation and we landed off target”.
He grunted; “let me see some ID”. I produced it and then he looked down the hill with a laugh and said “huh, damn good thing you didn’t land a little more to the right…
I have a mean-ass 400 pound boar hog in that pen down there named Wilber and if you had landed in there he would have torn you to shreds”.
I gave the man twenty bucks to drive me back to the DZ. The team was scattered and the Team Sergeant broke his leg on that jump.
Even back during the late 80’s there were lots of grizzled biker types running meth labs up in them there hills.
So, I thought to myself; “damn, at least let me die in battle. Not torn to shreds pinned under my ruck by a 400 pound hog or have my head blown off by some tweaking biker”….
Next time I’ll give you the one about when I landed in a Thai Disco. Swooped in a night just like James Bond
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