What’s a jump story? A jump story is a tale of adventure. Usually related to parachuting. All parachutists, recreational, military, smokejumper and some lucky pilots have them. Those of you who know someone who tells jump stories are rolling your eyes and thinking here we go! Few things sear images into memory like life and death experiences.
After a certain number of jumps you stop thinking every one is a near death experience. Somehow other things slip into the equation and make the experience memorable enough to merit a story. Humor is the primary element, adventure is another; it doesn’t take much to qualify.
Most jumpers have a twisted sense of humor by conventional standards. I remember an end of the season party in Fairbanks in the early 70’s. We were standing around a campfire drinking beer. One of the guys kept trying to sneak up on the more inebriated, grab them, and try to throw them in the fire. That’s what I mean about sense of humor. I remember one jumper who would throw his razor sharp knife at you if you asked to borrow it. Guess he didn’t like having people borrow his knife. Maybe someone forgot to return it once.
Back to the party in Fairbanks. Like all smokejumper parties there was an abundance of new jump stories, or recycled stories that were embellished to the point they sounded new. One of the pilots threw out the observation that all jump stories start out with “there I was, and this ain’t no s***!” I think he was trying to get a rise out of someone and start a fight. He seemed disappointed when we all agreed with him. Who wanted to explain to the boss why he punched out one of the pilots? Nobody ever threw one of them in the campfire either.
We needed the pilots. They were our main transportation and our supply line. We wanted them on our side. They rang the bell that told the spotter when to throw the fire packs and other cargo out of the plane. You didn’t want your stuff hung up in the trees. It happened often enough without the pilot being pissed at you. I remember a jumper who was always giving one of the pilots a hard time. He never did figure out why his stuff ended up in the trees or was dropped so low that the cargo chute didn’t have time to open.
Some of our pilots were career Forest Service. They really knew the terrain and were very conscientious. Some were seasonal contractors, they were very good pilots but didn’t always know their way around the forest. Some of the contract pilots drank a wee bit. Particularly the ones that spent part of the year flying in Southeast Asia. The Viet Nam War was on. After the war, many still flew for the “government.” Go figure. Flying and drinking and drinking and driving was a way of life for a very small number of our pilots. The DUI’s usually caught up with them and they got fired. They had to go back to Southeast Asia to fly. One in particular comes to mind, we called him Turbo. He never really got lost. Flying with him was a real test of how well you could keep your lunch. I didn’t know a Twin Otter could pull so many “G’s.” I remember a couple of passes where the G’s had the cargo stuck to the floor so hard I couldn’t throw it out of the plane.
The pilots looked out for us. I think they regarded us as their kids. The local Shakey’s Pizza Parlor in Boise started an all you can eat for lunch buffet. We regarded it as a challenge. We took a walkie talkie with us because there had been some lightning on the forest the night before. Most of the crew went. By 2:30 we were blacklisted. We averaged two large pizzas apiece along with at least a pitcher and a half of beer. When we got back to the loft the engines on the C-47 were running and the boss was pissed! We had forgotten to turn-on the walkie talkie.
Personally, I think Roger heard the call but hadn’t had his fill of pizza and turned it off. When we got on the plane I heard the pilot talking on the radio to the dispatcher who thought we were over the forest looking for the fire. When the plane got back to Boise the spotter had to clean a lot of liquid pizza and beer out of the C-47. We loved our pilots.