The birthday of the parachute is celebrated in early June. It was on this date in 2016 that Asia-Plus correspondent Akmal Mannonov decided on his first parachute jump.
Many people dream of experiencing the feeling of free flight and getting a dose of adrenaline at least once in their life. But for most, this remains a dream: not everyone is ready to step into the open sky from almost a kilometer in height. Akmal made up his mind and talked about how a few minutes in the air can divide life into “before” and “after.”
On June 3, 1785, 231 years ago, the French balloonist Francois Blanchard (1753–1809) demonstrated in London a parachute he had designed for jumping from a hot air balloon.
Old lady “Annushka”
We learned about the only flying club in the country from social networks. In the Tajik Facebook segment, one of the activists gathered a group of like-minded people for a parachute jump. We didn’t want to miss such a chance, and we decided to finally fulfill our old dream and dedicate our first jump to Parachute Day.
The group met for almost two weeks. It was necessary to pay 200 somoni to refuel the plane, present a medical certificate 086u (as for those entering universities) and pay travel expenses to the airfield and back.
The decision has been made: we will jump on Sunday, June 5th. The gathering at the Sakhovat market is at 6:30, but, of course, we are not in pedantic Germany; people arrived only an hour and a half later. The sun began to get hotter. We hired a Mercedes Sprinter, and in half an hour we drove with a breeze to the military unit in Fakhrabad, where the training base for parachutists-athletes of the flying club and paratroopers of the country’s Armed Forces is located.
We were allowed into the unit’s location without any problems. Another group, who had arrived in their own transport, was already waiting for us at the hangar with the corn makers. There were about thirty people in total who stood, divided into small groups.
Someone is smoking nervously, someone is looking at the sky, someone is inspecting the corn farm. We are waiting…
The first thing the flying club official did was start collecting money from those who had not yet managed to pay for the jump. Then he handed out contracts for parachute jumps for everyone to sign: they say, you take all responsibility upon yourself, you jump consciously, and in the event of an “emergency” you will not have any claims against the flying club.
People sign everything without reading the contents. Although in the worst case scenario they may regret it. But let’s not talk about the bad, if we don’t take into account the pilot’s request to push the battered An-2 “yellow mouth” out of the hangar. Many people thought: “Will we make it?”…
Meanwhile, a young man in a white coat over a camouflage uniform, most likely a unit nurse, enters the hangar. He measures everyone’s blood pressure, writing the readings in the journal next to their names, and again asks for autographs.
All formalities are over.
It’s hard to study…
Most of the assembled jumpers were no older than twenty-five, with a few much older. All together, almost in formation, we go to the territory of “ground training” for paratroopers.
Using the harness, the instructor demonstrates the technique of controlling parachute lines, teaches how to turn and adjust the direction of movement. Everyone implements the acquired knowledge on the simulator.
On the “landing exit” mock-up, the instructor showed several times the actions of exiting the plane. For “first timers” this is an important moment…
Next stage. Practicing the correct landing on three springboards standing in a row of 1, 1.5 and 2 meters.
During the entire briefing, which lasted just over two hours, the instructors were asked questions, which they answered patiently and clearly.
“You must firmly believe that the parachute is strong and if all actions are performed correctly, it will definitely open,” says one of the instructors, answering the question of a young man who is not entirely sure of the correctness of his decision to make the jump.
– Maybe he won’t open up?
— If the main one does not open after a few seconds, then the spare one will need to be opened.
– What if he doesn’t open up? — the “first-timer” did not let up.
“Then run to me and I’ll give you a new one,” the instructor joked.
The instructor repeatedly repeated that a landing tactical parachute with a forced opening (which everyone here for some reason calls “Indian”) is the most reliable, it will open on its own, you won’t have time to get scared and panic, because fear is inherent in everyone, this is the norm, a protective function of the body.
The briefing is over, let’s all go get parachutes. In one room we get the main parachutes in huge khaki-colored bags, in the other we get spare, more compact ones, both tackily camouflaged. We immediately take helmets or hats with earflaps to protect our heads.
It’s getting hotter outside. Paratroopers standing nearby approached each of them and helped them put on parachutes. In general, this is a little more than twenty kilograms of weight. And again waiting under the scorching sun…
The instructors, putting on their sports parachutes, divided the jumpers into three groups.
Yes, I forgot about one small detail. My 16-year-old son, having learned about my trip, persuaded me to take him with me to Fakhrabad. Without thinking twice, I agreed, but asked not to interfere. But that was not the case… He asked to take him on board with me, deciding to watch me jump out of the plane.
I conveyed the young man’s request to the instructor, and he, promising to take the boy on board, included me in the fourth group.
Bounce
As skydivers say, after the first jump, life is divided into “before” and “after”.
The engine roared, the guys in groups loaded onto the plane. In the air, the plane disappeared from view. Then he reappeared above the strip and threw out the “landing party” from the “first-timers”. And so three times. On the faces of the landing guys there is joy and delight at the perfect deed.
After each landing, the instructors talk to each other, warily looking at the “sorcerer,” as they call the weather vane.
And now it’s our turn. We’re about to land. We loaded onto the plane. The engine won’t start. It’s getting hot, we go out and hide from the sun’s rays under the wing of the plane. Another half hour of waiting, and finally the engine roared.
There are two of us “first timers” on board, the other five are paratroopers and instructors. And as an observer – my son.
According to the instructor, there were various situations in his practice.
— Some people make the first jump with their son or daughter, others, like you, take it on board.
The conversation was interrupted by the voice of the second instructor.
“They jump according to weight: whoever is heavier is first,” says the instructor, hooking the carabiner of everyone’s pull rope onto the cable.
I was the first. And then somewhere in the depths of my soul fear appeared, and it flashed: “Do I need this?” One of the athletes, probably seeing the expression on my face, shouted encouragingly: “Don’t drift.”
The son carelessly looks out the window, enjoying the views of the local landscape.
After gaining altitude, the instructor opens the exit and commands: “Get ready!” and gestures to me at the “outcome”. I get up, but my legs feel like they’re made of wood, they don’t obey me.
Turning half-turn, he invited me to pose for my son with the camera. Probably seeing my confusion, my son clenched his hand into a fist and said: “I believe in you, dad.”
A light tap on the shoulder, and a bass “Go!”
I pushed off with my left hand and found myself in the open sky. A second or two, there was a slight jerk upward – and a gray-brown dome opened above me. Here it is, heaven!..
At first there was a feeling that you were not flying, but simply hanging in the air. Remembering the necessary manipulations with the lines, I turned first half a turn, and then 180 degrees against the wind flow.
So for some time I enjoyed the bird’s eye view of the earth. Yes, by the way, in order to prolong this pleasure, you need to jump from an even greater height, but I’m talking about this after the jump, although three or four minutes ago the cats were scratching my soul…
The ground was getting closer, in time I remembered the instructor’s “mantra” “hands on the slings, legs bent, feet and knees together.” The landing was soft.
With a feeling of accomplishment and euphoria from a dream come true, I packed a parachute into my bag and headed across a field with dense thickets of unknown thorny vegetation towards the base, covering the same distance as from an airplane to the ground…
By this time the plane with my personal “observer” had landed. Our entire group was waiting for my son and me. On the way home, everyone shared their impressions, got to know each other better, exchanged phone numbers, emails, and along the way sent and received “friend” requests on social networks. At Sakhovat everyone went in different directions…
And on the way home, the son said: “Let’s jump together next time.”
I think my first jump will not be my last, and, as skydivers say, “God and two parachutes are with us.”
