Soldier of Fortune Magazine The Journal of Professional Adventurers
by Heath Hansen
The wind within the body of the bird blows me back and forth as I try to maintain my balance. “Thirty seconds!” the jumpmaster yells, before telling the man at the front of the stick to “Standby.” Then, a loud “GO!” gets us moving towards the door. I cover my reserve parachute with my right hand, shuffle forward and hand off my yellow static-line, turn right, and jump vigorously out of the plane. The static-line, still attached to the plane, rips my parachute out of its harness, allowing it to inflate, and violently rocks me from side to side while simultaneously preventing a painful 1,500-foot death plummet to earth.
There are a few seconds of peaceful serenity as I clear the airplane’s rotor-wash and gaze off toward the horizon. For a moment, it’s just me and the quiet world up here. I look to my right, and see other paratroopers still jumping from the bird. In a flash, I snap back to the realization that I now need to steer this parachute into something other than the rigid boats, and hungry alligators, below.
For me, this is a new experience, but for the veteran paratroopers of the Phantom Airborne Brigade (PAB), this is just another Saturday morning with the brotherhood.
Photo by Jessica A.-Schutzmann
I look down and to my right side, followed quickly to my left side. Someone from a nearby boat yells, “Slip away,” as I heed their advice and pull my right toggles, remembering what I learned during sustained airborne training the day before, and steering away from the vessel. I think I see the green heads of multiple alligators bobbing on the lake – I’m positive they’re staring at me, and contemplating how a 6’5,” 240-pound White boy would make a tasty treat. I continue my descent and put my feet and knees together before splashing into the water. A sudden jolt of anxiety runs through my body – not from the impact, but from fear the alligators will reach me before the watercraft.
I can no longer see the reptiles, but I’m sure they are stealthily swimming towards me undetected beneath the surface of the water. I’m starting to hear boat engines getting closer to me as I disconnect my parachute from its harness. I feel a small surge of water near my feet as I tread water; time stands still as I wait for the first gator to take a chunk out of my flesh.
READ MORE from Heath Hansen – I Wanna Jump From a Big Iron Bird: Following in Dad’s Boot-Steps to Become a Paratrooper
Suddenly, a friendly voice says, “Give me your hand, buddy!”
As I raise my arm, I feel a tight grasp around my fingers, and I’m swiftly pulled from the water. Once on the boat, I stand up, take a few steps, and make sure all my limbs and digits are intact: Soldier of Fortune – 1, Alligators – 0.
“That was a good jump,” I say laughingly to all the people on deck.
“Any jump you can walk away from is a good jump,” one of them replies, as he hands me a beer.
I look up and watch fellow paratroopers descend into the water. To my right, I watch as the old gray Gooney Bird banks left, continuing its journey back to the nest. This particular machine has been around more than eight decades, and has participated in much more than just training jumps and cargo transportation runs. It saw action in World War II over the skies of Europe, delivering 82nd Airborne Division paratroopers into the belly of the beast in Holland and France. This beauty is a C-47 named Tico Belle; she continues to gracefully perform her duties into the 21st century. Phantom Airborne Brigade troops are honored to fly with her as they continue the legacy of thousands of paratroopers to jump before them.
Making our way towards land, we pick up other paratroopers from my stick. As we approach each veteran, we are welcomed with smiling faces. Once back on land, I talk with a few people in my LGOP (Little Group of Paratroopers). A Vietnam era veteran, Bill Brown, tells me he has been jumping with PAB for nearly two years.
Photo by Mario Nunez
“It’s great to be around paratroopers as they extend themselves above and beyond in their attitude and esprit de corps,” he says. “It’s truly a gathering of pure professionals that can’t be matched anywhere.”
I catch up with Tim Costin, who happened to be the jumper directly behind me in the plane. Costin is a GWOT era veteran who served with the Special Warfare Training Group for four years. He tells me, “I heard about Phantom Airborne Brigade, and I couldn’t wait to fly to Florida and jump with fellow veterans cut from a similar cloth.” The jump was a boost of much needed camaraderie and nostalgia, he says.
Formed around 1980, the PAB offers Airborne Qualified people a platform to continue jumping in the manner they were used to while serving. To be considered for the group, the veteran must have completed a military, static-line parachute training course during their time in service. The candidate can be from any military in the world (although most are American) and be able to perform the actions in the aircraft and during descent (although functions may be modified). There are paratroopers of all shapes, sizes, ages, and abilities, but “abilities” can be broadly interpreted.
Perhaps the most unique jumper today is Rob Miller. He tells me he started jumping with Phantom Airborne Brigade in May of 2023. After serving in Operation Just Cause and Desert Storm, Rob was paralyzed in a motorcycle accident. Years later, getting to perform his first jump was an emotional experience for him.
“Seeing all the camaraderie from the paratroopers and being a part of that warmed my heart,” Miller says, calling it “one of the best things that has happened in my life.”
During airborne operations, fellow paratroopers wheel him to the plane, strap him in, and send the plane into the sky. Once at altitude, and over the Drop-Zone (DZ) they prop him into the doorway. When the light above the door turns green, the jumpmasters push him out the door. Yes – you read that right. He loves every second of it, too.
Photo by Mario Nunez
This is a special moment for Miller, as his Phantom wings were pinned today after his fifth jump – and he happily admits to participating in the “Blood Wings” ritual for the pinning. This ritual goes back many decades and consists of having the wings “pinned” into the paratrooper’s chest, with pounded fist, and no safety backing. When I was pinned after Airborne school, my shirt was left with a big bloody stain – proof that I was now a part of the brotherhood. In recent years, the ritual has been frowned upon by Army leadership, but that timidity has not reached the ranks of Phantom. The majority of PAB jumpers are old school, and I’d venture to say these guys (and girls) are all more than happy to proudly perform the ritual to earn their Blood Wings. This is a brotherhood literally inked in blood.
For me, one of the biggest takeaways from the past two days is the realization that this group is not content to talk about jumping out of perfectly good airplanes back in the day – they’re still doing it. And oh yeah, there is plenty of beer to be consumed after conducting airborne operations – I witnessed it in Tavares, FL with my own two eyes.
As I reflect on the time I spent with the paratroopers of the Phantom Airborne Brigade, from sustained airborne training, to JMPI, to jumping out of Tico Belle, many things come to mind about the experience. From the adrenaline rush, to the nostalgia, to the excitement of taking a trip into history on a plane used for delivering paratroopers into World War II, the one thing that stands out most, and is the consistent motivation for every veteran in this group, is the camaraderie.
My fear of a potential alligator attack as I splashed into a Florida lake may have been overstated, or even imagined, but one thing that cannot be overstated, or imagined, is the sense of brotherhood within these ranks.
Heath Hansen writes frequently for Soldier of Fortune.
