"If I Had to Jump"

Virtually everyone who has ever flown has at one time or another asked himself the question: "What if I had to jump?" One afternoon recently, in an Army plane over Kentucky, five men came face to face with this terrifying crisis. None of them had ever made a jump. Senior officer aboard was 43-year-old Colonel Lewis Baker Cuyler, Deputy Chief of Staff for Personnel and Operations of the Army Air Forces. Lost, groping in & out of an overcast, running out of gas and with no chance of making a landing in the mountainous terrain, the five realized that there was only one way out. "Buzz" Cuyler, father of four, able businessman turned able soldier, found out what it was like:

"We had a half-hour's supply of gas left when we finally decided to fly west, jump when the gas was down to five minutes. Only the business, of fitting parachutes kept us from getting too nervous. We had had them on for the past hour, but now that we knew, we took to fitting them on very seriously. We still hoped for a break in the clouds and we tried frantically to make contact by radio.

"We discussed what little we had read about jumping--to try to get your back to the wind before you hit--to loosen your buckles before landing in water--to cover your face if landing in trees--not to pull the ripcord until you had counted ten. The big question in all minds was: 'Will my chute open?' That is a terrible question."

God Bless the Corporal. "Between all this work and discussion, I can assure you my sins and omissions loomed very large. They only had the effect of making me sure I was in no position to meet my Maker. My prayers were most earnest. I asked Corporal Dorfman (this was his first flight) whether he was saying his prayers and he said he had been praying for two hours. He asked me to write something on his khaki trousers. We had written on all our trousers phone instructions to follow when we landed, and I wrote the only thing that came into my head, which was: 'God bless Corporal Dorfman on this great adventure.' I never saw a fellow as scared or as well controlled.

"About ten minutes before the gas ran out, I asked Captain Alfred Junod, the pilot, in what order he wanted us to jump. I was going to suggest drawing straws, when Corporal Peter Foley, with great Irish dignity, asked for the privilege of going first. I was prepared to go first, if occasion called, but none of us denied Foley the honor. Dorfman, we decided, was to go second because he wanted me to stand back of him and push him if he lost his nerve. Then I got in line, then Kronk, the engineer--leaving Junod still at the controls. We were at 7,400 ft., and about 1,000 ft. above the overcast.

"When there was five minutes or so left of gas, Junod let us know. We all solemnly shook hands and wished each other luck. We had a moment of heart failure when Foley at first could not get the emergency exit door open, but he finally gave the handle a hell of a kick and it shot off. Foley jumped immediately."

Floating Foley. "I did not have to push Dorfman, but I won't forget his expression when he jumped. Then I jumped. I could not get beyond 'five' when I pulled the ripcord. I got a terrible shock. My breast parachute strap came up against my face, chipped a tooth and gave me a hell of a nosebleed. But I suddenly realized the chute was open and I was safe. I saw that Foley's and Dorfman's chutes had opened, and looked up and behind me and saw that Kronk's had opened, and I then saw Junod jump and his chute open too.

"The first weird thing I could not get used to was the cold and deathly silence after the warmth and roar of the plane. A high wind whistled through the chute strings like wind through rigging. In a minute we were all going down through about 5,000 ft. of fog. I could hear way off in the distance Foley singing: I float through the air with the greatest of ease. He must have been about a quarter of a mile away. I was swaying frightfully in the wind, at times almost up to the level of the parachute silk, and I had the discomforting feeling that the air might spill out and all would be lost. I idiotically and carefully brushed my hair back, took my hat out of my blouse and put it on. I thought of lighting a cigaret.

"Suddenly I heard almost foolish, familiar noises. I heard a woman call 'CHARLIE!' I heard a dog bark, an auto horn blow. Then, all at once, I came out of the overcast only about 200 ft. above a little town. I had time to see that I was floating right for a chimney on a house. I went through every gyration I could think of. But nothing worked. Just as I was sailing smack into the chimney I raised my legs under my chin. I missed it only by inches."

Teacher's Return. "I landed an instant later in a freshly plowed vegetable garden, and instinctively stuck out my left leg the way you do when coming up against the rink boards in hockey. I should have rolled with the fall. My leg broke in two places--just above the ankle and just below the knee.

"I saw the bone sticking out and pulled my leg straight but could not get up. Then I saw an old man sitting on his back stoop, eyeing me with great suspicion while he smoked his pipe. It turned out that he was so old he couldn't get up to help me and so deaf he couldn't hear what I was hollering. But in a moment two young boys came running and helped me into a house. The town was Somerset, Ky.; there was not another town within 20 miles.

"We had all dropped within a half-mile of each other. Dorfman, who was a schoolteacher in civilian life, landed in the backyard of a school among all the children at recess. Foley landed in a parking lot between two parked cars. Kronk and Junod landed in fields adjacent to the town. I was the only one hurt. The plane was found on a lonely ridge about 20 miles west of the town."

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