In 1964 whilst training with the Golden Knights at Fort Bragg, I was a guest member of the three main sport parachute clubs. These were Main Post, 82nd Airborne and Special Forces.

I would frequently jump with their demo teams When they were doing displays.
On Armed Forces Day in 1964 I went with the Special Forces Team to Florida.
There were 15 of us and we were supplied with a C130.
We were to jump into at McDill AF Base in the morning and Patrick AF Base in the afternoon.

One base was on the Atlantic Coast and the other was on the Gulf Coast
As we took off from Pope AF Base on Fort Bragg,out came bottles of Jack Daniels.
By the time we got to Florida,the guys were all steaming.
I didn't drink spirits at all,so I had to spot. There was no way I was going to finish up in the drink.

We ran in over McDill AF Base, exited the C130 tailgate at 19,500ft, with no oxygen.
They were all legless and every one of them hit the target.
Same thing in the afternoon after more slurping, some of them were so minging they had to be pushed off the ramp.

This time I forced the pilot to decrease the drop height to 16,500ft.
Again every one of them hit the target.
After we had packed the chutes away, they were at it again.
"Come with us to Chesapeake Bay next week" said their Sgt Major,"We're jumping into a Yacht Club and we know how much you Limeys like water".


The story continued

on a previous display you may recall that I had been asked by two members of the Special Forces Parachute Club at Fort Bragg to go with them and jump into a yacht marina, on the edge of Chesapeake Bay.
Some kind of opening ceremony.

We drove up to New York, where we would be using a hired Cessna.
The two guys with me were Squeak Charette and Art Buchwald, both D licence jumpers but both as mad as hatters.
A stretched limo was sent by the yacht club to take us to the airfield, about five miles away.
As soon as we set off both of them were straight into the drinks cabinet and polished off a bottle of gin.I declined and Squeak got into the front of the Cessna Buckwald and myself were in the back.
We were jumping Para Commanders.
Charette decided to spot, as we couldn't see anything.
Trust is a marvellous thing.

We climbed to 5000 ft, Squeak dropped the streamers and we flew round in circles for about five minutes.
I knew something was wrong because Squeak was laughing and shouting all the way to altitude.
The Cessna not being an interceptor was all over the place. I think the pilot had
had a few.

Anyway, we got the cut at 5,000ft, Charette dived out shouting,"TRACK".
I knew then we were in trouble.
By the time Buchwald and I got out, I was last man, Chesapeake Bay was about 3 miles away. We'd missed the Bay.
Even though I pulled high,the canopy, told me we were down wind, there was no chance.
I looked down for a place to land. All I could see was trees.
What is it with me and trees?

As I got closer to the forest I spied a little house which had a small back garden. The family were in the garden having a barbeque. They seemed to have friends around. There were dozens of kids milling about.
In a rocking chair was Granny, knitting, you couldn't make
this up.

From the barbeque smoke I weighed up the wind direction made a perfect approach(for me) and smacked down in front of Granny, who let out a scream, dropped her knitting and nearly fell out of her chair.
All the kids ran off into the woods yelling. The guy doing the cooking, dropped his beer and everybody stood there,mouths wide open.

Afterwards, when the shock had gone away and a few beers later, they said that they thought I was either an alien or a baled out pilot. It would be 15 years before space travel.
They eventually phoned the yacht club to report my whereabouts, as half the New York Police Force was out looking for a downed pilot.
The Limo eventually turned with a police escort, Charette in the back still slurping and laughing his socks off.
The Fire Brigade had to get Buchwald down,out of a tree and guess what? Charette hit the target.

There just ain't no justice.
All was not lost, however. The Yacht Club provided a cabin cruiser for us, for the weekend, full of beer, food and fishing tackle. I didn't catch anything either.
Never again. I keep saying it but, somehow, I keep doing it.
Guess what? When the story got out I had to buy another case of beer.
I thought it was only the British who were delighted at the misfortunes of others.

Bill Scarratt.DFC
D324