The Shock Tower

By Karl Brauneis

The men stood and looked up at the tower. It was 40 feet high. The United States Forest Service was in love with 40 feet. It’s how they planted their lookout towers - 40 feet up on the highest ridge or mountain. They looped cables to stabilize them and wired copper to take the lightning. They strung telephone lines. But it was the 40 feet up that made ‘em unique. A 14X14 square foot love affair that separated heaven from earth.

Some men and some women were addicted to watching the mountains from the glass houses. Others were simply glad they did.

But this 40 feet was different. You jumped out of this one. The general who hammered the word “Victory” into history a decade before christened it as president. This 40 feet was unique in a Forest Service world of 40 feet.

There were other training units. A landing simulator and an obstacle course set apart. A let down rack that hung up high to teach a man how to rappel down a tree. Wooden poles of pine that stood 70 feet tall to climb with spurs and play catch with the squad up top. Miss the ball or throw it off and you climbed back down to get it. Then climb back up. Throw it again. Or lean back and lace up leggings before descending to earth. The men had one week to master the units. If they made it, and most did, the next phase would take them up and out into the “Big Sky” to level out at 1,500 feet.

But this was the shock tower. The men wore padded white with a high collar. A squad leader helped them throw on and buckle a three clip harness. He heard the words. You can tow a Sherman Tank with this. Trust your equipment. If we can’t get the best we will make it for you. Trust your equipment. Trust your leadership. Trust your training.

He put on his helmet. One clip for the chin guard. One clip for each side of the cage screen. He counted the numbers. One, two, three. He walked up. No, he wobbled up the flight of stairs to the top. There was no way to walk in the harness. He waddled like a duck. At the top a steel replica of a C-47 (DC-3) jump ship awaited.

A squad leader waited inside. A foreman and other instructors stood 40 feet below. Some drank coffee. Others held clip boards. They all looked up at him. The squad leader clamped him into the harness cables. One click, two clicks. One click, two clicks. One for each shoulder. He counted them out. The men with the clip boards loved numbers. They were simple numbers but they meant the difference between life and death. He must concentrate on the numbers.

The man in high tower gave him his final instructions.

“When you exit hold a tight military tuck with your feet together and your hands wrapped around the reserve. When you jump yell, one thousand, two thousand, three thousand four. Look up to check what will be your parachute.”

There were those numbers again. He stepped into the door and took the correct position. Left leg forward and right leg behind for strength to push out. Hands flat on each side of the fuselage door. Wait for the slap on your calf. From 40 below each eye focused on him.

There was the slap. He jumped but there was no tuck. His hands reached out to grab something. Grab something! Grab anything!

But it was all air.

He heard a roar from the men with the coffee and clip boards. They had waited all morning for this. He slid down the angled cables to the ground below and away from the instructors. A squad leader waited for him to stop.

He looked down at him and said; “Ok, let’s try that again.” The squad leader chuckled as he helped him up and un-clipped the harness from the cables. There was a twinkle and a laugh in his eye. He saw that when he helped him up.

The men below the tower were still joking as he shuffled back up the steps. This time it will be different. It has to be different. The man in the high tower met him at the door at the top of the steps.