Week 15 – JUMPING

On Sunday and Monday we made up the material we missed because of the Yom siddurim while everyone else continued with the course and did their first jump.

On Monday, one of the chayalim bodedim told me that the night before, another soldier was talking to him about how crazy he used to be (and still is) and put a magazine int  the gun, pointed it at him, and put his hand on the mechanism to cock the weapon. I told the chayal boded he had to tell someone and not let something as insane as that just get swept under the rug. He did and that night the סמ”פ gave a talk to all of us about proper gun procedure. Or in other, more layman terms: how to not be an absolute idiot. We heard through the Grapevine that The soldier Is going to be kicked out and may even go to jail. Good. Nice reminder that just because you wear the uniform doesn’t mean you’re a responsible person.

On Tuesday, I was supposed to have my first jump.  We woke up around 3 AM, picked up our parachutes, and drove 2 hours to nevitim air force base. We went through the entire parachute and boarding procedure. And then, 20 minutes after sitting on the plane, we were deplaned. The winds were too strong for us to jump that day. Id felt totally relaxed and ready to jump but the madrichim decided it was better to “ice the kicker”. Sababa.

We went back to Tel Nof and waited around the rest of the day.

Round 2 the following day. Another early wake up, picking up the parachutes, and driving this time much closer next door to the tarmacs of TEL Nof. What is the day like? What does a jump look like?

You get off the bus and walk down to the tarmac. We take all the parachutes out of the bus and lay them down in the order The instructor tells us. The instructor gathers everyone around for an overview of the procedures and a refresher on everything we’d spent the past few weeks learning. We’re sent to our bags to put on the parachutes in pairs, buckling all the right clips, adjusting the chute itself, making sure everything is snug. We wait for an instructor to come around and check us and, once approved, we’re finally able to sit down and wait. And wait. And wait.

After about a half hour, we hear the propellors of the massive Shimshon plane approach the tarmac. The instructor yells for us to stand up and we go into the plane boarding procedure.  You march down the tarmac and as you approach the plane, the noise becomes deafening. You board and are surrounded by piping and wiring and all the intestines of the great big, metallic,  flying whale – whirring and rattling and pumping away. It’s a cacophany of sounds, oscillating between taking your mind off of what you’re about to do and heightening your anxiety. You sit down and are guided by an instructor to your seat. The door is closed and you understand that you’ve crossed the point of no return. There’s only one way off this plane now.

You look around and lock eyes with different classmates, smiling and laughing at one another. “What the hell are we doing?”, you reckon you’re both thinking. I don’t know about other people’s inhibitions and thoughts at that point, but I found myself very calm and relaxed. Truthfully. I’d felt so prepared from all the training we did and felt that I already conquered the scared nerves on the Migdal Eichmann; this jump is just a little higher up, but it’s all the same procedure. I also felt in good hands; we were the 957th tzanchan class. They’d done this hundreds of times and our instructors were world class. As long as we followed everything we’d learned, which I knew I could, we would be fine.

The plane starts to move and you take off. You know from before that 20 minutes before you jump, a bell will ring and the instructors will tell you to unbuckle so that you can attach your parachute cord to the wire overhead. What you don’t know is that the alarm will go off almost as soon as you’re in the air. That the flight is so short, that as soon as you take off, you’re already 20 minutes away.

The instructors go into overdrive, working with the expertise of hundreds of rounds of practice, clipping everyone’s cable in. After a few more minutes, the door opens and the sound of a raging wind fills the cabin. It’s go time. 

The instructors throw a dummy out the plane to make sure we’re in the right location and, once confirmed, the jump process starts. The people in front of you stand up, holding the connecter cable in one hand and protecting their reserve with the other. They stomp their feet to make sure everything is attached and let the instructor know that the person in front of them looks good. The first person shuffles to the door, standing at the ready, waiting 2 minutes or so for the command to jump. He finally does and then it’s a sprint for everyone else. As soon as the first guy jumps, the next person hurls his cable all the way down and steps up, in the ready position, waiting to get the slap on the back and the command “קפוץ!!”
Everyone else shuffles along so that there’s no breaks in the chain. You watch from the seat, imagining what they’re experiencing, knowing your turn is only a few minutes away.

Finally it’s your turn. You know exactly what to do. You’ve trained for this, and you just saw everyone else before you do it. It’ll be fine.
I have to admit though, I don’t think it was fear necessarily, but as soon as I saw the view from the plane door and understood how high up we were, my knees started to tremble. Mentally I was fine, but I think my body went into some nervous response to the height.

As soon as the jump process starts, your brain shuts off and muscle memory kicks in. I shuffled to the door and waited for the jump command. As soon as I got it, I leaped off the platform, eyes closed, with both hands covering my reserve. I started the 6 second count procedure and after about 2 seconds, finally looked up. But those first 2 seconds are wild. You jump and are enveloped by the torrent of passing winds. You’re weightless and feel yourself jerked around like a ragdoll.

But then I opened my eyes, looked up to the parachute to make sure everything was in order, and finished the count procedure. I’m off the plane and my chute is open. Now I can breathe for a few seconds.

You look back and see other tzanchanim peppering the skyline, the plane slowly drifting away. You feel yourself slowly descending (this part just feels like waiting) and you see the ground approach closer. Time for the second hurdle to overcome: the landing.

You buckle your feet together, hold the straps of the parachute behind your head, and bend your knees. You put a slight rotation in your feet, depending on the way youre drifting, and wait for the ground to approach. It’s faster than the machines you practiced on but the landing procedure is the same. Your feet hit the ground and your roll, absorbing the shock throughout your body.

And that’s it. You’re done. You’ve jumped out of a freaking plane and landed. The elation washes over you as you start to pack up the parachute. You whoop and yell at other tzanchanim landing behind you on their jumps and think on how exhilarating the experience was. How you want to do it again right away. 

You’re a Tzanchan now: you successfully parachuted out of a plane. You’ve joined the family of 956 tzanchan courses before you and no one can take that away. פעם צנחן תמיד צנחן

You bundle up your parachute and head to the meeting point, waiting for everyone else to arrive so you can march back to the buses.

Wednesday, the first day that I jumped, friends and family organized that they would be waiting at the parking lot to greet us. They’d organized food too. I invited some friends and family and was surprised by others. It was a joy seeing everyone, and the excitement of the crowd along with the hugs and conversation with family after just our jump made me really excited for the masa kumta. It’ll be that times 100.

We jumped again the next day. This time, I was first in my rotation so I stood at the entrance to the plane for 3 minutes, waiting to get the command to jump. But, because of the previous days jump, the fear has mostly quelled and I was able to just appreciate the view of the sea and the Israeli landscape. Wind blowing on your face, sun shining over the Mediterranean, Israeli industry flourishing and busy beneath you – the cars, trucks, factories and cities all passing quickly by. I didn’t feel any fear. The opposite; I was so happy I had this opportunity to jump again.

We missed the wings tekes; the instructors stamp a pin into your shirt, signifying that you’re now an official tzanchan. I didn’t qualify because I didn’t do 3 jumps; guys in my group grabbed me a pin and told me to put it on anyways. I want to wait until I earn it; there are already rumors we’ll be doing make up jumps soon.

The rest of the week wasnt nearly as exciting. We got back to base to the start of a week of Hagnam – guard duties, kitchen duties, etc. I got 40 minutes of sleep before my first shmira at 12 AM. this is after the week of waking up at 3 AM nearly every night. After that, I got 2 1/2 hours of sleep before my next shmira. Shabbat, and the sleep it provides, were a welcome necessity.

On Shabbat, I had my check in with the Mefaked Machlaka. He told me I’m the middle of the pack and he wants to see me leading; I completely agree, but do still attribute that to the language. Pre-army, I was the head of clubs, captain of teams, etc. I think I’m a natural born leader, it’s just hard to lead when the people around you hear you speak with the vocabulary of a child and a slow pace.

I did tell him though, that I felt a switch during tznicha. Since we weren’t on times, and were overall less stressed and happier, I felt myself opening up and becoming more myself with the guys. I’m not too surprised it took this long; the Hebrew was a big factor and I usually take a few months to settle into a new surrounding and feel natural.

I was told on Shabbat that I’d be leaving motzash for a Yom Siddurim on Sunday. I was dressed and ready to go, when my Mefaked Machlaka told me that Sunday was the only day I could make up the first aid material that I missed so I had to stay back.

30 minutes after going to bed, we were woken up to shouts of חמש מלחמה! We got dressed in full gear and did 20 minutes of random exercises followed by a new shooting stance: rolling. We rolled back and forth on the ground for 15 minutes before being released back to bed. Very different than sleeping at home for a Yom siddurim.

So much is crammed into every week here in the army, that even the really positive experiences get washed away by the remainder of the week. You don’t have time to sit and think about what you’re accomplishing. But we jumped from planes!! We’re tzanchanim!! That feeling of accomplishment, of finally joining the club, won’t go away for a long time.

P.S. Not sure if these videos are accessible out of Israel, but they document what the day and course  look like

Tzanchan jump school: https://youtu.be/6OBvMjnZSdE?si=oJLUuMtmL6HraSzs

First jump: https://youtu.be/72eNJQ-puF8?si=f-pjhsw-uVHCO2o0