ON TARGET — With almost perfect aim a jumper nears a landing on an "X" marked on the field.
LONG LEAP—Tom Hewitt, Topeka junior and president of the KU sky diving club, floats spread-eagled through the air in a 2,400-foot leap. Hewitt is attached to the plane by a static line which automatically opens his chute after he falls about 20 feet. Kansas photo editor, Bill Stephens, took this picture from inside the plane with a remote-control camera mounted on the wing.
Imagine yourself sitting in the open door of an airplane 4,000 feet in the air. You wait a few seconds, lost in thought about your upcoming adventure. You awaken to the realization that the jumpmaster is tapping you on your helmet. This means only one thing . . . it's your turn to jump.
YOU CHECK all of your harness connections for the 99th time, swing out of the door, grab hold of the wing strut, take a VERY deep breath, and leap away from the plane in a spread-eagle position. A static line connected to the plane pulls the release on your backpack. You continue to fall for a few seconds, but as your parachute begins to open you feel as though a giant hand was reaching out for you from above and slowing you down.
The next thing you remember is swinging back and forth, as if you were on the end of a
Daily Kansan Monday, November 22, 1965
Well, it's all over. No broken bones, nothing sprained or dislocated. By the time you get your chute folded, a jeep has arrived to take you back to the airstrip where your instructor comments on your jump, and another skydive awaits you.
AS THE GROUND draws nearer and nearer you prepare for the worst, and try to decide which would be most fun—a broken ankle or a dislocated knee. You remember the instructor saying that the impact of the ground is no worse than jumping off of a ten-foot ladder, but you have your doubts as you hit.
giant string, recovering from the impact of the chute opening. There is no apparent sensation of falling, but as the ground starts to come closer you remember the instructor's advice to "keep loose, look up, bend your knees slightly, and roll, dammit, roll!"
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PARACHUTIST PRIMPS—Linda Myers, the club's only woman member, tucks her hair into her helmet while preparing for her first leap of the afternoon.
EYES ALOFT—Three spectators watch as parachutists hurl toward earth.