Part II: "Mike's Recollections" (1940-41)

Mike Moldeven finished his last installment talking about his depression era (1930's) experiences and his gratitude for finally landing (in 1939) a legit job as a civilian working for the Army Air Service Command as a parachute rigger and repair man. In the year and a half leading up to Pearl Harbor he told me there was a lot of talk about how soon America would be in the war. All were on high alert, although no one could say for sure war would come our way. As a young man (24) Mike was more locally focused on becoming good at his job, living a life of decent meals and a roof over his head. Here is his account of his new job. He picks it up in September 1941 (barely 2 1/2 months before Pearl).

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In September 1941 I was a civilian parachute rigger for the U. S. Army Air Service Command at Patterson Field, near Dayton, Ohio. My job was to repair trooper and cargo parachutes that had been used by the U S Army training personnel at Fort Benning, Georgia,also at other Army installations and for the Army Air Corps.

September through November of 1941 was busy times for our shop. Conflict was already raging across Europe and on battlefronts in Asia and Africa. The United States Armed Forces were accelerating their training programs, and Americans soldiers and airman were active in the war zones of other nations. My parachute shop, as was the case with most of the other industrial shops at Patterson Field, and other bases throughout the United States, was on a round-the-clock seven-day workweek.

Many damaged man-carrying and cargo parachutes were brought to our shop from United States training bases and overseas theaters of operations. Often, the parachute harnesses (that wrap around the jumpers to lower them safely) were in shreds. Also, canopies were ripped, and canopy containers and emergency survival attachments were scorched and gory. I don’t have to tell you why they were gory but it was disturbing to see. I was in a crew that fixed these chutes and then did a drop-test with a dozen or so serviced chutes chosen at random. The shop foreman picked them from each set of two or three hundred that we had repaired and then re- packed for service. Following a successful drop test the chutes were closely inspected by a supervisor one last time before sent back into action.

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The 'Drop Test' consisted of attaching a service-packed parachute to a 120-pound weight or canvas-covered dummy. Then they were loaded into a C-47 airplane, and connected to a metal hook at one end of a 30-foot long lanyard. This lanyard was connected to the parachute rip cord and the other end to a cable stretched taut above the airplane's main doorway. The door was lashed securely open. The two men on the test crew (and in the plane) wore parachutes and were secured inside the airplane by a short heavy belt so that they would not accidentally fall from the aircraft.

The pilot took off and circled the field at about a thousand feet. Approaching the drop zone, the co-pilot flashed a warning light above the door where the handlers were stationed. At the next signal, the handlers, one on each side of the dummy, heaved it out. The lanyard, fully extended, pulled the ripcord, and the canopy extended full length, in turn, opened, inflated, and descended. The ground crew visually tracked the drifting parachute, guessing at about where it would most likely touch ground.

Drop-test ground crew work was not dull. I remember how those of us on the ground would spread out and watch the dummy/weight as it descended and drifted. Sometimes it would come straight at us and we had to move fast to get out of the way. As soon as we knew where the parachute would land, we'd run toward it and, as soon as we reached it, haul in one of the webbing straps (risers) to spill air from the canopy, and get it all (canopy, suspension lines, dummy or concrete block) together with the least possible damage to the parachute -- and ourselves.

There were times, even on a relatively calm day, when a gust would pass across the field and inflate the canopy before we got to it. A partially inflated canopy in a gentle breeze can drag a 120-pound dummy and its parachute along faster than the ground handlers could run after it.

I'll always remember one time chasing a parachute and the attached dummy that a sudden gust dragged, rolled, twisted, and bounced along in a field we were using for the drop zone. Finally, with a lunge, I landed on the dummy, wrapped both legs around it, and grasped and hauled back one of the straps. I finally managed to spill enough air to deflate the canopy. Controlling a dummy that is being tossed around by a sudden gust of wind can be like riding a bronco in the rodeo.

These were good times for me, and in Ohio I didn't see Pearl Harbor coming 2,500 miles away in the Pacific. Then one day everything changed.