The men hollered raucously and joyously over the noise of the two Rolls-Royce Dart turboprop engines and the slipstream ripping past the open doors in the converted F27 airliner.
The flight was taking us from a ground-level temperature in the 80s to a much colder zone near freezing at 12,500′. One of the men yelled a chant the rest of his team recognized even over the roar, and then he ran up the aisle of the aircraft, slapping palms with the others in bench seats facing toward the aisle.
As good as an Army Golden Knights parachute team jump is to watch at an air show, that distant performance only hints at the dedication, teamwork, and camaraderie these military professionals practice daily.
It was my good fortune to hitch a ride in the team’s venerable C-31A (F27) propjet airliner jump plane for a night show over SUN ‘n FUN 2019 at Lakeland, Florida, in April.
The C-31A flies with both aft cabin doors removed for jumps. Passengers — that’s those of us without parachutes — must remain firmly buckled in to watch the action.
This is no place for the unenthusiastic. The Golden Knights are catalysts for each other’s energy levels as they prepare for a team night air show jump. It is impossible to be in the same aircraft and not feel the rush of enthusiasm and adrenalin. In those moments, we were all Golden Knights, some of us only in our own vanity, as we climbed ever higher over Lakeland, Florida.
Miles distant, clouds briefly illuminated in hues of salmon and vanilla as lightning discharged. Team members dropped wind drift markers over the airport to judge jump conditions as we climbed. As the temperature continued to decrease, the Golden Knights kept an eye on their media passengers. Were we getting too cold? Thumbs up or down? Nobody would admit to being cold at this point.
When I received the invitation to join other media representatives for the night flight, my cargo pants and long sleeve sunblocking shirt were my ticket aboard. Others wearing shorts did not make the cut, as the Golden Knights are well aware of the dual issues of cold temperatures and the ragged edge of hypoxia for some people at 12,500′. Now, the jump team watched us for any symptoms.
It was cold, but I’ve been colder. As I clamped both hands under my armpits, I recalled being in an open C-141 over the South Pole at 100° below zero.
Suddenly one of the Golden Knights in full padded jump regalia fell into the web seat beside me. He radiated heat and made a quick quip about snuggling — the last thing one would expect, but right in line with keeping the welfare of the thinly-clad civilians foremost in mind.
As I watch the Golden Knights leap in faith, it will prod me to occasionally make a leap of faith, to inspire those around me to do their best to be the Golden Knights of their own world.
And that’s a big take-away from the flight: The Golden Knights look out for themselves, for each other, and for anyone in their orb with the same level of commitment and enthusiasm. My mind flashed back to offices in which I worked years ago, where the denizens only vaguely knew each other and did little to inspire the kind of teamwork that makes the Golden Knights stand out. I wanted to capture the Army jump team’s way of being, like lightning in a bottle, and infuse my reactions to my regular compatriots with that sense of vigor.
During our climb to 12,500′, lighting in the cabin was subdued to preserve night vision for the team. Reds were occasionally contrasted with the blue-green glow of digital wrist altimeters, a nice piece of gear if one is hurtling toward the earth at 120 miles per hour in darkness.
Clouds began to obscure the airport far below, so the Golden Knights quickly decided to bring their C-31A back down to 4,000′ while they reconfigured the jump they would make. One said the lower-level night jump would be visible from the ground as ankle-mounted flares traced the paths of the various jumpers spreading from the aircraft. It looks like the airplane is exploding, coming apart in flight, he said.
And then it was time. The men stood up in the aisle and checked each other’s gear. The jumpmaster stationed himself in the back of the F27 and, on cue, the team quickly leaped into the slipstream on either side of the fuselage. They were gone in a fiery flash into the imposing night.
It was a quiet ride back to the runway without the energy of the jumpers to buoy everyone up.
I’ll never look at a Golden Knights performance the same way again. Now I’ll always visualize that enthusiastic energy and professionalism.
As I watch the Golden Knights leap in faith, it will prod me to occasionally make a leap of faith, to inspire those around me to do their best to be the Golden Knights of their own world.
Very cool! Thanks for the inside look at the Golden Knights.