Flunked

It was final examination day for students of parachute jumping at the Army's Chanute Field, Rantoul, Ill., and Private Harold L. Osborne was being borne aloft to make his final qualifying jump. Nervously he rehearsed his instructions to "bail out," to count to ten while he hurtled downward clear of the ship, then pull the ripcord of his 'chute. At a nod from the pilot of the plane, Private Osborne clambered half out of the cockpit, glanced once at the earth 2,000 ft. below, was seized by the "jitters." He dared not let go, he dared not turn back; so he reached for the steel ring above his heart and yanked it. In a split second the silk 'chute whipped out of its pack in the propeller blast, jerked Private Osborne from his perch--and fouled itself securely on the plane's tail surfaces. Twenty feet below the unhappy soldier dangled, swinging out behind the speeding plane like the weighted tail of a kite, while the cursing pilot struggled to stabilize the ship. At length the officer signalled to Osborne to cut himself loose and descend by the emergency 'chute strapped upon his chest. But Private Osborne had no knife. Then another plane flew up, maneuvered above Osborne while an officer lowered a sandbag to which a knife was tied. After a half-hour's effort, Osborne caught the knife, freed himself, opened his second 'chute and landed safely in a corn field. There his irate instructors found him, angrily informed him he must repeat the parachute course.

This file is automatically generated by a robot program, so reader's discretion is required.