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chuteless

thining of the old days....long past

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Yesterday I was mulling through my mind about some of the good old days that were filled with good old jumps.

I recall the first use of a Para Commander, leaving my cheapo behind. How nice those PC's were, fast turns, great flying to be sure.

Even the cheapos....on which we often made stand up landings.

The try this or that style....and while I dont advocate that kind of jumping full time....it was full time back in theearly 1960s, and we learned....sometimes the hard way.

Now I am all but immobilized with heart problems ( 5 by passes) and other things falling apart inside my body. I am living day to day and my time is running out.
I enjoyed my time in thesport, and would do it all again, but double up on much of it.

Memories.....I have lots, and whether they are from jumping or running wild with firearms, those times were great.


Best wishes to you all


Bill Cole D-41




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Nice post, Bill, now quick -- before you assume room temperature, please please please recount some of those memories, whether they are from jumping or running wild with firearms, as those times were indeed great and deserve to be shared.

B|

SCR-6933 / SCS-3463 / D-5533 / BASE 44 / CCS-37 / 82d Airborne (Ret.)

"The beginning of wisdom is to first call things by their right names."

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Hi Bill,
Funny how that goes, one day we're 18 years old and jumping C-9's and the next thing we know almost 50 years have flown by!!!! Made my first hop in '64 and now I don't know how many more trips around the sun are still in my cards?? We get to this point and everyone wants us to write a book!! Write it, hell we lived it!!
My Best Wishes and Blue Skyz to ya' buddy.
SCR-2034, SCS-680

III%,
Deli-out

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Bill,
Keep in mind if you guys didnt keep it going, it may not be here for us to enjoy as you did; so for that we thank you.

Love the book idea, I would buy it for sure.

Not a day goes by that I dont think of how fast it is going by; albeit only 20 years in the sport it seems like yesterday I was sitting in the plane with my two best friends and some thing strapped to my stomach, I think you guys used to call a belly reserve. LOL Pull, Punch, throw or something like that.

Thanks for the post.

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Bill,
I need to get you in touch with Bob Federman.
He is one of the guys that made the first jump into Hinckley dropzone way back when, was on the second 10 way ever, member of the James Gang and was the original Boogie King. The stories I have been priveleged to hear have been the best. We are lucky Bob has a whole basement filled with memorbilia and we have a heir apparent in Brian Voss who is trying to keep it all alive and remembered. If you are interested let me know and I will send on the info. You probable jumped with Bob at some point...
Thanks for sharing,
Tom
tom #90 #54 #08 and now #5 with a Bronze :-)

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Bill, don't give up yet, you old coot! ;)

Have somebody grab you a MP3 player and a microphone.

My father and mother-in-law are Korean and lived through the war as teenagers. My kids are only 6 and they won't be around long enough to tell them stories. I grabbed a good mic and have been recording their stories in Korean and English for future generations.

Give it a go. Talking is easier than writing!

Best wished mate! I love your stories!

____________________________________
I'm back in the USA!!

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Bill and Bill,

Yep, we all keep saying you pioneers should write down the stories of your experienses. I admit I have a hard time just writing a long reply here on dorkzone. But most folks don't mind having a frosty beverage in their hand and telling a story to an avid listener So, if you have the time, grab a tape recorder and start talking. I'll buy the first round. Someone else can do the typing.:)

50 donations so far. Give it a try.

You know you want to spank it
Jump an Infinity

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After 5 heart bypasses, and nothing but health problems since, I dont feel much like writing. Sitting and telling someone is one thing, not hard to do over a coffee, but writing as for a book, I don't thing I could do it. I have a hard time breathing after making a coffee, and I have to play catch-up or pass out.

I just left the doctors office, and my legs hurt like you wouldnt believe when I went to my car. I likely shouldnt even be driving, but that will come when I stop walking.

Thanks for the many encouraging words. Idon't even know why I posted yesterday...it was just my mind wandering but not far from the topic of jumping.
Oh how I loved my Para Commanders. Best parachute ever made, bar none.




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I miss the old days too. I did my first jump in 82, not that early I guess.
Back in the days when lots of people at my DZ were flying strato-rocks (5 cells). I had a 252 parafoil. It was pretty impossible to hurt yourself landing that unless it was too windy. Lol, a spider slider. My container was a RW Wonderhog...with a 3 ring release..ooooh.

Glad to have the memories. I think I remember you Bill, what was your home DZ?

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Bill,
Sorry to hear about your health. You're one of the few jumpers I look up to. Anyone who can jump from a plane without a parachute has a lot more courage than I've got.

One idea for a book might be to tell someone else the stories and they can write it. I'd like to read that book some day....Hang in there, I'd like to shake your hand some day.

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That pleasure would be mne Steve. As for the question above it, my main DZ was at Parkman, Ohio. I spent almost every weekend there for years.

I believe I and 2 others were the first to jump that DZ., back in 1964.

Thanks for your kind words, consider the handshake owed as a handshake done.


Bill Cole




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To amuse those who wanted a story.....this one about firearms back in 1950s.

-------------------------------------------------
There was one police officer who just got my nerves upside down, Constable Don Nuttley.
First, I must say I admire and respect all police officers, but this guy was a toughy, and I was out to annoy him.

Myself and some other guys had let all the water flow out of a dam that was used to water a gold course, and when the golf course guard appeared, one of the other guys ran right down the road, and was easily apprehended.

He unfortunately told them the names of all who were responsible, and then someone in the police office suggested we all pay a measily $5.00 each to help cover costs of repair.

I decided to visit the police station with Gerry van der Eyken, and we marched in very boldly.

Constable Don Nuttley was on duty, and he asked what we wanted.

I asked about this supposed $5.00 fine which was not imposed by a court, but by a local cop.
Nuttley said we had to pay. He then told me " all criminals get caught sooner or later, and I suggested they hadnt yet caught Mickey MacDonald, a local bank robber.

Nuttley raved at me, suggesting my brother ( a Sgt with Toronto Police) was searching for MacDonald at that very moment.

I in turn suggested that my brother wouldnt know MacDonald if he tripped over him on a sunny afternoon.

While Nuttley was furious, Gerry couldnt wait to leave.

I told Nuttley I would never pay any $5.00 to the local police force, and we left the police station.

If Nuttley had only known.....all the time I was talking to him, I had a fully loaded UNregistered 6 shot revolver in my pocket, and no permit to own or carry it.

I later became a police officer with Toronto Township Police Dept.


One other similar incident:


A friend Bob Rowan ( Died two weeks ago --2011 ) and I were travelling from Western Canada back to Ontario. It was a boring drive across the top of Ontario. Only Indians live there, and there were no lightseither on the roads or around the occassional home for miles at a time. A long dark drive,

I thought Bob might fall aslepp riding his big Harley Davidson Motorcycle behind my car, so I thought I would find dout if he was indeed awake or not.

I motioned with my hand out the window for him to pull alongside the car. He did so, and just as he got beside me, I fired two shots from a 9mm piostol into the darkness of Indianland, right across the path of his MC. I scared the ____ out of him.

In less than 20 seconds twio headlights appeared in my rear view mirror, and an Ontario Provincial Police cruiser swept passed me at a high rate of speed. I guess he was going to see if he could find the source of the gunfire, and never though of it coming from my car. I owned the guns I had with me, but did not have a permit to transport them from the west to the east.

I can only imagine that the cop must have been parked by the roadside with all lights out, and the gunfire quickly got his eyes open. I was lucky he didnt see the 16 inches of flame from the gun....I would likely still be locked up.




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I know the Canadians laws take a dim view on pistols of any sort.

One time I crossed the border into Canada, from Alaska. My wife and done some garage saling in Anchorage, and I had forgotten she had bought this pirate pistol. I think it was still functional....I forgot all about it till we were crossing into Canada.

I put on my best smile for the border guards. When they asked me if I had any pistols, I lied, and said no. Luckily they didn't search our stuff, and we got through.

In the late 60's, if you had a pistol, the guards would put it in a plastic bag with a seal. That was a long time ago, and you can no longer do that.

I love Canada. Luckily I've never had a felony and can still travel up that way....

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Many, many great stories to tell - congratulations on a life lived! Keep those stories coming as you feel like it, Bill.

You're that one in a million and I hope you're telling your stories for years to come.

Blue skies Chuteless!
"Even in a world where perfection is unattainable, there's still a difference between excellence and mediocrity." Gary73

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The Canadian government had a factory for producing small arms, and machine guns like the Sten gun during W W II. It was bordered by Lake Ontario on the south side, Hwy #2 on the north, and bush on the east side, and a major sized army camp for recruits on the west.

All together, this was one of the major training places for the Canadian army, but it was right next door to the factory which made 9mm hang guns, Sten Guns and the Lee Enfield Mk4, 303 cal rifle, one of the best rifles ever made.

They would fire 50 cal machine guns at targets out over Lake Ontario. Every so often the firing would stop, because of a dud bullet. It was ejected and put in a box near the gunner, and at the end of the day, the box was dumped into the Lake.

We would watch for the end of the day shift, and take our canoe to the spot where the 50 cal duds were, and retreive them, and then make pipe bombs.I could have taught Al Qaeda a thing or two back in those days.

One small building housed tons of ammo of various calibres, along with some hand grenades, bombs, and an assortment of other live ammo.

One day, when working at an oil refinery, I took a large padlock from the board on the wall, and took the key out of it. As I held it, I KNEW without a doubt that the key would open the door of that small ammo hut. I had no idea what kind of lock was on the door, but I KNEW that this key would open the door.....absolutely no doubt about it. It was in my mind something I had done it before but it would have to have been in another life.

I stuck it in my pocket, and a few days later, paid a visit to the ammo hut in the dark of night, and the key opened the door like a charm....my intuition was right, but how could I have known? I was certain it would open the door, but can't explain my certainty.

I looked around at the cache of ammo, helped myself to a case of .22 cal Long Rifle, that weighed about 100 pounds. It was a long haul out to the highway and my car which was parked nearby, but it kept me and my friends shooting for many years.

The next time I visited the ammor hut, there was a slight rain...just enough to make things wet, and for me to stupidly leave wet footprints on the porch of the ammo hut.

I had been inside, and thought that the guard should soon be making his rounds. I took a couple of hand grenades and opened the door, and there was the guard slowly walking down the road toward the ammo bldg in the drizzle rain. I pulled the door shut with a loud bang, and slipped around the backside of the hut.

I had a signet ring on my left hand, and rotated it to resemble a simple gold ring without a stone, and I held a grenade in my right hand. It was dark, but as the guard came to the building, he flipped on a light which altghough it wasn't directly on me, it lit me up quite well.

My thought was, " If he sticks his head around the side of the building, he will be hit with the hardest fist in all of Canada. ( my right hand holding a grenade)

Fortunately, he didnt, and although he must have seen the footprints, he continued south on the road to check in at another site.

I waited a few minutes and slipped off into the dark, leaving a full case of .308 bullets in the weeds.

I went back to the hut one more time a few days later and the 308s were gone.

I had a large quantity of 9mm bullets, and gave them to the guy who owned the aircraft I set the Canadian record in. He owned a sten gun and wanted to do some shooting up at his cottage.

The factory still stands, but the ammo hut was bulldozed years ago.




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