Larry Hillman, 79, was a pilot in the U.S. Air Force from 1968 to 1989, retiring with the rank of Major. During his career, he flew C-130 aircraft around the world from Thailand to Turkey in a wide variety of missions.
In Southeast Asia, he flew an Airborne Communications, Command, and Control mission over Vietnam, Laos, and Cambodia. Upon returning stateside, he was an Acceptance Test Pilot for aircraft coming out of depot maintenance.
That’s where this story begins. That fateful day when a test flight failed and he was ejected, landing roughly but safely.
Hillman wanted to commemorate his safe landing after being ejected during the test flight 50 years ago. He decided the best way was to jump from an airplane that was not crashing: to do a tandem skydive.
Skydiving was already on his wife’s bucket list, so he and wife Nancy headed to Oklahoma Skydiving Center in Cushing to take the plunge. Both members of VillagesOKC, they are very active; this was just one of many adventures they have undertaken.
Larry’s account of the crash:
It’s been 50 years since I was thrown from an EB-57B Canberra over Alabama. I wasn’t even supposed to be a regular on that aircraft. My main ride was the C-130, but I’d been assigned as an Acceptance Pilot in Birmingham, and we only had one qualified B-57 pilot, Captain Charlie Wiegreffe. So, I flew in the back seat, the one with no controls, to help with the test flights after heavy maintenance.
The jet had a new nickel-cadmium battery. We learned later, much like today’s lithium-ion batteries, it had a nasty habit of overheating. Towards the end of what seemed like a successful one-hour test flight, I’d just told the factory we had “a winner” when Charlie yelled that circuit breakers were popping like firecrackers. Before I could offer any help, thick, brown smoke boiled up from behind my seat.
In a tandem-seat jet, the rear pilot has to eject first to avoid being incinerated by the front seat’s rocket motor. The force of the exit was brutal. The microphone in my mask was driven through my lower lip. The wind tore my arms from the seat, ripping my gloves off and shoving my hands into the rocket motor’s flames.
The opening shock of the parachute was a sudden, violent stop. My gloves were gone, my hands were burned, and a few parachute lines had snapped. I drifted toward a field, narrowly avoiding a 10,000-volt power line, and landed hard in a pine tree. Fifty years on, the memory is as clear as the Alabama sky was that evening
Looking down, I saw the smoke from the crash site. Then I saw Charlie. His chute was a disaster, a massive hole in the canopy. He was falling like a stone. There was nothing I could do but watch and hope. Fortunately, neither of us were seriously injued and both continued our Air Force careers.
The exhilaration of free fall
Back in ’75, the parachute opened automatically the second I was out of the seat; I never experienced freefall. This was my chance.
Shuffling to the open door of the turboprop with my tandem instructor, Mac, strapped to my back, was surreal. My feet snagged on the way out, but then we just rolled into the sky. Mac deployed a small drogue chute to keep us stable, and then he tapped my shoulders, the signal to spread my arms.
Falling at 120 miles per hour is a wild sensation. The wind noise is immense, and it pushes the skin on your face back, but it was exhilarating. I saw the videographer, Eric, floating nearby, and we gave each other a thumbs-up.
The chute opening was firm, but nothing like the violent jolt from 400 knots 50 years ago. Hanging under the canopy was peaceful. I even got a turn at the controls. Unlike my first landing in a pine tree, this one ended on my knees in a grassy field. It was a great experience, a perfect way to reclaim that day.
On Nancy’s bucket list
This skydiving adventure was on my bucket list for years, but sharing the experience with Larry on the 50th anniversary of his ejection made it truly unforgettable. I absolutely loved every second!
After I watched Larry and his instructor, Mac, tumble out of the plane, my tandem master, Andy, told me it was our turn. He had me scoot to the open door, hang my feet out, and then with a simple, “Here we go,” we rolled out into the sky.
For a moment, we were completely upside down. It was the most surreal feeling to look “up” and see the ground and look “down” at the endless sky. I instinctively closed my eyes for a second! The freefall was a powerful rush of cold wind on my face. The video later showed me constantly licking my lips, something I have absolutely no memory of doing.
Once Andy pulled the chute, the chaos of the fall turned into a peaceful, warm glide. We made a perfect stand-up landing, and I was immediately ready to go again. Now that I know what to expect, I’m sure a second jump would be even more amazing. Maybe we’ll get to 14,000 feet next time!