"Энди Макнаб. Кризис четвертого (engl) " - читать интересную книгу автора

I looked around-moving your head during free fall is about the only
thing that doesn't have an effect on your stability-trying to see where
everyone else was. I could just about see a figure over on my right-hand
side; I didn't know who it was, and it didn't matter. As I looked up I saw
the taillights of the 747 disappearing way above us, and downstairs, on the
floor, there was nothing, I couldn't see a single light.
All I could hear was the rush of air; it was like sticking your head
out of a car traveling at 120 mph. What I had to do now was keep stable and
wait for the AOD (automatic opening device) to do its bit. The drill is just
to assume that it's going to work, but to get in the pull position just in
case. I thought, Fuck that. I knew my pull height-30,000 feet, an 8,000foot
drop. I moved my left hand up, just above my head, and my right hand down to
the pull handle. There has to be symmetry with everything. If you're in free
fall and put just one hand out, that will hit the air and you're going to
tumble.
I could see the needle on my wrist alti. I was past 34,000. Instead of
waiting to feel the pull of the AOD on the pin, I kept on looking at the
alti, and bang on 30,000 feet I pulled the handle and pushed my hands up
above my head, which made me backslide, which meant the air would catch the
drogue chute to bring the main pack out. I felt it move and rock me slightly
from side to side. Then bang-it's like running into a brick wall. You feel
like one of those cartoon characters that's just been crushed with a rock.
I still wasn't particularly worried where everybody else was in the
sky, I just wanted to sort myself out. I could hear another canopy cracking
open, and I knew that it was near. I looked up to make sure I had a canopy
rather than a big bag of washing above me. The middle three or four cells of
the big mattress were full of air. I grabbed hold of the brake lines, the
two handles attached to para cord on each side of the canopy, and ripped
them from the velcro that held them in position on the webbing straps just
above my shoulder and started pulling. There are seven cells to the canopy;
by pumping you expose the end cells to air to quicken the process.
I had a look around me now, trying to find out where I was in relation
to the others. Fuck, my cock hurt! The leg straps had worked their way
farther up my leg and it felt like someone was giving my dick a squeeze with
a pair of pliers.
Above me I could see Sarah and Reg 1.1 must have had a slow opening of
the end cells, as they should have been below me. They were now spiraling
past me, his right arm pulling the brake line down to get into his correct
position in the stack. Sarah just hung there like a small child as he
slotted in between me and Reg 2, who was below me somewhere.
Being the last man in the stack, it was a piece of piss for me; I was
just bringing up the rear. As long as I was directly above and just touching
the rear of the canopy below me, I wasn't going to get lost, unless Reg 1
got lost with Sarah. Reg 1 would be doing the same to Reg 2, who was at the
bottom; he'd be doing all the navigating and we'd just be checking. And if
the worse came to the worst, we could actually shout to each other once we'd
got off oxygen.
Reg 2 would be looking at the display on his sat nav (global
positioning device, via satellite). All he wanted was one bar in the center
of the display.