What remains of my hair is whipped around in the wind, blowing a few strands into my face. Those who cluster around the entrance get pushed by others behind them, and I hope for their sake that they remember how to operate their parachute.
Red tag… red tag… pull the red tag if you want to live…
Soon it’s our turn. Ans jumps without a problem, opening his parachute three hundred or some feet below the plane. There are white dots everywhere, blooming like small flowers across the