DexterBase

Rhino, I guess you like to bad mouth the Navy. Okay, that's fine. Branches of the service have always taken cracks at each other and I'm sure nothing is going to change. You're a Marine right? Yes. A couple questions for you then. 1. Have you ever been in combat? 2. Have you ever been wounded in combat? My guess is that your answer will be no. I generally find that people who badmouth the Navy (or Corpsmen to be more specific) tend to be REMF's that have no need for a Corpsman. For the most part, any Marine who has been where the metal meets the meat, has a true appreciation and love for his Doc. I have had WWII, and Vietnam veterans shake my hand and with tears in their eyes, thank me for doing what I did over in Iraq. I was at a Veterans Day ceremony where they read my Bronze Star citation out and a 80 year old Marine combat veteran tried to give me his seat so I could sit down. I may be wrong, but I suspect that you have no idea what we saw when we looked into each others eyes. I saw respect for a Marine that did the same things I've had to do. He saw the only chance in hell he would have to survive if he was hit in battle. As far as the money, you can keep it. If it really means that much to you then please, have it. When I was hooking and jabbing with some insurgents that were trying to kill me, I promise you that money was the furthest thing from my mind. First in my mind was, "Please don't let any more of my Marines get hit right now!" Second was that hopefully by being there my little brothers wouldn't have to be there doing the same thing in ten years. I certainly am not doing this job for the money. Do I get paid? Yes. I get paid enough to cover my living expenses when I'm home and make a car payment so I have means of transportation in the rear. I get paid just enough to pay my bills and maybe, if I save, I can go out and make a few jumps from time to time. I'm okay with that. I knew the deal when I joined. I packed my shit and got on the plane knowing damn well I may never come back. I was okay with that. I knew the deal when I joined. I love my country, and I'll fight to the death to protect her and her interests.

I love Bad Religion and I've been listening to them forever. My personal favorite album is Recipe for Hate followed closely by The Process of Belief. Bad Religion played a direct role in the meeting of my girlfriend. I walked into the DZ after a long vacation in Spain and noticed a really cute girl packing her parachute. I checked her out for a while but when she stood up and walked toward me I fell in love. She was wearing a Bad Religion shirt.

The breeze is blowing on my face. It feels good, but it’s not what I want to be feeling right now. Right now sitting on the edge of this 420 foot cliff in Washington State, a moderate breeze is a bad thing. As I was hiking to the top I was hoping to find calm wind so I can step off the edge and make a BASE jump. Winds at the exit point indicate one thing: there are turbulent winds below that could cause my parachute to open toward the cliff and smash my body against the cold stone. Staring across the valley waiting for the wind to calm down and watching the fog drifting slowly by, my thoughts also drift off to another place and another time. ............................................. The year is 1998. It’s just after midnight and my legs are dangling over the side of a bridge girder 250 feet above the gravel lot below. I’m watching Dan Osman wrap static line around a metal beam. He’s building an anchor point to attach a rope to. I want to ask questions about what he’s doing but for some reason I just sit and watch his hands move. They move with a quick precision. No effort is wasted and no mistakes are made. The fingers make familiar movements clipping caribiners and tying knots as they’ve done many times before. Before long the anchor is assembled and the rope is in place. He looks over at where I’m sitting and smiles. I attempt to smile back but my lips won’t make the right shape. Fear. All that my mind can solidly grasp is fear. Hands tremble in my lap and the voice that comes from my mouth is shaky and unsure. “Are you ready?” he asks me. I nod back since I don’t want to try to talk. What if he hears the fear in my voice, will he think I’m weak? We walk together on the catwalk and approach the spot we’ll be jumping from. As I pull the climbing harness into place I fumble the buckle, my hands are really shaking now. He moves closer and finishes tying the knot in the 1” webbing that will connect the chest harness to the climbing harness. After the rope is properly attached to me, he gives me a final check and again smiles. I step onto a girder and carefully move one foot to the next one, legs spanning a gap with nothing but air below. I take several deep breaths in hopes of calming myself, but deep down, I know better. No amount of deep breathing is going to tame the wild fear that has completely filled my world. My entire consciousness is fear. I’m so scared right now. I’m afraid that the fall will be scary. I’m afraid that the rope might break. I’m afraid that my body might slam into the ground so far below and my life will be forever extinguished. I close my eyes and step into the darkness. ........................................... Looking out over the valley I can see another bank of fog moving up the canyon, this time, in the opposite direction of the last one. The wind is definitely doing funny things down there. On my extended hand I can feel wind coming straight up the wall. Not a good sign. That means that somewhere down there, the wind is hitting the cliff straight on. Not good for jumping. A familiar sensation begins to build in my core. Dread, impending doom, call it what you like. It’s the feeling that all practitioners of dangerous sports are intimately familiar with. It’s what we feel when we know we’re on dangerous ground and know we’re about to do something with potentially deadly results. Do we do it for fun? Is this my idea of fun, or is it something else, something deeper? ............................................ 2004, Ramadi, Iraq. I’m standing next to a humvee waiting for a general to finish a meeting so we can escort him to another meeting in another city. We talk about stuff that doesn’t really matter. Food in the chow hall, the new female lieutenant working in the command center, cigarettes, whatever people talk about when they’re passing the time and pretending not to be scared. In the distance we hear several muffled pops that we’ve heard hundreds of times before. It’s the distinct sound of mortars being fired. We all run for cover, some of us caught in the open hit the ground knowing there’s no time to run. There are a few explosions a thousand meters away. One of the Marines walking by, a kid with orange hair, laughs at us for taking cover. My friend Joseph tells him to shut up. “Why are you hiding? Those didn’t even land close.” The stranger asks, laughing. “You know that now,” Joseph yells back, “Wait until they do come in on top of you and you’re standing up in the open.” He shakes his head and looks at me. I shake my head back. New guys. They’ll learn. They’ll learn or they’ll die. Several more muffled pops. We take cover again. This time we hear something big cutting through the air. It vibrates as it flies over our heads and impacts with a ground shaking boom 40 meters away. The other mortars launched with it explode all around us. “Stay down!” someone yells. More pops. Shit, more mortars. How many are they going to launch? The rounds come in again shaking the ground and raining dirt and gravel on our backs. “Doc! Doc get over here we have wounded.” I grab my medical bag and run toward the voices pausing momentarily as several more mortars explode close by. I run as fast as my legs will carry me to a Marine laying face down in the dust. There’s blood everywhere. I roll him over onto his back to assess his wounds. It’s the orange haired kid. No way, his wounds are far too severe and he’s already gone. I move onto someone I can help. After we get the wounded loaded onto helicopters we resume our conversations by the humvee and smoke cigarettes. After a while the General walks up, dirt on his chest. Obviously the General isn’t too good to hit the dirt when the mortars come in. ............................................ Rain drops. At first there’s only a couple here and there but they’re slowly gaining strength. What am I doing? Why do I repeatedly find myself in situations that can kill me? While I hope that the conditions will improve allowing me to jump with some degree of safety, there’s a part of me that wants to see the conditions get worse, taking the decision out of my hands. You would think that I’d have it out of my system by now. You’d think that what I saw in Iraq would have cured my thirst for danger. You’d think so… wouldn’t you? In spite of all that, after over a decade of rock climbing, almost seven years of BASE jumping, and a summer in combat, you’d think I’d have it out of my system by now. Instead here I sit, alone on a cliff in the rain, waiting to jump off. I’m not as reckless as I once was with this sport. There was a time several years ago when the current situation and the internal struggle wouldn’t be happening. I’d have accepted less ideal conditions and just jumped, caring less about the outcome. I’ve made some jumps in the past that probably should have killed me, but those were in darker days where I had much less to live for. Maybe it’s the girl I have waiting for me at home, nervous that I’m out making a jump that she couldn’t join me on. Maybe I feel that since I’ve made it this far I should take it easy and exercise more caution. The rain is pouring down steadily now. I’m geared up and I look down the cliff. I look all around me at the world that goes unnoticed by so many. I close my eyes and feel the raindrops hitting my face. Maybe I should back off and walk down. Maybe I should take the guaranteed outcome and go home. I know I won’t live forever, but I’m sure happy to be alive right now. I wipe the water out of my short hair and pull my helmet on. A smart man would pack up and leave. Maybe I should too. You’d think so… wouldn’t you?

Hmmm... what comes to mind...? Fossil.... obsolete....relic....antique....moth eaten.... or... Premier. NickDG is one of the premier BASE jumpers.

Roger that. I hereby declare myself the 2004 BASE World Champion. Who wants to touch me?

It's my understanding that the World Cup event didn't happen because both main organizers passed away this year. With short notice, there really wasn't anyone who could make it happen in such a short amount of time. I wonder who will step up and star organizing the even now. Someone please correct me if I'm wrong.

I think it has far more to do with our national policy and our vision for the world, and much less to do with President Bush. If you were to take President Bush (I call him President Bush not "Bush" or "shrub" because he's our president and I think he deserves to be addressed as such.) out of office today, then there would be another person who would step in and do the same things. The President of the United States makes very few decisions without the consultation and advice of his advisors. A new president, after hearing the intelligence briefs and the advice of the chiefs of staff and other countless opinions he must listen to, will likely take the same actions. That is, unless you elect a selfish, gutless, liberal president who wants to isolate the US from the rest of the world. This world isn't ideal and I really get the feeling that a lot of people who post here are holding the President to impossible standards that would only work in an ideal and perfect world. Edit: Typo

That little stone S is about 330 feet tall but the landing areas on both sides are super vicious. The offheading death potential is very real as well. There are no outs, you have to have an on heading opening, and there's still no landing area. I looked all around that think trying to figure out a way to jump it. However, there are jumping options there. Need to clean up this thread and remove the site names...... where's Tom? ................

I've been there and I have some information. I will PM the information is exchange for you editing the name of the city out of your post. Thanx!

Are you using 9mm or 40 S&W?

Then which handgun would hold up to your level of use?

How are you using the weapons? What role are they playing and after how many rounds do you notice a loss in performance?

I like it. Kmonster and I went and fired one, put about 250 rounds through it and it shot really well. I think I'm going to buy one. After we fired it, someone mentioned the P2000. I think it's more ergonomic (the P2000) and I like the LEM. What I don't like is the ambedextrious slide release. I don't imagine I would ever need to use it, unless I was shot in the right shoulder and was shooting left handed (in which case I could just release the slide with my index finger or do a combat reload), then it might be nice. It feels funny when I'm indexing and I just don't like it there. I don't like the lack of a safety or de-cocker either. I really think I'm going to just buy the USP compact. Any advice? Edit: typo.

Rodger that!

I heard that too. He made an interesting comment to a few of us while holding some packing clamps... something along the lines of, "...think that's cool, you should see me in bed..." Interesting

Yeah, absolutely! I can't wait to hear about it. Sorry we couldn't make it out there but we'll be eagerly awaiting news.

Exactly. Mike you know we're in your corner on this one. I honestly think you have it in hand and as soon as I start to think differently, I'll tell you. Just as I'd expect you to tell me if I started doing something that was too much, I hope you will speak up and tell me what you think. Either way, if I tell you I think you're making a bad decision and we talk about it, and you decide to jump anyway, I will be there to ground crew and help you in any way possible to make sure you have all the support you need for that jump. Mike, you're one of the coolest and genuinely caring people I've ever met. I get a lot out of jumping with you and just hanging out together. I'm proud to call you my friend, but more importantly, I'm really proud that you consider me one of your friends. I'm looking forward to all of our adventures in the future, and I know there will be many. To everyone who doesn't like the way we're jumping (I won't mention any names), that's just too bad. I never pledged allegiance to some BASE gods. I only made promises to myself and a few friends, and those I'll keep. I follow commonly accepted BASE ethics and I think anyone who's jumped with me will agree. If we're doing something wrong though, tell us what you think and we'll consider it. If there's something here that can be jumped, we're going to jump it. Simple as that. There's a ton of jumpable BASE objects here and I think we're pretty much the only ones opening new objects in the area. If it's in another town then I'll ask permission from the locals. If it's in my town, it's on. Just because someone else looked at it and decided not to jump it because they felt it was too dangerous isn't a reason for me to walk away. Just like watching someone jump an object doesn't make it a good idea for me to try it. It's a personal game. We all make our own decisions and jump at the level we feel comfortable with. The object we jumped together the day we met was technical. It was serious. It was one of those jumps where you're flying on the edge. I would say it's the most technical BASE jump in Washington. I chose to jump it then and I've jumped it again since. It is a beautiful jump and I plan to jump it lots more. If a few jumpers don't think it's a good idea to be jumping there, then they don't have to jump. What if I go back there and jump again and get hurt? Will the naysayers shake their heads and say, "See, we told you it was a bad idea to jump there...." I could care less what they say. It's a very technical jump so getting hurt there wouldn't surprise me at all. I take the precautions I feel are necessary to stack the odds in my favor. If I don't think it's good, I won't jump. Mike, how many times have I elected not to jump there when the winds were a little bit funny? I jump for me. Edit: Oh yeah, and one more thing... if I walk away from an object and you come behind me and jump it, I won't be jealous of you. I won't be bitter that you jumped something I wouldn't. I will be stoked for you. I'll want to talk to you about the jump and I'll congratulate you for jumping something I wouldn't. My hat will be off to you and I'll buy you a pint. I'll certainly never tell you you're stupid for jumping it.

Fake

Actually, we took several intel guys and analysts to the ambush site about two months later (The ambush I'm describing was on April 9th, 2004)because the General we were escorting commented that it was the worst ambush he'd ever seen. Between walking the terrain to see where the enemy positions were laid in, and the location of the ambush itself, they concluded that we were likely ambushed by former republican guard troops. They had an L shaped ambush with an IED (Improvised explosive device) at one end to halt the convoy in the kill zone. They had three RPK machine guns set up with interlocking fields of fire, RPG's and AK-47's placed and pre-loaded behind the large dirt berm to our left (so they could pop up, fire a weapon empty, drop it, and move to another position, preventing them from being seen in the same place twice.) About 400 meters outside the ambush site, they had a mortar pit set up and pre-targeted on the middle of the kill zone. When our lead vehicle neared the IED (a single 155mm HE artillery shell) at the end of the kill zone, they blew it and our convoy stopped just like they hoped. They kicked off the ambush with the RPK's and started lobbing RPG's through the convoy. What I'm about to say may piss some people off, but I don't mean to offend anyone. These same troops had been used to ambushing Army convoys. We were the beginning of the Marine deployments to Iraq since OIF I ended. There had been a period of almost a year since there were Marines fighting in the country. A majority of convoys attacked in this time were soft targets, usually a logistical supply convoy with little to no offensive capability. When these types of convoys are attacked they usually floor it and get through the kill zone while returning fire. There's no real point to staying at the ambush site unless you have enough firepower and a dismounted offensive capability to agressively respond. It could be easy for them to get accustomed to firing on a logistical Army convoy without much risk of being killed in the process. Maybe they'd luck out and disable a few vehicles in the kill zone while the rest of the convoy rolled through. Whatever the case, they never expected the intensity we reacted with when they kicked off the ambush. Immediately our guntrucks (HMMWV's with crew served weapons) aggressively left the asphalt road surface and punched toward the machine gun positions and started supressing their fire. At the same time, our dedicated dismounted quick reaction force dismounted their vehicle and started seeking the enemy's flank. About this time they started dropping 60mm mortars on us while continuing the machine gun, RPG, and AK-47 fire. Their fire was effective, as all of our vehicles sustained multiple hits. As we took their flank and achieved fire superiority, the spine of their ambush broke and the fire started to taper off. We exploited this weakness and destroyed their forces. They didn't do anything wrong except pick the wrong convoy to attack. Had we been a soft convoy, they probably would have killed all of us. As it was with our swift and aggressive reactions we took 20% casualties including one fatality, my friend Chance Phelps who was killed right next to me when a round hit him in the face. You can execute an ambush perfectly, but if the force you decide to ambush is better trained and equipped, then they may hand you your ass, like we did to them that day. Also, there are many configurations of ambushes you can set in. We encountered a textbook L shaped ambush. The difference between us being killed and them, was the intensity the Marine Corps trains to respond with. They had the initiative until they kicked off the ambush. Once the first round left their weapons, they had committed themselves to their fate, they just didn't know it yet. It sucked.

If you're sending anything of value, or anything you don't want them to open/inspect, there's something you can do to make the package less attractive. When you are asked to declare the contents of the box in writing, instead of writing DVD's $60, magazines $10, candy $5, Portable DVD player $300...etc etc... Write this: "This is certified to be a bonafide gift for a military member for their personal use." We were seeing a lot of open packages with declared contents missing. Our higher ups noticed this and the above statement is something we were told to have our supporters back home write in the declaration space. This way you don't need to declare the contents. P.S. Not that I would encourage mailing alcohol into an alcohol free zone, but Jack Daniels does look similar enough to Listerine...

yeah, okay.

In my situation, the Marine who was right next to me had just died in my hands and there were rounds impacting my stationary vehicle. I figured we were in pretty bad shape when they started lobbing in RPG's and dropping mortars on us. We were in the middle of a perfectly executed ambush. It really, really sucked.

All military terms are metric. Especially when dealing with artillery or air support.

I don't say, "I'll stick to skydiving" but if you've ever shared an exit point with me on a fairly technical jump you've probably heard me say, "This is silly" or "What the hell is wrong with us?" I know it's dangerous, very dangerous. BASE jumping scares me down to the deepest level of my consciousness. It's hard to start your exit count knowing you may have already begun the last ten seconds of your life. I do it though, because I honestly feel that I get more from it than I could ever get without it. BASE is me and I need it, right now anyway. I sincerely hope that I will grow out of it and find safer, more fulfilling ways to spend my time. But for now, I need it and that's my decision. I've tried to quit in the past (after a couple really close calls) but BASE has an eerie way of getting you back to the exit point with a rig on your back.

More times than I care to remember. I've been rock climbing since I was twelve, BASE jumping since I was 18, and did a combat tour in Iraq last summer. So, many, many, many times. I'm not talking about being scared, I'm talking no B.S. "you're about to die right now" situations. I had a 7.62 tracer round fly so close to my face that I could feel it snap past my head? (this happened probably 20 times in about half an hour.) I had mortar rounds impacting around me as I was hugging the earth in the open. After the incoming stopped, we found craters less than 40 meters away. (if you don't know, a 120 mm mortar will kill you if you're standing up within 70 meters of the impact.) As they come in you can hear the round cutting the air with a very destinctive hum/whistle. I could go on for a while but I won't. BASE is pretty scary too.