SERVICE HIGHLIGHTS

Instructing children of Air Force personnel in the ancient art of judo is an off-duty hobby for Staff Sergeant Martin D. Francesco of Fairchild Air Force Base, Washington. The sergeant's young judo experts will have pop thinking twice before he turns down a request for a bigger allowance. The sergeant is also proficient in the art of karate, which makes a deadly weapon of the hands. But his most unusual skill involves the razor-sharp samurai sword. Don't worry if he makes a mistake, he can get another carrot. All in all, it's a striking demonstration of versatility in the ancient war arts of the Orient. At Tyndall Air Force Base, Florida, top air defense crews gather to try for honors in the William Tell competition, a test of air defense skills. A B-26 takes off with Ryan Firebee jet target drones slung under the wings. Close behind, an F-104 Starfighter scrambles to intercept the drone. Soon, both the drone carrier and interceptor reach the firing area. Target away. All ADC interceptor types compete in the William Tell. A lethal near miss and the drone is recovered to fly again. The final score brings awards to the top units. The 319th Fighter Interceptor Squadron of F-69s, the 460th flying F-102s, and the 538th and F-104s. And to all the cheering professional accolade, well done. At McCoy Air Force Base also in Florida, the Strategic Air Command stages a similar test of its skills with top B-47 and B-52 crews competing in bombing, navigation, and refueling techniques. This is the first year that refueling has been part of the competition. It requires precision teamwork and pinpoint navigation to rendezvous with the big tanker plane high above the clouds and a delicate hand at the controls to maneuver the massive planes with an accuracy measured in inches. Next come the precise simulated bomb runs scored by radar high above American cities which never know they've been in the bomb sights of the world's deadliest jet bombers. As the continent-spanning competition ends, the top crews find fresh confidence in their ability to function as a well-coordinated defense team. An impressive trophy goes to the winner. The SAC Commander-in-Chief, General Thomas Power, presents the Fairchild Trophy to the commander of the 307th Bomb Wing, overall competition winner, as Air Force combat units keep in razor-sharp form, ready to meet the threat of possible aggression. Flight testing of the effects of weightlessness on possible future spacemen continues. Astronauts can now experience a full half minute of zero gravity as their laboratory plane traces an exact parabolic curve high above the earth. The visual effect is startling, to say the least. Judging from the carefree way the test subjects handle themselves under zero gravity, weightlessness should not prove a major problem for spacemen of the future. An underwater innovation is unveiled as the Aquabat, a new two-man submarine, is tested off New London, Connecticut. Unlike conventional submarines, the Aquabat fills with water as it submerges. Individual aqualungs provide a breathable atmosphere for the two passengers. The two-man submarine is the brainchild of the special devices group of the Navy's underwater sound laboratories, and a special device it is. Only 20 ft long and 3 ft wide, it's more like an undersea scooter than a submarine. Powered by batteries, the Aquabat can be dropped miles from its target by a mother sub or surface ship, giving underwater demolition teams a vastly increased range. The Aquabat's aluminum hull lets her move safely among magnetic mines, and visibility is perfect through the large Plexiglas canopy. Navigation is by compass and depth gauge, with full controls in each of the twin cockpits. On reaching the target area, the frogmen simply park their Aquabat on the ocean floor, about the only place where parking isn't a problem these days, and move off to set their demolition charges. Thanks to the Aquabat, the team arrives at the objective unfatigued and fresh, ready to give their full energies and attention to the job at hand. Small as they seem, these compact delayed action charges can snap pilings in two or clear away underwater obstacles which have been set up to wreck landing craft. Once the charges are in place, the frogmen move swiftly back to the Aquabat, which will take them safely out of the blast area. For the Navy's frogmen, 1960 is a year which marks some highly significant advances in the tools of their underwater trade. At Fort Knox, Kentucky, something new in Army transportation. The vehicle currently being tested by the Army's research and development people is a real heavyweight. Capable of carrying 15 tons of payload over just about any terrain you can find, the new transporter is aptly called the Goer. To say that the Goer will go anywhere is only a slight exaggeration. A 30-in high vertical wall is crossed as easily as stepping up a curbstone. When it comes to rough open country, the Goer is in its element, negotiating ditches that would mean a snapped axle for many a less rugged vehicle. And since the body of the Goer is a hollow metal shell in which all the working parts are contained, deep water is no obstacle, either. It simply wades in and starts to swim, even with a full payload aboard. The Goer's hefty diesel engine is coupled to a gearbox, which gives 10 forward speeds and two in reverse. Even a tank cannot easily cope with mud nearly 3 ft deep. For the Goer, it's messy going, but steady going nevertheless. Since the steering wheel turns the whole cab and not just the front wheels, the GOER can duck walk its way through mire that would bog down a water buffalo. Completing its test demonstration, the fully loaded transporter goes from mud to a steep and rugged incline using the four-wheel drive available in first gear. And for a finale, the GOER shows a respectable highway speed of 35 mph. A big payload payoff in the Army's search for ever better cross-country mobility. In the early years of our present century, a group of government and military men gathered to evaluate the possibilities of a new vehicle for use by the Army. Here, the air age began. Many of the early designs were not the most reliable aircraft. In point of fact, some proved themselves to be no aircraft at all. But man was determined to fly, and the beginning of the air age was also inevitably the beginning of the widespread development of the parachute. True, even as late as World War I, most American pilots did not wear parachutes. But, as air warfare developed, the French and the Germans made them regulation issue among their pilots. In the years just after World War I, the parachute in America remained a device for barnstorming stunt men. But, by the early 1930s, Russia, looking ahead to the time when she would need shock troops for her global plans, began experimenting with the parachute for military use. This experimenting was not confined to human parachutists, but included vehicles and weapons. The airplanes at their disposal were crude, but their vision of the future role of the parachute in military operations was clear. And even in these so-called peacetime years, every means of increasing communist striking power was to be explored. They worked out an early method for cargo drops in which the parachute was dropped before the cargo. They even tried dropping manned vehicles without benefit of parachute. But, though some attempts were successful, it became clear that the parachute was the most practical means of air-to-ground delivery. Even before the actual beginning of World War II, the parachute's new and more deadly role was put to the test by the Germans. On a larger scale than their earlier drops into Norway, the Nazis' airborne operations in the early blitzkrieg thrusts in Europe set a pattern. They were the first to mount really large scale successful airborne attacks as they dropped into the Netherlands and scored a major success in the parachute blitz of the island of Crete. This highly profitable Nazi paratroop attack on Crete established clearly in military thinking the importance of this kind of highly mobile striking force. By the time America began massing her forces in England for the invasion of Normandy, our own paratroop units were in being, highly trained and formidably able at their work. The time for using the men of America's airborne infantry had come and the men were ready. During World War II, the parachute found a great many other uses. Vast areas of the enemy shipping lanes were seeded with mines from the air with parachutes to slow their descent and prevent detonation from landing shock. Toward the end of the war, the Germans came up with an unusual ribbon chute designed to act as an air brake for dive bombers and gliders. The Russians continued their experimenting, too. They worked out a complicated two-stage canopy which would bring their paratroopers down at greater speed. A smaller canopy slowed the fall for most of the descent, then a larger square-shaped canopy opened to cushion the final approach to the ground. It was interesting and it worked, but it never came into widespread use. In Korea, techniques for parachute delivery of huge masses of combat material to the front lines were developed to an almost exact science. Special chutes, big enough to drape a suburban home had been developed. Shoots big enough to handle jeeps, artillery, even light armor. The big nylon umbrellas had brought a great change in the concept of military supply. Tons of essential combat material could be delivered over distances that would have been out of the question in terms of land transport. The importance of the parachute in making possible this high-speed, large-scale delivery of material is virtually impossible to exaggerate. With the development of supersonic aircraft, parachute escape techniques had to change. The seat ejection parachute was about to come into being. Initial testing involved men as well as machines. Seat ejection would have to be swift, but not so swift that pilots could not bear the acceleration stresses. During World War II, the Nazis had worked on an ejection seat design, and captured German film showed us something of the problems they had encountered. We didn't intend for this kind of thing to happen with our design. So, the testing, the designing, and refining went on in the search for a way to give a pilot and his parachute a protective package, a self-ejecting package which would get him clear of a supersonic jet in a hurry and with safety. It was a tough problem, but the solution was found, and the ejection seat principle was proven in practice. In still another way, the parachute has added a margin of safety to the flying of jet aircraft. Special braking shoots are standard equipment on many jets, giving pilots the ability to land safely on a much shorter runway than they could otherwise use. In the field of guided missiles, this same adaptation of the parachute has found wide use. The Regulus supersonic submarine missile is a good example. The missile is recoverable because it can be guided to a landing by escort aircraft, and because it uses a rugged nylon canopy to slow it to a safe unswerving stop once it touches down. The Army's drone reconnaissance craft, controlled from the ground, can fly over enemy terrain, taking such detailed motion pictures as these for use by field commanders, and then return to base to be used again and again because it carries its own recovery parachute to bring it and its cameras down gently. Pararescue teams need special parachuting skills, and they practice them often. For instance, the right timing for slipping the harness in a water descent comes only with experience. Or take a jump over thick woods to battle a forest fire. A man needs know-how to land in the treetops and come out of it in one piece. In countless other situations as well, where relief could come only from the air, the parachute has brought supplies, aid, and comfort to those cut off from help. Recently, a lot of attention has been given to parachuting as a sport, both military and civilian. Skydiving, it's called, and clubs have sprung up everywhere. Perhaps it isn't likely to replace baseball as the national pastime, but few sports fans can claim the thrills that parachuting gives the skydiver. The parachute has truly come a long way from the early days of the barnstorming daredevils to its hundreds of uses in the world of today. The parachute has brought into being a whole new field of techniques and given a new type of fighting man to the modern army. The airborne soldier of today must know everything that classic infantryman had to know, and a great deal more. And the added training, the added mobility, the added striking power, which has come from the full development of the parachute's ability to deliver both assault troops and combat supplies, forms a central element of the fast-moving, hard-hitting pentomic army concept. Even with the space age opening up ahead, it seems safe to speculate that they are here to stay, the dependable, versatile umbrellas of the sky.