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I thought the craziest part was where in this sequence of events does the pilot say > “This is very serious,” I thought. It's just after > "The main, 24-foot parachute was just flapping in the breeze and was tangled in its own shroud lines. It hadn’t opened! I could see the white folds neatly arranged, fluttering feebly in the air. So... after the flame-out, after the fire, after the lack of radios, after the failed ejection, after the canopy manual ejection, after jumping out of the plane, after not hitting the tail, then after pulling his parachute and it doesn't open does he finally think - man this is serious. |
That's typical of military pilots — their ethos is to present a calm, unruffled mien to the world. Phrases such as, "I was a bit concerned" would translate as "I was this close to sh*tting my pants from terror" in normal human-speak.
(Source: Dad and sister were military pilots, plus my own service aboard an aircraft carrier.)
There's a great and probably-apocryphal story in Tom Wolfe's book The Right Stuff where a rookie Navy fighter pilot is part of a dog fight with North Korean (probably Russian-piloted) MIGs; the rookie is shouting excitedly into the radio, "He's on my six! He's on my six!" Another American Navy pilot responds, "Shut up and die like an aviator" — as in, naval aviator.