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The Accident - The Testimony of Mickey Robinson

It was just another hot August night to the four men and myself who were all set to make a routine parachute jump. Flying conditions were poor, due to the combination of intense heat and high humidity. I wasn't concerned though, I was a professional skydiver and had worked in a demonstration team before crowds of thousands. Not all in the plane were as relaxed as I was. It was one man's first jump; for another it was only his forth. Skydiving was my life - nothing else mattered. It had won my heart since I witnessed a display by a Parachuting School. the progression, from my first jump to my first free - fall, was rapid. I was obsessed - no amount of time or money was too much to spend. Eventually I was jumping with some of the world's best skydivers.

I would witness to people in bars, trying to convert them to my passion... I even had a bumper stickers. Old friends were concerned that I was going overboard, but I didn't care. I was 100% committed to skydiving, and knew I was in complete control of my life. That night, with a full load of six, the plane cleared the runway, going well over a 100 miles per hour. Suddenly, without any warning, the engines totally failed. The pilot turned to me and said "We're going down!" The plane plunged towards the earth, and impacted where the wing joined the fuselage. It then spun, cart - wheeling over the wings, and I slammed into the ground. I was flung forward, smacking my face against the hard interior wall. Injured and in a shock, three skydivers escaped the wreckage and ran. A fourth also exited. He saw the pilot and myself moving and assumed that we were escaping also. As he left the plane burst into flames - the fuel tank had ruptured and, as the plane spun gasoline splashed everywhere. Terrified, he bolted, screaming, and suddenly realized that we were still inside the plane. Running back into the flaming wreckage, he saw me, aflame from head to toe, trying to free my leg which was trapped in a hole where the wing had been. He yelled for the pilot to unbuckle, and attempted to pull me loose. But I was Stuck!

I was born in 1949 in Cleveland, Ohio, during the 'happy days' era, and I grew up with attitudes reflecting the mood of the society. I lived for the things I desired, and life was something that wasn't meant to be taken seriously. I went to church every Sunday (my family were Roman Catholics), so I was endowed with a knowledge of God. However I had never encountered anyone who knew him personally.

As I grew older, I began to entertain concepts other than Biblical ones, relating to the universe, creation, and eternity. I turned away the simplicity of the gospel which had a relevant factor in my life (though I had never been converted), and became involved in usual teenage lifestyle of dating and sports.

After graduating from high school, I talked my way into a job in a stockbroker's firm. By then I thought I was a big shot and really had it together! People were amazed at what I had accomplished.

At eighteen years of age I was really going places. I worked in downtown Cleveland in a modern, progressive office surrounded with many attractive people: my job was fun, very challenging and exciting.

Outwardly I was a confident, attractive young man - the life of the party. Inwardly though I was driven by fear - fear of not measuring up, of failing. I was always seeking the approval of other people. Though I appeared to have it all together, I was actually living on the very edge of desperation.

I was Desperate! Ablaze from head to toe, and trapped in the wreckage, unable to wrench myself free! My rescuer's second attempt succeeded, as well as with greater than human strength, he pulled so hard he tore me loose. Dragging me from the plane, he threw me on the ground and rolled me around to put the fire out. It took several attempts as the fire kept re-ignited. When finally he'd stopped the flames, he turned back for the pilot but it was to late. The pilot had been burnt to death.

I lay on the ground, severely injured. The skin on my arm and hand was falling off onto the ground like that of a fried chicken. There was also a serious cut on my face. I asked how badly I was burned and the comment was, with all the smoke, they could not tell. Actually they were convinced that I would never make it off the field. When the medics cut off what remained of my clothing, they saw that I had sustained very serious third - degree burns over a third of my body.

Although I was young, extremely healthy and very athletic, the prognosis was bad: I had no chance of survival, especially as burns to the extent that I had received often lead to severe complications - and they did.

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