The drogue chute flutters out, catches air, and then eviscerates his main pack in one jerk. There’s a bit of flopping and buffeting as Bobby Shaftoe’s body pulls the disorganized cloud of silk downwards, then it thunks open and he is left hanging in space, his dark body forming a small perfect bullseye in the center of the off-white canopy for any Nipponese riflemen down below.