Seven from heaven
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Well, I've seen some conference finales, but nothing approaching the showmanship with vvhich Daimler-Benz closed its international transport seminar at Eastbourne on Friday evening.
First, the setting. Someone (and there were dark speculations about this) had towed the Mediterranean up to the South Coast and parked it off Eastbourne. In this glowing golden evening the 230 delegates were asked to carry their glasses of iced champagne (my goodness, they make you work at these meetings) across the promenade from the Grand Hotel to the greensward beside the Reckitts-blue sea.
A young man appeared, set out a mysterious sign on the grass, and lit what appeared at first to be a monstrous, smoking firework. Then a small plane appeared at about 5000ft and out of it tumbled seven figures who did a 2000-foot free fall which nearly ruined my appetite for dinner; and suddenly the sky was full of coloured smoke and funny parachutes and parapianes and whatnot. It was, of course, the Parachute Regiment's Red Devils.
They executed the most precise swoops and spirals and came in to land in meticulous order on the tiny green space, hemmed in by the conference guests and half of Eastbourne's astonished evening walkers. Snapping to attention, they lined up for inspection by their CO (concealed in the crowd) and other dignitaries.
I am proud to say that the foreign visitors to the conference were moved to cheers and applause by this astonishing demonstration of cool skill— and happy to add that the seven Devils were invited to join the conference delegates for the splendid end-of-event dinner. The unassuming young private who sat at our table said he really couldn't remember how many drops he'd done; you see, they do three shows a day in the season, and in any ease reckon to make between two and four practice falls a day to keep their hand in !