ST. STEPHEN, New Brunswick – If you decide to jump out of a helicopter at 10,000 feet, Squid is the man to be strapped to.

It took us about 30 seconds to free-fall some 5,000 feet and another seven minutes swaying back and forth under a colorful canopy that is a replica of the Canadian maple leaf.

Amid all the hoopla over the 400th anniversary of the settlement of St. Croix Island, U.S. and Canadian planners have worked in some thrills and chills, including a visit by the 14-member Canadian Forces parachute team, known as the Skyhawks.

Sgt. Don “Squid” Carlson, 41, is a member of the Skyhawks, based in Gagetown.

On Sunday, he was my tandem partner in a jump that turned out to be the kick of a lifetime.

He has stepped out of airplanes and helicopters more than 1,400 times.

As word spread that I was going to jump, the most often asked questioned was: “Are you scared?”

I wasn’t, and when I learned I could tandem jump with a Skyhawk parachutist, I volunteered.

The St. Stephen Airshow Committee and the St. Croix Flying Club co-sponsored Sunday’s parachute shows.

I got up early Sunday and headed for Gidden Memorial Airport. The sun was bright, and I knew I would be airborne within hours. Carlson briefed me before the jump.

June Archer Gillespie, who works for WQDY-WALZ FM in Calais, Maine, was my companion jumper. She was strapped to a second tandem master.

Veteran radio news director Tom McLaughlin, Gillespie’s co-worker, rode in the middle. He was there to record the jump and our reactions.

We were loaded into a green military helicopter that had few amenities – not even seats. We were strapped to the floor, and I sat between Carlson’s legs.

The doors on either side of the helicopter were slammed shut.

Pilot Eric Coillard and co-pilot Brian Fox flipped some switches and the rotor blade began to whirl.

Within seconds we lifted off. The St. Croix River was at our feet.

At 1,000 feet, roads and houses looked minute. We still had 9,000 feet to go. When Gillespie suggested that 1,000 feet was high enough, everyone ignored her.

Carlson held his wrist altimeter out for me to see: 5,000 feet. He told me to unhitch my seat belt. Then I heard the snap-snap of metal as he shackled first one, then the other clasp to my harness. Two more snap-snaps and I was cinched against his body. “How ya doing?” he asked.

“I’m feeling very tight,” I answered as he pulled the straps tighter.

Flight engineer Serge St. Onge did some final checks. “It’s minus 3 degrees at 10,000 feet,” he said.

Doors were opened. The first two men out were the photographers. I forgot to mention we were going to be videotaped during the free-fall segment.

Carlson moved me to the side of the craft, my feet dangling outside. Then he told me to lift myself onto his lap. Before pushing off, he reminded me to arch my back and bend my knees during the free fall.

We waited. “We’re turning up over the St. Stephen airport right now,” McLaughlin yelled. “I’m sorry this is radio, I wish this was TV or video, it’s magnificent.”

“See ya, Diana,” June hollered from behind me.

“See ya on the ground,” I yelled back.

“One minute to go,” the flight engineer shouted. “Fifteen seconds. Ten seconds.”

“Ready, set, go,” Carlson yelled into my ear.

I was looking at the ground, then at the sky. Finally sideways at the horizon, we were tumbling. Carlson’s foot had become caught on the copter’s skid. It had interrupted our smooth exit.

I knew instantly something was amiss because he had not briefed me on tumbling. Still, I didn’t feel any fear.

Within seconds we were righted and my hands were out in front of me, my legs bent at the knees. We were gliding like eagles. The air was cold, the wind strong as it thundered past my ears.

Carlson guided the chute to a soft landing. After we unhooked, the first person to get a hug was Squid Carlson. He had made the ride down a joy.