BalloonLife,October1999

34

Myjobasanewspaperreporteroften
takes me to new heights,but usually not so
literally as this past Memorial Day morn-
ingwhen I was about to take my first hot
air balloon ride.
“I’m scared.”I believe those werethe
first words I said to Major KevinKnapp.
Withthegentlenessanewmother
shows to a newborn child, Knapp, a rug-
ged military man and former Green Beret,
assured me that everyoneisafraid
the first time theyfly.
I had not sought out the experi-
ence.
I volunteered to work the holi-
dayweekendandcoverFreedom
WeekendAloft’sdebutinAnder-
son,SouthCarolina.I lookedfor-
ward tofour daysof fun, food and
music and the amazing sight of 100
hot air balloonsrisingintothe sky
above the city where I live. Idid not
plan to fly. I’mafraid of heights.
The18-year-oldhotairbal-
looning and entertainment festival,
billedbyorganizersasthesecond
largest ofits kind east ofthe Missis-
sippi, moved this year from Green-
ville, South Carolina to Anderson’s
SportsandEntertainmentCenter.
Greenville’sgrowth—tallbuild-
ingsandurbansprawl—pushed
thefestivaltoAnderson,amid-
sizedcitysurroundedbymilesof
rolling farmland. Anderson County
crews spent more than a year clear-
ing trees, grading hills and planting
grasstoreadythesiteforanexpected
crowdofmorethan200,000overthe
holidayweekend.Pilotswouldcompete
for more than $40,000 in cash and prizes.
Nightlyentertainmen tin cludedSouth
Carolina’sownHootie and the Blowfish
andcountrystarsBillyRayCyrusand
JohnMichael Montgomery.
I tossedand turned Sundaynightaf-
ter a message onmyansweringmachine
told me a flight had been arranged and to
be at an earlymorning pilots’ briefing.

I arrived at WhitehallElementary at
dawntofindamostlygroggy,coffee-
drinking, biscuit-eatingcrowd thatfilled
theschoolauditorium.Ilistenedtoroll
callandweather reports.
The detailedinformationwaslike a
scienceclass.Asafetylecturestressed
attentiontotinydetailslikekeepinga
close eyeoninflatorfanssowandering
childrendon’t stick their fingers in them.

Just before the meeting ended, a man
inablackU.S.Armyshirtandkhaki
slacksstoodupandaskedtohavethis
MemorialDaymorningflight dedicated
to those who gave their lives in service to
their country.
Minutes later I was introduced to him
andtoldthatMajor Kevin Knappwould
be mypilot.
I was overjoyed. I figuredanyone in
theArmyhadsome solidflighttraining
behindhim.I later learnedthat assump-

tionwaswrong.Acommercialballoon
pilot taught Knapp to fly. The U. S. Army
Reserveofficerwaslookingforsome
excitement after he left Special Forces to
becomeanArmyrecruiter.TheU.S.
Armyneithersupports,sanctio ns,nor
fundsthe 85-foot-tallblackballoonthat
carries a 16-foot-tall by 60-foot-long yel-
low-gold“ARMY”banner.Knappflies
thegiganticpublic relationsmachineon
his owntime with his ownmoney.
He does ittohelpArmyrecruiters
andtothank the military organiza-
tionhe isproudtoserve.
Knappwalkedquicklyfrom
the school,across theplayground,
and to the balloon launch area, sur-
roundedbyanentourage ofeager
newArmyrecruitsandtwolocal
recruiting officers. The exercisethis
morning wouldbe toleave the site
andlaunchtheballoonfromelse-
where, flyback to the site and toss
a little beanbag onto a target on the
ground.Theclosesttosswins.It
soundedsimple.
Alongthe way,severalpilots
stopped Knapp to congratulate him
onhiswininahareandhound
competition the night before. More
reassurance.
Suddenly we were atKnapp’s
vanwithawickerballoonbasket
mounted on the back. It looked aw-
fullysmall.Pilotswerereleasing
little testballoonsintotheair and
watching them drift across the sky.
Knappexamined a mapof the city look-
ingfor alaunchsite. Iwasengrossed.I
forgottobe afraid.
Wedrovetoan othersch ooland
watchedanothertestballoon.Theloca-
tionwasn’tquite right. We drove a short
distancetoachurchwhereanotherbal-
loonisthadstretchedarunofcolorful
fabricacrossthegrou nd.Weparked
nearby.
Knapp handed out gloves from a bag
inhisvanandassignedeveryone a task.

Flying with the Army

by Anna Simon

35

BalloonLife,October 1999

ThefacesofthenewArmyrecruits
beamed. All three young people had just
graduated near the top of their classesand
were clearlyenjoyingand impressed with
their first Army assignment.
Knapp seldom has help from Army
personnel. Thiswas onlythe third time in
more than five years and more than 100
events that recruiters supported his ef-
forts. Usually he recruits whatever civil-
ian volunteers he finds. He, too, was im-
pressed.
My job was to hold one side of the
mouth open as the balloon inflated. Sud-
denly it was time to hop into the basket.
Recruiting officerSgt. Benjamin Fryar
sat onthe tinybench next to me as Knapp
took us skyward. We floated so lightlyI
didn’trealize we had left the ground until
I saw the tops of trees at eye level. I must
have gasped. Fryar told me to keep my
eyes on thehorizon.That worked.My
eyeballs were gluedto the horizon for
dearlifewhen Knapp told meto turn
around.
I’veneverseen such an awesome
sight.Twenty,maybe thirtyballoonsfilled
the sky with color. More and more bal-
loonsliftedgentlyfrom the ground. Sixty,
seventy, 100. My fear evaporated com-
pletely.
For more than an hour we floated at

2,000 feet above the town and over Lake
Hartwell. The balloon toss wasn’t easy, I
found. We made a pass but were just a
littletoo far from the target to even throw
the beanbag out. Knapp hoped to return
for another try but the short window of
time the target was open elapsed. Knapp
changedcourseandradioed thechase
crew to meet us at a park on the lake.
We didn’t make it there. Knapp radi-
oedthe chasecrew again.Hepickeda new
landingsiteata brick lakefronthome with
a large level lawn.
Would the homeowner allow us to
land, Fryar asked.
They’reflyinganAmericanflag,
Knappreplied.Nearaboat dock,Old
Glory fluttered slightlyin an almost non-
existent breeze as if to welcome us.
As we drifted lower, two men on the
dock waved to us.
“Permission todock,Sir,” Knapp
shouted.
Permissionwas granted. Knapp flew
the balloon just inches abovethe water
and onto the grass alongside thedock.
Childrenandtheir parentsran from inside
the house onto the lawn to see the sight,
asking question after question.
Knapp answered each question as he
doledout instructionsto the ground crew.
Wetetheredtheballoon andeveryone

present got a ride into the air. This was a
Memorial Day picnic to remember.
When it was time to pack up, every-
one said goodbye like old friends.
All too soon wewereback at the
festival site and it was time for another
goodbye.Knapplinedupthe Armyground
crewandonemiscellaneousreporter.Then
with full military decorum, he pinned a
small black Army balloon medal to each
of ourshirts and named us all official
Army Balloon team members.
Freedom Weekendisover.ItsAnder-
sondebut went off without a hitch. Festi-
val organizers said afewsmall details
would be worked out by next year. The
biggestproblem was thatthe newly estab-
lished grass on the launch site was pretty
thin.MotherNatureshouldhavethatfixed
soon.
I can’t wait until next year’s festival
and plan to volunteer toworkanother
weekend.
Meanwhile, my Army balloon pin is
tucked away in my jewelry box, next to a
stringof pearls. I hope I’ll get a chance to
wear itbefore MemorialDayrollsaround
again. If Knapp bringsthatbig black bal-
loonback to the southeast and I’m not on
assignment, I’ll be there with wings on,
ready to fly to new heights with no fear.