In October 1940, the Commandant asked for volunteers to serve as paratroopers. Except for officers above the rank of Captain, everyone who applied had to be between 21 to 32 years old, 5'6" – 6'2", have normal eyesight and blood pressure, and be unmarried. All qualified Marines received a significant monthly bonus - $100 for officers and $50 for enlisted. At the time, PFCs made $36/month, and a 2nd LT made $125. This big jump in pay (no pun intended) and the promise of adventure attracted a lot of volunteers.
By the end of October, 40 Marines reported for a 16-week training course. Marines boarded a Douglas R3D-2 transport plane, and Second Lieutenant Walter S. Osipoff, the senior officer, was the first to jump as a Marine paratrooper. Marines conducted nine more jumps out of Navy blimps during the rest of the course.
On May 15, 1941, Osipoff was involved in a training jump that nearly cost him his life.
"I was waiting my turn to jump from the transport when suddenly I was jerked off my feet and out the open door.
The slipstream of the big motors hurled me back, and when the shrouds of my chute snapped taut I thought I would lose consciousness. The cold air blowing back into my face seemed to revive me. It seemed like hours that I dangled head down.
Several things occurred to me as I trailed along behind the plane. Even if the worst happened, I thought, somebody would benefit by getting my insurance.
Then I saw the rescue plane flying toward us. The officers and men in the transport attempted to pull me back in, but they couldn't reach me.
When I saw the little open trainer motion the transport out to sea, I knew they were going to try to cut me loose after getting me in the plane.
After we got out over the ocean, where it wasn't so bumpy, the other plane flew up and over me. I somehow wasn't afraid any longer. Then I came into contact with the wing of the plane. I remember a sort of sinking feeling when I slipped off the wing, and the shrouds again snapped tight.
Finally, the plane was directly below me. As it rose, I feared it would strike the tail of the transport. Then I fell into the cockpit into the arms of McCants (Machinist's Mate J.R. McCants).
The minute I came into contact with McCants, I put a death grip on him, and I don't believe anything could have pride me loose.
I shudder to think of what might have happened if Lowery (Lt. W.W. Lowery), pilot of the rescue plane) had failed to cut the shrouds with the propellor, and I had been jerked out of the plane again.
After I had fallen headfirst into the plane, everything went black. I didn't remember anything until I came to in the sick bay. I feel fine now, but the doctors are going to keep me here until they are sure there are no internal injuries."