In 1979 I was jumpmaster on a C130 at Fort Bragg. About 15 minutes out from Sicily Drop Zone, we got an electrical fire up front where the radios and amplifiers are located under the flight deck. The only jump commands were stand up, hook up, and go. I bet we unloaded 64 paratroopers in less than 15 seconds. Plane landed safely back at Pope AFB, but we spent about 12 hours tracking down jumpers from Southern Pines northward. That will pucker up your asshole.
We had nearly a similar event loading a C-23 Sherpa in my Army Guard days. We were loading back to front and the plane started tipping. The crew chief got out a jackstand that attached to the plane and re-arranged some of our bags. I overheard the crew chief tell the pilot we were close to being overweight. The pilot said “No problem, I’ve got a couple extra hundred pounds in my back pocket”. I was pretty nervous on the takeoff and they used most of that runway up. Then we hit 12,800 feet from what I could see on the altimeter with no oxygen. The pilots were taking a hit from their masks every now and then. The rest of us were hyperventilating. I thought the C-141 was bad from Incirlik to Frankfurt.
Sobering. Takes discipline to get everybody up, hooked up (and not fouled line-by-line) and out with no casualties.