Today's The Day

The United States Army Airborne School is located at Fort Benning, Georgia. On the field where soldiers are turned into paratroopers, there is a monument. It reads:
“The Airborne Walk, a tribute to every person who has been or will be Airborne qualified. Dedicated April 17, 1986 by Secretary of the Army John O. Marsh Jr.”

He found some old papers with raised seals tucked inside an all but disintegrating photo album. They looked official.
“The Silver Star, awarded to Robert Warren, Sergeant, RA438656073, 173rd INF BDE (ABN), for gallantry in action against an armed opposing force, Republic of Vietnam…”
“The Bronze Star, awarded to Robert Warren, Sergeant, RA438656073, 173rd INF BDE (ABN), for gallantry in action against an armed opposing force…”
“The Purple Heart, awarded to Robert Warren, Sergeant, RA438656073, 173rd INF BDE (ABN), for wounds sustained in action against an armed …”
Wow.
“Mom?”
No answer.
He went to the kitchen where his mother was working. She had papers spread across the table. A cup of coffee steamed next to the papers.
“Mom,” Robert said.
“Yes?” She stopped for a moment.
“You got a minute?”
“I’ve got two, but then I need to get this lesson plan done… what’s up?” she said.
“I found this stuff.”
“Let me see…”
She examined the papers and thought, I guess I had them after all.
“Where did you find this?” she asked.
“In the closet,” Robert answered.
“They’re your dad’s… awards from his time in the war.”
“The war?”
“Yes.”
“I didn’t know he was in the war. What did he do over there? Was it dangerous?”
“Of course it was dangerous. It was a war. But he was one of those special guys, you know? They teach them things to make them better prepared,” she said.
“What do you mean special?” Robert asked curiously.
“You know, like Special Forces.”
“Special Forces?”
“Yes.”
“Oh.”
“Listen, Robert… I’m sorry son, but I really have got to get this done. Why don’t you call him? I think they’re important to him.”
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t know what to say, it’s been so long.”
“You probably should call him. He was looking for these a few years ago. I didn’t know they were still here. You’ll think of something, I’m sure. Or don’t call him. You decide. Bottom line is, I’ve got to get back to work here.”
“Okay, thanks Mom.”
“You’re welcome.”

Robert on the phone.
“Office of enforcement, may I help you?” a woman answered.
“Can I speak to Agent Warren?” said Robert.
“Robert Warren, yes sir. May I tell him who is calling?”
“Robert Warren.”
“…I’ll transfer you now… Mr. Warren,” she sounded confused.
“Thank you,” Robert told her.
“Investigations, Warren.”
“Dad?” Robert asked.
“Hello… who’s this?”
“Its your first born child, Dad, name’s Robert.”
“Robert… How are you?”
“I’m 16, Dad,” he said sarcastically.
“Yeah…how’s your mom?”
“I don’t know how old she is.”
“No, Robert… talk to me. I’ve missed you. I mean how is she doing? How are you doing? Are you okay?” his father asked pleadingly.
“Yeah, I’m fine. She’s fine. Listen, I’m calling because I’ve got some of your stuff. Mom says it’s important.”
“What is it?”
“Its three awards, from the Army.”
“No kiddin’? Which ones?”
“The first one says Silver Star. There’s a Bronze Star, and a Purple Heart.”
“…Yeah son, I spent years trying to get your mother to give those back to me. You have ‘em?”
“Yeah,” the young Robert said.
“The medals or the documents?”
“The documents. She says she didn’t know she had them.”
“Where did you find them?”
“In an old box at the back of the closet. What does ABN mean, anyway?”
“Airborne. I was airborne…A parachutist… 173rd. ‘Third Herd’ they used to call us. Was there anything else there? What else was in the box? Were there any pictures?”
“Yeah, there’s an old photo album. It’s falling apart, though. Looks like you in some of the pictures.”
“Son, you gotta come down here and bring that stuff.”
“Well… I don’t know. Maybe we could mail it to you.”
“Let me pick you up. Have you had lunch yet?”
“No, not yet.”
“Will your mom let you out? We could have lunch together. I know a good place. Biggest hamburgers in New Orleans.”
“Yeah, I think so. Maybe.”
“See what you can do and try to call me back here in a few minutes. Call me back in five minutes, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Alright then, and Robert?”
“Yeah?”
“Don’t be mad at me son… and thanks… I love you.”
“Okay, bye,” he said and hung up the phone.
“Call me back.”

Robert calling back.
“Investigations, Warren.”
“Dad.”
“Yeah, what did she say?”
“She says okay. You gonna pick me up?”
“Yeah. I’m on my way. Are you at home?”
“Yeah.”
“Meet me at the bus stop by your house. You know, on the corner? I should be there in about fifteen minutes.”
“Okay.”
“Thanks, son. I’ll see you soon.”
“Okay.”
“Okay, bye.”
“Bye.”

Four years later, 350 miles northeast.
“Hands UP!”
As he’d done dozens of times before during training, Private Robert Warren removed his hands from behind his back and quickly placed them on top of his head. The jumpmaster began the inspection. He checked Robert and his harness from top to bottom, left to right, seeing everything, touching everything. Robert stood there, uncomfortably, but pleased, anxious and in a hurry to board. He was shivering in the middle of summer.
Today’s the day, he thought.
“Turn AROUND!”
The jumpmaster began again, this time checking from behind. He ran his hands and eyes over every inch of equipment.
“Squat!”
A few more items to inspect and he was done. This process was repeated three more times on each soldier by three more jumpmasters. Then it was all over but the wait.
Not nearly, Robert thought.
A few minutes later the announcement came.
“Sticks one through four, FALL IN!”
They filed in through the rear of the aircraft. There was a jumpmaster at the ramp, with a mean look on his face.
Angry about nothing probably. All in the noble interests of order and discipline, Robert thought.
One more was behind the group, one at the left door, one at the right. Robert said good-bye to another soldier with whom he had served in the desert. It was kind of a private joke they always said they would have, to say good-bye on the ground on the way to every jump, just in case one or both might not survive.
After the plane was loaded with 32 jumpers, 4 jumpmasters, a pilot and first officer, they took off. Five minutes into the flight, the lead jumpmaster signaled his second in command and it began. Almost simultaneously, they slid the left and right doors open and one said in a very loud and thunderous manner,
“Repeat after ME!”
“Repeat after ME!” repeated the jumpers.
“DON’T freeze in the door!!”
Jumpers, “DON’T freeze in the door!”
“DON’T rush the door!”
“DON’T rush the door!”
“ECHO all commands!”
“ECHO all commands!”
“Have a good jump!”
“Have a good jump!”
The jumpers were seated and the plane took off. Robert sat next to the jumpmaster in charge, near the left door, and at that small moment was beginning to wonder if this was such a good idea after all.
The jumpmaster smiled at him.
“How you feelin’ Airborne?”
“Good, Sergeant. Airborne!” he lied.
“Look at this.”
He handed Robert a small piece of paper. On it was a little cartoon from that day’s calendar. It showed a drawing of a man with a parachute that was completely open, next to another jumper who was falling because someone packed socks instead of a parachute. Dirty laundry was coming out of where he thought his parachute would.
That is not a good sign.
“Pass it around, Airborne.”
A few minutes later, the jumpmaster leaned his upper body out the left door and braced himself, holding on inside as the air from the propeller made the skin on his face rush toward his ears. He found the green smoke on the ground, pulled himself back in, looked at Robert and smiled. It was an awful smile. Robert became so physically weak at the sight of this, that if he wasn’t already sitting down, he surely would’ve fallen.
I’ve gotta be crazy to do this.
All the confidence and bravery he had began to rush out of him like so much air in a tire punctured by a nail. The jumpmasters gave each other a thumbs up, and started with the commands.
“TEN min-utes!”
“TEN minutes, TEN minutes, TEN minutes!” the jumpers repeated as they folded their arms and swayed their shoulders from side to side, pushing the jumpers to their left and right, just in case anyone was asleep. Robert was wide awake. He had never been more awake.
“GET read-y!”
The jumpers repeated.
“Outboard personnel stand UP!”
Robert and the fifteen other jumpers seated with their backs against the aircraft skin rose all together and faced the front while repeating the command. Tension rose up to his neck. His respiration became more difficult and was accelerating. In his mind, he saw Houdini upside down, inside a water tank, handcuffed, and blindfolded.
Flying over Fort Benning, Georgia, and having spent the last two weeks learning about military parachuting, Robert Warren was about to make his first jump.
“Inboard personnel stand UP!”
The command was echoed as those seated rose and faced front.
“HOOK--UP!”
“HOOK--UP!”
Thirty-two soldiers removed the end of the static line, the yellow nylon cord that was tucked into the front of their parachutes, opened the aluminum clip on the end and closed it on the twisted metal cable that ran above their heads for the length of the aircraft.
“CHECK static LINES-uh!”
They repeated this and checked that their lines were in fact attached and did actually lead to the backs of their rigs.
I’ve really got to be crazy to do this.
Each soldier checked his own line from the front and then checked the rear of the line of the jumper to his front.
“Check e-QUIPMENT!”
“Check e-QUIPMENT!” the jumpers echoed.
They checked their own front, feeling the security of the straps around their legs, their arms, across their chest; and checked the back of the soldier in front of them. The last jumper was checked by the jumpmaster in the rear on the aircraft.
“SOUND off for equipment check!”
The jumpmaster in the rear slapped the last soldier on the ass and yelled “O-KAY!” That soldier repeated this action until it got all the way up to Robert. He pointed not a finger but a whole hand at the lead jumpmaster and yelled out, “ALL O-KAY JUMPMASTER!!”
“One MIN-ute!”
“One MIN-ute!”
I can’t do this.
“Thirty SEC-onds!”
“Thirty SEC-onds!”
All the jumpers ready now, the jumpmaster said to Robert, “Drop Zone comin' up, STANNND in the DOOR!”
Robert handed the jumpmaster his static line and somehow took his position in the open doorway. He braced himself there, trying not to look down, trying to hold breakfast down, scared, nervous, half hung over, and with a headache. He saw the bright light of the open sky. He smelled and tasted the fumes from the propellers outside to his right. Feelings of fear and uncertainty about his chosen profession were growing rapidly. He imagined Houdini struggling for freedom. The sound of the engines was muffled only by his thoughts.
What in God’s name ever possessed me to volunteer for this? Did I even volunteer? I never volunteered. Yeah, you did Airborne. You volunteered all right. You did. No I didn’t. Yeah, you did. Whose idea was this anyway? Yours. I’m gonna die. No you’re not. No you’re not. It’ll work. Go Airborne, that’s where it’s at. To be an Airborne soldier, remember? Yeah, but why do I have to get the door? I shouldn’t get the door. It’s enough without getting the door. This is crazy, this is crazy—ENOUGH!! YOU ARE GOING TO DO THIS!!! And so he found a little more strength, got tough, and waited for the signal.
Military parachuting can be a very emotional experience. The C-130 (Hercules, it’s called) is an old twin propeller airplane that’s used for troop transport, among other things. The back of it has a ramp that lowers for soldiers to walk in or out. Jumpers can parachute out of the side doors or off the ramp. Even equipment, like vehicles, food, or weapons, can be also parachuted right down the ramp. When a jumper is walking on board, the engines are usually on so the aircraft can leave in a hurry. Jumpers walk in with their right hands covering the ripcord of a reserve parachute, which is strapped to their bellies. This is to make absolutely sure that nothing snags the handle and accidentally deploys the chute. An open parachute inside of an aircraft in flight with the doors open is something to be avoided. The ripcord handle is made out of a silver colored metal and Fort Benning has no cold days in July. Between the heat of the engines and the heat of the day, to cover that ripcord with your hand is not quite, but almost as bad as holding your hand over a lighted burner on a gas stove.
Inside the C-130, it’s loud with the propellers and debris is flying around, as at least one door is open. It made Robert squint. That didn’t help because it was dark in the middle of the plane. Contrasted with the sunlight coming in the open door, it affected his vision.
I can’t see a thing in here.
He began to consider the life expectancy of a paratrooper and the possibility of not surviving the day, even though it was training.
This is safe right? What is the life expectancy of a paratrooper, anyway? What kind of a man jumps out of a perfectly good airplane? What the hell am I doing here? I’m not going. Uh-Uh. Nope.
And then there’s the “door position.” That is a reference to the first jumper who will exit the aircraft. He is the only one out of his group of eight, his stick, who will have to stand in the open doorway and wait for the signal from the jumpmaster before he jumps. The other seven follow immediately as fast as they can, or as fast as the jumpmasters can get them out.
There are two small lights at each door. One is red and one is green. The jumpmasters monitor these. They will order the first jumper to stand in the door just a few seconds before they anticipate the green light signal. That is permission from the pilot to deploy the jumpers. There is a buzzer buzzing while the green light is on. The jumpmasters wait until just before the green light illuminates to position the soldier in the door. This is done because they know that even though they have drilled it into the soldiers’ heads for the past two weeks to look up at the horizon and think about the jump,--“Up six inches, out thirty-six. Focus, Airborne, Focus!” --They know he’s going to look down and get scared. How could anyone not look down? So they try to delay placing him there until the last few seconds. This way, before he has a chance to let his fear affect his actions, and they end up having to put a combat boot to his rear end to get him out, its over.
But often, when one gets blessed enough, or lucky enough, or cursed enough, Robert might say, to get the door position, those few seconds seem a great deal longer. It’s hard not to look down. Everyone looks down. And then there are the evil jumpmasters who want to give the soldier the full benefit of the training and place him there just a little early, maybe. Just so he can get the full benefit of the training, the emotional benefit. Then they even sometimes encourage him to look down. “How’s it look down there Airborne, you ready?”

At the door.
The sound of the engines dulled as the aircraft suddenly slowed to almost a stall. The jumpmaster saw the green light and at the same time heard the buzzer, slapped Robert in the ass saying “GO!” and then he was falling through the air from 1250 feet. Somehow he got out. Everything twisted and turned out of control. He unsuccessfully tried to jump up six inches and out thirty six.
One thousand…
He struggled to keep his body in the tight position they taught him.
Two thousand…
Everything was a struggle.
His stomach was trying to push his heart out of his body through his neck.
Three thousand…
His eyes were demanding to stay closed.
Four thousand…
For five seconds, the world was rapidly spinning this way and that. Then suddenly, with a violent, shuddering deceleration, everything came to a halt. Thirty one jumpers followed. There was a slight delay of two seconds, as the 13th jumper decided mistakenly that he couldn’t do it.
“I’m not goiiinnng…” he said as the jumpmasters quickly convinced him otherwise.
Airborne school is voluntary until one boards the aircraft. After that, there is no choice in the matter. If one refuses, he is ejected from the aircraft by force or a jumpmaster’s boot. If one passes out, they are prepared with smelling salts.
The light turned red and the buzzer stopped. The jumpmasters counted 32 canopies fully deployed and closed the doors.
Robert saw the airplane bank high and right while speeding up. He looked up to check his canopy. He saw a few small holes.
Nothing to worry about, they said during training.
He grabbed the toggles, noticed the direction in which he was drifting and gained control of the canopy.
This is not so bad. This is not so bad after all.
He noticed how quiet it was compared to inside the aircraft. He could hear the wind, though. It was whispering to him in a foreign language called tranquility and he understood completely. It was like a woman saying “I love you.” And he had no trouble understanding. The ground seemed distant and artificial. He could no longer taste his breakfast as it had decided to stay below. The smell of the air was as clothing dried on a line outside a little cottage in the mountains.
Beautiful up here.
During training, he had prepared for the moment. He had memorized the five points of performance and imagined himself doing them. He even dreamed about them sometimes. And they were good dreams. But up there, he got caught in the serenity of it all and just drifted and looked and enjoyed the view. He just went with it. Things were very good. He had no special urge to look down. He was no longer afraid. He was at complete peace. It was like some kind of trance. He was pleased. He was happy to be alive. It was a wonderful day.
How ****ing cool is this…
If it wasn’t for the jumpmasters on the ground with the megaphones, he would have probably broken both of his legs. They talked the jumpers down and helped them prepare to land. They had to do this and still have to because they know from experience that little baby soldiers like Private Warren are often as easily distracted as little baby civilians. Sometimes they wander off in the meadows of their minds, sniffing daisies maybe, or swimming with mermaids with dark hair flowing underwater. They need help to be brought back down to earth safely.
He heard the voice of a woman from below.
“YOU Airborne, YOU! I’m talking to YOU!”
me?
“Check your direction of drift, do you understand?”
“Rob, at twelve hundred feet it’s slow, but when you get close, it comes up really fast…” he remembered his father telling him, so long ago in New Orleans.
Robert opened and closed his legs twice before putting his feet and knees together and preparing to land. The ground began to come up really fast. He reached up to his right front and grabbed two risers, the nylon between him and the silk. Eyes straight ahead, focusing on nothing, feet and knees together. He pulled the risers to his chest and waited. “Slipping” its called, slipping to the left. He was still in awe of it all, but more able to focus now. When he hit the ground, every muscle was tense but his mind was relaxed and he did an almost perfect Parachute Landing Fall, rolling to his left and disconnecting the right half of his rig. He got up and finished disconnecting the other half, the whole harness off now. He packed it in the kit bag just the way they told him to, put the bag on his shoulders and headed back off the Drop Zone.
He walked off, watching the other jumpers land and pack up. He noticed the jumpmaster who talked him down. She was a Hispanic woman of no more than 27 or 28. She wore a maroon beret and buck sergeant stripes, jump boots gleaming in the sunlight. And she was damned attractive. Standing there with the megaphone, she looked at Robert. He wondered why they didn’t call the women jumpmistresses but decided not to ask her.
Probably not a good idea.
They both looked at each other momentarily. She was looking for a limp or bleeding or a painful grimace or some other sign of injury. Robert was just a private looking like an eighth grader with a momentary crush on a teacher. He was still surprised to be alive. And at those moments you love everything.
“Double-time it, Airborne! This is not an all day affair!” she thundered with no aid from the megaphone. Robert began to run.

At the end of the day, at the end of it all, at the end of the fear, at the end of the hall, there was a payphone.
“Investigations, Warren.”
“Dad, Robert.”
“Tell me.”
“It was soooo cool…”
** Images For Use By Upgraded+ Only **