Four-thousand!
Charlie Drolshagen
I take my seat and close my eyes as the humming grows to a deafening buzz in my ears. The seats are small and my fellow passengers and I shift constantly in an effort to try and relieve some of the pressure on our knees that are compacted against one another by the bulk of our baggage. Soon, the bottom of my stomach drops out and I relax further as our short journey begins. I hear people trying to talk and I open my eyes for a split second just in time to see my buddy flash me a grin and an okay sign. I grin slightly to myself and nod as I close my eyes.
My stomach returns to itself as I feel the changes being made to our course. I brace myself, waiting for the change in pressure and increase in the volume of the buzzing that has already deprived me of my hearing.
Ah, there it is.
I open my eyes to see the shapes of men moving against the backdrop of the stormy sky, lightning flashing in the background. I close my eyes again and make an effort to ignore the palpable tension circulating through the enclosed space. Then I hear a single voice.
We all hear it, and we all obey. Like lemmings off the cliff we repeat what is said and do what we are told. Unlike lemmings though, this foolish act will not result in death for us—at least, we hope.
As we near our destination, we prepare to disembark, fifteen at a time. I begin to remind myself silently: ‘One!-thousand…two!-thousand…three!-thousand…Four-Thousand!’ It becomes my mantra; my litany against the darkness and nervous anticipation that I feel inside.
The voice speaks faster now, and louder, with a sense of urgency. Once again, we all obey. I check my buddy in front of me to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything—if he has it will be near impossible to recover from such an error once we disembark. I fix my eyes to the number pasted to the back of his head like a tattoo. That number—C607—is only one more than mine. A sheer act of randomization; a result of who happened to be standing in what place at the moment our numbers were assigned. It is my anchor now; my only focal point. I will stare at it until it disappears into the darkness outside, soon followed by my own number.
It moves away from me now, and I move forward in order to keep up with it. It pulls me along like a reluctant pet on a leash. Even more like a dog—one of Pavlov’s dogs—my stomach again starts to shrink and drop in anticipation of what I know is coming. We move closer to the dark shape at our exit—the only visible parts of him are the whites of his eyes, flashing at random intervals with the silent lightning outside.
C607 turns and departs—my anchor gone with myself to follow in less than a second. That second lasts a life time though, and the universe seems to slow down, counted in heartbeats, not seconds or minutes.
Beat.
I look into the dark form’s eyes and they nod at me, giving me the automatic go ahead. I turn to face the uncertain blackness outside. I step forward toward the edge—my confidence wavering ever so slightly. Only one more step to the oblivion awaiting me in the pitch black.
Beat.
I take the final step as the hand of the guardian of the darkness connects with my backside giving me the final shove outside. I leap into uncertainty, tucking my chin into my chest as the wind suddenly whips around my ankles and drags me further into the storm. I begin to count the seconds.
‘…one!-thousand…’
I start to open my eyes, peering out into the distance from behind my thick lenses. I am reminded of all the nicknames resulting from my glasses through the past three weeks: Waldo, Stud, Clark Kent, Bullet-proof, Mole-man, Goggles. I crack a grin at the memories, and then falter knowing that soon it will be over and I will only have memories. I suddenly don’t want this to end…
‘…two!-thousand…’
Now the fear catches me. What if something goes wrong this time? What if something happens to one of my buddies? What if…? The uncertainty grips me and I begin to panic as their faces flash before my eyes…
‘…three!-thousand…’
I relax now as the training takes over and I remember that we were all given the same thorough instruction. I have nothing to fret over—my friends will be alright, the same as I will be. I tighten my grip on the only safety net I have and await the final count.
‘FOUR-THOUSAND!’ my mind screams as suddenly the outside world screeches to a halt and my body is jerked violently. I check upwards and downwards and then to the sides. I see them now, looming in the darkness—just barely visible save for the random backlighting of the turbulent sky. They comfort and scare me at the same time.
Parachutes—our salvation and our bane. They drop us gently from the sky to the ground, but they recall some of our deepest fears. Everybody has the dream where they are falling from the sky at least once, but I haven’t had that dream as many times in my whole life as I have had it in the past three weeks. That’s all passed now. Now I have other concerns—my buddies around me are not able to steer their green silk halos nearly as well as I would like.
They come for me now.
I slip left a little too quickly and I’m forced to go back to the right almost immediately.
There. An opening.
I break for it, pulling to my left-front for all I’m worth. I’m free then.
I sit back and watch the show. In celebration of our unofficial graduation from Delta Company, 1/507th Parachute Infantry Regiment—Army Airborne School—God has graced us with a spectacle of nature. As the lightning jumps from cloud to cloud in the sea of black before us, the only thing preventing the view of the canopy of stars above me from reaching my eyes is the silk of my own personal canopy.
I smile to myself and gaze across the sky to spot other canopies—all like mine—and every one with a parachutist hanging below it thinking thoughts—all like mine. As I watch the ground rush up beneath my feet, I prepare to land and realize that we are finished. Done. Over. Through.
We have sprouted silver wings.
Dedicated to the original members of the 507th Parachute Infantry Regiment, 82d Airborne Division “All Americans” who fought with their lives all over the European Theater to rid the world of tyranny and evil, and to its current members who fight for the same cause today all around the world.
AIRBORNE!