Page 4 of Warrior's Walk

“Eighty-Second, all soldiers report to general command in full gear, ASAP. Eighty-second, all soldiers report to general command in full gear, ASAP.” The announcement blares over thebig voice, the loudspeaker.

“Shit, what do you think it is?” Ormen asks.

“I don’t know, but let’s hurry the fuck up,” I urge, scooting my chair back.

“Shit, I can’t jump on a full stomach. I’ll puke my guts out,” Biddell complains.

We duck into our CHU, a metal shipping container that houses four bunks each, and grab our gear and guns.

By the time we reach the General Command room, an office constructed of thin plywood, there’s already a group forming outside. I recognize my lieutenant colonel.

He addresses us when the last guy joins us, kicking up dust as he runs to catch up. “New orders. A reconnaissance team fell under heavy fire. They’re pinned down in a valley surrounded by mountains. The terrain is too rough for backup on foot to reach them anytime soon. Air strike isn’t a viable option because they’re practically on top of each other. You’re dropping into a hot zone. It’s gonna get hairy, so heads up. This is what you trained for. You ready?”

That last part is rhetorical because it doesn’t matter if we’re ready or not. We’re going either way.

“Oohrah!”

“Death from above!” They shout the 82’s motto.

Shouts of, “All the way!” our other motto, ring out.

We shuffle through the front gate and circle around the parking lot. One by one, we file onto the mammoth C-17. My nerves are frayed and adrenaline replaces any fear I might and should be feeling. I’m not thinking about enemy fire and loss of life; I’m thinking about my training, recalling everything I learned in Jump School, and the wisdom passed on to us by our colonel.

My skin flushes with heat. It’s the adrenaline. I’m sweating through my damn undershirt. Ormen elbows me, grinning like a loon.

“You ready, Marsh?”

“Fuck yeah. All the way, baby.”

He high-fives me, and the guys around us whoop. This is it. This is our moment to show the rest of the fuckers in the military we’re not just sheep with guns. We’re fucking warriors. On my left, Biddell hangs his head, hand over his heart.

“You good, man?” I don’t have to ask. I already know he’s not. Brian’s been my best friend for most of the last four years, and I can read him like a book. He’s shitting his fucking pants.

He nods, and when he looks up, his dark eyes seem grave. “Tell my ma I love her. My shit in storage? Check through it before she gets it.”

A sliver of fear stabs through me. “Don’t you fuckin’ jinx me, man. Cut that shit right now, Brian!” I don’t even wanna pretend he’s serious. A world without Brian Biddell? Yeah, no, that’s not a world I want to live in.

He nods again, lowering his head. He’s scared, and unlike the rest of us, he’s not afraid to show it. The powerful engine and boosters of the C-17 are loud as fuck, making the din inside the aircraft noisy enough that we have to shout. I focus on the sound for the next twenty minutes as we reach the altitude necessary to jump. They throw the doors open and we line up.

My heart pounds loudly in my ears. I feel juiced up, ready for anything. I stare down at my boots as I shuffle along behind the guy in front of me. The closer we get to the door, the louder the pounding in my head becomes. Sweat covers my forehead. My scalp feels hot and itchy. I can feel the wind on my face as it roars loudly past the Globemaster.

Death from above.I recite the words over and over in my head. If it’s me or them, it’s gonna fucking be them. I’ve never taken a life, but today I just might. I’m fully prepared to defend myself and my brothers. No matter what it takes.

I step up to the open door and plant my boots on the yellow safety tape on the floor. “Geronimo!” I shout, leaping into thin air, and I plunge myself into a free fall. My stomach flips over. The familiar feeling is a small comfort. I know what comes next and I focus on that. My chute deploys and my body snaps back as the thin nylon catches air. My stomach settles somewhat. Every time I jump, I sigh with relief when my chute opens properly.

From this height, all I can see are mountaintops. The sound of gunfire and shouting doesn’t reach this high up. It’s peaceful and quiet, at least for another three minutes.

With a minute left, the men on the ground come into focus. I can hear the popping of gunfire, and I can faintly smell the acrid smoke from grenade blasts.

I search the ground to make sure I’m not landing in a bad spot and the sharp whiz of bullets fire past my head. They sound like buzzing bees. Panic seizes my heart. My body jerks as my chute gets nailed, and I watch in horror as it loses its shape. My stomach roils and I know I’m fucked royally.

A body crashes into me, throwing me off course.

“Fuck, Biddell!”

His blood splatters on my face. A coppery tang fills my mouth. He’s been shot. A dark red stain blooms over his chest. I’m falling faster, too fast. My chute is busted and performing at half-function. Biddell’s body falls away. I swallow hard and take a deep gulp of air into my lungs, knowing it might be my last breath.

Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death, Amen.

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