Page 67 of Rules of Engagement

The pilot cues the mic. “Jocko, we are thirty seconds to target.”

I give him a thumbs-up, pick Lucifer up, secure his harness, give him a quick ‘good boy’ pat, then step into the hole.

The view is spectacular.

Blue skies. No clouds. A perfect day.

“Five, four, three, two, one, JUMP!”

Freefalling is an exhilarating feeling nearly as good as sex. Nearly.

I check Lucifer. He’s good.

I check my G-shock watch.

Pull the parachute in five, four, three, two, one.

Ripcord pulled.

Review the landing sequence.

Recheck my G-shock.

Pop the smoke canisters in five, four, three, two, one. Bingo.

Spiral my way down to the white X marking the landing zone, then alter the course of my life forever.

He is just a speck in the sky.

A tiny dot.

The crowd of people around me has no idea he’s there. But I know. My heart is well aware that the man who holds it dear is freefalling at God knows how many miles per hour, hurtling through the air toward the ground.

My heart is racing. My breath is shallow. My hands are sweaty. My throat is dry.

His parachute opens, and a sigh of relief exits my body.

Marcy, the photographer, leans over and says, “I’m getting some great shots.”

I nod. “Thanks.”

Desi walks up. “We are all set. This is going to be epic.”

I nod again. My eyes glued to the red, white, and blue parachute spiraling down towards us.

Emerson, standing about twenty feet off the white X marking the landing zone, taps the microphone and directs the crowd to look up.

Gasps, and cheers, and clapping erupt when Jocko pops the smoke canisters.

My heart swells with pride. He is such a good man.

Emerson begins the introductions letting the crowd know who he is.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Wings Out is proud to announce the arrival of Jocko Malone and his K9, Lucifer. These two special operators served honorably as Navy SEAL’s and have recently retired in Sunnyville. Both are decorated war heroes and deserve a round of applause.”

The crowd claps enthusiastically. Someone begins to chant, “USA, USA, USA,” and the mantra grows.

Emerson begins talking again, and they quiet down to listen.

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