![]() “If it doesn’t suck, this isn’t the 82 nd Airborne. There’s supposed to be high winds and cold temperatures,” my squadmate complained. “Roger, sergeant.” My buddy and I walked towards our rooms after being released. If you forget your air-items, I’ll smoke your ass in the front-leaning-rest position,” my squad leader warned. Several years later, I found myself at Fort Bragg, North Carolina. I was afraid I would miss the action though, so I finished my associates degree and enlisted anyways. He told me to finish college and become an officer. I wanted to enlist immediately in the Army, but my Dad talked me down. “Maybe one day you will, son,” he smiled. “I wanna jump out of airplanes when I grow up!” As he bent down to collect his parachute, I started helping him pick up the soft, shiny, green canopy. In BDUs and Army equipment, he was a green giant towering over me. I was 4 years old when I ran towards my father and reached him as he hit the drop zone. “No kid, your dad is still coming down we put a white band on his helmet so you could recognize him.” Looking up, he extended his arm and pointed to a spot about 200 feet in the air at a fast descending grunt with white sports tape lining the outside of his helmet. ![]() I saw the first jumper hit the grass and quickly sprinted to him. Dozens of troops poured out of the fuselage and descended to the ground. The parachutes expanded sideways as they became caught in the wind and fully inflated, pulling the soldiers swiftly with them. For a few moments, I watched as the plane continued in my direction suddenly, from the tail-end of the aircraft, paratroopers jumped out into the open air. Far in the distance, I spotted a C-130 Hercules headed towards the open grass field I waited upon.
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