want to participate?
login or register
Hell Jumping  by Schinser

<!-- /* Font Definitions */ @font-face {font-family:"Cambria Math"; panose-1:0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0 0; mso-font-charset:1; mso-generic-font-family:roman; mso-font-format:other; mso-font-pitch:variable; mso-font-signature:0 0 0 0 0 0;} /* Style Definitions */ p.MsoNormal, li.MsoNormal, div.MsoNormal {mso-style-unhide:no; mso-style-qformat:yes; mso-style-parent:""; margin:0in; margin-bottom:.0001pt; mso-pagination:widow-orphan; font-size:12.0pt; font-family:"Times New Roman","serif"; mso-fareast-font-family:"Times New Roman";} .MsoChpDefault {mso-style-type:export-only; mso-default-props:yes; font-size:10.0pt; mso-ansi-font-size:10.0pt; mso-bidi-font-size:10.0pt;} @page Section1 {size:8.5in 11.0in; margin:1.0in 1.0in 1.0in 1.0in; mso-header-margin:.5in; mso-footer-margin:.5in; mso-paper-source:0;} div.Section1 {page:Section1;} -->

“Welcome to the 101st Airborne soldier”, the drill sergeant stared me right in the eye. Me being my cocky **** self stared him right back with a snicker. I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone so annoyed in my life. Let’s face it; I’m a sarcastic, smart **** straight outta hell bastard just made to create hell. He just grinned at me then went on down the line welcoming all the sorry guys who don’t know what their in for. I, however, do. I’m already a captain in the Air Force. I flew the great F-16 Fighting Falcon but my squadron mates and I called it the Viper. After the sergeant went down the line welcoming us he went straight back to me. Coldly he told me in his voice that was as deep as the Pacific Ocean, “Lead the recruits in PT.” I responded with a ‘yes sir’ and told the men they had 5 minutes to change into their gear.

            We’re getting our training at Camp Toccoa in Georgia. This place has this hill, but it’s a mountain around here, called Currahee. It means ‘We stand alone together’ or some ****. Man, let me tell you that piece of **** hill. Three miles up and three miles down: three miles of pure hell up, three miles of the deepest level of hell on the way down; I hate running that son of a bitch. I bet we’re running that about 8 days a week. I know it isn’t possible but God damn it feels like it.

            I guess I forgot to introduce myself. The name is William “Buck” McCleary. I don’t exactly know how I got Buck as a nickname. It might be because when I was a kid all I wanted every year for my birthday was a bull so I could do rodeo.  I don’t know, it’s a stretch to me. Well I guess I should also tell you I’m from the West. The great state of Idaho actually. No, not Iowa, everyone says Iowa it pisses me off.  I was born in the capital there in 1973. But I grew up an hour from there in Idaho City. Let me tell you, the girls there will just knock you out! Especially this one, Michelle Lian. Wow she was the prettiest girl in town and every single guy wanted her. But for some reason she always was attracted to me. Anyways I guess I’m telling you that because now I’m the father of her son and she is my fiancée. When I get out of the Airborne I might use a chute of mine for some like table cloth or something. I heard about this one guy who did that in World War 2, and I loved the idea. I think he’s from some place in the middle of nowhere in Pennsylvania.

            The rest of the men were pissed at me. I have no damn clue why. Maybe because the drill sergeant thought I was being a smart **** or something, I don’t know. That amuses me. So when we got out the sergeant was smirking at me while he told us to run Currahhee not just once, twice. I really am starting to hate that son of a bitch. I did pretty well on the way up. Even though the damn flies were pissing me off and everyone in my platoon was trying to trip me every chance they got. Not to mention that it was a nice 90, 90 day. That’s 90 degrees and 90% humidity. That makes life hell, this hill more of a hell hole, and everyone in my damn platoon is just pissed. Then the freakin’ sergeant thinking I’m a smart **** making us run this hill. I bet this hill thing is really old now. I’ll stop.

            I bet you’re curious about my Air Force days now. I loved flying ever since I was a little kid. I used to watch the brush pilots fly up and down the canyon from Idaho City to Boise all the time. So when I was in my junior year of high school I decided to go to the Air Force Academy. But they didn’t want me so I just signed up at the nearest major air base in Mountain Home. I turned 18 in 1991. Just in time to be shipped to Saudi Arabia to help finish the Gulf War. Even though I wasn’t a pilot then I was on my way to be one. I was just a lowly ordinance technician. When I got back to the states I applied for officer’s school. I was accepted and became a lieutenant. After that I got my pilots certification and was assigned to a squadron based at Mountain Home flying the F-15 Eagle then the F-16 Falcon. And I got my first flight combat experience in Operation Southern Watch. I did get in one dog fight and the other guy buggered off before I got a lock. I was pretty pissed at myself for that. When I got home I got in contact with Michelle and we started to date and now we’re engaged and have kids. When the kids were born I retired from the Air Force a captain.

            But now I’ve been dying for something else. I tried my desk job I have. It bored me to damn tears. So when 9/11 happened I instantly knew I wanted to re-enlist. However, I didn’t want to fly. I wanted to kick those sons of bitch’s asses. So I went into the army. Becoming an officer here is so damn hard. All it is, is either officer’s school at West Point or a battlefield commission. Which are hard as hell to get. So I’m a specialist right now. And I decided that the airborne is a great fit for me. I mean hell I’ve flown the planes; might as well jump out of them. Let me tell you it feels so much different. Especially since we jump out of C-130’s, those things have massive power man. But I wonder how it would feel to jump out of a C-47 just like the original guys.

            Anyway, the first night sucked. The damn sergeant just made us do PT all damn night. I feel like a prisoner or something. I was trying to sleep that night when this really odd guy. His name is Kawasaki or something or other that’s Polish. He comes up to me looking like he’s a badass I chuckle in my head when he starts talking to me about my girl back home. Then it got really odd. He started asking about our first time in bed and all this damn random stuff that only a creeper wanted to know. So I told him lies. That reminded me of this book I read once it, Catcher in the Rye, it was an amazing book. The main character described himself as a “beautiful liar” which I can say for myself too. So he kept asking me questions about her. I just stopped him and asked why he was asking all these random questions. He just told me that he was going to use it later. That freaked me the hell out. I honestly wanted to punch that freak in the mouth.

            The rest of the training went that way. PT in the morning, afternoon, all the time, but at night some creepy guy talking to me. It always seemed to be me. I have this “freak magnet” that’s what my mother called it. It made her laugh it just pisses me off. So after Toccoa I went to Fort Brag and got my wings. It was great to get those pinned to my uniformed. I actually never felt so complete even when I got engaged. My entire family was there at the ceremony. That was embarrassing it was like high school all over again. Afterwards we had this huge party. I don’t think I’ve ever been drunk. I blacked out at around 5 or so. It was just so brutal the next day. And that day was also full of its own special brand of hell. I got a letter saying I was being shipped to Afghanistan in three weeks. My Fiancée started to cry when I told her about this. And it was tough to explain to my son. He looked at me with a confused expression. When I told him that his daddy might not come back he started to cry. That pushed me over the edge. Why is it that the men who decide war should occur never fight it? Thoughts were going through my head at a million miles a second. Then when he cried it all stopped and it just made me cry. I just sat there and cried with my son in my arms.

            The day I got shipped off it was raining. It was pouring rain, actually. I thought it was a bad omen. I hoped I was wrong. That flight was the longest I’ve ever been on. The sad thing is I knew we won’t even be jumping when we get over there. I would be just hopping out of Blackhawks. I was happy I was able to sleep the majority of the flight. Just the take off and landing is what I was awake for. Apparently I was the only person who did. I thought it was a relief from all the **** happening around me. People talking about how much of a bad **** they are when they don’t know anything at all. God damn fools. “They won’t last a day.” I said that out loud a guy across from the aisle looked at me with a joking smile and told me that those were famous last words.

 

rank & voting
4.4/5 (4 votes)
Be heard! Login or Register to vote
continue story
Select a story path to continue reading





  'Hell Jumping' statistics: (click to read)
Date created: July 25, 2010
Date published: July 25, 2010
Comments: 4
Tags: hell, jumping
Word Count: 5822
Times Read: 189
Story Length: 2
Children Rank: 3.8/5.0 (2 votes)