Jumping

Ian didn’t know how long he dozed off for. His gear weighed him down like a comfortable blanket. It reminded him of a heavy quilt that his grandmother made for him that saw him through many frozen Duluth winters. Though his current sleeping situation paled in comparison to his childhood bedroom. While it had an equal amount of army men, the windows didn’t open out to see that lake that shined in the morning sunlight.

Sleep ran from him as the man next to him shifted, and shifted again. His neighbor’s gear now pressed into his leg just above his boot. No doubt if it remained there his foot would fall asleep. What then? How would this minor inconvenience affect him? Would he be able to get up quick enough with all his heavy gear if they ended up needing to rush? He sighed to himself and shoved an elbow into the neighbor who threatened his ability to be completely ready.

The neighbor turned, it was dark so Ian couldn’t make out the exact shape of his face, but he knew it was Garry. Garry boarded the plane in front of him. Ian pointed down at his leg where Garry’s pack pressed onto him. With an awkward half shuffle Garry shifted the pack over and freed his friend’s leg.

“Thank you,” Ian shouted to overcome the loud constant drone of the engines of the plane.

Garry nodded, and shouted back, “you’re welcome Johnson.” Garry was a polite man; always said please, thank you, and you’re welcome along with the last name of whomever he talked to. His parents were from the South and raised him like he was. It made him a bit of an oddball in Minnesota. When they first met as kids, that aspect of him annoyed Ian. No matter what the situation Garry would say please and thank you. To the point Ian convinced himself that if Garry got shot he’d be thanking whoever did it, and said as much many times.

Fully awake, and no longer at risk from a potentially catastrophic leg impairment, Ian looked around to regain his barings. Through the small windows of the plane he saw the deep darkness of the night, with only the occasional star to break up the black canvas of the window.

He now cursed himself for falling asleep, it kept him from knowing how long they’d been in the air. It wasn’t a long trip, at least the flight portion of it, that he knew. Though he figured he’d want to be prepared before getting off the flight for the rest of it. He already double, triple, even quadruple checked everything before they left. Still, a tinge of anxiety worked its way into his head. Did he have everything?

In his mind he knew that he did, though he couldn’t help but feel in his heart that something remained behind. Something he needed, or would at least want in the weeks and months to come. That quilt, the one his grandmother made, why did he want it now? It was summer, a fairly nice one weatherwise too, a heavy quilt would be too warm for this time of year.

As he sat he took hold of each of his elbows with the opposite hands. It hugged his rifle to his chest. The cool steel of the barrel found the side of his neck. Even without seeing it, and in the darkness, the outline of the M1’s muzzle profile traced perfectly in his mind. The image somewhat replaced the longing for his quilt. One of them would provide more comfort and safety to him in the immediate future, and it was the one he held.

A new sound overcame the engine's drone, loud though distant, a boom. Then another, slightly closer, and another, further away. More sounds of explosions came, and they grew steadily closer.

Others in the plane shifted, Ian did too, as they prepared themselves. Their lieutenant stood first at the rear of the plane. Their jump signal light turned on red. The officer gave the command for them to prepare to stand. Ian fumbled a moment for the clip he needed to hook onto the wire that ran the length of their sky bus. Once he held it he joined with the others in holding it up and ready.

Then their lieutenant gave the signal and command to stand. Each man did so, with a bit of effort, though their physical training lessened that required effort. Quickly once they were standing the order and signal came to hook on.

Each man hooked onto the cable that ran the length of the sky bus’s cabin. The click of it felt satisfying, and gave Ian a sense of safety. Then the order to check equipment. Himself and each other man checked their gear and the parachute of the man in front of them. Ian checked Garry’s, it looked good, and he signaled as such after the man behind him confirmed his own. True to form, after Garry signaled to the man in front of him was ready, he turned and thanked Ian. They were all ready.

Ian stood there, and listened to sounds of the guns that would spell their demise if chance allowed. He rocked on his feet as the shockwaves and wind shook the plane with turbulence. His eyes locked on the light, and waited.

After the feeling of a short eternity passed for him, the light turned green, and each man stepped forward. One after another exited the plane. When Garry moved into the door and prepared to jump a burst of flack exploded near the plane. Ian felt fragments whistle past him, though felt none impact him. Just starting to feel relief he saw blood running down the side of Garry’s face, then Ian watched his friend fall forward out of the plane.

Private Johnson moved to and stood in the opening. In that moment between standing and jumping he looked out over the dark French countryside looking for his friend. Bright bursts of flak cannons shot off like fireworks. Flames of downed planes streaked like falling stars as they careened toward the earth. The white parachutes of his fellow soldiers floated down like a dim summer snow on Normandy. He tried to follow Garry’s chute amidst all of it, but couldn’t spot it, and he could spend any extra time looking. 

Air rushed past him as he saw his plane continue on leaving him behind. His parachute pulled against his body as it fought against gravity. The sights from the door of the plane continued, though now growing further out of earshot of the deafening engines of the metal bird, Ian heard the reality of the fireworks, meteors, and snow. A quiet stillness came over him as he slowly fell, in the immediate space around him only he created noise. The dark cool air blew the sweat from his brow, making his heavy gear feel all the lighter for that moment. He knew that would change once he landed.

He closed his eyes, and let himself believe for that moment he was back home in Duluth sitting on the local park’s swing set, watching the Fourth of July fireworks, and feeling the wind that came off of Lake Superior. In his vision Garry sat on the swing next to him, just as Ian remembered him when they were kids. “I wish we could stay here forever,” he thought to himself in a voice he hadn’t had since he was ten years old.

Then he opened eyes, and felt the sting of tears in them as he looked to the ground, and readied himself to land.