All Things Nice » Band of Brothers

20: Planes

"Do we feel like we're ready to be army paratroopers?!"

"Yes, sergeant!"

"I hope so," replied the jump sergeant, nodding as he paced in front of the gathered members of Second Platoon. "This'll be the first of five exits from a C-47 aircraft scheduled for today," he went on, taking care to look each of them in the eye as he paced back and forth across the grass before them.

They were all sat on the ground, squinting into the sunshine in order to see the jump sergeant. Posey sat cross legged, pulling the grass out from underneath her in handfuls. She kept her eyes trained on the jump sergeant whenever he was talking, and whenever he wasn't, she turned her eyes to the sky; in a little while she'd be up there, in an aeroplane for the first time in her life, and she'd be getting ready to jump out of it. Her heart gave a leap into her throat and she had to swallow hard to push it back down again.

"There'll be a lot of men jumping from the sky today," the jump sergeant declared, his tone informative and matter of fact. He continued to nod along with all of his words as though that would prove to the paratrooper hopefuls crouched in the grass before him that what he said was true. "Hopefully, under deployed canopies," he added. No one laughed. "You'll be jumping from one thousand feet AGL in sticks of twelve jumpers per aircraft. All you have to do is remember what you were taught and I guarantee you gravity will take care of the rest."

Posey nodded to herself, dropping the clump of grass and dirt in her hands only to grab ahold of another and wrench it out of the ground.

"And, gentlemen," the jump sergeant started up again, speaking slowly and clearly this time so they all understood the gravitas of his words, "rest assured, any refusals in the aircraft or at the door and I guarantee you, you will be out of the Airborne."

The words sent a shiver down Posey's spine. She would not be washing out over this. If she could vomit her way up Currahee, she could jump out of an aeroplane. She would have to. Where she was concerned, she had little in the way of choice in the matter.

"Alright, Duckie?" Luz asked from where he was sat beside her, his eyes on the grass and dirt peeking out from between her clenched fists.

Posey followed his gaze and promptly dropped the grass, wiping off her hands on the trousers of her ODs. "Alright," she agreed with a nod. "You?"

"Alright."

"Alright."

"Helmets on," the jump sergeant ordered. He came to stand back in front of them with a clipboard in his hands. "The first stick of twelve will be: Christenson, Guarnere, Martin, More, Muck, Perconte, Ramirez, Randleman, Roe, Sisk, Wells, and Wynn." He levelled them all with a final weighty gaze before nodding to the other observing jump sergeants. He turned on his heel. Over his shoulder, he called, "Those of you whose names I just called, follow me."

The engine of the plane was deafeningly loud. It was a hell of a lot louder than Posey had expected it to be, much like the sound of a gun firing had been when she'd done that for the first time. In her limited experience thus far, combat seemed like it was an awful lot louder than she'd ever imagined - cacophonous in comparison to the war films her father had always watched. She wondered whether there was ever any quiet associated with war; as a civilian, the bombs had been loud, as a soldier, the guns, and as a paratrooper, the aeroplanes. She supposed it made sense, though. War, of course, was the opposite of peace.

"Get ready!" the jump sergeant belted over the noise.

Posey's head shot up from where she'd been sat staring at her fiddling fingers. Her eyes were as wide as disks as she fumbled for a minute with all of the khaki ropes and belts hanging off of her. Finally, she located her hook and held it up to show the instructor along with everyone else.