Marchand T. MacDermotRoe
CHAPTER IV
The planes shake as the engines rev and the props sputter up. The gravel makes a crunching sound under the wheels as the aircraft taxis down the runway. I hate flying. I hate flying. I hate flying. Jack can feel his palms getting sweaty as the plane rolls into position for takeoff. He glances around at the inside of the NORD 2501 Noratlas and looks at the cargo netting everywhere. The plane looks so bare. Nothing inside but Jack, Eli and a rather disgruntled old crew chief. Where did I put my flask? God I need a drink. Damn….it's under my harness. Maybe my cigarettes, I think I have my camels. I wonder what ass clown thought it was a good idea to associate camels with cigarettes. Those animals are assholes. Jack is trying desperately to think about literally anything else in order to drown out the sense of impending doom he feels every time he flies.
Suddenly, the plane begins rolling forward on the tarmac. Jack sinks into the cargo netting. Damn this fucking thing hurts. He feels his blood pressure rising as the plane picks up speed. Finally, his heart drops into his boots as the plane lifts off the ground. Shit. Fuck. Damn. Fucking Fuck. The plane climbs rapidly, pulling itself higher and higher. Jack tries to focus his eyesight on the cargo netting directly in front of him. He remembers something an old Staff Sergeant Thomas Dempsy once told him "Just inhale deep, count to ten, then exhale and repeat. It calms the shakiest nerves." Staff Sergeant Dempsy was a good leader.
Jack can feel the plane finally leveling out. Take off. Take off is the fucking worst. Jack begins to breathe easier. "That's why you always want to tuck and roll on the landing." Jack can hear Eli's voice coming over his shoulder. Has he been talking to me this whole time. "Boychick, are you alright?" Eli asks with a distinctly father look of concern on his face. "Yeah Eli I'm fine. Why?" Jack says trying to pass off his tension. With a smile Eli says "Your hands my friend. You look like your trying to strangle a chicken." Jack looks down and realizes his knuckles are white because his fists are clenched so tight. Loosening up his grip Jack lets out a heavy sigh. Placing his hand on Jack's shoulder Eli asks, "Are you sure you're alright?" With a shrug Jack coldly responds, "Yeah I'm fine."
In truth Jack was far from fine. He hated flying for a very good reason. It was October 1950 and Jack was a young Private flying into Korea on board a Douglas C-47. Jack can still remember the rattling of equipment, the roar of the engines, the muffled sound of men quietly praying. No one spoke, except to make their peace with their God. The dull noise was broken by the sound of men puking onto the floor of the aircraft. The smell of vomit from the airsick soldiers permeated the air.
Jack was seated next to two of his closest friends, Private Francis "Frank" Marconi and Corporal Mitch Willis. Private Marconi was a tough Italian kid from the Bronx who loved good food and beautiful women. Corporal Willis was an academic. Bespectacled and with a passion for Shakespear, no one would of guessed that he had volunteered to join the Army the day war broke out in Korea. All three had attended Basic Combat Training together. The three men huddled together and looked at each other as the plane made its decent.
The next thing Jack remembers is a deafening crash as the side of the aircraft was shredded by large chunks of flying metal, shrapnel. The pieces of metal tore through the cabin, ricocheting around the compartment. Jack was knocked forward but remained in his seat. Clutching his rifle, the sound of air rushing through the new holes in the plane was pierced by screaming. Jack opened his eyes to see that Mitch and Frank were no longer next to him. He looked in front of him, down by his feet and saw his two friends, what was left of them, in a bloody and mangled him on the floor. A voice screamed "BRACE YOURSELVES!" and the aircraft crashed into the dirt runway. It skidded for about a hundred meters before coming to rest at the side of the runway. Apparently, the airfield was still being contested by the North Korean People's Army.
Jack was grabbed by his collar and pulled to his feet by Staff Sergeant Dempsy. A big bear of a man, he pulled Jack out of the door of the plane and onto the runway. Jack still in a daze, pointed to the plane and bellowed "I gotta go back for them!" Staff Sergeant Dempsy grabbed Jacks are with a vice grip and bellowed "They're gone Ryan. They're gone. But we're here and we're gonna take this airfield. NOW COME WITH ME AND KILL THOSE COMMIE BASTARDS!" Jack left Mitch and Frank on that airplane. They charged up the side of the hill overlooking the airfield and took the North Korean positions. Jack personally bayonetted one of the North Korean gunners. Just like that North Korean, Mitch and Frank still rest in Korea.
Ever since then Jack has had an intense and passionate hatred of flying. Every time he clamors into a plane the anxiety he feels, the memories all flood back. It pulses through his brain and makes him feel as if he is reliving every horrible moment. The roar of the engines, the awful sense of dread, the smell of vomit, blood and smoke. It all feels so real, so vivid, so gut wrenching. There is no experience on earth that can cause such an intense, penetrating feeling like straddling that line between life and death. It is terrifying, it is brutal, it is absurd and only one who has lived through it can truly understand it.
"….Don't lock your knees or you'll break your legs." Eli's voice once again brings Jack back into the present. "Just remember keep your legs bent and you'll be fine. Do you understand?" Eli says with a reassuring look on his face. He seems to have a misguided sense that Jack has been listening this whole time. "Yeah I think so" Jack let's says with a total lack of confidence. "Look Jack I know you've never done this but follow my lead. When the time come hook up to the plane and when you get to the door just step off the edge. Tuck your chin in, close your eyes and wait for the sudden jerk, that'll be your chute opening." Eli has clearly done this many times before. Jack does feel the need to ask "So what happens if I don't feel a jerk?" Eli bellows out a hardy laugh, "Khavehr! If you don't feel the jerk just count to thirty and it won't be won't be your problem anymore!" God I love Israeli optimism. Only they can look at life and death with the same sense of humor.
The Crew Chief, a hunched middle aged airman, with a cigarette hanging from his mouth, comes over and taps Eli and Jack on the shoulder. With a distinctly German accent the man says "Mein Herren, we be over ze drop-zone in few minutes. You better get ready." Jack starts tightening his helmet and adjusting the straps on his harness. Are we ready to go already? Man I must've zoned out for longer than I thought. Did Eli seriously not notice that I wasn't listening for over an hour? Maybe he knew and just kept talking anyway. "That Chief is Simon Heidenheim. A good man" Eli says. "You know to hide from the Nazi's he joined the Luftwaffe. Talk about hiding in plain sight. It saved his life. He came here after the war and flew with the Israeli Air Force. Shot down seventeen Jordanian planes…..in a German Messerschmitt BF 109. Ah the irony of that. The man is legend!"
Wow. I guess you never know. To be fair, incredible though this man's survival was Jack was far more concerned with his own immediate survival. What was it Eli said. Hook up, fall, bent knees. Jack was really regretting not having paid more attention to Eli but sometimes focusing on his rambling stories can be difficult. It is often hard to filter out the important from the nonsensical. The two men stand up and Eli helps Jack hook his parachute up to the inside of the plane. Eli then steps in front of Jack tells him "Khavehr just follow my lead. Do as I do and you'll be fine. Remember just fall and if you don't feel a jerk…." Jack interjects "It won't be my problem for long." Eli laughs "Good man!"
The Crew Chief opens the door and the sound of rushing air and the cold breeze fills the cabin. Eli steps forward towards the door with Jack right behind him. Jack pulls his collar up and his jacket down. He adjusts his harness again and again just making sure its tight. Strapped to his right side is his Israeli made Uzi Submachine Gun. The weapon feels like it is digging into his side adding to Jack's over sense of discomfort. Jack stretches his neck, and rolls his shoulders, trying to loosen it up.
Jack has his eyes firmly fixed on the two lights by the door. Red means don't jump, green means jump. The pilot control the lights, so when he knows that they are over the drop zone, he switches the light to green and the men jump. Too easy. Assuming, that is, that his navigator has read the map right and they are in fact over the drop zone. If they're wrong, Jack and Eli could land in the Red Sea, the Mediterranean, President Nasser's living room. Either way, this is just yet another thing to worry about assuming Jack's parachute even opens. Who knows what kind of person packed the damn thing. It could have either been a jump master or some dimwitted, moron they plucked out of the staff kitchen. Jack has no idea.
Jack peers over Eli's shoulder and out the door of the plane to see absolutely nothing. Just darkness, total darkness. Well that shouldn't be surprising. What did I expect to see. Its night after all you idiot. Jack looks back up at the light again and in a flash it goes from red to that bright, nerve wracking green. Crew Chief Heidenheim gives the thumbs up and Eli without hesitation falls out of the aircraft. As if on autopilot, Jack steps to the door, puts his across his chest and steps off into nothingness. Jack has begun the plunge, he jumped out of the plane before his brain had a chance to realize what at happened. Now he is plunging towards the earth as the cold air rushes across his cheeks and his stomach is in his throat.