Proper Exit

Feeling like a civilian the last two days has really been a nice break from the monotonous frenzy of Army life. The idea of having a life where waking up and doing whatever I feel like doing is almost to sweet to taste this far out, but sure looks good through the wrapper. That includes not shaving as well. I hung with my buddy Ryan, who used to be in the Army with me. He goes to North Carolina State University and works at the YMCA in Raleigh. As many friends as I have outside of the Army he is probably the best of them, just because he has the understanding of everything I've gone through. It's tough for someone who has lived a life so depraved, so deprived from normal existence for the the last five years to really connect with the other people, and I'm sure if you were in mine or Ryan's shoes you would feel the same way too. 

It's a brotherhood is the only way I could describe it. Not in the same way necessarily that a Fraternity is, but it is one none the less. The drinking, the social construct is very similar, but a startling difference is the fact that at the end of the day not all of us walk out of it alive. The loss of life around me while I've been in has certainly been minimal in comparison to others who have ventured the same route of life, however accidents in the 'real world', as I'll call it while looking in, do happen and friends are lost regardless of whether in combat or not. It's not easier just because we have that expectation in the back of our minds. I find that as my youth fades, so does my immortality. Not that I think that I will ever die, or sit there and ponder, freeze in fear for my life when doing hazardous to my health things, but I do think that at 20 I was more willing to jump from a plane than I am now, and regardless of that fact, I do it anyhow. 

A few weeks ago a fellow paratrooper, one that I did not know, fell to his death from 1000 feet above ground level. Neither his main parachute nor his reserve parachute opened according to hearsay and rumors. I was on that same training operation, though a different bird, and I don't feel bad for the guy because I knew what he was thinking. I was thinking the same sad thing, that I'm so miserable being trapped in this C-130 Hercules aircraft for the past four hours and am sweating because of the lack of air conditioning and I'm freaking out because I'm slightly claustrophobic and haven't been able to move my legs which are now searing with pain because the weight of multiple ruck sacks full of combat equipment are staggered on top of them. It's not easy to be a paratrooper, enduring physical pain for hours on end, after already having a timeline that started your day somewhere in the Jurassic period, you just want to get up and off of that 'bird' as quickly as you can. My thoughts heading to the door are: "I don't care if my chute doesn't open, I just want to get out of this plane."

It's of course a sad tragedy anytime that another soldier dies, especially when it's accident or training accident. We get paid $150 extra a month for taking that risk.

I feel the same way about the Army door of exit. I've been cramped and sweating for so long that I need to just get off of this plane and out the door. There's an exciting life out there when boots hit the ground, and I can't wait to be there. I know I'll miss it, miss the camaraderie, miss the things that I now consider normal that you could only dream of having the opportunity to do. The men though, they're who I'll miss the most.