Airborne School

Marking another milestone in my military career, I write to you, dear reader, from the bowels of Headquarters and Headquarters Company, 1st Battalion, 507th Parachute Infantry Regiment. After all my grandstanding, showboating, and calling Airborne cadences at the top of my lungs, I am sitting with roughly 40 other non-airborne personnel ("legs") waiting for my doom to be decided. Well, maybe not necessarily my doom, but that seems to be the prevailing attitude around here. Formerly high-speed, fired up, motivated, damn near suffocated privates that were on their way to earning their wings are now resigned, unmotivated soldiers spending their days watching Avatar over and over. Frankly, it's hard to maintain a high level of motivation with that kind of crowd. Jokes that were formerly hilarious at Airborne School receive dead stares and mutters. I think you get the point.
What I really should be sharing with you is Airborne School itself. Dang, I highly recommend that to any soldier that wants to do something with their career. Not only does it give you so many opportunities in the Army, it is DAMNED GOOD FUN. Jumping out of an airplane with only a chute on my back and a reserve on my chest is a singularly exhilarating feeling. The terror and nervous energy that rushes through your bloodstream when you board the bird and take off is tremendous, and only surpassed by the commands, "Stand by... GO!"
I don't know if you've ever been near a prop-plane when it's about to take off, but it's loud. And a C-130 is even louder on the inside, because it's designed to keep the sound inside. So every rumble, every roar, every ping is multiplied inside the bird. And when you finally reach the door, hand your static line to the safety, and jump... the following silence is deafening. Then the shock of your main parachute opening, and you look up and you see the most beautiful thing a paratrooper can see: no holes, blown sections or gores, or broken suspension lines. A picture-perfect canopy. Cue hysterical screams of joy at the fact that you, Sir, are AIRBORNE! It's a one-of-a-kind experience.

So, as you might expect, being two jumps in and hurting your shoulder so you can't control your parachute, is frustrating. I'm supposed to be keeping my right arm in a sling right now so the silly thing can heal, and typing with it on is a weird thing, so it's coming off and on a lot. Pills are swallowed two or three times a day, along with periodic icing when the pain twinges more than usual, and attempts are made to console oneself that one will return to Ft. Benning, Georgia, the home of the Infantry, and earn those coveted wings. In time, you're convinced you'll be back, after all, your career just started, right? You have all the time in the world to make it back. And chances are, you'll be stationed with an Airborne unit and you'll get sent back in 6 months or so, once you're all healed up and good to go.
Until then, keep your head down, and your spirits up!