It was march. 20XX. We were flying…I was a happy man, surrounded by brothers i’d known since boot camp. It was just a simple cargo mission. Why’d it have to be this day?
In simply 5 hours of our flight…we needed to refuel. And then…The decent began.
Devon: 5,000 feet!
Me: Damn it!
Dave: Yo Devon!
Devon: Yeah?
Dave: Permission to drop cargo? We need to lose weight!
Devon: Shoot! we can’t lose that stuff! The Beast’s so damn close!
Dave: Yo Mark!
Me: Yeah!?
Devon: 3,000 feet!
Dave: Tell the tanker out cords!
Me: I got you brother!
Devon: 1,000 feet!
Me: Brothers!
Dave: Aye!?
Devon: 500 feet…
Me: It was a honor lads.
Devon: 300 feet.
Dave grabbed my chute, and he forced the back pack on me…
Dave: Mark! Tell ‘em to remember us.
Devon: For Wrightson!
Dave: For Wrightson!
Without even being able to respond, dave threw me out the jump door, and i pulled the chute.
Me: It was only 100 feet…
The plane dived deep. Too damn fast. I guess only the dead know the end of the war…