Ascension

By David Beakey

We arose at dawn. There was excitement in the air. One hundred men were preparing to fly away, into the brightening skies, and descend into sure trouble. The Captain had, as usual, only briefed the platoon leaders. They in turn had passed on word to the squad leaders, who filtered the facts down to the rest of us. It was like planning a surprise party for yourself. We knew that the choppers would come and whisk us away. We also knew that, as in the case of most surprise parties, the cat was out of the bag. Our visit to the badlands was expected by those we were to engage. This thought made my stomach go cold, so I decided to stretch my legs.

As I walked by small groups of men, I noticed how they prepared for our departure. Some cooked an elaborate breakfast, piling three heat tabs together and spreading out several C Ration cans, preparing a three course meal. Others wrote final messages that they secreted in various areas; their helmet liner, inside their flak jacket, in their boot. “Dear Mom, if you get this letter....” Others laughed and joked too loud. Most fiddled with their gear, making last minute adjustments. What seemed like enough ammo a few minutes ago was now deemed insufficient. There was always room for a few more grenades. Some of the new guys were pale and quiet. They stood out today, and many of us were already avoiding them, not wanting to be near their clumsy terror.

Suddenly a few of us, then others, heard that unmistakable sound. Choppers in the distance. I had an urge to get sick, but stifled it. The noise got louder as we stood up and started to form small, pre-organized boarding groups. Simultaneously, packs were hoisted, helmets fell, loose machine gun rounds rattled against gear, radios squawked, officers yelled and the thumping of the chopper blades filled the air. A few marines had forgotten to chamber a round and their bolts clicked home. My throat was dry and adrenaline pumped through my body. Our chopper landed and I started to run toward it, feeling light and happy. We scrambled aboard, saying nothing, but sharing that fear and excitement that only warriors know. Soon, we were airborne, partygoers bearing gifts of battle.