Wired and Ready: The Alive and Wired Series, #2

By T. Daniel Mason

Mark Twain once said that history never repeats itself, but it does often rhyme. Ron Tucker was the proof as he put his foot on the same Vietnamese soil as his older brother and uncle had years before him. They fought their own battles, and now it was Tucker's time to fight his.

No longer the lovelorn young man, fresh from the Florida beaches, Ron Tucker has touched down in Vietnam and must face adulthood overnight.

Shortly after they arrive, Tucker and his buddies and their NCOs train a group of South Vietnamese soldiers, or ARVNs, on automatic weapons they hoped would never be turned against them. Pursuing their place in this new world, several of the guys find themselves airborne and take to the skies as door gunners as replacements for those that had returned to the land of the Big PX. Due to their proficiency in their new positions, they are often requested for regular duties.

Under the watchful eye and urging of their Command Sergeant Major, Tucker and his buddies are taught the meticulous skills necessary to survive in the hostile jungles of Vietnam by members of the 5th Special Forces. With these new abilities and the overseeing of the experienced team training members, these guys find the grit and internal fortitude to work side-by-side with the best. Ultimately, their skill and aptitude find them welcomed on different recon teams.

This Alive and Wired Series installment explores the dangerous and often harrowing reality of war and being able to survive and thrive by learning from the best.

• Language: English
• Publisher: T. Daniel Mason
• Release date: Aug 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223411611

Book preview

Wired and Ready

The Alive and Wired Series Book II

T. Daniel Mason

R.B. Tackett - Series Creator

Copyright © 2023 R.B. Tackett

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

ISBN-13: 9798851818899

Cover design by: Kasun2050

Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

Printed in the United States of America

This book is dedicated to all the family and friends of veterans, past, present, and future.

Thank you for writing your letters to those in all branches of the military.

Sometimes that gift box or those words of encouragement made the difference in the mindset of the service member.

And for a few, how they made it through another day.

You sincerely made a difference.

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

PART I: The Eagle Has Landed!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Part II: Screwed, Screwed Again, then Unscrewed

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Part III: Recon Training: Recondo

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Part IV: (A) Off To Join The LRPs (Lurps)

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Part IV: (B) You Can Do This!

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

About The Author

PART I: The Eagle Has Landed!

Dec-1971 Spec-4 Ronald Crash Tucker Begins His Tour

Chapter One

War - Edwin Starr, 1970

Specialist-4 Tucker landed in Saigon in late December to the worst smell he thought he had ever known. It was like he was downwind from a dump full of human waste or dead animal carcasses. He was told that the stench would get worse the hotter the Sun became.

Damn, I just got here, and I already hate it, Tucker told Smithy and the others as they were herded towards an OD Green Bus waiting for them by a smart-ass E-5 Sergeant who was to become their first encounter with a REMF—rear echelon mofo.

The bus was very similar to the ones they had ridden on back in the states, except this one had thick metal screens and bars over the window openings to keep all the crap from being thrown in on them, the driver told them.

Yeah, he said, They’re there for little things like bombs and grenades and other small shit like that, so you Cherry Asses can’t get an early start on that ‘dying thing’ that’s been going on over here, that is not before Uncle Sam gets his chance to use your sorry asses up first.

Are you for real? somebody asked in a wise-ass tone.

All the FNGs were looking out the barred windows at a multitude of Vietnamese people on bicycles, motor-scooters, and elephants who were also blowing their horns at any disruption of traffic flow. That was when a chiseled-faced Captain in the front turned around and said seriously, Damn straight, he’s for real, and it happens way too often. Look out there. You can’t trust any of these sons-a-bitches around here. They want you dead and will do almost anything to see that you are. Sadly enough, almost every precaution has been taken to secure your safety, mainly from trial-and-error methods. Be sure that if someone gives you any advice while you are in-country, you at least listen and think about taking it to be some serious shit. This is my 3rd Tour, and I still listen and pay attention. If for no other reason, as a precaution, then. You can’t tell the locals from the bad guys most of the time, so don’t take any chances.

One thing that was for sure was that in 1927 when The Blue Bird Bus Company started, they never figured any of their buses would end up in a War Zone equipped like these here in Vietnam. They had been reinforced and decorated like those you see in a modern-day zombie apocalypse movie.

Their landing had not been the grandiose spectacle of the previous military types who were there years before them. Other troops were flown in as entire Battalions or Brigades or transported by the Navy in troop ships like back in WWII as a complete Unit, equipment and all. Not that they were complaining about being on a commercial airline, but to Tucker, it did seem like a great contrast from what his brother Will had mentioned going through getting there on his transport plane. In this case and on Tucker’s plane, it was more like a mixed bag of Specialists ranking from the low man being E-4s to the Lt. Colonels (although he didn’t know everyone’s particular specialties). It makes one ask them self, What was this war coming down to? Maybe the politicians were officially going to fight the war from Washington now, completing their own personal agendas, or were we going to drop the bomb and we all were expendable or something? Tucker didn’t have a clue.

When the Bus stopped, the troops were off-loaded into the reception and replacement station type area. Except for most of the officers and E-6 NCOs and above that were met by someone taking them to their following assignments, they had to listen to the first of many lectures about how to act in this and other nearby foreign countries. All the different branches of service went to their designated areas. They signed in for another lecture filled with more bullshit. Then they were broken down further into MOS categories to hear yet another boring speech about the cultures in Vietnam and to pay the utmost respect to them (right). After hearing how to be a guest in the country and not tread on their cultures, some dude said, Hey, Major, what do we do if some mama-san or her kid tries to blow our asses up? Or some idiots, perhaps not in their NVA uniform per-say, booby traps our hooch. Do we politely say thank you and call it a day or what?

Everyone in the room voiced their opinion all at once after that. The Major, who looked more like Corporal Radar O’Reilly from M.A.S.H, gave them a moment to vent before he called the room back to order and finished the lecture like he had been doing for months. SOSDD, same old shit, different day.

The Major (Radar O’Reilly) continued by reviewing how the army has broken down the southern half of Vietnam below the DMZ (demilitarized zone) and not the communist side into sections or quarters known as Corps. From a large map, he pointed and explained.

1st Corp, or simple eye-corps, was the northern part below the DMZ and was primarily a mountainous region to the western border and back to the eastern coast.

2nd Corp was considered mountains and foothills west and back to the east coast.

3rd Corp had even fewer mountains at the western border, some foothills, and plenty of flatland and wetlands to the eastern coast.

4th Corp is all lower end, primarily flatland and wetlands west to east.

Next, the kind Major gave them more from the list of the dos and don’ts from the MACV (Military Assistance Command Vietnam) hierarchy.

1.      Remember, we are guests here: We make no demands and seek no special treatment.

2.      Join the people! Understand their life, use phrases from their language, and honor their customs and laws.

3.      Treat women with politeness and respect.

4.      Make personal friends among the soldiers and common people.

5.      Always give the Vietnamese the right of way.

6.      Be alert to security and ready to react with your military skills.

7.      Do not attract attention with loud, rude, or unusual conduct.

8.      Avoid separating yourself from the people by a display of wealth or privilege.

9.      Above all else, you are members of the U.S. Military Forces on a difficult mission, responsible for all your official and personal actions. The comportment that you project ought to reflect honor upon yourself and the United States of America.

Later that same day, our group of Army Specialists, fresh in from Ft. Bliss, Texas, were assigned to their Quonset hut type of housing not far from the airport. So not knowing what to expect next other than more bullshit orientation from the Vietnam Welcome Wagon’s Brigade, the guys just settled in making up bunks for themselves after visiting a supply hut on the suggestion of several E-5 Sergeants that continually walked the area, stopping only to look to see if and when all the shelters were full and giving advice or answers to any and all questions being asked.

When Tucker finished putting his gear away, he stepped outside to watch the planes and helicopters takeoff and land at the airport. For some new reason, he was now becoming fascinated by the choreography of it all, possibly since he had recently learned to fly—but not literally.

Someday, maybe I’ll be on one of those bad boys out there kicking some real ass, he told Smithy and Wallace when they stepped outside to see what he was doing.

Shit, man, I hope you take to that better than you did to skiing back home, or you’re a dead man walking already, dude, Wallace said, smiling as he pulled out his new zippo and lit a cigarette.

Chapter Two

You Made Me so Very Happy - Blood Sweat & Tears, 1969

Ron was there now, in the pressure cooker known as THE NAM. He had been assigned to quarters. Again, much different than his brother Will, who had gone to a little tent city that became almost an O/D green-colored canvased metro area by the time he would leave, and he said it was a basecamp somewhere in the remote jungle. His group was moved there after spending almost a week in the same area he had landed for the orientation and indoctrination of or to the surroundings. Dillon, Smith, Tucker, Wallace, and this group were given an address to send mail to by one of their Unit clerks. Now it was time to write some letters before he started serious about the business of being a soldier in a combat zone. First things first, since no bullets were coming his way, he decided to write to his mom. He wrote the first letter, and then the two new girls, and to everybody else, he had promised letters to, including Cindy after that. He was glad these two gals had come into his life and with such great timing. He was trying to keep an upbeat attitude for as long as he could. And receiving news and letters from the home-front surely would help him do that.

BB was an absolute dream girl, and he knew it. What if she had fallen for him like she had indicated? Would she wait a year or longer if necessary? Only time would tell. She probably was the prettiest girl he had ever been with, and he felt damn lucky to have been in the right place at the right time that night. She may be the one. He thought about the no pressure and no promises of the young and innocent love that was shared between them.

Then there was Donna, the girl from his hometown with whom he had so much fun in such a short time. Maybe Ron and Donna had bridged their time gap because they had known each other for years and had had some classes in school together too. Once, he even danced with her at a party when they were younger, he remembered. They were from the same area with many of the same friends too. This could have perhaps been the deal maker for them as he pondered on their time together. Whatever the reasons were for them to have gotten so close so fast didn’t matter. He was just glad she came into his life that day, and at that time, this was because of what Carrie had done to him. She had been there for him before he had time to fall apart from such a disastrous and disappointing relationship. She had no pieces to put back together; he had not entirely fallen to the ground off that proverbial wall, not to mention a sour homecoming or the departing for a war zone.

This was only the beginning of Ronald Tucker's education about the various complexities of the human heart. He had seen and done and even participated in a few things, such as the roller coaster of emotions and the feelings of passion, often companions of innocent young love and its naïve uninformed lovers. But he would do and see so much more in his near future that would challenge not only every vital chamber of his heart but also his soul. He would have to learn to keep all the separate and emotional chambers of his core being and the other vital parts in one piece. And not to mention, his soul needed to be on the same page too. If it isn’t, possibly losing the battle for the will not only to feel and act out the emotions of love once more but to live and feel the existence of a normal life.

He began by telling all of them in this opening letter—which took a few days for each to be handwritten without carbon paper for the bulk stuff and lack of devoted time for the personal information. It was sort of like a journal about his trip over and how it went. Then he tried to explain the first several days, from covering the flight over in detail to how they had found out where to set-up his first home away from home in Vietnam. That was all he could tell them about at this point, other than jumping out of a plane and playing some ball, which he saved for his following letter, and making a few new buddies. Oh yes, we can’t forget about that retched stench in the air, either.

Calendar Girls - Neil Sedaka, 1961

After hearing the numerous stories of recent and past girlfriends from all his new buddies after their 30-day leave, Tucker decided to hang up the most recent pictures of these two new girlfriends he had to talk about above his newly made ‘Short-Timers Calendar.’ He had also tried doing some Art Deco on his calendar for style to show them more of his often crazy and humoristic surfer dude personality. By now, the other guys were giving him a hard time about the two beauties he had posted, so at the perfectly right moment in getting their goats, he decided to put up a picture of Cindy in one of her awesome bikinis. The second picture of Cindy, which gave him one for every corner of the calendar, was of her sporting a peace sign and some amazingly beautiful tan lines that exposed a muscular body while holding onto her surfboard just to get them again. However, he didn’t tell those man-whores the whole story about her age, although she was looking at least 19 or 20 now. Ron Tucker just smiled, soaking it all in before saying, If you guys only knew about the real me, you’d be, then never finishing the line to fire them up even more. Like with Johnny Carson, timing was everything. This was perfect, all done in good fun. Johnny would have been proud.

Now, his mission for the moment was to keep the BS going for as long as he could. He kept the bullshit going round and round while he was bobbing and weaving, ducking, protecting himself from the stuff they were throwing at him like Bob Gibson of the St. Louis Cardinals threw his fastballs at the opposing teams.

When things finally calmed down, he, too, began talking seriously about home and the girls. He started telling them some surfing stories with and about Cindy, remembering he needed to write her again as he pointed towards her pictures. Then he talked about Donna and their unique friendship and how it had blossomed while he was on leave. BB was his last story and the one he spoke least about, other than the skiing parts and fun times. Most of the guys in the Quonset knew her or of her and agreed she was awesome in every sense of the word, and she was definitely too damn good for Tucker. But not for any of those psychos, as they all laughed in agreement. BB was not a conquest—not that the others or anybody else in his life ever were. She was near and dear to his heart and had entered his life at a time when he unknowingly needed her the most. He started talking about the skiing trip they all had been on. This put everyone back in the states on a cooler and calmer weekend, weather-wise and otherwise. Everyone had their own version of that first day on the slopes, not to mention all the drinking and partying they did. These were his buddies now, The New Dirty Dozen.

Carrie Jackson’s picture could have been the only one on that calendar. Yes, smack dab in the middle of it, but she was never mentioned during this time of boasting about home and simple kinds of love. Carrie was way, way back in his rear-view mirror now, and he wanted to keep her there forever if that were possible. The guys had to have a way of taking their minds off the actual task of war when needed, as well as being prepared for it mentally and physically at a moment’s notice. Anything that may bring them down, even if subconsciously, was kept to a minimum on purpose, even if it required them to manufacture some craziness at times which seemed to come all too naturally for some of these characters.

To Love Somebody - The Bee Gees, 1967

The mood suddenly altered as the tune on the transistor radio changed to a meaningful ballad. To Love Somebody was the song and the question that Spec-4 Ronald Tucker pondered over for quite some time as he lay there in silent deliberation later that night. First, he thought about Carrie and what a bitch she had become. He recalled that he had never mentioned her earlier because of the embarrassment and the pain she had caused him. He hated her for that and refused to forgive her, so the song playing was obviously not about or for her.

Secondly, he started thinking about little Cindy, who wasn’t so little anymore. She had blossomed into such a lovely creature. He knew in his heart that she would always be off limits to him, so he did not spend much time thinking of her to ever fall in love with. But what a beauty in a Bikini. Wow! He always wanted to go surfing with her, he thought, as he smiled, looking at her picture and dreaming of the next time he might be on a wave again.

Getting a little more serious now, Ron transferred his attention to Donna. Again Wow, he liked her a lot. But he knew down deep that Love the One You’re With came into play here. Ron paused and thought hard about her, but she had been the one who, well, hell, we were together in that one. He laughed out loud, drawing some strange looks from the guys around him as he smiled about their time together in Florida. What a babe in every category. Timing had been everything between them, and he knew it. Some day he wanted to thank her properly for helping him to get clear from Carrie and all her immense amounts of bullshit. As for Donna, he still wanted to write her as much as possible so she wouldn’t forget about him; just in case the world changed while he was away. Tucker was leaving a crack in that door.

BB—what a girl in every sense of the word. She was the stuff all chicks should be made of from A to Z. Tender and kind, romantic and thoughtful, athletic and full of life, waiting for the next thrill or challenge to come down the pike. It didn’t matter to her. She could handle almost anything. He thought—maybe even him. She was a gem of a person and extremely easy on all eyes that gazed upon her beauty. That same splendor transfixed him to her at first, but her genuine character and personality ultimately sold Ron once he got to know her. Not to mention she was falling in love with him did help in deciding she was probably the most captivating young woman in the entire world at that time. Ron Tucker was indeed lucky to have such a person fall for him, especially after what he had recently gone through. BB is remarkable! he reminded himself as he started to write her a letter about nothing more than to say hi. Ron wanted her to know he missed her and, hopefully, she was missing him. How much does a person have to give of ones-self before they become too involved to retreat, he wondered? Hell, he said aloud, drawing a few odd smirks from his buddies this time as he laughed aloud after looking around before continuing to write his letter. BB, he knew now, would be someone he could always count on, and he wanted to tell her everything he could. He had found himself in love once again. But this time, it was a different kind of love—one that had two sides with two active participants involved.

Ronald Tucker did not want to be in Vietnam or share his burdens of this war with anyone. He decided to always be selective in how and what he wrote in his letters to all parties. He later admitted that he told his lovely BB more about the war than anyone else. He once said, They just couldn’t have handled most of it. I mean, I can’t share some of what we got into and did over there, mainly because I couldn’t believe it at times myself. So, I held various pertinent facts from them.

It wasn’t long before some of the other guys started their own short-timer calendars. Some had pictures of girls from back home they felt for. And others had selective pictures of Playboy Pin-up girls swearing that they were the loves of their lives.

Somebody was still in the Christmas spirit and installed a Charlie Brown Christmas Tree. Everyone put something on it, from C-Rat packs of cigarettes and P-38s to toothbrushes and condom packs and a Playboy Bunny as the Topper! What a crew.

Chapter Three

Brother Love Traveling Salvation - Neil Diamond, 1969

The men had to see the Medics for Malaria Pills—those giant orange bastards, and basically for a general check-up. It was there that they would meet a cool jive-ass Specialist-5 (Spec-5) by the name of Williams. He was one of the clerks for the Sergeant Major of the Battalion to which they were being assigned. The Specialist was glad to see a new bunch of GIs come in because he did not have all that much to do and was getting bored. His job was being the main clerk of the unit that the new guys would be assigned to. Spec-5 Williams, an ebony black fellow from Mississippi with big round eyes, said in his best southern accent, What the Hey? That was one of his favorite sayings. Guess he thought a lot of Willie Mays, the Say Hey Kid.

Williams continued, You fellas are the cleanest Mofos I’ve’s seen in a long time, and I’s mean that in every way possible. Yo Guys, I’ve’s been ghosting fo almost three weeks now, and that’s stretching it pretty-damn thin, evens fo me.

What is this Ghosting, someone asked.

Spec-5 Williams told them, You see, boys, it was taught to me by some Special Forces dudes who were here waiting for their next assignment. I mean, whenever any of those Special Forces dudes come ‘round here, you guys need to get to know ‘em 'cause they’s really cools, man, and will shows and teach you all kinds of neat shit. They’ll even try to get ya to jump out of planes or choppers, too, so watch yo asses if you ain't being brave enough right then or drunk. Wells, I don’t think it’s any kind of Voodoo shit or anything, but it usually works pretty-damn well. Ghosting is ifs you don’t have a task to perform, and someone of higher ranks, of course, feels as though or takes it upon themself to find you somethin’ to do. Then depending on yo rank or theirs, they match the detail of their choice, not yours, that suits dem juz right. Trust me on dis one, bro, don’t get caught doing nothing ‘cause the Shit-Burner detail is da favorite goin’ ‘round here. And if yuzu’s ever does it once, I swan you’ll do almost anythin’ to avoid havin’ that MoFo again.

What’s that? Smithy asked.

Well, that’s when you retrieve raw human shits from the latrine in a fifty-five-gallon drum dat’s been cut in half, covered with lime, and put under all dem asses settin’ in doze latrines looking at pictures in magazines or practicin’ their remedial skills ats reading and then takin’ dat drum to an area designated for such a purpose as that while hoping not to spill it on yo own ass self in the process. Then ya mix in some diesel fuel and lights it up. Ya stands over this drum with a big paddle or boat oar, looking like some crazy-ass witch mixing up her brew and tries-en not to gag on da smells. If we could get dat crap put in with the napalm, dis war would alreadies be over wiffs. Find someone and pays yo way out of dis detail no matters what, man, Williams said excitedly.

You have to make yo-selfs inbisibles like a ghost. I mean disappearing in plain damn sights. The more he talked, the more excitement affected his speech bringing out his southern roots. Blend into yo surroundings like, say, camouflaging yo skin like doze tiger stripe uniforms in the jungles does for ya. Or be like one of doze lizards that changes frickin colors. If and whens anybody comes round, and dey will simply act busy is what I’m tellings ya. Morning time is the worsts. If you get throughs ‘tills lunch, just disappears for the rest of the day MoFo. Go to the Motor Pool, Helicopter pads (where Tucker and Smithy later found refuge and began to make many new buddies), or anywheres, but don’ts friggin b-u-n-c-h up, dat shits attracts way too much attention. Do you bick (understand)?

He slowed back down, Look, man, everybody does it from time to time, especially when things are slow ‘round heres like now. Ghosting was soon a skill all the new guys would learn to master, and it would serve them well.

Spec-5 Williams also told them many other things, or some of the dos and don’ts, like swearing because certain officers didn’t like hearing it and others didn’t care. He said that the only word you could use regularly and not expect any trouble over was shit. He said everyone uses it in many fashions (like adjectives) and that once a Sergeant even used it referring to a Chicken-Shit Officer and got away with it.

Then, he spoke to them about the rats.

Rats, what the hell are you talking about? Tucker asked.

Williams answered, Did any of you guys ever see Willard? You knows that movie about dat guy who played hopscotch with those furry little rodent bastards? Well, if you axe me, I think dat the NVA has trained all of them. These sons-a-bitches are so big that they ate the cats first and now are making dents in the dog population. They wait ‘tills the lights go out and thens start looking for some fresh meat to chew on. I ain't shittin’ ya, boys. They will eat your frickin toes off, so be careful. Check your boots for scorpions and every other kinds of critters, too, before you put them on in da mornins. We gots mosquitoes here dats so frickin big, dat dem boys got landin’ lights on em’. Well, hell, you didn’t think it was going to be like back in the real world didja? he asked as he saw the disbelief in all their wide eyes. He painted a not-so-very-good but intensely clear picture of the local natural wildlife and insect population for the boys in his native Southern Mississippi tongue.

He failed to mention the leaches and nothing about the super big game animals hiding in the jungles for fear they would really shit themselves but good. Some things were better found out in their own ways and in due time.

Chapter Four

La Moustache - Anna Bell, 1971

It wasn’t too long before Tucker noticed that several of the guys had started or already had grown new mustaches. Not wanting to be left out, he decided to grow one too. However, it took about six days—the first three days before his five o’clock shadow passed 1 pm on day four. That same afternoon, his decided to show up.

That’s when Marshall Dillon told him, Hey Tucker, you’re not gonna try and grow another of those weak-ass mustaches again, are you? Wait, wait, what is this one going to be called? A Foo Man, who? Or should I say, Foo Man, what?

While cracking himself up again, Dillon called Ron out because Tucker had tried back in Basic Training to grow a mustache and failed. Tucker lost his $5.00 bet for who grew the best and/or who grew the worst of those participating in the contest. He didn’t finish last on the worst end but was next to the worst he remembered. Tucker said he would try it again, and most of the guys started razzing him daily after learning of the story. It would have been a good time to turn the tables back on Dillon using the Open Hotel Door drunk story with Stella from their ski trip as the vehicle, but somehow Ron refrained from doing so. He decided to get his payback at a later and more suitable time to generate a full impact of that embarrassing moment, so he took the ribbing.

Hang On Sloopy - The McCoys, 1965

This would be his first of many adventures at the airport and helicopter pads and with some of the 5th Special Forces Airborne personnel that often frequented the area.

During these first few days of their Asian Vacation, Spec-5 Williams introduced them to a few Special Forces guys heading for the Airport to jump. The two Sergeants were a Sgt. First Class (SFC E-7) named Johnson, and the other a Staff Sgt. (SSgt-E6) called Weeks. They asked if they or any one of them would like to join in their fun. Most everyone thought they were crazy to jump out of a perfectly good plane and said no. Tucker, Smithy, and two others, including Spec-5 Williams, went with them, not to jump but to see what and how they would go about it.

The two Sergeants explained everything about the parachute and how to hold onto the lines and made it exciting by saying, Nothing to it, guys, as they boasted. Then they showed them how to land and roll, not let the chute drag them around like a ragdoll. The guys practiced a few drops, tucks, and rolls while jumping off some single-level 55-gallon oil drums working their way to three high. They told the FNGs (Fucking New Guys) that they jumped as often as they could because they really loved it, and it kept their jump pay in operational status.

Staff Sergeant Weeks was an average-built man 24 or 25 years of age. You could tell he was very athletically inclined by how he carried himself—maybe a wrestler. As far as physical features or outstanding marks, there were only a few scars on his face and arms. He was strong and not overly muscular but toned. He spoke with a typical mid-western accent. As for Sergeant First Class Johnson, it was a different story. He was close to 6’3 and 215 lbs. At only 26-27 years old, he looked much older. His face, neck, and head had numerous scars where hair refused to grow again. On his forearm, he had a large Sultans Sword tattoo designed around a large gash resembling a curved blade. His voice was gruff, possibly from the injury and scar on one side of his neck. If someone were to say, I’m gonna rip your head off and shit down your neck," he would be capable of expediting the action. Although profoundly serious about what they were doing, both men could still manage a smile and joke around with the guys.

The small squad hitched a ride on a C-130 Transport plane. The two Sergeants said they had a couple more chutes and that if anyone wanted to jump, speak up now. As they expected, all lips went silent. The Special Forces Sergeants began to strap the chutes onto their bodies while explaining every step and telling them why. The plane was almost to altitude when Smithy said he wanted to try it.

A shocked Tucker glared at him, saying, What! Have you lost your damn mind?

Nope, because when else will we ever have a chance to do anything like this again? Hell, we might die tomorrow. It’s now or never, girls, so who’s going with me? he asked.

Tucker naively turned, asking the Special Forces Sergeants if they could help them if anything went wrong on the way down. They both assured him without a doubt, telling him they could—nothing but a prayer.

Tucker believing in and trusting what they said without asking how, sheepishly said to Smithy, I must be crazy too, but I can’t let you die alone, man. Uncle Sam would be pissed at me for not keeping up with your less-than-sorry ass over here. So, let’s do this before you or I can change our minds there, ole buddy.

The two Sergeants laughed at having suckered another cherry in and told the Air-Crewman to inform the pilot they needed five more minutes. Then they started helping their two new chumps or hoodwinked idiots on with their gear.

All you have to do is stand up, hook up, and jump when you’re told. The chute will pop out by itself, and then hold onto and tug at the lines as we showed you and start enjoying the ride, the senior of the two explained with a smile. It’s just like a walk in the park, boys, I promise. Remember, attitude is everything here, and don’t forget it.

It was time, and Staff Sergeant Weeks jumped first. When Weeks cleared the door, SFC Johnson reassured them he would go last in case he needed to adjust something for the guys—another big BS lie. He hooked their static lines up and told them to get ready and when to jump. Smithy yelled something at Tucker, and out he went. Tucker couldn’t believe he was next and about to kiss his ass goodbye; it was by his own choice too.

Jump now, or I’ll throw your sorry ass out, soldier. Right now, the SFC said, intimidating Tucker.

Geronimo, Tucker yelled as he jumped without thinking. He prayed that his heart would not fall out of his ass on the way down. The SFC was right behind him, laughing and smiling from ear to ear. Ron saw the other two chutes below him, then looked up and saw the SFC