Green On! Go!

It is 16 July 2007 today and the day has a surreal feeling to it. It is like Déjà vécu, a feeling of having been there before.

... ... ...

I'm standing in the aft portion of the aircraft with the ramp wide open. The world is looking bedazzling with a million tiny lights shining up the night sky.

The cold high altitude wind is piercing into my skin as the Jumpmaster signals to me to get ready. I have a quick look over my weapons, assure myself that my parachute pack along with the reserve chute is in place, recheck my chord-line and have a quick inspection through my gear. Fully loaded and armed to the teeth.

The light goes green and the Jumpmaster nods to me in the semi-lit darkness of the aircraft cabin. After returning the Jumpmasters salute, I dive out into the dark sky. It is a cold dark night. My last mission and I have a silent prayer on my lips for successful completion without any casualties.

The air is chillingly cold but refreshing at the same time. I am speeding down to terra firma at a gut wrenching speed under the force of gravity. Under normal conditions and without the killing weight of my gear bogging me down, I would have loved doing a couple of somersaults in the air. But tonight, I have a mission to accomplish. I'll save the aerial acrobatics for some other day.

As my eyes get accustomed to the darkness around me, I scan the skies for my boys who have tumbled out from the aircraft after me. After counting the number of dark bodies, I grunt a satisfactory approval to myself. I take a look at my wrist altimeter and count down the thousands of feet left before I deploy my parachute. I cross check the topographic features around me and do some quick mental calculations to find if we have strayed off course.

By now I can see the Drop Zone (DZ) and I'm relieved because we all are headed in the right direction. Adrenaline is fast pumping into my system as I go through all the worst case scenarios in my mind. The biggest mistake one can do is not to foresee tragedy and be ill prepared for it.

I take another look at my wrist altimeter and realise that I'm seconds away from the threshold. I put my hands on the D-ring and after counting down the remaining feet, I tug open my parachute at the designated altitude.

The parachute opens up beautifully and I look up to check if it’s deployed correctly. A few light tugs at my rip chord and I manoeuvre myself towards the DZ. I break the parachute slightly to reduce my speed and touch down for a perfect landing.

I collect my parachute and dig a hole in the ground to bury it. My boys have started landing and we are lucky enough not to have any broken bones amidst us tonight. After ensuring that all the parachutes have been taken care of, we fan out across the DZ and take up position so as to command a dominating line of fire.

Daylight is hours away and a gentle breeze has picked up. It is all peaceful and quiet and had it not been for my weapon and my boys around me, I would have been under the illusion that I'm on a vacation up there in the hills. It is a dreamlike situation, a trance so serene that for a second I allow myself to believe that I'm there not on business but on pleasure. I can’t remember the last time I went home on leave.

All of a sudden, my left flank opens up and I can hear the staccato firing piercing the stillness of the night. Whoosh! A Carl Gustav fires from my right side and then all at once, our weapons have opened fire. A shell lands a few hundred feet before us, splinters flying thick and fast and then all hell breaks loose... ... ...

... ... ...

I come back to life! I am still my own self but in a different place. The Déjà vécu has run its course and I'm back to reality.

The boom of the gunfire, the swoosh of the recoilless rifle and the thump of the mortar seem as if they are from a different time, a different world altogether. The smell of cordite and the yelling shouts are a thing of the past. No more accumulation of bile during long marches, no more fatigue and exhaustion from endless fire-fights and no need to be on my guard relentlessly day after day. No more blood curdling cries from guys whom I don’t know but who want to kill me, no more frustration at finding that the rifle spring has melted after non stop firing, no more jamming of the breech block and no more heart rendering moans from guys whose life is ebbing away.

That was then. Now, the air-conditioned environs help me keep my cool and I don’t get the stinging feeling of sweat trickling down into my eyes. The wall to wall carpeting and the perfume candles add an enchanting hue to the place where I work. It is a far cry from the maddening fields where I transitioned from boyhood to becoming a man.

I have started upon a new phase in life where I feel everybody is pretending to be overfriendly and nice. I don't like this place but then, as we say 'Its not for us to reason why, we are here just to do or die'. I miss my boys, miss their josh and joie de vivre. The battlefield is gone and my eyes are looking towards the boardroom. One day, I shall be there. As my CO said before I left "Go, become a Corporate Mogul".

The lights have gone green again but I don’t have to check my parachute gear this time. I just put my feet on the accelerator pedal and zoom towards my destination.

The journey has just begun.