It is 05:00 hours and the siren screams me out of bed. Our door swings open and about twenty others and I groan because of the bright incandescent light which now shines in our used-to-be pitch-black room. Colonel Bridges is standing in that doorway with a look of terror, fear, and excitement. We line up next to our bottom bedposts and salute. "At ease," is what he says. But we can tell that's not what he means. In a low, depressing tone of voice, he explains to us that we are to be shipped to the front line. He, of course, knows that we aren't ready for war. We have only been training for two weeks. We will be leaving at 07:00 hours with full gear.

It is 07:00 hours. We're now loading up onto the C-130. The gut of this plane could fit two small jets, but is filled with three barracks of men. As I look into my fellow soldiers' eyes, terror and fear fill them. Our voices vibrate with dread as we ask each other what is going on. A sudden loud banging noise is heard, and I look to see what it is. Colonel Bridges is hitting the plane's hull with the back of his balled fist as he stands on the top of some supply boxes. As the plane lifts off the ground, he briefs us. It looks as though he, himself, is hearing the orders for the first time. With disbelief he speaks these words. Monotonous as his tone of voice is, it sounds as if he has dramatized it. He speaks of coordinates, extraction times, objectives, primary and secondary goals, and mission techniques. All of this is told time and time again, as if we aren't listening to him.

It is 11:00 hours and we're about to jump. The Colonel goes through his routine, giving us the same orders as he has given us four hours ago. We jump by twos. I am with Lieutenant Collins of Barracks 204. While falling those 5,000 feet, I question whether I am going to live to see the next day. Touching down, we immediately proceed to our coordinates. As we get closer to our mission's objective, we can hear sounds like firecrackers going off. In a moment dirt is flying left and right, explosions as bright as the sun burst before us. Gunfire is everywhere. My entire division lets off rounds without destination to stop our attackers. It doesn't work. The gunfire increases and ten men already lie dead. It feels as if a hot knife has been plunged into me. As I fall, time seems to stop. I see bright yellows and whites all around me. I see some of us still standing, fighting, and crying with anger, confusion, and simply in horror. I feel myself hit the ground, and I turn onto my back. I clench my leg to stop the bleeding. I sense death all around me as I lay there. I close my eyes for a second. But never again do they open. 1