The drone of a Cessna 185 could be heard outside. I stood in the dimly lit hanger, oversized army fatigues rubbing roughly against my goosebumped flesh, not hearing any of the final instructions, wondering instead if I would ever see my family again, the reality of the situation finally hitting me, but now it was too late.

Marching out single file, giving each other a nervous look. We climbed into the plane, two rows of four on our knees, beads of perspiration building, the instructor giving the final command. ‘If you go up in it, you ain’t coming down in it!’




From the Compendium of One Hundred Word Stories