I still recall the roar of Hercules,
whose engines drowned the sound of sergeant’s voice.
I still recall the weakness of my knees,
to face the open door and make a choice.
But I had really made my choice before.
When sergeant yelled “stand up” I chose to stand,
unsteady on the aircraft’s pitching floor,
though ready for the rest of his commands.
As Sergeant Airborne took my static line,
and as I placed my hands outside the bird,
I knew the silver wings would soon be mine,
as soon as sergeant yelled one final word.
The light turned green; the drop zone was below,
and all I heard was sergeant holler: “Go!”