I was still rubbing my head when I made it to the crewman at the end of the plane who attached a carabiner to my belt, securing my small go-bag on a rope so that it wouldn’t get in the way. He patted me on the shoulder and showed me a thumbs up, indicating all was ready on his end. I returned the gesture, and pulled on my helmet, brushing brown hair out of my eyes. Always the rebel, even as an officer, I kept my hair slightly longer than military regulations permitted.
I shifted my oxygen mask for a more comfortable fit, and slid my helmet’s visor into place, blinking a few times when a digital readout projected itself on its interior. The heads up display was just one of the fancy new Future Force Warriors items slowly being redeployed by the U.S. military. My HUD displayed numerous mission critical details in bright, blue lettering scattered around every inch of the display. It boasted items such as a clock, compass, altimeter, barometer, targeting information, GPS, and night vision capabilities. Satisfied each of its functions were working properly, I bent my legs and waited for the light.
It wasn’t long before it turned green and the crewman began shouting, “Go! Go!”
Motioning a quick sign of the cross, I leapt into the abyss.
Free falling, I quickly began picking up speed. I let myself free fall in a dive for a while before I allowed my arms and legs to go spread eagle. In this position my body would generate enough resistance against the wind to slow me down. I glanced at the upper right hand corner of my visor which displayed my altimeter. I watched as the meters quickly ticked away towards zero, waiting for when it indicated I was low enough to open my chute, but still high enough to not end up as a red stain on the ground. Content I had plenty of time to burn, I tried to relax and allow myself the pleasure of enjoying the view. High enough to see the curve of the Earth, I used my time to watch as dawn slowly crept from the East towards the inhabitants below and as the storm we had just passed through tried to meet it from the West.
It was moments like these when I really loved my job.
I couldn’t let myself get too distracted sightseeing. Italy was quickly losing the boot-like appearance I had initially seen after my jump, alerting me that it was time to start paying attention to my altimeter. I would have to wait until I was low enough to spot an infrared beacon before I could accurately locate my exact destination, somewhere north of Rome.
After a few more minutes of free fall, I pulled my chute open, bracing myself as I was jerked in my harness. As the parachute opened, I reached for a pair of cords dangling near my head. It wasn’t long before I was in complete control, and safely making my way to the ground.
Activating my HUD’s night vision, I glanced around, looking for the beacon. Under normal eyesight, infrared was effectively invisible, but night vision had no trouble picking up the pulsating strobe that flashed brightly in the infrared spectrum. I spotted it with little trouble, about a mile to my left, and slowly began my turn and descent towards it.
Nearly dirt side, I relaxed my knees and exhaled before I hit the surface. Rolling twice, I came to a stop, and immediately began punching down my billowing parachute before it could lift me back in the air. Securing the cord and fabric back in its pack, I took a moment to compose myself.
I shook my head to loosen my helmet’s grip and leaned over to grab my small go-bag which lay a few feet from my landing. The small single shoulder-hoisted rucksack held only a few soldierly essentials: my American military ID, a small multi-tool, survival kit, SureFire flashlight, 45 SIG Sauer P220 semi-automatic pistol with two extra magazines, digital camera, roll of duct tape, toiletries, and an extra pair of socks. The rest of my gear and possessions had been shipped to my destination the day before to ensure I would be ready for duty as soon as possible.
Turning around, I spotted a small black car parked next to a dirt road that snaked off into the mountains. Standing next to it was a small, robed man and a full bird American Army colonel.
My attache to Rome, I presumed.
Reaching the car I stopped and saluted crisply, “Lieutenant Commander Jacob Hunter reporting as ordered, Colonel.”
“At ease,” the man said, lazily returning my salute. “My name is Colonel Reynolds. I will be your liaison with the Vatican until you have formally transferred to your new unit. When that time comes, you’ll be on your own.”
I nodded. “Understood, Colonel. I was briefed by the President before I left Washington.”
Reynolds returned the gesture. He knew as well as I how unique our situation was, one that required the highest clearance level available, and had been overseen directly by the Commander in Chief. A request from the Pope was not to be taken lightly these days. Today he carried tremendous influence and political clout, and considering the current geopolitical situation, his title was just as influential as it had once been centuries ago.
***
As I stood before the two unfamiliar men, I couldn’t help but think of my father again. He was about as much of a stranger as they were these days, but even so, I found my mind wandering back to Thanksgiving Day six years ago. With massive amounts of turkey, potatoes, and gravy consumed, me, my dad and my grandfather were sitting around the TV while my mother and sister finished cleaning up the mess. Grandpa had already passed out in a turkey induced coma while my dad and I watched yet another Thanksgiving football game.
Halfway through the third quarter, a breaking news report interrupted the game to reveal that Russia had sent troops into Georgia once again. The grainy footage revealed civilians massacred as they tried to resists, and we sat there completely stunned for a long while. The scene mimicked the events that transpired during the 2008 Beijing Olympics, but I had been too young at that time to truly understand what was happening, and we would soon learn how much worse it would be this time.
“I told you,” my dad whispered finally.
“I know you did, dad,” I replied just as quietly, my attention focused on the report.
Everyone had known it was only a matter of time, even if my then young and idealistic self didn’t want to admit it. Russia had been getting stronger for years under its overzealous leaders, and everyone knew, but few said anything, that by 2015 or so it would start reclaiming territory lost with the fall of the old Soviet regime. That Thanksgiving set in motion a chain of events that created another world war. And my dad had been right.
“That’s where you need to be, son,” my father continued in a low voice. “You need to be there to stop them.”
I remember rolling my eyes, like I always did when he brought up the fact I had chosen to forgo military service. It was all he ever talked about.
“It’s too late now,” I replied.
“It’s never too late!” He shouted back, slamming his fists on his cushy chair’s armrests. His sudden outburst caused my sister to come in from the kitchen to inspect what the problem was, but once she realized we were talking, she quickly fled the scene.
“It doesn’t even matter,” I muttered. “We’re too weak to go to war. All we can do is sit on our asses and defend ourselves.”
It was true. The government had been cutting back funding for the military at a precipitous rate for a few years at the point. By the time I finally joined the military in 2016, most of the equipment employed were models and makes based off technology from as far back as the 1990s. The gear was new, but of old design, and funds for America’s air supremacy program were halved, Navy equipment was decommissioned, and America’s Future Force Warrior program, for grunts and Special Forces units, was practically abandoned. It was why the only piece of fancy new gear I currently had was the flight helmet I wore during my HALO jump.
I was forced to leave the rest of my toys that trickled into my unit over the years with the Navy, and Reynolds would probably take back my helmet as well. Innovation in the realm of warfare had basically come to a standstill. Many were worried that it put America’s military superiority at risk, and if you asked me, it had. But the critics had argued that things had settled down, and that we didn’t need such expenses anymore. It wasn’t even until 2020, with the raging around the world, that funds were finally reallocated to the military, and we started receiving new gear.
With the military underfunded, under populated, and sitting on their asses stateside, the country wasn’t prepared for what was about to come. Neither was the rest of the world for that matter. It wasn’t long before
