the whole jump procedure is “streamlined” for efficiency’s sake. You have to trust someone else to pack your chute, for example. And not just anyone—someone who has also agreed to run at bullets for minimum wage. Then, unlike traditional skydiving, you don’t have full control over your risers (those sweet little toggles that control the steering of your parachute), which means they’re pretty much just fallers. This makes sense when you consider that, in a war zone, you’d like to land as soon as possible. But in training, during a “mass exit” at altitude, what ends up happening is that you play three-dimensional Frogger with twenty-five other jumpers.
One day the winds were gusting like Zeus farts and all I could do to get through being thrown uncontrollably through the air during my jump was to sing the chorus to “Dust in the Wind.” I truly felt in that moment that I had no control over my life or death. It was in the hands of ’70s supergroup Kansas…or possibly fate.
I survived, but others were not so lucky. Throughout my time in the military, I’ve seen a few Rangers die or get medically retired from injuries sustained during jumps and training exercises. During jump week in the class before mine, a female soldier’s parachute suffered a major malfunction and she burned in, unfortunately losing her life from her injuries. About a year later, a fellow Ranger fell to his death during an airfield seizure exercise. Another parachutist got blown right under his canopy and stole the air that was keeping him aloft. Suffice to say, dropping to the ground with no lift isn’t pretty. Our awareness of these kinds of deaths didn’t make our own jump week harder per se, but they were very real reminders that everything we were doing had life-or-death consequences, even in training.
* * *
—
Around that time, two weeks into Airborne, I got a call from my cousin who was a full-bird colonel and who used to be a platoon leader in Ranger Battalion. He was an absolute legend in my mind, and a call from him was a big fucking deal to me. My mother had kept in contact with him throughout my training and had let him know that I would soon be going through RASP if I passed (a.k.a. “did not fall to my death in”) Airborne School. He knew from his own experience that not everyone is meant to jump out of an airplane, and I think he was checking in to see whether I was one of those guys.
“How is it going so far?” he asked.
“Easy breezy.”
“Sure,” he said, knowing full well that I’d just spent the last four months getting my shit pushed in. “I hear you’re going to RASP after you graduate.”
RASP is the final step that determines whether or not you have what it takes to join one of the three battalions of the 75th Ranger Regiment. The three are 1st Battalion at Hunter Army Airfield in Savannah, Georgia; 2nd Battalion at Fort Lewis in Tacoma, Washington; and 3rd Battalion right here at luxurious Fort Benning in Columbus, Georgia.
“Where do you want to go after RASP?” he asked.
“I really want to go to Fort Lewis, 2/75, but I’m not sure if that will happen.”
“You never know,” my cousin said. “Keep your chin up and good luck.”
I wanted Fort Lewis for two reasons: I wanted to head back west to be closer to my family down in Santa Barbara, and during this time of the war, the Ranger battalions were on cycled deployments, and the 2/75 had just been pushed forward. This meant that if I got 2nd Battalion, I’d be able to deploy immediately instead of having to cool my heels for several months like the dudes in 1st or 3rd Battalion.
Regardless of how I performed at RASP, I had no idea where I’d wind up, because the military does not have a reputation for granting the wishes of its newest recruits. If you wanted to go to the 1/75, you’d end up at 2nd Battalion. If you wanted to go to the 2/75, you’d end up at 1st Battalion. If you wanted the 3/75…well, you’d end up at the 3/75, because 3rd Battalion is in Columbus, Georgia, and as I’ve said, nothing sucks more than Columbus.
It’s only fitting that RASP also calls Columbus home, because this is when shit starts to get real and the suckfest kicks into high gear. The day after Airborne ended, three