‘All right,’ the man then said. He reached into his pocket. The agent shoved a card across the table. Pyotr began to breathe again. ‘If you change your mind, call that number any time.’ Pyotr eyed the card without reaching for it. ‘We can help… with things,’ the man said. ‘Certain legalities… like citizenship.’ Pyotr couldn’t tell whether the man was dangling a carrot or wielding a stick. Probably both. ‘And I wouldn’t take too much time thinking it over.’
Pyotr took the card from the table. The agents drove him home. Pyotr was shocked.
Olga wasn’t. ‘It’s America!’ She clutched him joyfully to her chest. ‘Everything is different here!’
Pyotr decided not to tell her about the veiled threat. She was too in love with her new home.
‘Listen up? the sergeant shouted. His chest heaved under the tight, olive drab T-shirt. They had just come from the obstacle course. Andre and the other trainees were exhausted. Even the instructor was sweating. ‘Today we’re gonna teach you two methods of heliborne insertion into inaccessible landing zones! Method one is tactical rappeling!’
He turned to the helicopter around which the class sat and picked up a rope. ‘You men and women had better pay attention to this, ’cause in about one hour you will be descending from this helicopter to the ground one hundred feet below!’
There was nervous fidgeting and sideways glances among the young trainees. Andre was petrified. He tried to calm himself by imagining doing the same thing, but with people shooting at him.
‘The second method — which we’ll go over this afternoon — is called “STABO”! That stands for “Stabilized Tactical Airborne Body Operations”! In STABO insertions, four of you will hang side-by-side from hundred-foot ropes! The helicopter will take off, lifting you into the air with it! It will then fly to the drop zone and lower you to the ground!’
There was a snicker.
‘You got a problem with that, soldier? shouted another instructor. He stepped into the semicircle.
‘No, sergeant!’ the man barked back.
‘You guys had better realize something, right now! If you get that Air Assault Badge, you’re headed for the 101st Airborne Division (Airmobile). You ever heard of the Screaming Eagles? D-Day! Operation Market Garden! The Siege of Bastogne! The Tet Offensive! Hill 937! You ever heard of Hamburger Hill? Well, this is the home of the men who fought there! And right now, they’re in the shit in Siberia. Right now, they’re doin’ what we’re training you to do. I’d pay attention!’
The instructor raised a shiny ‘D’ ring and returned to the lecture. It went on for almost an hour. Each recruit was again run through the procedures for attaching his personal harness to the ring. They had, all been taught how to rappel on a tall wooden tower. But the instructor went back over how to clamp down on the twin ropes to control their rate of descent. ‘All right, then!’ the instructor shouted abruptly. ‘Everybody up!’
The trainees all looked at each other. Just like that? Andre thought. The helicopter’s flight crew had been quietly checking out the aircraft They were now strapped into the cockpit. Andre’s class rose. The instructors made their way through, tugging on the harnesses the men wore.
The engines began to whine. The rotors turned. ‘Mount up!’ the instructor shouted. The class of twelve climbed through the open side door. By the time they were all aboard, the wash from the rotors was at gale force. Everything was happening so quickly. The cold wind swirled through the open side doors.
With a lurch, the helicopter began to move. Not up, but forward. The grassy field rushed by not five feet beneath them. Andre sat on the hard metal floor. Dozens of aircraft and their trainees filled the open field.
Andre felt the helicopter’s rise in his gut. It banked quickly, turned, and pitched nose-up. Andre’s insides were all tied in knots. The muscles from his stomach to his shoulders were clenched tight. He had trouble drawing a breath. The helicopter settled into a hover. The noise of the rotors and wind roared through the open doors.
‘When you get to the ground’ the instructor shouted, ‘clear the LZ and set up a perimeter!’ Andre couldn’t believe the time had come. He’d listened to the lectures. But he felt like they hadn’t told him enough. Maybe the others all understood, but he didn’t. He wasn’t ready. He was terrified.
‘Okay!’ the instructor shouted. He clapped a guy hard on the shoulder and jerked his thumb toward the door. The trainee hesitated. The sergeant kicked him. He rose carefully and grabbed onto the bulkhead beside the door.
Andre felt a tap on his shoulder. Another instructor waved him to his feet. Andre’s head jerked around. There were two instructors. Two ropes. Two open doors. ‘Let’s go!’ the instructor shouted.
Everyone looked at Andre. They were checking him out, searching his eyes. Andre got the impression that they were hoping he would back out. Say no. If he refused, maybe they could too. Maybe they’d call the whole thing off. Decide it was too dangerous. Land and go back over everything again.
Andre rose. It was a struggle. Gravity tugged at him hard. He stood beside the instructor. The man pressed the spring-closed bar on the ‘D’ ring and wove the two ropes into Andre’s harness. He went back through the principles that would keep Andre from plummeting to his death. Then he said, ‘You ready?’
Andre nodded. A shiver quaked through him. The sergeant punched him on the arm. ‘You’ll love it! Ifs better’n sex!’ He ushered Andre to the edge. The void loomed at the tips of his combat boots. It was a hundred feet down to the green field.
‘Turn around!’ the instructor ordered. ‘Back up to the door!’ Andre turned carefully. The instructor held onto the ropes — repositioning them as Andre turned. He held them out to Andre, who gripped them with all his might. ‘Lookin’ good!’ the instructor shouted. ‘Now back on up!’ There was a cliff behind him. Andre could feel it. The wide-eyed soldier opposite him took baby steps. His heels inched closer to the edge. The instructor shouted in his ear.
He slid his boot back without lifting it, and there it was — the edge. He could feel it through the thick sole of the combat boot. A distinct boundary beyond which lay nothing but air. His heels hung out. His toes still solidly gripped the deck. ‘Okay, son! Just lie back!’
No matter how hard he tried, Andre couldn’t bring himself to lean backwards out the door. Inside the helicopter were the pallid faces of his sickly class. Outside were spinning rotors. A roaring engine whose hot exhaust heat lapped at his face in gusts amid freezing winter air. And a great drop to the green lawn against which his body would break if he fell.
‘We don’t have all day, private!’ the instructor shouted. Andre saw his counterpart across the cabin at the other open door. He wasn’t leaning, but sort of sitting out into space. His knees were bent. He kept almost losing his footing. He managed to struggle back inside and start the process over again with the now livid instructor hounding him loudly.
Andre let the rope slide through his gloved hands and leaned back. It was only a few inches, but he had crossed the imaginary line between inside and out. The noise and the gale were overwhelming. The dark green fuselage framed the open door. The world of his classmates inside the helicopter seemed like a million miles away. His hands cramped from their firm grip. The thought flashed through his head that paratroopers had it easy. They just jumped. No thinking. But he had to will himself out in slow motion.
‘You’re almost there!’ the instructor yelled. His distant voice came from the other side of the gulf. He was motioning for Andre to keep going.