It was the first day of the fourth week; the week they were supposed to begin jumping. Mac had called Granny and Applejack the night before to tell them how excited he was about doing his first jump. They met his comments with pride and admiration. No one in the barracks had slept well that night, they were all too excited about putting on their parachutes for the first time. They had gone over the basic theory of parachuting, how to jump, how to land. They were going to be performing a static-line jump; meaning that they only had to jump out of the rear hatch of the plane, and the parachute would fall behind them. They were to jump in order with specific timings they had practised as well. During the firearms training, Macintosh had shot a perfect score on one board, which had gotten him the nickname “Mac-Gun” after the mounted machine guns on some of the aircraft. Mac took pride in the nickname, it made him feel accepted by his fellow soldiers.

It was early in the morning and they all stood on the airfield in their combats and berets. They were issued extra kit to use for their jump: A helmet to wear over the beret, goggles, gloves, and their harnesses. The wind was low that day, and the now disciplined stallions were all standing in a straight rank to one side of the runway. Sergeant Fallout stood in his gear, awaiting the arrival of the aircraft they would be jumping from. He handed out headsets to each of the cadets, now numbering fewer than the previous weeks due to injury or resignation. Macintosh still remained, as did Splintstitch, Marktime, Biggs and Reelin, even Topnotch was still among them. They adjusted their radios to the proper frequency and awaited further instructions.

After standing excitedly for over twenty minutes, a transmission came over the radio. “Sergeant Fallout, this is Lieutenant Wing. Over.”

Sergeant Fallout pressed a button on his headset and responded. “Lieutenant Wing, his is Sergeant Fallout. Go ahead. Over.”

“Sergeant Fallout, we are en route to your location at this very moment. We should be there in One-Zero Minutes. Lieutenant Wing Out.”

Sergeant Fallout now turned to the stallions standing by. “You all hear that?” he called out.

“Yes, Sergeant!” The cadets called.

“If you did not, tell me now.” He paused, waiting for anyone whose radio might not be working. When no complaints came, he continued. “Good. Now, I have a point to raise that I should have sooner. When we are in the field, you will not use rank or name. We are considered very desirable hostages and prisoners in combat situations. The use of rank in the field is prohibited, as it will be during these training runs. Is that clear?”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“You all just got me killed!” Sergeant Fallout shouted. “What did I just say about using rank? In the event that confirmation is needed, there will be no “yes, sir” or “no, sir”. In the Airborne unit, we prefer to keep our confirmations simple and quiet. You will instead answer “Yup” or “Nope”.”

There were a few uncontrolled snickers from the squad. To them it sounded kind of silly to use such colloquial terms.

“I don't want to hear laughter, this could save lives, and not necessarily your own sorry wastes of lives.” The Sergeant Shouted. “Do I make my self clear?”

“Yup!”

“Good. There actually is a scientific explanation as to why we use these terms. S's make a very distinct sound, which is very easy to hear. With the removal of S's from the words we use in the field, we can communicate on a quieter scale.” The Sergeant explained. “Is that clear?”

“Yup!”

At that, and as if on cue, they could hear propellers approaching from behind. None of them looked up because they were at attention, but none could mistake the sound of an air plane. For one second, the sun was blacked out as the monstrous aircraft screamed overhead. Most in the squad could not help but watch as the metal bird did a few clearing turns and came in for a landing. The power still on, the rear hatch opened up and the beige Pegasus Macintosh recognized as the CO stepped out to flag them over. The Sergeant shouted the command to run over the radio, and all of the stallions followed him towards the craft.

As he boarded, Macintosh caught the CO's eye, who offered him a nod of acknowledgement. The engine was still screaming, but not nearly as loud as before. Mac found a seat along one side of the aircraft and took a seat. They followed procedure as they had practised, the rear hatch closed, and the aircraft powered up and took off.

As they were on their ascent, a voice came over their headsets.

“For those of you who do not know me, my name is Lieutenant Wing. I am and have been your CO since you joined up in this Company. You have all come a long way since day one, and are a few jumps away from receiving your wings. I guarantee some of you are scared right now. I want you to know that it is normal, and you will get over it in time. I wish you the best of luck today, and I look forward to seeing you all fling yourselves out of the back of this perfectly good aircraft.”

The line went dead and the flight returned to silence. For the rest of the ascent, the excitement that had been building seemed to dwindle slightly. Some of the stallions who had seemed so pumped to jump for the first time, seemed more scared of it now. Mac didn't feel the fear they felt, his excitement was still at it's peak. He couldn't wait to feel the wind in his mane as he floated to the ground.

Finally, a red light came on and the squad gathered at the back of the aircraft. The rear hatch opened and they stared out over the trees and sky that lay before and below them. The trees gave way to a clean-cut green field and the light in the aircraft changed to match the green below them.

“GO!” Sergeant Fallout shouted and the first stallion jumped out of the plane. Out of pure habit and indoctrination, all of the others followed close behind in the timings they had practised. Macintosh's heart was racing as he neared the front of the line. When he was at the front he charged out of the rear of the aircraft and into the great unknown.

It was better than he had imagined. The ground raced towards him for only a moment or two, until the parachute unfurled and ballooned above him. He could hear only his own breathing and the wind rushing by. Macintosh's eyes were as big as saucers, not from fear, but from the awe of the moment.

“If only Granny and Applejack could see me now.” Mac said to no one at all. The scenery was like something out of a movie he had seen once. One of the shots that encompassed the scenery and gave the viewer a feeling of just how big the world they lived in was.

The fall could have gone on forever and Macintosh would not have cared. Unfortunately he could see the ground getting close, and braced himself for impact. Despite popular belief, the landing wasn't as graceful as they would think. Macintosh did everything he had been taught to prepare for touch down, and it still felt like he had just jumped off the roof of the house at Sweet Apple Acres.

When he touched the ground, he removed his headset to get some fresh air, and could hear excited shouts of triumph from others who had just finished their jumps. Macintosh joined in the celebration, shouting and hoof bumping his comrades as they revelled in the adrenaline of the jump.

A bus came to collect them after their jump, and for the whole ride back to the base, the bus was filled with laughter, jokes, and singing from the stallions on board. Despite the joyous feel of the bus ride, Macintosh could feel himself getting increasingly tired, and decided to sleep for most of the ride back to the base.

Author's Note

And thus, we have another chapter in. The next couple of chapters is where it should start to pick up, and we really will hear about the problems and causes of the war.
-Cog Out