Panama Essay Research Paper

Panama Essay, Research Paper

“What am I doing here?” Rick thought to himself.

Just yesterday morning he had gotten out of his warm bed. He had kissed his wife goodbye and told her that he would be home around lunch time. He had explained to her that, because it was the Christmas season, he only had to work a half-day schedule until

after New Years.

Now, eighteen short hours later, he and one hundred and nineteen other paratroopers are packed like sardines in a military airplane bound for Panama. He has a parachute strapped on his back and is loaded down with so much equipment that he can hardly breath. This equipment, however, is different from what he has trained with over the last three years. This equipment is real. The bullets are real and so is the mission.

“I can’t believe this is really happening” he whispers to himself, for about the millionth time. He doesn’t have to worry about anybody hearing him, though, for the whine of the aircraft’s engines has pushed each man on the airplane into his own mind. The men are squeezed so tightly together that there is no hope of movement. The only light in the aircraft comes from the soft red glow of the emergency lights overhead.

Rick has been sitting in the same position for over three hours. The weight of the backpack on his lap has cut off the circulation to his feet but there in no way to relieve that weight. He would like a drink of water but he can’t reach either canteen on his hips. The only thing he can do is go over the last eighteen hours in his head again.

It started off normal enough. He had gotten to his company and done the usual physical training. The rest of the morning, also, had gone as usual. At lunch time, however, things started to rapidly go crazy. He had returned from the chow hall expecting to be released for the rest of the day. Instead, he was hurried into the company breakroom, along with the rest of the artillery spotting teams, and told that they were being alerted for an emergency deployment. This was not an unusual occurrence. Many times in the past they had been alerted. This time, however, there was no misunderstanding the platoon sergeant when he asked if everyone had his will in order.

Right away, Rick decided that he really didn’t want to be on this mission, whatever it was. His mind flooded with all the complications that any mission entailed. The first was that he wouldn’t be home “around lunch time” as he had told his wife. This was not an unusual occurrence either. Too many times in the past he had been sent away with little or no warning. That was the nature of his job, yes, and he understood that. It was, however, getting very old very fast. Some men could put their careers and the Army before their families. Rick could not.

Danger was another complication that was becoming too familiar. Rick never considered himself a very lucky man. In his whole life he had never used Luck and Consistency in the same sentence. Yet, lately he had been pushing his luck in dangerous situations with great consistency. He had a feeling that Danger and Luck were dice he didn’t want to roll too many more times.

The next several hours where absorbed by the overwhelming task of trying to get twelve hundred men from a “standing start” to “fully ready for combat” in an unbelievably short amount of time. Reluctantly, and still not knowing what the mission was, Rick did his best to aid in accomplishing that task.

He went and got his rucksack out of his locker. It was already packed with the standard combat load. Company policy required it. He carried a portable (15 pounds) two-way radio in it. His job in the infantry was to call in artillery strikes when they got onto trouble. The men in his platoon trusted him to save them if ever the need should arise. He trusted they would do the same for him. It was a mutual understanding.

He then went and got his rifle from the arms room. He didn’t mind carrying it because it offered survival. He knew, however, that his true and most powerful weapon was the radio on his back.

After he had gotten his rifle he was called into another meeting. When he walked into the Commanders briefing room he instantly knew he would not be going home for many days to come, maybe never. There was a large map of Panama City on the wall with arrows, lines, and numbers drawn on it. The Commander told him that his platoon would be parachuting onto the Panamanian International Airport. There would probably be a lot of angry Panamanians on the ground to welcome them.

“I can’t believe this is really happening” he whispered to himself, for the first time.