So between my last entry and now, I've had time to go to Savannah and meet with many of my Brothers who were on this mission. What a great time, with so many great stories. Memories of others, refreshing memories of mine, refreshing memories of theirs. I recently received an email from one of the participants and while I would love to take credit for this, I think he says it best:
"Perhaps an understatement but Panama was such a significant event in our lives implanting memories that will stay with us forever, as the memories of this 20 year reunion....
As one goes through life, hundreds if not thousands of acquaintances are made throughout ones lifetime with only a handful of true friends coming out on the other side, friends like these men, who stepped out into the blackness of the night sky and into the belly of the beast, with only their sword at their hand. All Rangers, past, present, and future. Men who were and are willing to put their lives on the line so that others may live, in somewhat relative peace and freedom.
Men like these who served their Country and asked nothing in return, true friends of mine…."
This reunion was bright spot in what is traditionally a very dark month for me, I can't wait till the 25th reunion!
Now where was I....
Traditionally, after the opening shock the "ride" to the ground is quite peaceful. It gives you time to orient your yourself to the object and the rally point prior to. By this point in my career I took pride in always being the first in my squad to be first to the rally point. The fact that I was now carrying an M16 and a compass versus my younger years of carrying an M60 made that task much easier. I felt it was imperative that I get there first on this night, I did not want my boys wondering where I was.
The opening shock was a bit more violent than usual, perhaps the Air Force had the proverbial pedal to the metal so they could get out of the kill zone? Jumping from 500 feet gave me very little time to orient myself but I did see our objective and there were some flames from the AC130 gun runs. I had just released my ruck sack and was reaching to undo a leg strap when I hit the concrete run way, just south of center line. Looking back, I was glad we got to the ground so fast, there was a .50 caliber machine gun firing pretty much center line of the runway. I could hear it and see some tracers but I never had time to figure out where he was shooting. If I had, I probably would have been terrified. All he had to do was traverse left some and I would have landed right in his line of fire.
Now, I survived in the military through humor. While the next part of the story was going on, it was not so funny, in fact I was almost a bit panicked, but looking back, it was hilarious.
I always knew if ever did jump a "hot" drop zone, my "silk" or parachute would land right on top of me. Its like being a fish caught in a net due to all the suspension lines on the parachute. The end up getting tangled on all your equipment, it had happened several times in training and its just a bitch to get out of.
After landing I looked up and here it came, thats right, my T10 parachute landed right on top of me. So, I'm laying there trying to get out of the harness,with the parachute over my body. I could hear the gun fire from down the runway and knew that if I started thrashing around I would just get more tangled. Now, here is some other odd thing that I was scared / convinced of, I was terrified that somewhere during this operation I was going to get hacked up by a Panamanian with a machete. Don't ask ,where this idea came from but I was sure of it..
So, while laying there wating for the hacking to commence, I almost forgot a very important part of this operation, put your fucking weapon in operation! Yes, that way I can at least fire rounds while trapped under this parachute, so that the friendlys can find my chopped up body. I had taped a 30 round magazine to the butt stock of my weapon for easy access. Upon removing the tape, every last round shot out of the end of the spring loaded magazine onto the ground! This was suddenly becoming a comedy of errors. Here I was trapped under my parachute, my first magazine now empty on the ground, a .50 cal skipping rounds my direction and I'm waiting for the whistle of a machete to be the last sound I hear.
I managed to get another magazine out and lock and load, I also managed to get out of my parachute, I was blessed with an uncanny sense of direction so I did not need to shoot an azimuth, I knew which direction the objective was. At this moment, there was a vehicle headed my direction. To my left at this moment, Steve Ellison, sat up and fired 3 rounds from his M24 sniper rifle through the windshield of this truck. It came, slowly, to a halt. Now, I'm not sure if they fired a round or what happened next, but Rangers from 360 degrees opened up on this vehicle like a circular ambush. One problem, some were shooting in my direction! At this point I decided nothing on the drop zone was safe and I headed towards the objective. More humor, we were supposed to pull our chutes off the main runway so the air land package did not suck them up the jet engines. As I began to pull mine, someone pulled it the other direction and said "this is my chute", I pulled back and said "its mine", they pulled again and said "no its not, it's mine!". I said "fuck it you can have both of them" and ran towards the objective. I never found out who was pulling on the other end.
All humor aside, there is a time during one of these operations when it is pure animal instinct for survival. It is when you leave and head to the objective rally point. You are by your self, in the darkness. You don't know where your team members are, you don't know who or what or how many machetes are between you and where you are going. The hair of your neck is standing up and every sense is heightened. I will tell you that it is a feeling like no other and I believe what turns us all into adrenaline junkies.
The aerial / satelltie photos did not do the ditch on the south side of the taxi way any justice. It was far deeper and much steeper than I imagined. I honestly did not think I was going to get out of it on the way to my objective. Now, I was in the best shape of my life at this point, but all that ammo I had stuffed in my ruck sack was just so heavy that I was literally on my hands and knees trying to get out of that thing. I would finally, make it and in the distance I could see the green chem lite which signalled the entry to the assembly area. I was out in the open, and had to cross more tarmac to get there. THERE, was other warriors, THERE was perceived safety, until this point I had not come across one other C.co Ranger headed the same direction. At this moment, SSG Porters squad was firing up some folks in the hanger and the little birds were making some gun runs, it was still quite chaotic, but THERE is were I needed to be. I was soaking wet from the humidity as well as the weight of the ruck sack, and my head ache was coming back. I sprinted the last 75 meters to get there, gave the running password and headed off in my clock direction.
It has been said that the best of combat plans will turn to shit once the first round in anger is fired. I can say we have done 100's of objective rally points, and I don't remember one being this screwed up. The elephant grass was over your head, so every movement you did not know who it was until there they were. The first thing I saw was our 1sg taping, with 100 mph tape, IR tape on a kids head. We wore IR tape on our helmets so our aerial platforms could recognize us from above, and this kid had lost his helmet on the jump. Next, two LT's were fighting over who was in charge and I was early to the assembly area, I guess they thought perhaps the commander had been whacked since he was not there yet. I don't mean speaking in loud voices, I mean almost coming to blows, pushing and shoving. It was quite bizarre.
Eddie Noland had landed on his ruck sack and by landed I mean, like between his legs and his BDU's were ripped and one of his balls was literally swollen like grape fruit and he kept telling everyone to "look at the size of my balls". His squad leader was bitching at him because he was late to the assembly area and he just kept saying "but Sergeant, look at my balls". My boys would arrive, 3rd squad would be 100% up. But the over all scene in the assembly area, you just can't make it up.
Somewhere enroute to the objective, I heard the call over the radio, "1 KIA, Markwell, James W." It was sobering moment but you had to stay in the game, we were moving to assault positions.
There is the mission on objective pig to discuss, the slaughtering of "Fred" the water buffalo, a mission involving a Datsun B210, myself, 3 Rangers and a bottle of brandy, kicking doors in Panama city and a vision in a peach dress, but perhaps I'll save those for the book I'll never write...
RIP PFC Markwell, until we meet again. Rest easy, claymores out, security is in place
we've got your 6.
Jurena...out
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