Worst Jump Story Series "SEDUCED INTO MANHOOD"
Editors Note: This is an unusual worst jump story because what make it a worst jump story is the fact he could never make his first jump. Confused ?? well read the story and you will see what I mean. In 1953, before the Korean War reached a stalemate, a short , portly Chicano from Pontiac Michigan, arrived at a military base just outside of Hopkinsville, Ky. A sign hanging over the front gate read, "Welcome to Fort Campbell ,the Home of the Angels." Any apprehensions he had quickly faded, and why not? " Welcome -- Home of the Angels," it read. What could be more reassuring? But alas, it wouldn't be too long before he would wonder if the same type of sign hadn't hung over the entrance of Alcatraz or Devil's Island. He had arrived here just weeks after graduating from St. Frederick High School. The Sisters of the Immaculate Heart of Mary had thought of him as incorrigible. They felt a sense of deliverance and relief as his senior year drew to an end. He had often tested their patience. He'd long existed on the edge of academic failure , choosing to ignore his studies, while assuming the role of class comic. After leaving school, with a diploma that even his parents felt was a gift, the most dreaded of all letters arrived. It requested he register for the draft, and with it the strong possibility of becoming a rifle - toting "grunt". Recovering from that initial spasm of panic, he hurried to the local Recruiting Office hopping to land a comfortable assignment in an Air Force mess hall. His dream of becoming the "Escoffier" to the General Staff was dashed when he was told that neither the Air Force or the Navy were accepting volunteers. With the Korean Conflict in Progress, their ranks were filled with young men, many like himself, seeking to avoid the rigors of front - line duty. The Marines were ruled out after he had seen how they'd battled and suffered in such World War II movies as "Back to Bataan" and "Wake Island". The Marines, he felt were zealots about grunting and sweating, and he had for the past eighteen years done his best to avoid such exertion. The one exception had been playing football, after all, it was just a game.
The cunning recruiter never bothered to mention the gut - wrenching
runs, pushups in merciless sun under the weight of full gear, the less
than compassionate cadre who were all affected with the same hearing problem
requiring them to scream, when conversational tones would have sufficed,
nor the biggest surprise of all jumping out of perfectly good airplanes.
Well naturally the young man took the bait, and that witless grin he wore,
as the Greyhound lumbered through those front gates, was soon to disappear.
The rest of the group finally returned
making him the only "LEG" in the company., not an enviable position to be in. Shortly afterward , the jump school at Ft. Campbell re-opened and he was assigned
a second attempt at capturing the coveted "wings".
By now harassment had become a way of life.
A month later he was granted a third attempt,
and by now he was in far better shape than when he passed under the
Angels welcome sign. The third try was the charm. He had never personally
heard of anyone being allowed three attempts at earning those coveted wings
and was amazed that he'd been so fortunate.
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