“What’s the point in living like this, immobile and in constant pain? Why didn’t You just finish me off?”
You could say that military service was in my blood, but I never expected my blood to be in the service so soon.
I guess it’s good that I don’t remember anything from that day — or the day before, or several months that followed.
I don’t remember taking off or jumping out of the plane. I don’t remember the parachute failing, or spinning out of control, passing out, or striking the ground at the speed of a freight train.
I wasn’t in the plane where the pilots were frantically calling ambulances, and I wasn’t in the car with the nurse who saw me fall as she immediately pulled over, ran through the cactus fields, and saved my life.
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