15: Contraband

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Posey wasn't afraid of heights. Or, at least, she hadn't thought she was. Standing atop the wooden jump tower and preparing for her first 'jump', however, - that was, using jump technique without the parachute or the aeroplane - she wasn't quite so sure. Though maybe it wasn't the height she was afraid of, perhaps she simply didn't trust herself to have the technique right.

With each man that took his jump, the line moved a few paces forwards, a shouted, "One thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand!" the audio accompaniment to his fall. The words repeated themselves over and over again in her head as she tried to focus and not let the nerves get to her. They'd received an hour long lecture and demonstration before they were allowed up on the jump tower but with every step forwards she feared she was forgetting more and more about what she was supposed to do.

"Stand in the door," Sobel ordered in the monotone he'd been using for the past hour. Posey looked up to find Popeye standing in the doorway of the tower. She'd be next.

"One thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand!" Popeye chanted as he jumped, tucked, and rolled to the side to accommodate for the momentum.

"Stand in the door," Sobel repeated once Popeye was out of the way.

Posey didn't let herself think about it, she just jumped.

"One thousand, two thousand, three thousand, four thousand!"

"Congratulations. You just broke both of your arms, Private Wells," Sobel drawled once she'd rolled and jumped to her feet once more. "Do you want to be a paratrooper, private?"

Posey stood at attention as best she could in the uneven sand. "Yes, sir!"

"Then do better."

Posey gave him a nod and hurried to the back of the queue behind Popeye, feeling Sobel's eyes on her all the while. She only caught the end of his subsequent, "Stand in the door," in her haste to get out of his immediate line of sight. She breathed out a sigh of relief once she was back at the end of the line.

"You just gotta keep your arms tucked up," Popeye spoke up helpfully from in front of her, turning around to show her. "See?"

"Right," Posey replied, gnawing on her bottom lip. "Thanks, Popeye."

"Anytime," he replied.

Then it was back to watching the men jump and dreading her next attempt; for all the lecturer had ranted about proper jump technique to minimalise the damage when they landed, it still hurt to slam into the ground like that. She could only imagine what it would feel like once they had to do it for real.

Her second and third jumps went better, though at the end of it she was left feeling sore all over. Her bones felt as though they'd been ground to sand and her muscles as though they'd been driven over with a tractor. Needless to say, she was dreading actual jump training, though she tried to remind herself that at one point she'd dreaded the run up Currahee, and another the obstacle course. As training went on she found herself being repeatedly thrown in the deep end, and actually found that she was made of stiffer stuff than she'd initially assumed.

They all headed to the mess hall as soon as their first jump session was finished, and when they made their way to the barracks promptly afterwards they found chaos.

"What the fuck?!" Guarnere shouted the moment he was through the door. He moved further into the barracks to allow everyone else to see the mess as well.

"What the hell happened?!" Liebgott exclaimed once he'd seen it.

As soon as Posey made her way in all she seemed to be able to utter was, "Oh, fuck."

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