Editor’s Note: This story was published in partnership with San Quentin News and was written during a writing seminar for incarcerated veterans in April hosted by The War Horse at California’s San Quentin Rehabilitation Center. Tens of thousands of military veterans are incarcerated across the United States, and these stories are intended to shine a light on their unique needs, challenges, and experiences. Learn about the seminar here.
I shove the throttles to the firewall and nudge the control stick forward. I feel myself lighten in the ejection seat as the jet’s wings unload. The airspeed needle starts racing across the dial. There — right at 300 knots — I pull back hard on the stick. The wings dig a huge bite of air, and my butt is smashed down into the seat. The G suit inflates, squeezing my stomach and legs like an anaconda.
As the jet’s nose slices into the vertical, all I see is sky … burning blue everywhere. Airspeed rapidly scrubs off as I trade velocity for altitude. Halfway into this aerobatic loop, I relax the stick back pressure to float my upside-down craft across the top of its curving arc. A gentle hand is needed here in this precarious stage of low airspeed; demanding too much stick will snap me into a spin. An unrecoverable spin.
I crane my neck back, searching for my home planet. There it is — the horizon falls into view as Earth fills the top of my vision. Four beats later, the jet becomes a nose-down lawn…
