Still Standing in the Door – The Same Courage in a Different Uniform

As the C-130 Hercules parted the morning air over Ft. Benning, I, like the others on the plane, was filled with nervous energy, a splash of adrenaline, and a heavy dose of dopamine. Everything learned over the past two weeks of rigorous training would soon culminate in being assigned the sought-after door position as we approached the drop zone. Still trying to compose my nerves and gather my thoughts, I heard the jumpmaster yell, "Get Ready!"

It became surreal, and time seemed to stand still. Then the second command came even faster than the first: "Outboard Personnel, Stand Up!" he yelled. As rows of paratroopers began to stand in unison, the jumpmaster again yelled, "Inboard Personnel, Stand Up!" As the interior paratroopers began to stand, my heart quickened, and the air in my lungs seemed to dissipate when I heard the command, "Hook up!" As I nervously fumbled with my static line, trying to connect myself to the plane, the commands kept coming, and I vaguely remember hearing, "Check Static Line!" Panic began to set in until the familiar metallic click of the static line and anchor cable connecting was heard.

By this time, my 6'4 frame was slightly bent over as the reality of jumping from a plane moving at 125 knots set in. After all, it was our first of five jumps needed to graduate and earn those coveted wings. The command "Check Equipment!" rang out as I began inspecting my static line and equipment, both physically and visually! "Sound Off for Equipment Check!" the jumpmaster yelled even louder, not fully understanding the terror his voice was causing me. As I gripped the stabilization bars affixed to the door, I began to see my life and past choices flash before me. I was terrified, but the speech the jumpmasters gave us before boarding the plane was still fresh in my memory: "When this plane lands, you will not be on it."

Reality quickly reasserted itself the second I heard the two most feared words in the English language: if you were assigned to an airborne unit, or, in my case, the Basic Airborne Course at Ft. Benning. We had heard the dreaded words many times in preparation for this very moment. Then they came: "Stand by!" Those words momentarily silenced the roar of the plane's engine and synchronized the heartbeats of the men and women about to exit the aircraft. As I looked at the red light over the door, I knew it would turn green at some point. I wondered whether I would have the courage to jump or freeze, embarrassing myself and my family's name.

I did not have to wait long to see, as I felt the grip of the jumpmaster's hand loosen from its position on my belt, holding me in the door to prevent a premature exit. Still nervous and now obviously shaking, the deafening silence was broken only by the final command: "Go!" As I look back on that young man trying to establish his own path in life, I did not fully understand the risks and dangers I voluntarily took each time I strapped the T-10 Bravo parachute on my back. The courage required to jump out of a moving aircraft, for me and others, set the stage for a future career in public service.

It has been over three decades since I graduated from jump school and earned my wings, yet I still clearly remember the (9) commands that have Pavlovian conditioned five generations of soldiers to jump out of a moving aircraft on command. Simply put, for me, the commands evoke courage and serve as a virtual blanket that I still proudly seek comfort under when the stressors of a career in public safety are present. I silently recite the commands from jump school, which evoke a sense of calm, and I remember the courage it took to make that first jump.

As a veteran, public safety was a natural choice after being discharged from the armed forces. With many of the skills learned during peacetime operations and the training received in preparation for periods of conflict, the paramilitary environment associated with public safety was a seamless transition from active duty. The similarities between the two professions are striking and offer many opportunities not available in private-sector employment. Moreover, like the military, corrections officers serve as a line of defense for their respective communities by supervising pre-sentenced and sentenced offenders; oftentimes placing themselves in harm's way.

From the employer's perspective, applicants with prior service may be more likely to adapt to a career in public safety due to their military experience. An article published in Corrections1 estimates that 10%-35% of correctional officers have served in the military (Burton et al., 2023). Collectively, correctional officers play an essential role in the judicial system, which comprises courts, law enforcement, and correctional facilities. In the United States alone, an estimated 350,000 to 387,500 correctional officers are employed by local, state, and federal facilities (U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics [BLS], 2025).

My official introduction to public safety outside of the military began in 1999. During my final active-duty tour at Tori Station, Okinawa, Japan, I sought an opportunity to continue serving, mirroring a tradition my father passed down. As a kid, I'd often look at pictures of him in olive drab or brown fatigues, which later inspired me to emulate him by joining the Army. Never one to shy away from a challenge or an opportunity for self-improvement, I welcomed the opportunity to join the team here at the Orange County Corrections Department.

Over the last twenty-seven years, I have been privileged to work alongside many men and women, some veterans and others not, yet all of whom represented the best in conduct and character. The parallel attributes required for military service and for serving as a correctional officer were seamlessly integrated during the navigational journey from correctional officer to Division Major. Moreover, the courage and resiliency required to stand in the doorway of an aircraft and to compartmentalize your instincts for self-preservation prepare you for the daily abnormalities experienced behind the walls of a correctional facility.

In contrast, some of the experiences encountered at various levels as one ascends the leadership ladder in the organization were far more challenging and complex than jumping from a moving aircraft. In theory, during airborne operations, gravity is your chain of command, and Murphy's law is your first-line supervisor; both are unforgiving. Oftentimes, while sitting in a housing unit or walking a tier, officers rely on courage and training doctrine to ensure their safety.

As a young paratrooper, I didn't fully understand that standing in the door of that aircraft would not only be an unforgettable memory but also a lifelong leadership lesson. Specifically, in my current role, I'm often tasked with managing and making decisions that require professional courage, similar to "standing in the door." While the inherent physical danger is absent, the psychological stressors are comparable. Moreover, as in airborne operations, making big-picture decisions falls within the space between hesitation and commitment; neither of which can be a companion of procrastination.

Public safety practitioners understand the duties and sacrifices required to navigate a fulfilling career in corrections successfully. It's understood that we must be prepared to accept the uncertainty and often the discomfort associated with the profession in the name of selfless service to others. In short, uniforms may change, but the mission remains undeniably the same: protecting others from harm's way. In the end, similar to the courage and conviction needed to trust your primary chute will fully open, or the wherewithal to realize it didn't, courage is the primary foundation for high-stakes leadership.

If there were a leadership nugget I would like for current or future public safety practitioners to take from my story, it would be that fear and uncertainty are instincts that do not have to control your life or career. Some of life's greatest rewards await those who boldly walk down a path where fear has previously prevented them from going. Simply stated, the courage to "stand in the door" and take the step into whatever the situation may present inevitably positions you further along, thereby proving the courage needed to succeed.

Although the experiences of the Basic Airborne Course and the sound of the jumpmasters' voices have faded, the lessons I learned in the summer of 1993 still live on. They remind me that courage is not only for those in the military, but also for those who are willing to stand tall when it matters and leap out of a "perfectly good airplane" or helicopters with the full confidence and faith of a U.S. Army paratrooper.

References

Burton, A. L., Roebuck, C. L., Johnson, & Escobedo, A. (2023, November 7). Why corrections facilities should recruit from military networks. Corrections1. https://www.corrections1.com/research/why-corrections-facilities-should-recruit-from-military-networks

U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics. (2025, August 28). Correctional officers and bailiffs. https://www.bls.gov/ooh/protective-service/correctional-officers.htm