Читать книгу Millionaire Within - E. Brian Rose - Страница 9

CHAPTER 1

TWENTY IS TOO MUCH, MON

I was half asleep, half thinking about what it would be like when we landed. There was a muffled bang.

The loadmaster gets on the PA system and tells everybody to get buckled.

Then, in mid speech, he drops the microphone and runs to his seat.

The world’s largest cargo plane started to waiver from side to side. An army colonel sitting next to me whispers, “I’m pretty sure this is it.” Disregarding our major difference in rank, I whisper back, “Shut the fuck up, sir!”

Hours earlier, we took off from a makeshift airstrip, somewhere in the Egyptian desert. The fire bottle in one of the engines went out and we were forced to make an emergency landing. For three days, we waited for a maintenance crew to arrive. There was a single large tent with sour orange juice, Twizzlers, a TV and VCR. The movie Candy Man played on a loop the entire time.

Flames were now shooting from one of the engines. Apparently, the fire bottle, whatever that is, wasn’t fixed correctly. We were going down. At a 45 degree angle, I could see green grass through my window. It was getting closer.

The next minute of my life is a blur. Zero recollection. All I know is we made it.

I spent the rest of the week at a German beach resort in Mombasa, Kenya. On a walk through some bad neighborhoods, I overheard a business deal going down. “Twenty is too much, mon,” said one guy. The other countered by saying he would throw in a small bag of weed. “Done,” the first man said. The next day, I saw him selling the two dozen wooden figurines for fifteen dollars each. All 24 of them were sold to tourists before lunch.

Back on a plane. This time, a smaller C141 jet would be taking us to our final destination. As we approached the airport, an announcement was made saying the landing strip was hot and the plane would not be stopping. We were told to jump out and run straight ahead, towards the cafeteria.

I was one of the last to deplane. I stumbled a bit while stepping off the still moving aircraft. As I regained balance, I could hear heavy machine gun fire all around. I stopped to look around. “Are you stupid? Run means run, asshole.” I don’t know who said it, but it was clear he was yelling at me.

In the cafeteria, we laid down next to rows of neatly stacked sandbags. CNN International was playing on a big screen TV. Coincidentally, the story was about Mogadishu, Somalia. We laughed as the woman reported there has been no hostility in almost two weeks.

It had been twelve days since Bloody Monday, the day two U.S. Blackhawks were shot down. The incident was later retold in the movie Blackhawk Down. My team was there to document what was going on. I was part of a joint Combat Camera unit made up of combat photographers and video producers from the Army, Marines, and Air Force. We were part soldier, part journalist.

During my time in “The Dish,” I would link up with various units making their rounds throughout the theater. From kicking in doors on weapon searches to a local medicine man tarring and feathering a young kid who was injured playing with a grenade, I videotaped it all, while practicing the fine art of knowing when to put the camera down and when to pick the rifle up.

A couple of months into the deployment, one of the major TV networks realized it was the one-year anniversary of Marine forces storming the beaches and they wanted to put together a last-minute special. Word got out to journalists in the region that the networks were seeking any and all footage from the previous twelve months. I tell my commander that we could make a fortune. He laughs, as if I were joking.

It was around midnight when an independent producer from South Africa knocked on the door of our makeshift video editing suite. He said he acquired permission via the Freedom of Information Act to make copies of all our unclassified footage. I was told to gather tapes for him and make the dupes.

The next day, he tells me he sold twenty of the 90 minutes of our footage at a thousand dollars a minute. Being in the military and seeing all the business that goes on around the military is painful to an entrepreneur. It’s like watching the world pass you by.

From the beaches of Kenya to the battlefields of Somalia, business was happening all around me and I was inspired. People were getting rich, oftentimes by taking advantage of other people’s work. I took mental notes and I was ready. Ready to go home. Ready to make my mark. Ready to make my millions.