From Brat to Rat

I thought the Mojave was bad, but the Sahara is worse. Temps have been above 100 degrees every day for the two weeks I've been here. I miss the rainy mist of Scotland. I had forgotten how miserable sand can be. It gets everywhere! Once again I'm sunburned and in considerable discomfort from the sand rubbing against my skin.

Benghazi is filled with bombed out buildings and destruction from past skirmishes. The nicest part is that it's on the Mediterranean Sea. Swimming helps us cool down after being days in the desert and helps rid our bodies of sand. It's better than the two minute showers.

There's about 120 of us here working in groups of eight. We get rotated every several days into different groups. The training is far more intense than anything I've experienced so far, and they are constantly testing all our skills. Somedays we are loudly awakened at 3:00 a.m. and hurriedly get sent on a mission that keeps us in the desert for several days. We are routinely pressed to the limits of our endurance only to find a reserve somewhere deep inside to continue onward. All of our hand-to-hand combat skills are honed with practice and hours are spent working with demolitions.

I've got a lot of deep bruises on my chest and arms from firing the Brownings as we fly over the top of a sand dune. Sometimes I just hang on as best I can, but I've rammed into the gun more times than I'd like to admit. Several guys have broken ribs or injured their necks and spines. I have to count myself among the number who have been thrown out of the jeep on more than one occasion while firing the guns. It isn't as easy as it looks but I'm determined to master the skill.

The best thing about this training is that Tully is one of the men being considered for the team they're putting together. We don't know many details yet, but they keep mixing us up. We have several non-coms observing us and take notes. They command us through the rounds of testing so we're never sure who'll be leading us from one time to the next.

I recognize one of the sergeants from when I was in France. He's American but wears an Australian slouch hat since he fought with the Aussies for quite some time. His name is Troy and I've had him as a leader several times. He's tough and asks lots of questions. He doesn't take any guff off anyone. He has an annoying habit of catching you off guard with a personal attack to see how you react.

He's several inches shorter than me with dark hair and blue eyes that seem to go right through you. You don't want those eyes staring at you when he's angry. He is solidly built as I discovered when I had to fight with him. He seems to have a problem with authority, but the officers must value his opinion because they always seem to listen when he speaks, often agreeing with what he says. He commands respect and I think he would be tough to work with. Tough but fair. I don't think he would tolerate anything but your very best. But that's a good thing.

He seems to be dedicated to this project and definitely knows his way around the desert. I heard that he has black belts in karate and judo which sounds pretty impressive since a lot of folks have no idea what those fighting styles are all about. I learned a few moves in commando training, and I can't even imagine what goes into earning a black belt.

I think he has a strong sense of what is right and what is wrong. A man of integrity who won't sacrifice his values for any reason. I think I would learn a lot if I got to work with him and I believe he's someone I could trust.

I had a private interview with Troy who kept glancing at my personnel file. I had to choke back a smartass comment several times. I don't want to blow any chance of not being selected for this assignment. He kept making comments about my privileged upbringing. He wondered if I wasn't some spoiled brat who thought this was all a game. When I had the opportunity to answer his questions, I pointed out how my upbringing had given me many advantages to develop skills now needed in this war.

He didn't believe I was eighteen saying he thought I lied about my age in order to enlist. I just about lost it when he kept referring to my baby face. I bit my tongue so hard it bled. I think he was purposefully trying to get a rise out of me, but I've had enough arguments with my father to know better than to rise to the bait. He asked if I could cook and I had to admit that coffee is about the only thing I could handle, as long as it was strong enough to practically stand on its own. That made him smile and I'm unsure if my answer was good or bad.

A week ago, they cut forty men from the training and today dismissed another twenty. Tully and I are both still competing a for a spot. We did really well together when teamed up and I hope we both make it.

Troy seems to spend a lot of time arguing with the higher ups. He keeps insisting that four men in two jeeps would be far more efficient and faster than a regular eight-man team. To prove his point, he has taken three of us into the desert with him to pull off reconnaissance and demolition exercises. Several times Tully and I got to work together as team drivers.

Tensions are high among the men, as we all want to be selected for the LRDP, in whatever form it takes. They are only taking 36 men at this time with more added once the U.S. enters the action. Tully and I tried to alleviate some of the anxiety around us by playing a few pranks. The others seemed to appreciate the humor and it helped relax the atmosphere.

When Troy found out we were the pranksters, he called us "on the carpet." It was like being called to the headmaster's office, only worse. Tully and I both thought we would be scratched from the program. He asked if we had played the practical jokes and we both admitted our part. We were waiting for the axe to fall when he suddenly smiled and told us "good job." He said it was important to keep up the morale of the men. We breathed a sigh of relief but decided not to do anything else until training was over.

Tomorrow they are announcing the teams. Troy got his way. They will select eight four-man teams. Tully, of course, is facing the decision with his usual patience and laid back attitude. I'm anxious and brooding about what will happen if we don't get chosen. I have never wanted anything so much in my life.

Great news: I made it! So did Tully. We're actually together in a team with a corporal named Cotter. The maybe not-so-great news is that Troy is our leader. He's going to be tough to please but, I think his team will be considered the elite patrol and that's where I want to be. Guess he didn't think I was much of a brat after all. Time will tell how we all get along together.