Chapter seven
We started as trainees day 1 January 6, 2002. We will end as soldiers day 65 March 20, 2002.
Day 34 February 17, 2002
We were all seated at a long table with several other trainees at the back of the large room. I tried to follow along with the instructor's monotone lecture droning on.
He was talking about finding a dead reckoning azimuth and pacing through the upcoming navigation course exam.
I fiddled with the compass, spinning it on the laminated map of the local woods and sat among several other guys, some looked as though they understood this shit.
The Army taught us to read maps and navigate, at night, through the Benning national forest using a compass. Or at least they tried.
Day 36 February 19, 2002
A lot has happened today. We woke up extra early this morning and rode a truck to the range. We got to fire a an AT4 rocket launcher, aka tank killer. That AT4 was amazing! Our target was an old Army tank that was about thousand yards away. The rocket traveled so fast, it took the sound a few seconds to reach our ears and the ground shook a little, some of the most fun had so far.
The Anvil - Day 37 February 20, 2002.
First morning we woke at 0300 to start the Anvil part of our training, after stretches to prepare us for the ruck ahead, we set off with our rucksacks on our backs.
We walked roughly 7.5 miles three hours later we got to our camping spot.
After we arrived, we divided into squads. This is practice for operating a FOB (Forward Operating Base)
We trained how to react to an IED (Integrated Explosive Device), how to clear a building, and, we practiced operating a check-point.
We had to react to three different scenarios.
The first scenario a vehicle drove up, the driver was cooperative and there were no issues.
We weren't so fortunate with the second scenario.
As the vehicle approached the check-point, two guys started firing at us from the bed of the truck. The vehicle sped up to ram through the gate. When we managed to stop and surround the vehicle, the passengers, jumped out and attempted to run away while firing at us. They didn't make it very far.
The third scenario was tricky. The passengers in the vehicle cooperated and were allowed through the checkpoint. But shortly after passing through the gate two guys with weapons jumped out of the truck and started attacking us. A few of battle buddies were 'shot and killed' during this final attack.
After the ambush was over and we had the prisoners detained,
Drill Sergeant Sherman told us to gather around our "dead" friends and look down at their bodies.
"I want you to remember what you see. These are your battle buddies. Your brothers and sisters. And they were murdered today by the enemy. I want you to look at them, and I want you to burn this image in your memory. This is why we train. This is why we do what we do."
I looked down at my buddies, and for a moment I forgot that this was only an exercise. A feeling that I cannot explain came over me. It was like I was looking down at a close friend who had just died. It brought back the horror of that fateful day last September. It reminded me of why I am doing this. It's not fun and games. This is serious, people will die. Friends will die.
I held back the tears, I thought of my sister Chichi, of my sister Cali going to the war-zone.
"Even though we train, nothing will prepare you for when this actually happens," the Drill Sergeant said. He turned, he seemed to be looking into the distance. "I want you to remember this feeling."
I will never forget that day. I have never forgotten the look on the Drill Sergeant's face.
Those few nights in the field were not the "camping trip" that I was expecting.
I was reminded this was practice for operating a FOB (Forward Operating Base), we had to be on constant guard the entire time.
We took turns pulling guard shifts; I think I got a total of two hours of sleep each night. Among other things, I learned the importance of using red-lens flashlights, checking for ant hills and using lots and lots of bug spray. Oh, and securing a hooch correctly, it rained the first night we were out there.
The second night we were sleeping in mud.
The Anvil - Day 38 February 20 2002
Second morning 0400 wake up it's still night no light yet, departure at 0500 sunrise. More field exercises, and classes they tried to teach how to read a map again.
After dinner chow, got night vision goggles, depth perception was so far off. I tripped on some tree branches multiple times, and there is no way I could operate a vehicle or shoot a weapon accurately. On our way back, we disarmed some trip wire on the path to the patrol base that had been rigged with simulated explosives
After NVG training, we went back to our base site for the rest of the night. We heard some rustling in the woods. When they gave the wrong answer to the challenge and password combination, we opened fire from the entrance of the patrol base and simultaneously took contact from throughout the woods.
I sprinted out from the middle of the patrol base to get into the fight and laid down in the prone at the entrance to open fire. It was a lot of fun to fire off a couple rounds in the simulated firefight.
After we successfully repelled the enemy, the Drill Sergeants
broke contact and we went back to security and sleep. We all felt pretty good about 'repelling the enemy, and it was a lot of fun.'
Throughout most of the night, we could hear small arms fire as the drill sergeants attacked other platoons' patrol bases.
During the night, we took contact again, but this time, the drill sergeants got closer and caught us snoozing. I woke to sounds of fire and the 'Gas! Gas! Gas!' call that indicated a gas attack and prompted us to put on our gas masks. We took casualties from guys who couldn't put their mask on in eight seconds and had to treat the casualties.
We made a mistake and set up a perimeter around our casualty collection point, and we took some more casualties from friendly fire. I found a spot on the line and rejoined the fight. I yelled 'enemy in the wire' and 'fix bayonets.' I'm not sure where that came from since we hadn't had any bayonet training.
The Anvil - Day 39 (February 22 2002)
Third morning We woke up at 0400 after a long night of little sleep for a 0500 departure - I probably got around three hours of sleep total, but I am getting better at telling my body when it can and cannot sleep, a skill that comes in very handy. I've also definitely have gotten used to operating on less sleep.
'You will be divided into teams of three,' the map-reading instructor called, as we stood outside, in the forest and a moonless sky in the blackness.
'Each team of three men will receive a set of coordinates, a map and a compass. As a team, you will shoot an azimuth and find each coordinate. There, you will find a marker with a number on it. You will write down that number before proceeding to your next you've reached all coordinates, you will cross the finish line and hand in your list of numbers to the officials who will match them to your assigned task. No two routes are the same, do not follow someone else and use their coordinates.'
We laughed, because it seemed so stupid to cheat. He then called us to form up in columns, and as our team numbers were announced, we set off into the deep, dark woods.
'One more thing, gentlemen,' the instructor said just before turning us loose. 'If at any time you come across a two-lane paved road, you have fucked up and are completely lost.'We laughed again who would be stupid enough to be that lost. before they sent us into the woods as teams armed with one L-shaped GI flashlight, one map and one compass and three trainees - one of whom, they hoped, had paid attention in class. Unfortunately the person who paid attention was not on our team consisted of me, Les and Private Petry. We shared the same barracks with Petry, he bunked upstairs, so I didn't talk with him that often. A nice guy, kind of quiet, he stood about six-foot tall with broad shoulders and arms that looked like a NFL linebacker, he looked like he could flip a jeep on its side. Les held the map he said he paid attention and knew how to read the map so he held the map. I held the red-lens flashlight for him.
We all set off like Hobbits on our nighttime mission to find the magic coordinates and save the Lost Battalion.
I spent most of the time keeping my mind occupied by
singing cadences in my head and trying not to think about the blisters on my feet.
We quickly found without any difficulty the paved two-lane highway, at which point, Petry spoke for us all when he asked, 'What the fuck's that doing here?'
Then a voice in the darkness shouted from down the road: 'You assholes are so fuckin' lost!' It was a drill sergeant Sherman, posted along the dark road to catch strays from getting hit by passing staff cars.
We did the only thing a squad of lost GIs could do in that situation. After looking at each other briefly Les said 'run away, run away' and we quickly turned and ran back into the woods with the drill sergeant's voice screaming behind us. Something about being fuck-ups about to be recycled, because we couldn't find our asses with both hands ... It became fainter and fainter the deeper we crashed into the woods.
'What the fuck we gonna do?' I wasn't sure who asked that. Might've been me. We were totally screwed, if you missed your first coordinate, the subsequent azimuth headings made no sense whatsoever, and you flunked the navigation test.
'Gimme that map,' Petry said and took the map plus the flashlight and studied it with a deep concentration on his red lit face. 'This way,' he said and stomped into the brush with us in close behind. 'You know where we are?'
'Yeah. Gotta be near the finish.'
'But we don't have any numbers!'
He ignored and kept stomping. We kept following. I think that's how wars are won.
We soon heard other trainees rustling about the woods, dim red flashlight beams glowing, and we stumbled onto a team of what looked like future officers.
'What're you doing here?' one of them asked. 'Lost?'
'No,' Petry spoke for the rest of us. 'How far you get?''Got 'em all,' one bragged and held up his route assignment and the prize coordinate numbers indicating they'd successfully navigated the maze.
'Lemme see,' Petry said, and it wasn't a 'please, show me,' more of a 'give me your fuckin' route and coordinates before I leave you dead in the woods.' I was glad he was on my team, although, if I'd been on this other team of math nerds I wouldn't have been lost, just sayin'.
They gave up their route assignment and coordinates. Petry didn't say a word, just handed them our route, lacking coordinate numbers because we hadn't found any. The other team members just stood in silence wondering what the hell was happening as Petry turned to me and Les and said, 'C'mon,' and we followed him back into the woods toward where we could soon saw the finish line in fact we were first across it.
Yeah, we executed operation STEAL for their rightfully earned coordinates. Petry handed it to the drill sergeant Pyle, seated at a table, who said, 'Good job.'
STEAL stands for Strategically Take and Extradite to Alternate Location. Military personnel don't steal things, they skillfully acquire them.
Sometimes in the Army, it pays to cheat. Or at least hang around with those who know how to. Left on our own, we'd still be wandering around Fort Benning in a nightmare of unreadable map coordinates and stumbling repeatedly upon that two-lane paved road.
Blue Phasethe Warrior phase- Day 40 (February 23, 2002)
Three days that we were out there, we walked, we ran, we rehearsed various squad movement drills, we walked, we ran, we learned how to react to an IED (Integrated Explosive Device), we walked, we ran, we learned how to clear a building, and many other things. We walked, we ran, we learned to read maps. Notice a common thread here, WE WALKED & RAN!
I've never been a fan of running, but we did a buttload of it on rainy days, carrying our M16s, which admittedly don't weigh much, while our steel pots bounced on our heads, and like happy hobbits, we sang songs all the way to and from the Airborne Rangers.
We Sang the cadence "Airborne! All The Way! Up the Hill ... Airborne ... "
I am starting to question my decision on the whole Airborne Ranger. Running with guns had lost all its appeal.
Nuns had warned us against running with scissors, if they knew what I was running with, now, they'd shit ... which is an imageI need to forget.
I had blisters the size of quarters from the clunky boots, and my Achilles tendons were inflamed. I'd never even heard of an Achilles tendon until I reported for sick call one day, because the backs of both feet hurt so bad I figured I must've broken something, and as soon as the doctor examined my leg I'd get a medical discharge, and that might be the end of this slow-moving disaster. Instead, the PFC medic (MOS 91A) smoking a cigarette and leaning on the field ambulance, listened for a full half-second before handing me the ARMY cure-all: APCs and a bottle of wintergreen liniment.
"Yer Achilles tendons are stretched, he said, "Don't drink that shit, just rub it on your feet or anywhere else that hurts ... except your dick.
Next!"
He was right about not getting it on your dick.
Somehow I have trouble thinking of my sister handing out ointment and telling me to not get it on my dick.
We've officially transitioned from White Phase to Blue Phase the last step in Basic Combat Training.
Hopefully, the phase transition comes with some more freedom.
We can all see the finish line now, and we'll be done with all our training in three weeks. Our plans are in place for Graduation and leave. Les and El are going home to Newark, Ram and I are on our way to Miami. My Abuela and Rami's family the Darzi are there.
His family emigrated in 1988 when he was eleven following the *Halabja massacre in the Kurd region of Iraq. Since Rami and Celia have the same birthday the plan is a big party.
Note:
Background for Rami, Ranger's buddy in the training program. He is a Kurd who came here as a child. Rami Darzi will become Ram.
The Halabja massacre. Halabja was a city of 70,000 on border of Iraq and Iran. On March 16, 1988 approximately 3,200-5,000 Kurds were killed by a large-scale Iraqi chemical attack.
Two days before the attack, the city had been captured by Iran.
Iraq had these chemical weapons before the Gulf war. Iraq was to get rid of themas part of the conditions ending the war.
There was question as to whether they in fact dispose of them. It was presented to our congress as part of our reason for going to war in Iraq in November of 2002.
Next and last chapter is end of training and leave between basic training and airborne training.
