July 31, 2002

Corporal Carlos Manaso sat quietly on the return flight to Fort Benning, his thoughts a mix of emotions.
He remembered what Abuela had said he was a hero, he didn't really see himself as a hero.

He felt the love and pride his madre y padre had for him.
He thought about Rachel, a one-night stand was now, wife with a child on the way. He had said goodbye to her with a kiss on her cheek.
Just a few weeks before the one-year anniversary of September 11 attacks. The memories of that fateful day were still fresh in his mind, they had fundamentally altered the course of his life.
He was here to begin the Ranger Assessment and Selection Program (RASP).
Fighting was no longer just revenge for the death of his sister ChiChi and others he knew.

Now he had a deep sense of duty and the desire to honor all the fallen.
To honor his sister Cali, who had bravely cared for the injured and guided them to safety from the North Tower to the Hudson, and his sister Celia, an emergency room nurse, what had started as a normal work day ended late in the evening as the wounded slowed to a trickle. No more wounded were to be found, no more survivers.

They were the heroes that day, he hoped to become a hero.

At precisely 0430 hours, the piercing notes of the Reveille woke everyone in the barracks.
Carlos jumped from his bed, threw on his uniform, and laced up his boots.
Sergeant Major Briggs, a seasoned Ranger with a steely gaze, addressed them with a 'Welcome to RASP," he bellowed. 'You are soldiers in training, and only the best will earn the title of Ranger.'
The instructors, some were veterans of previous deployments, their eyes held a thousand untold stories. All with serious looks, approached the formation. One of them, Sergeant Sherman, stepped forward to address the group.
'Welcome to RASP,' he began. 'Today marks the start of your journey to become Rangers. This path is not easy, but it is one filled with honor and tradition.'

Sergeant Sherman paused, letting his words sink in. 'Let me tell you about the history of the Rangers. Our story begins in the early 1700s when American colonists formed ranger companies to protect their settlements from attacks. These early Rangers were skilled in guerrilla tactics.'

'During the American Revolution, Rangers played a crucial role. They conducted reconnaissance, gathered intelligence, and executed daring raids. They helped shape the outcome of the war.'

Sergeant Sherman continued, 'In World War II, Ranger battalions, Using ladders and grappling hooks, climbed the 100-foot cliffs while being targeted by German machine guns and artillery. They were the first to land on the beaches of Normandy during D-Day, their actions were instrumental in the Allied victory.'

Staff Sergeant Williams chimed in, 'Since then, Rangers have been involved in every major conflict, from Korea and Vietnam to the more recent operations in the Middle East. Operation Rhino, the very first mission in the Afghan War, was led by a squadron of Army Rangers. Our legacy is built on courage, sacrifice, and excellence. The Army Rangers will always lead the way.'

Once you complete RASP, you earn the right to wear the 'Ranger Scroll.'

There is a legend told of an ancient scroll, it held the power to conquer entire armies.

This scroll, known as the Scroll of Destiny, was said to grant immense power to whoever possessed it. But remember, true power comes with responsibility, you must be pure of heart and selfless in your intentions to unlock its potential.

As you embark on this journey, let that be your guiding light.

'Welcome to RASP,' another one of the instructors began. 'Look around, of ten or you only four will be here on graduation day. This is not just a test of your physical abilities, but of your mental toughness, your teamwork, and your willingness to push beyond your limits.'
These are your brothers. You only succeed as a team, or you fail as individuals. Remember that.'
The instructors' words hit home with the recruits. They knew that to join the ranks of these elite warriors, they would need to embody the same qualities that defined their predecessors.
Sergeant Blake wrapped things up, saying, 'You're here because you've got what it takes to keep this legacy alive. Just remember, being a Ranger isn't only about being strong. It's about mental toughness, teamwork, and being fully committed to the mission.'
The first formation was dismissed. The soldiers dispersed, pumped to write their own chapter in this storied legacy. His journey to becoming a Ranger had begun.
I wasn't sure I'd make it past the first day. The background check dug up my past juvie car theft, which was a big issue. I had to get a waiver to keep going. I rounded up letters from my priest, college dean, the cops (I know a few who don't hate me), and my family, all trying to prove I'm a good guy. I talked about how I've developed a neighborhood soccer league and worked with kids to steer them away from gangs. At that point, I just prayed they'd give me a break.

After that, the psychological test was easy, passing a lie detector test was a piece of cake. The stress test, no problem I was accustomed to stress, so no problem.

By the time we got to physical tests, it was a relief for me. Les has come to think we might be victims of some practical joke, 60 push-ups, 70 sit-ups, only 5 pull-ups. Just so we could run 5 miles carrying 35 pounds in 40 minutes.' We collectivity called it extreme yoga, just a slight understatement.

Third day, I had the opportunity to crawl through the mud pit, aka the gator hole, I had the fun of pulling Les out after he got stuck, stuck like a pig, heh heh. But that was not until I made it over the 10-foot wall blocking the path to the gator hole.'

Then I chased Lester on the monkey bars enroute to the 'dinosaur donut', aka tire flip. By now, the asshole instructors are lined up with great big grins. Apparently, it's funny to see grown men carry a sumo wrestler's sandbag filled with blood, sweat, and tears of all the Ranger rookies before us.

But noo... the end is not in sight, instead, there is the dangling rope from hell. I tried hugging the rope, but it didn't hug back, so I tried hugging with my legs, too. With my legs as moral support, I was able to pull myself up. I am a 'ninja warrior.' now.

Christ on a cracker, the instructors are openly laughing at us. Maybe because, apparently, they filled the gator hole with enough melted ice cubes to make the biggest coldest, mud puddle I have ever seen. Lester and I and some other sad survivors had a contest naming it later, the last three were swamp of sorrows, soggy sufferfest, and the winner, in my opinion, straits of slosh.

On the fourth night, we experimented with night vision. It's not as good as it looks on TV. Everything is more or less a green blob. What had appeared to be a Tank was, in fact, Sergeant Sherman, he was not amused.

As I was squinting at the blobs, I realized night vision is really terrible at showing things like tree roots and rocks. So, my brilliant night mission turned into a game of "avoid the trip hazard."

On the upside, in the dark, other people see you hit the dirt, others are too busy trying to decipher their own blobs to notice

A couple of days later, I figured out that night vision goggles were way better than the blackout goggles we wore for jumping *10 feet down into water lugging a rifle and wearing a vest, no ammo, and grenades at least. Strip it off before surfacing and seeing light again. That's not as easy as it sounds, at least it's a good way to stay hydrated, so there's that.

On the theory better to laugh than cry. Not that we cry anyway, being guys and all, we decided to rename everything

Today's theme was 'Try-Not-to-Drown-While-Wearing-All-Your-Gear Day.' We joked about the heavy boots that felt like cement boots, that was from us Jersey guys, and the bulky life jackets that made us look like the guy from Ghostbusters, not that I have ever seen that.

It was easier to relax as much as we could. Each piece of gear became an object of ridicule, the oversized helmets made us look like bobbleheads to the complicated harnesses that tangled into pretzels.

Finally, one week down, but just for fun, the instructors had us play Survivor. Our teammates got to rate each other on the past week, Dariel, me second, and Les third. Day seven was also a pass-fail, thirty-one recruits joined the ranks of 'Ranger Wannabes Anonymous' now, the one-hundred recruit class only had sixty-nine left. We were starting to understand how only four of ten left at the end of RASP might be true..

The rest of the weeks were even worse, but by then, we were best friends with misery.

Week two was all about marksmanship. Ram, now a sniper school graduate, had us all beat, so he had swagger that week.

Week three was Waterworld again, I won, having lived in Miami, I was part fish and had grown secret gills.

Week four was navigation. None of us won that week. It was confusing Les almost convinced us we'd signed up for a treasure hunt on Mars.

In week five teamwork, we won the week. Since Les, Darial, and I grew up in the same neighborhood, it was easy to work together. That week, we nailed it and felt like the three musketeers plus, with Ram joining us, we became the four musketeers!

By week six, we figured urban warfare was basically like hanging out with gangs in Newark. With buddies like Les and Darial, who had actual street gang experience, it was like having my own personal cheat code for survival.

The instructors decided that they had been too easy on us, so we now had to carry a 60-pound 'baby elephant' in our rucksacks while hiking 12 miles.

And after that torture, we got to the makeup part, you know the green stuff. As luck would have it, my sisters had given me the crash course on how to apply it. or at least I watched them while they practiced on me. In my defense, I was scrawny back then and easier to hold hostage. Luckily, I eventually grew out of that.

September 11, 2002.

Reveille at 0430, Carlos woke up to the haunting memories of that day still fresh in his mind, the echo of sirens, the chaos in the streets, and the fear and panic in people's eyes were all burned into his memory like a permanent scar. He remembered the stunned faces of his family his friends and neighbors.

He could still hear the desperate cries of the families hoping for something while he dug on that pile, the weight of his own helplessness.

It was a turning point that reshaped his perspective on life, it made him to reevaluate his priorities and one week he would be an Army Ranger. Now, he knew the history and honor of being selected to serve as an Army Ranger, fighting for his family, fighting for his country, and upholding the legend of the Army Rangers.

September 11, 2002

Taps, Day is done 1000

Week seven, hell week no need to explain that. Everything we have done but now we do again in one week.

Okay, back to naming everything so we didn't have to think about the misery of the day. Starting at three a.m. this morning was Suffering Spa, like the first-week obstacle course but faster. On the 'Hike from hell' scenic twelve-mile ruck hike with thirty-five pound ruck on.

The infamous blind drop into ice water with gear. Moving on to navigation to the Lost Land, this time the quest to Atlantis, but we managed to find it.

Group therapy, also known as teamwork, it gets old carrying assorted team members over a football field of mud so far four times this week. Tug of war, at least, is fun.

This week's obstacle course has more mud, more walls, more barbed wire, and more of everything we have had so far. We have named this the Obstacle course Odyssey, I am Ulysses, Ram is Cyclops we think he has an extra eye for sniper shooting. Les and Dariel are lotus-eaters.

We have decided to call the ranger scroll the holy grail that we are on a quest to get. We can see it as a light at the end of a long tunnel almost within our reach.

After that came graduation. Out of the *forty-five of us who graduated, I managed to be first in the class. Ram was second, Les dropped to fifth, and Dariel finished seventh. As a team, we ranked number one among all the graduates.

Each of us won a medal and another medal for top team.

We received our ranger scrolls, acknowledged our accomplishment, and put on our army Ranger tan berets, representing our new status.

Sergeant Sheman, whom we affectionately called 'Tank' for his imposing six-foot-four frame and steadfast, no-nonsense attitude, delivered a moving speech to the families. about the rich and storied history of the Rangers.

He shared stories of bravery and sacrifice, reminding us all of the honor we were about to carry.

He told them of our role in our revolutionary war.

He told them about Rangers first on the beaches of Normandy and Rangers first in the *desert of Afghanistan.

He helped our families understand and appreciate why we had chosen to become Rangers.

My graduation from the Ranger Assessment and Selection Program (RASP) remains my proudest achievement, as it officially marked my induction into the ranks of the U.S. Army's 75th Ranger Regiment. It not only marked my initiation into an elite group of soldiers but also solidified my commitment to serve and protect with honor.

The statistic of 50-60 percent failing RASP is accurate.

In Afghanistan, the first action, 'Operation Rhino' was in the desert. Many after that were in the mountains.

The dive Ranger took off the bridge in book 20, chapter 10 was not named. -However, for reference, the Trenton bridges are 17 to 43 feet above the water.