… or “Audacity, Audacity, Awwww-nuts!”
Now that our class Company was divided up into platoons with leadership in place, (Cadre, Student PL, Student Platoon Sergeant, Student Squad Leaders) our first order of business was the infamous packing list shake down. Anybody who knows OCS also knows that attending is not cheap. A student has to shell out some cash for required non-issue items. Such things as better boots are optional. Other items are not. Patches, protractors, books, extra uniform items, in my case better boots, and innumerable class room items. It all adds up. Moreover, these items are required such that a shake down is taken when you first arrive. We all had to dump our duffle bags out onto the grass and when an item name was called out we held it up to prove we had it. If we didn’t have it our student Platoon Sergeant was to take down the name of the Candidate plus the missing item. An over all list would then be generated from which a Candidate would receive their first negative spot report (akin to a demerit) for not showing up with all required gear.
Sounded easy to me. After all, what intelligent adult would show up the first day of class without all the required items? I was amazed to find just how many intelligent adults didn’t have all of the required items. My Platoon Sergeant quickly became overwhelmed in trying to get to everyone to get the name & item list generate. I began to follow the PS around taking names and easing the load. The Cadre Platoon Sergeant told me that wasn’t a PL’s job, but I wasn’t about to let my new PS sink under this first burden. Unfortunately, when the end of the shake down came my stuff was still strewn over heck and half of Georgia as was the PS’s stuff. Neither of us had enough time to pack away our own gear. Our Cadre Platoon Sergeant took the opportunity to jump on the rest of the platoon for not helping out their buddies. Boom. Everyone jumped in all at once. My, and the PS’s, stuff was packed faster than Speedy Gonzales could have ever dreamed. Just in time too because the Cadre First Sergeant just ordered everyone to get the sh!t, get up stairs for their room assignments, and you guessed it, get back down to the training area in less time than was humanly possible. Hmm. This was beginning to sound familiar. As I picked up my bags I glanced about to see if the Cadre were breaking out the bull horns.
I and all 140 of my new best friends ran up the stairs carrying a hundred plus pounds of crap, got to our rooms, and beat our feet back outside. On the way out one of the Cadre Sergeants started screaming down the hall, “If you have your beret on, Candidates, you are wrong. Start pushing!” Oops. Some of us had indeed forgot to take our lids off when we ran in. I quickly reached up to grab my beret and drop to push. The sergeant saw me, “I see you back there, it’s too late to grab it now, give me fifty! Integrity check.” I wasn’t sure if he saw me dropping and added fifty more to my total or if he thought I was trying to get out of pushing so I just cranked a hundred then ran outside dripping sweat like rain drops. I rounded the corner of the training area just in time to hear my fellow Candidates getting a “Standards; No Compromise” speech. We all did push ups to that phrase. Down, “Standards”, up, “No compromise”, down and so on and so forth. There’s another phrase now to be ingrained into my head. This was beginning to remind me more and more of BCT.
The rest of the day was a blur to me.
At one point we found ourselves in a class room setting receiving a brief when next thing you know, whamo, we all find ourselves standing up, half right face, and doing overhead arm claps until our arms were about to fall off. I couldn’t figure out why. Just before the corrective training I had noticed one of the Cadre Platoon Sergeants giving us an odd look. He got rather slack jawed, wide eyed, and vacant looking. I couldn’t figure out what was going through his head to make him look that way.
I found out after he let us sit down again.
He thought he saw someone nodding off. That is taboo at OCS. Even looking tired is taboo.
To this day no one in the class owns nodding off at that time. Maybe it was just a perception thing. Maybe the Sergeant only thought he saw some one sleeping. Perception plays greatly into any particular Cadre members opinion of a Candidate. Thus, many of us learn to play the game, so to speak.
I may never know if someone nodded off at this particular time, but I do know that this specific Sergeant would be a thorn in our class Company’s side for the entire cycle. Other Cadre corrected us as needed. Believe me we needed it. This particular Platoon Sergeant. however, corrected for the love of correction even if there was nothing to correct. Meaningless group punishment was his forte.
I’m having BCT flashbacks.
As we rose to leave the class room he called us all back in. “Half right face,” came his call. More overhead arm claps. He didn’t like the way we left the room. After the arm claps were done we sat down so that we could try to leave the room again. Properly. Some one made a smart aleck remark as we moved out. You guessed it. More overhead arm claps.
I’m justified in having my flashbacks.
He was one of the two strangest Sergeants I’ve ever had the displeasure of meeting while in the service. I didn’t meet the second one until much later. At least this first guy had his good points. We nicknamed him Señore Psychopath however we had to admit that when it came to battle drills, room clearing drills, and operational orders we maintain his instruction was superb.
Señore Psychopath is now a short timer or at least he said he was when I left. As far as I know he still is. According to his own admission this is his last year in service. His instruction will be missed. The rest of his work, eh, not so much.
We had another Cadre short timer who actually left during the cycle. It was the First Sergeant. He was able to retire with full benefits. I was very happy for him yet he was a mixed bag as people go. On one hand he was fair, just, a hard worker, and took his job seriously. On the other hand, though, he was old school. He never did Physical Training (PT) with us, intentionally attempted to be intimidating, and he used some pretty lame motivators such as, “You’re the worst OCS company I have ever seen.” Yeah. <Snort> Right.
He said that sort of stuff but it never rang true. His heart wasn’t in it. On account of that I was glad to see him go. I hope he finds his passion again.
His replacement came to us from another of the OCS companies. This new guy was right near my age and became my standard for a First Sergeant. I liked the way he thought, the way he took care of the Candidates, the way he organized things, and the fact that he could still kick a Candidates @ss to the moon when the Candidate deserved it. He’ll probably retire in a couple of years as well. OCS will be much the poorer for it.
Another short timer among us was a Captain who looked strikingly like an old High School buddy of mine. I’m not sure of his story, but somebody told me he was planning on getting out. He was one of the few Cadre that took time to speak to us regularly “off line”. For example, one night while he was pulling weekend duty he came walking through the Candidate area to check on us right before lights out. We all had individual dorm rooms with two to three Candidates per room. My room mates and I were near the end of the hall. Just before my room there were a couple of rooms full of prior service guys. A former First Sergeant, Staff Sergeant, and Honor Guard Sergeant make for great neighbors. I loved hanging with them.
As the Captain walked by us the guys side tracked him and got him into a conversation. I learned reams from such “off line” conversations. In the conversation that night I learned a lot about what OCS used to be like when he was a Candidate. Based on what he said I’m guessing the majority of today’s candidates would have been washouts back then. He thinks that the Candidates produced by OCS used to be both physically and mentally tough , but not free thinking nor did they have good PR skills. In contrast, he believes that today’s Candidates are not so tough physically or mentally, but are better versed in critical thought and have very good PR skills. If this is true then it probably follows a shift in the needs of the Army where today’s wars are not conventional. Today we need leaders capable of leading “small wars” in which PR and critical thought are more than a requirement.
Just a guess.
Something else I learned from both OCS and from “off line” conversations is that apparently everybody is treated like a private when they enter one of the Army Training and Doctrine (TRADOC) schools. My friends tell me even upper level Officers in Airborne school, as an example, are treated pretty much like privates. Possibly as a result, most soldiers revert to Private behavior when in TRADOC. I was around former First Sergeants in OCS who acted just as goofy as some of the guys I went to BCT with. A major told me that this sort of thing happens at all levels. He said, “Put a group of five Colonels in the wood line during some TRADOC exercise and it won’t be five minutes before one of them is throwing pine cones at the others.” I was incredulous when he said this, but he assured me of its truth. I would never have guessed such a thing in a million years.
We all have images in our minds eye that defines what we think a certain type of person or a certain vocation must be like. Very few members of John-Q-Public ever have the opportunity to see what a Soldier, an NCO, or an Officer of the Army is really like. Too much of our knowledge is formed by Hollywood and the TV networks even in this age of alternate media reporting. Maybe more strides have been made during my lifetime to correct this problem than ever before. Yet, I think a fully orbed view of who the citizen soldier “is” is too much for regular people to grasp. Additionally I think it is too traumatic for them to grasp. Because if they did then they would have to care. And if they cared then they would have to do something about it. By “something” I don’t mean carry a sign, write a congressman, or forward an email. No. I mean they would really have to do something tangible in the same manner as when your three year old says “please, I am hungry” — and the cost of actually doing something is for some of them too high. Far too high. So it is easier to idealize our Soldiers, our Officers, and the like by casting them in the role of sinner or saint. In that way they can embrace as much or as little as they can afford to embrace.
On a lighter note, I notice that I no longer watch war movies the same way. Well, not only war movies but any movie with a fight scene or battle scene or such stuff. I now tend to note how Hollywood gets it wrong. Intellectually I know there are great limitations to any screen work, but I just can’t help being snobbish now that I’ve gotten a little TRADOC under my belt. I watch “Shooter” and note how poorly the spec ops guys approach the house. OH, and if I see one more battle scene were historically disciplined troops are depicted as merely smashing into one another ala “Brave Heart” I think I’ll puke.
Meanwhile, back at OCS …
I was very fortunate during my first two weeks to have a great set of prior service guys around me in leadership roles. My student Platoon Sergeant, all of my Squad Leaders with the exception of one, and my student CO, XO as well as First Sergeant were all prior service. They made a great team. All together we laid down the initial ground work for garrison details while also setting the tone and tenor for the future direction of 4th platoon. They quickly brought me up to speed on what a PL should be about. I made a few mistakes, but with a little help from my friends I got a “go” on my first leadership position in OCS. Moreover, as a mark of true success, each of the student leadership positions in 4th platoon transitioned easily on to the next student up for leadership. It pretty much stayed on track the whole cycle, I’m told. That, dear readers, is one aspect of successful leadership.
Many of my adventures have already been chronicled to some degree by the lovely Mrs. Hooah! The Land Navigation adventure, the Leadership Reaction Course (This is the story, Piper), and the like are all found within her archives. In spite of the good times my rose colored glasses came off pretty early. Never the less I was on track for graduation, ranked in the top of my class, and was getting ready to enter Senior Phase.
14 week OCS is broken into two phases. The first seven weeks we wore black ascots and take in a lot of training. When we go on field exercises the Cadre are in teaching mode. The second seven weeks we wear white ascots, get saluted by lower classmen, and take a lot of final exams. When we go on field exercises the Cadre are in evaluation mode. The second phase is called Senior Phase.
One morning, the Friday before the Monday my class was scheduled to have the ceremony marking the transition from Freshman to Senior Phase — the unimaginable happened.
During a Battalion run commemorating the graduation of another OCS student company a strange twist of fate took me from my beloved 4th platoon.
I had been experiencing some pain all along while in class, but had managed to keep up until the week previous to the Battalion run. A Second Lieutenant snow birding with my company took the Beta runners out for a little jog one morning. He was an Alpha runner. Something set him off that morning resulting in his running the stuffing out of us for punishment. I had some real pain following that run. Then two days before the Battalion run our Company went to the stadium just a mile or so down the road for morning PT. We did some pyramids (look ‘em up), ran a few laps, and then ran the stadium steps before running back to the barracks for the morning. At one point my Cadre Lieutenant saw me struggling with my run so he came along side me for support. Running with me he got me pretty revved up so that I could sprint out my last fifty yards or so of a stadium lap as well as making it through the stadium step run. I’ll never forget that. He was good.
But on the way back to the barracks I started having severe pain to such an extent that I wondered if I would make it. My fellow candidates knew something was wrong. There were other signs. I nor they could put our finger on the cause.
Let me say at this point that I had never sustained an injury, never been to sick call, and had always scored over 253 out of 300 in the APFT as well as always getting a first time “go” in every physical event ever required of me. My athletic record was spotless. That is at OCS and BCT.
Now here I was with mystery pain. I could hardly walk or march for the next couple of days. On the morning of the Battalion run I was determined to go to sick call if I still had any pain. I didn’t want to risk falling out of the Lt. Colonel’s run.
When I woke up that morning I stretched, warmed up, and felt good. So I decided to go on the run. Seriously. I was feeling pretty darn good. Somewhere around mile marker two I began to feel something was wrong. At mile marker three I started having real pain but decided I could tough it out. At mile marker four, I was running broke. Every time my left foot hit the ground my who body took an electrical shock. When my right foot hit the ground the shock was superseded by shear pain like I had never felt. I didn’t know if I could make it but I “limp-ran” best I could without slowing down or falling out. Then when I came within sight of the finish line, the five mile marker, the limp became so pronounced that people around me started asking if I was OK. Which meant they knew I wasn’t, and they wanted to know what was wrong. I couldn’t talk. At that moment I both heard and felt a POP in the top of my right femur. My right leg. I started a fast list down to my right much like a falling plane.
When I went down one of my fellow candidates came out of formation with me. He has field medic knowledge. The Cadre First Sergeant appeared out of nowhere and helped. They got me back on my feet and talked to me. I could see the finish line. They had me put weight on the leg but it wouldn’t bear it. I wanted to crawl to that finish line. They flagged a truck and put me in. I didn’t want to ride across the finish line. Maybe I could hobble? No. Stay in the truck. My friend went back into the formation to finish the run. My Cadre First Sergeant shut the door on me sending me back to the barracks so that we could figure out what happened. The looks they gave me said something was badly wrong.
Two sergeants in the truck took good care of me. One had to leave when we got back to the barracks while the other, seeing that my leg could bear no weight at all, put me on his back like a small child and carried me into the Cadre meeting room. He didn’t think twice about it. The distance was not short. Yet he didn’t think twice about it.
While sitting in the meeting room trying to figure out what happened just about every Cadre member came by. Each, surprised to see me there, asked “What happened?” I was in no obvious pain. With the exception of not bearing weight my leg had a full range of motion. Nothing else was wrong with me. I tried not to let the situation get me down. Finally one of the Captains told my Lieutenant he was going to have to get me over to the Soldiers Center to be checked out. My Lieutenant talked to me, signed my sick call form (I had never seen one before), and threw down the pen before walking out without looking back. I got the impression he thought I was just shaming. The last thing I heard before being taken over to the Soldiers Center to be examined was the sound of my student Company being smoked by Señore Psychopath because, we guessed, he didn’t feel the Battalion run was PT enough for them that morning. Whatever.
My battle buddies took me over to the Soldiers Center. The nurses gave me some crutches. I got around pretty well, again I was trying to be upbeat, and I was in no physical pain as long as I didn’t put weight on the leg. The Physician’s Assistant who examined me couldn’t figure it out. Neither could I. Full range of motion, no pain, blah, blah, blah — just to be safe the PA ordered an x-ray.
While lying on the x-ray table, after I got filmed, I heard the tech inhale sharply and thought to myself, “That can’t be good.”
The tech wouldn’t look at me or talk to me after that. We had been chatting nicely. I feared the worst. Sure enough, a Doctor came in to tell me that I had broken off the top of my femur and I wasn’t allowed to move anymore. They had to immobilize me to keep the bones from sliding past one another resulting in cut arteries, torn muscle, and impaled organs as the muscles in my leg would be strong enough to throw my femur to the moon. Next they called an ambulance. When the Doctor left the tech came over and said, “I’m so sorry”. Then it really hit me like a ton of bricks so I asked just to make sure, “This means I can’t stay in the Army doesn’t it?” The tech just nodded.
I was in shock.
“No more OCS? But I’m about to be a Senior Officer Candidate. No more Army? But this is my new home; how can I leave it? Why Lord? Why bring me to the edge of the Promised Land only to tell me that I can not enter?” To this day I still ask …
Why?
Tags: Army, military by Mr_Hooah
7 Comments »
I do agree that reading is indeed fundamental, but reading can also be a very powerful tool. When I was in undergrad I led a fairly large sized group of female inmates in a low level security prison through a literature course. These women were one step away from leaving the prison system and reentering the world as free citizens — for some it would be decades since they had been free to come and go as they please.