Knee Deep in the Hooah!

Note from Claire: Do you all know how hard it’s been to be quiet for an entire day? No blog entries… no comment responses? I am coping, but just barely! ;) I am glad you all enjoyed the first part of Mr. Hooah!’s story. Today he is posting the second half that will take you through the rest of BCT. I will resume regular (boring… haha!) blogging through out the weekend and then return to the rest of his story on Monday morning.

Following the reception at 30th AG we were moved “down range” to our BCT unit where I met the soldiers I would be living with for the next nine weeks. We were all in for another “shock & awe” exercise. After marching down the road about a mile or so we arrived in our new home away from home. Hanson Barracks. Upon arrival in the CTA (Common Training Area) we were given a couple of quick tasks to perform to standard, but in less time than was humanly possible to accomplish said tasks. Our new First Sergeant was on a PA system while our new Drill Instructors had (you guessed it) bull horns. We were expected to fail. I knew that. Some of the kids did not. Myself and the other older guys did not react so much this time. The younger guys did. When the First Sergeant called out, “Did the recruits accomplish their mission to standard?” to which the Drill Instructors replied in unison, “NO!!” the games began and the looks were priceless.

The phrase we had to repeat over, and over, during corrective training was, “Attention to detail; teamwork is key!” I will never forget that little catch phrase. Moreover, it actually does have some applicability to a successful military life. Too bad it is so tied to memories of push-ups. Oh well.

I don’t remember how we got there, but at one point we found ourselves upstairs in our new barracks toeing the line (literally there is a line painted around the floor of the open sleeping area were we all stand shoulder to shoulder in front of our bunks, toes on the line) with our forty five pound duffle bags held up straight above our heads. Meanwhile our new keepers strode around the area yelling, barking questions, and trying to evaluate us based on when or if we gave up trying to hold that bag over our heads. “Whose gonna quit? Who wants to go home? Are you a quitter? Are you a momma’s boy? Whaa, wha, wha, wanna go home. Wha, wha, wha, want my mom. Wha, wha, wha, want your ,” was the fare for the day.

One of the young men made a huge mistake at that time. He decided to “take one for the team.” He told us later, ” I was sweating bullets like blood, my arms were shaking, I couldn’t go on … then it occurred to me … if someone quits the Drills will get what they want and go on to a different game.” He was wrong of course. All he accomplished was getting singled out. He called out, ” I quit Drill Sergeant!” while dropping that duffle bag. It was like sharks on chum for those Drill Sergeants. They were around him so fast and verbally on him so furious that we were all shocked. I half expected to see their eyes roll up into the back of their head for the attack. Of course they couldn’t touch him and they didn’t. Heh. Too bad he didn’t know that.

Later the guy admitted the lesson he learned that day was “NEVER take one for the team.” I put it to him like this, “Never quit, never give up, and always help the guy next to you to do likewise.” I think the kid learned a good lesson.

Other fun things happened during basic. Our First Sergeant ran the pace van out of gas one day. We looked at him. He looked at us. First Sergeants are never wrong — even when they’re wrong. We got to push the van into the refueling station for him. Lucky us.

I should probably take the time to describe the First Sergeant. He was a good looking young man. In his early thirties you could tell he was a hard worker and very skilled. The First Sergeant liked to make out as if he were an intellectual. He wasn’t. He attempted to use a Socratic method when instructing the young Privates. The kids didn’t know that he wasn’t pulling it off very well, but I did. In spite of that I would say he had all the right attributes to become a great First Sergeant someday (based on what I’ve learned about First Sergeants since my time at BCT) but I was always of the opinion that he had been promoted too soon. I think that played into his acting smarter than he really was. He was trying to play up to the part. He needed more “seasoning.”

The only higher up that I wish I could have spent more time with than the First Sergeant was the Company Commander. He too was a young man. As a Captain who graduated West Point he was a pretty boy who always tried to overcome his pretty boy image by adding much swagger and bravado to his “style”. (Hey, it’s an old man’s right to critique the younger men … even if they do out rank him!) During my BCT cycle the Captain became a short timer. Seems he had decided to leave the Army for a higher paying career in Corporate America. I hear a lot of West Pointers are doing that these days. Too bad. Certain Drill Sergeants loved, loved, loved to suck up to him. I was never really sure if he caught on to what they were doing or if he was just ignoring it.

A handful of Drill Sergeants always made an opportunity to talk with me, but they maintained the rules about fraternizing with the Recruits. Once and a while one of the Drills would put me on late night fire watch just so he could come by and chat without breaking the rules. On one hand it was a compliment, but on the other hand I sure did miss that sleep.

I learned a lot in basic training. More than making a bunk goes into basic soldiering.

Here’s something some of the guys will understand; the feeling of exhilaration the first time you blow a tank apart all by your lonesome, and the realization that you are being paid good money to spend all day at a shooting range. Just think of it, you get up, work out, eat, go shoot different weapons using various techniques, eat, shoot some more, eat again, shower, clean weapons, go to bed, and then get up again the next day to do it all over again. Wow. I honestly couldn’t believe I was getting paid good money for this! I wonder if Congress knows about this? If they did I’m sure they would consider it a waste of money.

By the way, I never told the Sergeants when I had fun. They would have just figured out a way to make it into torture. I think that was their job.

We shot all the major U.S. weapons. The M16 (we carried one everywhere we went), M4, M203 grenade launcher, M249 machine gun, AT-4 anti-tank weapon (we ooohed and aaahed over that one — it made the Drills laugh — there is something incongruent about a laughing Drill Sergeant), M-240-B machine gun, and my personal favorite the MK-19 machine gun (which shot grenades; not bullets) all provide major personal fire power. You won’t find these at your local gun range. The modern American Soldier has more lethal fire power in his personal arsenal than did legions of armies in the ancient world. This is another good argument for instilling “total control” into a young soldier.

I was pegged for leadership early on. It was not uncommon for me to have 10, 20 or 40 “sons” at any given time. I was probably the only universally respected man in our platoon. For reasons beyond my understanding (even now) I could get those boys to do things that they might not otherwise consider. That’s probably another reason my Senior Drill Instructor liked me. I made his job a little easier. I promised myself that I would always make my boss’s job easier where ever I went in the Army. It served me well later on in OCS.

The Lt. Colonel commanding BCT also took a liking to me. I was very physically fit, well disciplined, and mentored many of the kids. The Colonel loved to see older guys excel. He was the only guy anywhere close to my age. My physical fitness first caught his eye. Then one day while standing in line to get my food, the good Colonel came thru the line with a civilian visitor. While passing by he paused to point me out to the civilian, “Here is one of our older recruits,” then to me, “Where is your pacemaker soldier?” I replied, “My drill sergeant is my pacemaker, sir!” He choked laughing; turning to the visitor he said, “That’s the kind of reply you only get from a mature recruit.” From that day on he kept up with me; even while I was away at OCS. We still inquire after one another to this day. Turns out he’s a big goof ball, like me. Who knew?

Which brings me to another point. While it is true that I had to put up with some sadistic jerks at every level of school I attended, it is also true that I have never in my life experienced such camaraderie as I experienced in the Army. I hate to admit it, but I’ve never even had this level of fraternity in the Church. Anywhere and everywhere I went while in the Army I had instant brothers. They didn’t know me from Adam, but they would do anything for me, and I for them. I really can’t explain the depth of the bond. You have to live it. While I love my family and church — I miss my fellow soldiers. If this is how I feel after only being thru training with them, what must that bond be like after ’seeing the elephant’?

I had the opportunity in BCT to do many other first time things for myself. I got to repel, climb rope bridges of various sorts, run several different kinds of obstacle courses (I love, love, love obstacle courses! I couldn’t get enough of them.), and participate in many team building events. My senior drill believed in, was good at, and taught physical fitness such that our platoon won nearly every physical event hands down. It was almost a clean sweep that cycle.

Strangely, while I was taking my training at various fields, ranges, and courses, I was haunted by the thought that I was walking ground my own eldest son had walked only a year prior. I kept thinking, “How did Michael do on this event? I wonder how he felt at this course? Am I marching in my son’s foot steps?” A year prior to my enlistment my wife and I attended Michael’s graduation at Sand Hill. That was my first real introduction to Ft. Benning. If you had told me then that I would be graduating from the same training camp just about a year later — I would have laughed in your face. Old men don’t do those things. Lesson learned. You can NEVER predict the future.

Here’s another lesson I learned, “Be careful of your command voice”. What you say while using a command voice is important. Joe Blow soldier may be a great guy who is well trained, but he is generally dumb when under stress. I don’t mean this in a bad way. I’m saying in an adrenaline pumping situation (real or simulated) most humans react to authority in one of two ways. Either they freeze or they follow literally. By literally, I mean just that. They become literalists. They follow word for word. So you have to be very careful and clear with what you say. I made the mistake of yelling, “follow me” at my squad while moving thru an objective during a training exercise. They were pretty excited. I couldn’t figure out why the Drill Sergeant was displeased until I turned around and saw my squad literally following me like a line of little ducklings! They should have been online with me to my left and to my right — not directly behind me. Oops! In their minds that’s what I said to do. “Follow me!” So they did it.

Another time, after moving thru an objective, I was getting my ammo, casualty, and enemy report together only to be chewed out for leaving a man behind. I contended that my count was accurate until it was pointed out to me that a man at the end of my perimeter was not actually a part of my squad. He had gotten lost from his group during the exercise and decided to join my group when he heard me shouting out commands. I didn’t know he was there because from the back he looked just like my missing man. Same height, build, and everything. My man was actually killed back at the objective.

I had miscounted my men after all. Great. Now I have to send two men back to find my missing man. In the meantime the Drill Sergeants decided we had spent too much time on the objective and were getting ready to hit us with mortar fire. So I call out a distance and direction to bug out, only to find when we get there that I’ve acquired even more “Joes!” They were with another group, but when they heard me command they came running. I wasn’t specific about which group I was calling to and I paid the price. Be careful with your command voice. Be specific. “Keep it simple …stupid” … I now tell myself.

Of course BCT wasn’t all fun and games. There was a lot of boredom for a guy my age. If you are of any maturity level at all most of the “games” and “lessons” have already been learned. Too bad I couldn’t just get my check mark and move on. There were a lot of really bad things I could talk about. I won’t. It is enough to say that BCT is partly a hazing process that sucks. ‘Nuff said. I will mention these things for the curious. Not being able to talk to my wife for more than five minutes over a nine week period really stunk. Everybody cries at least once at BCT. Homesickness comes and goes. I was so immersed in BCT that I forgot what my own daughter’s voice sounded like. Memories of home faded. Faces of people I knew faded. The two minute shower drills & cleanliness inspections were embarrassing (those of you who know what that is understand. For you others, you’ll just have to figure it out for yourselves. I’m not telling.).

The cultural immersion takes to some degree or another on every potential soldier depending upon his personal strength of personality, or on how self centered he is. Some of the kids changed dramatically during BCT. Others, not so much. But we all had to play the game to get out. Over all, I’ll go with what one of my drills said, “See that graduation field boys? That’s the fastest way off of Sand Hill.” He was right. I knew a few guys who tried to get out of BCT some other way. They were still there when I graduated. Poor souls.

Now, looking back, I’m glad I went thru basic at my age. I’m pleased that the Lord blessed me with success there. It was quite an accomplishment — particularly at my age. It most certainly was not the worst mistake of my life as I had thought it was on my first night. But if you told me, today, that I had to go back and do it all over again, I would punch you in the mouth. I’ll never do that again.

On the day of graduation one of my favorite Drill Instructors became human. He was finally able to relate to me as an adult. The day I got on the bus to be sent to the other side of Ft. Benning for OCS I waved to him hoping he would take my advice and go to OCS himself. I have to wonder what ever happened to him. He would have made a great Commissioned Officer.

Finally, after long last, I am on my way to the Officer Candidacy School! This is what I came here for. No more kids to have to watch after. No more Drill Sergeants with whom the boundaries were always changing. No more mind numbing tasks just to keep busy. No more pointless group punishments or smoke sessions. Finally, everything will have purpose, maturity, and depth. Or … will it?

Tags: Army, military //