Late October, 1992, nearly finished with basic training at Ft Jackson, South Carolina. The life I left behind me in Owingsville seemed distant, yet not quite out of reach. My transformation from a civilian to a soldier was almost complete at this point, so far I had not had any direct issues that affected my time in training. Third Platoon was entering the final "Blue Phase" of training, and this would be the most fun for me. The long days at the range were over, and most of all the drill and ceremonies had ended, but still the routine was the same early wake up, PT, breakfast then to the daily duties. We were still going out on road marches to areas and learning soldier skills such as building fox holes and bunkers, all in preparation for our field exercise coming up. Lunch was served as MRE's or meals ready to eat. These were meals in a large brown pouch that were individually packaged in vacuum pouches and could be heated or eaten as they were. The main meals were usually not too bad, crackers and either cheese or peanut butter and a candy of some type were in the meal packs too. Aside from the food items, there were condiments like salt, pepper and Tabasco sauce, and drink mixes like Kool-Aid and coffee. The coffee creamer was a powder form that we found out was flammable. Like flash powder, one could blow the creamer into an open flame and it would make a flash fire. Of course we didn't learn this until after training.
One thing that we had to accomplish before we moved further on was the record PT test. The entire time we were in basic training up to this point, we had done PT every day, and each day we got better and better. We did a PT test once before but it wasn't a record test, just a point of reference for the drill sergeants to see where needed to improve. My weak area was the push-ups, even though I had done enough to push South Carolina back to Florida. My best area was the sit-ups, Drill Sergeant Perry was the sit-up master. That was his preferred punishment exercise. We lined up one chilly morning and were given scorecards. This would be the day to determine if we continued on with our platoon or be held back until we either passed the test or went home. We had to score a minimum of 150 points to pass the test which consisted of a minimum amount of push-ups and sit-ups within two minutes and then a 2 mile run. The amount of push-ups, sit-ups and the run were based on our age groups. I was worried because of my shins that were still giving me problems from time to time, and I wanted to do my best. We started out by stretching and then forming lines to a sergeant who was the grader. The first event was push-ups. I got into position and took a deep breath. I would need to do 42 push-ups to make the minimum score, 72 to score maximum points. At the command to start, I started pushing, then quickly got into a rhythm, blocking all background noises out. The platoon-mates were cheering along, but I stayed focused. I counted to myself, and at the minute mark, I had already done 46 push-ups, well past the minimum. I continued on, but as the minute ticked away, my arms started burning and my pace slowed. I kept trying to continue, at the 30 second mark, I had done 55 push-ups. I continued on pushing and when the final ten countdown started, I was at 64, just a few more...My arms quivered and burned, I struggled to push out more...Sixty-five....Five seconds left...Sixty-six....Three seconds left....I struggled to push my body off the ground and shook all over....Final second, and I collapsed. I had done 66 push-ups, far past the minimum standard, but just short of a maximum effort. I got back on my feet and everyone high-fived me as I walked to the recovery area. After the platoon had all finished, the next event was sit-ups. I usually did well in this event, and was not too worried about it. I finished this event with 72 sit-ups, just six shy of the maximum. Now came the 2-mile run. This would be my make or break event. The cool air would be a welcome change from the hot and humid days in the early stages of basic training. The command to start sounded, and I started running, trying to get a good pace going. Several others passed me but I didn't let that bother me. We ran on a quarter mile track that was a packed red clay and sand, not too bad on the feet. I kept a steady pace going, getting into a zone as I ran, ignoring the sharp pain in my shins from time to time. I reached the mile mark, my time was called out but I don't remember what it was, I didn't want any distractions. I kept running on pace, and was getting lapped by some faster runners, but I still didn't let it bother me. When I got to my final lap, I picked up the pace some, and when I got on the final stretch, busted into a full sprint. I crossed the finish line at a time of 14 minutes, 52 seconds. No quite the maximum, but past the bare minimum. I had done it, passed the PT test. There were a few who had to go back and retest in certain events, mainly the run, but overall, Third Platoon received the highest number of first time passes, earning us the PT banner for our guide-on.
Halloween is my favorite time of year. Back home, the fire department would sponsor a haunted house event and I would enjoy terrorizing folks. Halloween 1992 would be different. I was in basic training and almost a soldier, far away from the fun times I had before. During drill sergeant time, Drill Sergeant Hicks brought us all candy bars, even though we were on strict diet and couldn't have candy. One thing he didn't know was that sometimes, one of the Young Guns we called Chewie would sneak out to the shoppette across the way and stock up. Another secret well kept was our pet lizard in the barracks. Our resident barber had found a lizard on a range and brought it back to the barracks. He kept it in his locker in a shoe box, and fed it lettuce and small bits of left over food from chow. After hours during personal time, he would walk around with the lizard on his shoulder.
We had a day of enjoyment that was out of the ordinary around this time, too. We marched to the athletic field one early afternoon to find a large stage and what looked like all of Fort Jackson sprawled out in the open field. The USO had brought in a couple of bands to perform for us, and this would be an integrated event, meaning that males and females could attend and we could freely talk to them, with the keen eyes of roaming drill sergeants. The band played a lot of great songs and it was a welcome release from the strict military day to day. After this many weeks, the females looked great even in their BDU's and thick horn rimmed glasses, aka, birth control lenses. The concert and day in general was great, for once I forgot I was in basic training.
We marched out one evening on a night march to a night fire range, where we would again fire our weapons using tracer rounds. This was pretty cool it looked kind of like Star Wars with flashes of green and red tracers streaming down range. Another event we would do would be the live fire range obstacle course. This is the course where we'd crawl across a field while live rounds whizzed overhead, under barbed wire, over and under logs, through mud holes, and while grenade simulators went off next to us. The evening prior to that event, my name came up on KP duty. This would be the first time I would have to pull the duty. My group reported at 0330 to the kitchen area to start the day's meals. This was not my idea of fun at all. I remembered the old movie Andy Griffith starred in called No Time For Sergeants, and the KP duty fiasco he created. We met with Drill Sergeant King, who was there with the shrilled voiced female drill sergeant who had smoked us earlier. Drill Sergeant King was a cocky man who demanded respect from all around him, even the civilian cooks in the chow hall. If he felt that someone wasn't doing their part, we all did push-ups no matter where we were in the kitchen. His female counterpart was no different, she took great pleasure in our misery. My duty was to be a drink preparer/tray runner. I, along with another guy from another platoon, went to set up the Victory Punch containers. We joked about the 'myth' of the punch and how it made men feel less than manly, when all of a sudden a sergeant walked up and told us it was not a myth. I laughed it off...for now.
As the breakfast rush began, I switched roles to tray runner, meaning I would gather all the used trays and run them on a cart to the washer area, then take the clean ones and make sure they were stocked. It was a tiring task to say the least, very fast paced. Each meal we would serve roughly 1000+ people, then after the chow was over, clean the areas, help prepare the food, be inspected, and do it all over again. Drill Sergeant King was always lurking about, waiting to find something we did wrong. We would hear him coming down the hallway and scurry to find something to do before he got there. Lunch time came and we seemed to have more come through than at breakfast, even though most of the battalion was out in the field. The increase were new recruits coming in and left overs from the holding battalion, or those processing out. It was during lunch we got word that one of the guys from our platoon had went on sick call and was caught at the shoppette, much like the one before caught at Burger King. The Young Guns were paying dearly for this we were told.
After lunch, I was exhausted. This KP duty was harder than a full day of PT and range training by all means. I wanted so much to find a corner and catch a few moments of rest, but that was impossible. We had very little down time, my duty after stocking trays was to help the cooks prepare meals. This round my task was to help in the desserts, bringing eggs to the cook and breaking them into large bowls. I was so sick and tired of seeing eggs after this that I stayed away from eggs for several weeks afterward.
Supper finally passed, but the work was far from over. We started the final cleaning around 1900 hrs, or 7 pm. This was the most tedious of all the work, as we would need to insure that all the tools and utensils were spotless and all areas cleaned to the hilt. We finally finished around 2030 hours and readied for final inspection by Drill Sergeant King. We lined up in our respective areas of responsibility, and could hear him yelling at what he called "pathetic excuses for soldiers". All stations were below Drill Sergeant King's standards, so we had to clean them all over again. This was after getting smoked by him, and by the time we got the areas cleaned again, all of us were nearly dead. We finally were allowed to return to our barracks around 2130 hours, a half hour late for lights out. I hit the bunk and passed out and don't think I even remembered closing my eyes.
The days of basic training were winding down, but the pace was still the same as before. We were becoming soldiers and becoming ready to face the world of the United States Army. The hardest parts of basic training were pretty much behind us, but the impending three day field exercise and road march back still loomed. Our graduation day, too, was around the bend on November 17th. Just about two weeks were left until that day, and we sent out the invitations to our families. Mom and dad were planning on coming, along with Dee Dee, Norman and Casey. Tonya had written me saying that she may come with mom and dad, but wasn't for sure. That was back during the earlier phase, but the ugly side of small town life had reared its head regarding my relationship status with Tonya. I got a letter from someone who said Tonya had been spotted at a high school dance with another guy. She hadn't told me she had planned on going at all, and I was way off in South Carolina, but still it got back to me. At first, I admit I was upset about it, the way I had to hear about it. I wrote her and asked her what the deal was, and she replied a few days later apologizing, saying the guy just asked her as a friend and there was no more to it. It was about that time that I realized something. Here I was starting my life as a soldier, and there she was still in high school with her whole life in front of her. I soon realized it was not fair for me to expect her to place her life on hold while I was gone, not knowing where I would end up or if I would even come back to Owingsville. Still I thought a lot of her and her family, and hoped for the best case scenario, but reality soon started to talk sense into me. Plus I still had tons of other important issues to work on in the Army.
We took time one day and marched over to the parade field where we would graduate. We lined up in formation like we would on graduation day. The drill sergeants told us to look around while we could that we were almost there, but still could mess up and not be standing on the field on the final day. Not one of us thought otherwise, we had come so far as a platoon to throw it all away. We had the one final obstacle, the FTX. The days before the field exercise, we learned basic field combat tactics, including challenge and passwords, fixed fighting positions and communications in the field. The evening prior to the field exercise, we were addressed by Captain Cook and First Sergeant Miller who were telling us what to expect during the exercise and how pleased they were that we had achieved so much during our training. Third Platoon had come a long way from the rag-tag bunch who first showed up at reception station. The problems we had with certain platoon members had dissolved, and aside from the few occurrences where people had got caught not being where they were supposed to be, things had been going very well for us. That night, we had to undergo a final inspection to make sure all our field gear was ready for the three days. The gear was called TA-50 officially and consisted of a ruck sack, equipment belt with suspenders, water canteens, ammunition pouches, a shovel, and various other items to be used to live in the field. We had a guide on how we should pack our ruck sacks and store other equipment, and after it was all packed, the ruck weighed approximately 45 lbs. We had to make sure we packed enough socks and under garments along with hygiene items for the three days, who of course wanted to see a gruffy and stinking soldier in a combat field of operation?
The morning of the field exercise, we were up at 0300, had to be in formation in full combat gear at 0330 and then issued our weapons. We got onto buses shortly after and headed out the range roads. It was still dark out and very chilly, the crisp November air arrived without much warning. I sat in my seat and reflected how the last seven weeks had flown by during the ride out to the field site. I remembered when we came from reception to the company and how I felt so unsure and alone, this time was so much different. I also thought about Staci, the girl I'd met at MEPS, I had written to her home address, received one letter and wrote back, but never heard anything since. I wandered off to sleep at some point and woke up when the bus stopped and Drill Sergeant Hicks told us to form up outside. We gathered outside and were off a dirt road that led straight on ahead of us into some woods. The sun was just breaking the horizon as we prepared for the rest of the journey. We marched to another area and stopped near a field kitchen that was set up with breakfast for us. We took time and ate as the sun first started to appear in the sky. It was symbolic I thought...The first rays of the new rising sun, as Jimi Hendrix once penned. A new rising sun into a new world for me, and a new me in general. After breakfast we started out on another march. The field site was still far off from where we were. We were spaced out several feet apart, all decked out in our combat gear along each side of the road. I looked around and thought how this is the Army I had thought of when I signed up. I watched the TV show Tour Of Duty, a show about the lives of an Army platoon in Vietnam, religiously before, and as I said, my cousin Jason and I played Army a lot as kids. Now I was living the real life of it. We walked along a dirt road going into more dense woods, a lot like the old trails my dad and I would take while hunting. We had walked about a mile or so when all of a sudden a loud explosion rocked us, then another. Drill Sergeant Hicks and Washington yelled for us to take cover, and we darted off the roadway into the trees,weapons at the ready. Another explosion went off in the middle of the road we had just left. It was just like the TV show, but in real life. We had our M-16's but no ammunition or blank rounds, so it wasn't like the movies where you see soldiers firing in the trees. Drill Sergeant Hicks yelled for us to recover, which meant back on our feet and back on the trail. He explained that we had just came under a mortar attack and we did what we were supposed to do under that circumstance.
We continued further probably another mile or so and arrived at our destination. We dropped our gear and gathered around Drill Sergeant Hicks, Washington and Perry. We broke up into groups of four from within our squads and started building bunkers and foxholes. The depth of the foxhole and bunker had to be armpit level of the tallest man in the group; the tallest man in our group was around six feet tall, meaning I may have had to get a crate to see over the edge of the foxhole.
The digging process took a long while, and we ate MRE's for lunch. We all took turns digging while others dug fighting positions around the perimeter or gathered camouflage materials. It was getting warm out and the sand stuck to us, making me itch, but still it was kind of fun. We finished our fighting positions around 1800 hours, just in time for the dinner MRE's. The drill sergeants came by and inspected our sites, advising us on ways to make them better, that we'd be living under combat conditions the next three days. We were teamed up with a battle buddy, mine was Private Mercado, a Hispanic guy who was about 3 inches shorter than me. We set up tents some distance from the foxholes we'd just dug using the shelter halves we each carried. It was almost dusk by this time and Drill Sergeant Hicks told us to assume 'stand two', or defensive positions; as the enemy would always attack just after nightfall or before dawn. We had been issued blanks by this time for our weapons, and we sat poised, ready for an impending attack. Darkness fell, and no enemy so far. It was around 2000 hours and I was getting sleepy when all of a sudden I heard someone yell, "Claymore!!!", a call meaning that the Claymore mine was being deployed. I then heard the sounds of rifles firing all around. The attack had begun, First Platoon had been lying in wait in the treeline for the right opportunity. They broke our line near the CP, or Command Point before the scenario ended. It was a wild wake up call for sure.
Massacre adverted, we took shifts through the night on guard patrol or bunker duty. My shift was at 0100 hours, and it was frigid out. As I was patrolling the area, I spotted a figure approaching the perimeter. As the person got within a few steps, I challenged him with the phrase, "Halt, who goes there?"The proper response was for the person to identify themselves and I say, "Super Bowl," with them replying, "Football." The person stopped and mumbled something and started forward. Again I ordered the person to stop, raising my M-16 into a defensive stance. They then uttered something else and stopped. I stated the challenge again, and he replied, "Hicks." I then went through the procedure stating "Super Bowl", and he replied, "Soccer balls". I ordered him to halt, as I had been instructed in training, and raised my M-16 into a firing position. Just then, Drill Sergeant Hicks stopped me and said, "Good job soldier." He was the person approaching me with his field coat pulled up around his face so I couldn't verify his identity by sight. I had passed the challenge and password test.
The next morning just prior to dawn, we again went into a defensive stance. I was tired from the patrol duty the night before, but soon realized that sleep was a long forgotten commodity in the combat field of operations. The sun rose, and no attack happened, so the day began with a field breakfast again. This second day we would learn more about land navigation with the compasses and a variety of other combat field duties. We also learned how difficult personal hygiene was in these conditions. Shaving with cold water is not kind on the cold face. We had trails and lanes to utilize our land navigation skills more in-depth than what we had done before. We also learned about maintaining our field sites and continued to patrol and guard the site as we had done the night before. The day wore on and was rather uneventful. That night, some of our platoon was organized to to a counter-raid on First Platoon. This was far beyond the pillow raids in the barracks. The rest of us stayed behind guarding the site, but no attacks occurred the second night.
Day three, the final day, was devoted to breaking down the field site. We had to empty our sandbags and fill in the foxholes and bunkers we had built. By mid morning, the site looked as it had when we arrived, and we were gathered in formation by Drill Sergeant Hicks. Captain Cook and First Sergeant Miller addressed us and informed us that we would march all the way back to Delta Company, which was approximately twelve miles away. We checked our gear and applied the green camo face paint, then started out on the march. We were staggered out as we were on the road march to the field site on both sides of the road. We took turns as radio operators and medics, we were provided a medic bag with some basic supplies to carry when we were on medic duty. A vehicle stayed close behind us in case someone fell out of the march or got injured in some way. Captain Cook walked with us and encouraged us by saying things like, "Don't be a wimp and ride back in the chump wagon," referring to the chase vehicle. The road march was not too bad during the first part of the journey, the scenery was much different than back home. The terrain was mostly flat with some rolling grades for the first couple of miles or so, with occasional spots of dense forest. We turned down another road and it was much different. The road turned into sand and became steeper in grade. We were on old tank trails and the sand made it hard to walk with all our gear on us. My shins to that point hadn't been hurting, but the sand made them start burning. I pressed on, knowing that this was something I had to complete to prove to myself I was becoming a soldier.
We got to the halfway point and stopped to eat and take a break. Captain Cook walked around motivating us and to be sure to change our socks. My feet and shins were starting to throb a bit. I was used to long hikes from my hunting ventures and days where I would just take off and walk old wooded trails back home just to see where they went. I would spend hours on those trails with my dog, just taking everything in, but I never had 45 pounds of gear and a M-16 strapped to me either those days. After about thirty minutes, we hit the trail again. I thought that the down time had actually made me feel worse honestly, but I endured on. The miles and hours dredged on and fatigue started to set in. It was getting dark out and the air getting colder, but with all the gear, I still sweated. We took another short break at one point to eat again, this time my legs were throbbing. My body was worn out, and the rest of the platoon was starting to wear down. We hadn't lost anyone so far to the "chump truck". We got back on the trail again and the hills got steeper and the miles seemed longer and longer as the night wore on. I started to slow down pace some, my back was now hurting from the weight of my ruck sack. Private McNalley was behind me telling me to keep it up that we were almost home. I nodded and kept on going as hard as I could, then Drill Sergeant Hicks told us to "dig in, we're approaching drag ass hill." Drag ass hill was a steep incline of about a quarter mile of nothing but sand. We all gathered up as much energy as we could to navigate this hill. Drill Sergeant Hicks told us to lean into the incline that home was just on the other side. I was weary and exhausted, and felt myself slipping back. McNalley pushed me forward telling me he would buy me the drink of my choice if I made it through this road march. It was a kind offer, but I thought I had came this far, be damned if i was going to let a hill bring me down. We topped drag ass hill and saw before us some familiar sights. The World War 2 barracks that we had marched past several times came into sight. We were literally on the home stretch. I felt a sharp pain on my foot that I hadn't felt before, a sharp burning pain. I could see Victory Tower, just another left hand turn and about 200 yards we were home. My legs started burning as my feet pressed onto the asphalt. Some of the guys started running toward the barracks, and I have no idea how they mustered up the strength. We got back to the company area around 2200 hours, Captain Cook greeted and high fived each of us as we marched in. I was exhausted, but felt great satisfaction that I had completed the road march. We never lost a single person to the chump truck. Drill Sergeant Hicks dismissed us to the barracks, and I thought I'd never be that glad to see that room. As I got ready to shower, I had a large blister that had swelled up on my heel, I could hardly walk on it. I stood in the hot shower and let the water run over me, refreshing me. I reflected on the long seven weeks and the road march I had just completed. This was it, the final hurdle aside from graduation. Drill Sergeant Hicks was still in the barracks and informed us that wake up would be 0600 and that duty would be light the next day.
The next morning we woke up and for once it was almost day light. There was no PT that day, our bodies hurt, well, at least mine. I stood up and my heel had become one large water bubble and very tender. I struggled to put my combat boots on but managed. We spent the day cleaning all our field gear in the barracks, this was easy duty, the hard part of basic training was over it seemed. One more short week to go before graduation, and to see our families. I was getting anxious to see mom and dad and everyone else. As the day went on, my foot started bothering me, so I told Drill Sergeant Hicks about it. He told me that I could go on sick call and get a profile, or a modified duty to suit the injury, but that may require me to miss out on marching across the graduation field. I decided to tough it out and Drill Sergeant Hicks helped make sure I took it easy. Over the next two days, my heel got better, but was still sore, I wasn't going to let it stop me from graduating though.
The weekend was dedicated to cleaning everything in the barracks. I was tasked out with two others to clean Drill Sergeant Hicks' office. While we were in there, we found all the confiscated walkman radios and CD's and tapes. Drill Sergeant Hicks had a radio/CD player in his office and we took advantage of it, behind closed doors of course. It had been nearly eight weeks since I had listened to music other than Reveille or Retreat. Even though the office was already immaculate clean, we still took advantage of this opportunity. Private Walters and I savored the sounds emitting from the stereo and talked about our favorite bands and how we hoped to catch a good concert somewhere soon. We emerged from the office and apparently the radio was up louder than we had expected, and most everyone outside the office had heard the music, but still no one complained.
I was put on CQ Duty one evening at 2000 hours, or 8 pm. I was told to go to the chow hall, get to the head of the line, tell them I was to report for CQ, and I would go right on in. I arrived at the chow line and approached Drill Sergeant Stravinsky, telling him I was to report to CQ at 8 o'clock. He looked at me and said, "Well, private you are early. Go tell your CQ that you will be late. Now back to the end of the line."
I walked away puzzled, not sure of what he meant, so I went to the other chow line on the opposite side, said the exact same thing and got the same response. It was 1920 hours, or 7:20 pm. I again went to the first line and Drill Sergeant Stravinsky said, "Well private, back early again I see?" Again, I stated what I had said before, and the drill sergeant stood up from his chair and told me to assume the push-up position. I was puzzled as to why, and while I was doing the push-ups, he said, "So let me understand this, you are doing CQ at 8 o'clock, but here at 1930 hours?" It was then I realized my mistake. In my haste to get into chow and report for CQ, I had left my military bearing at the door to the barracks and used civilian time. After I recovered and admitted my mistake, I hurried and ate, then reported for CQ. The duty was in the staff officer building, and by this time most of the head honchos had left. Drill Sergeant Washington met Private Cooper and me there and gave us our orders for the four hour shift, which was to sweep and buff the floors and clean all the office areas. The offices were clean already but we still followed orders. The most tempting thing in the offices was a candy machine, and a package of M&M's staring out at me. I had a dollar bill on me and caved into the temptation, making sure I stashed the wrapper in the out going trash. Drill Sergeant Washington returned at midnight, inspected us and released us back to the barracks. He laughed and joked with us, talking about Cooper's uncanny impersonations. He then looked at me and said, "Private, you must have stayed hid this whole cycle, I can't even pronounce your damn name." He told us at the beginning of basic training if he didn't know our name at the end of the cycle, we must be doing something good. I felt pretty proud of him not knowing my name at this point.
The final week approached us and we readied for graduation. We turned in all our combat gear and got our dress uniforms up and ready. We had one final inspection to go through with Captain Cook, First Sergeant Miller and our Battalion Commander. We got dressed in our class A uniforms and were inspected by the drill sergeants prior to the big inspection, which would be a couple days before graduation. Another last thing we would do before graduation was the battalion 3 mile run. We started out at the graduation field and the entire 28th Infantry Battalion ran with the commanders and top brass. Afterward, they gave a speech on how we were now soldiers and how people should be proud to know us. This was the first acknowledgment by anyone of rank that we had made it. A few days before graduation we went to the graduation field again to rehearse the ceremony. We got into formation ad went over how the proceedings would go and how to march off the field doing a pass and review. One thing we were told too was during the lengthy ceremony we had to stand at attention and parade rest, but we shouldn't lock our knees, otherwise we'd pass out. after the rehearsal, we went back to the daily routine, which was more or less barracks duties.
Three days before graduation, inspections passed, now the end of the tunnel was in sight. Third Platoon was a family now, a family that would soon part ways. We were all in good spirits, the stress level had decreased significantly this final week. The drill sergeants had eased off us, and joked around with us more. Our families would be arriving the following day and we would be able to stay off post with them overnight before graduation. I was anxious to see everyone from home, hoping they would see a difference in me for the better. That night, the pillow raids were on schedule, except this time it would be a mass onslaught on Second Platoon. Right after bed check, we were surprised by First Platoon storming into the back door, catching us off guard. It was an all out melee' in the barracks, and in the process of it all, someone damaged the floor mural that Drill Sergeant Hicks warned us at the beginning of the cycle to never touch or desecrate. The raiders left, and some of us stayed behind in our barracks to try to repair the mural while others left out for the big raid to end all raids. The few of us who stayed behind were quickly trying to fix the mural and get rid of the scuff marks on the floor when all of a sudden, the lights came on and someone yelled out "attention!" We knew by the sound off that our visitor was no drill sergeant.
Captain Cook had been getting ready to leave out for the day when he spotted some of First Platoon running from our barracks. He started to catch up with them when our platoon's raiders emerged from the barracks. He stopped them and escorted them upstairs.
"I cannot believe that my Delta soldiers are acting like this," he began.
"Two more days and you should be walking down that field graduation, but now I don't think that's going to happen. You have embarrassed me beyond words." He went on by saying that our families would not be joining us the next day, and that he was calling in our drill sergeants. It was now approaching 2230, or 10:30 pm, an hour past our lights out. We had to go down to the company area and get into formation. Two staff duty sergeants came out and stayed with us while Captain Cook went into the CQ office. He then ordered the other platoons to come down and join us. We got smoked almost as bad as the time the female drill sergeant nearly killed us. After a while, Drill Sergeant Hicks arrived and lit into us. He and Captain Cook went back and forth on us, then we were dismissed to the barracks. We had not been able to fix the mural or finish getting rid of the scuff marks, so when we got upstairs, Drill Sergeant Hicks went nuclear on us. We had came this far and now we had screwed it all up. The whole time we were in training we had never seen Drill Sergeant Hicks this upset. Captain Cook came upstairs to the barracks again and told us again that all family day was canceled and that graduation was on hold as of now. So close yet so far away....
In just twenty four hours, I was supposed to be reunited with my family and the following day complete the hardest journey I had ever taken in my life until that point. Now because of some crazy fun we thought we were having, it was all null now, and no one was to blame but ourselves. We had become a family, a unit, a brotherhood, and were all in this mess together. The new rising sun faded out of sight behind the mountain we had created, were we ever to overcome it and see that light again?
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