Dear Patient Friends,
As you may have heard, some bad luck has kept me busy these last couple of weeks. My intention to send a last update of Marc’s Basic training was stymied by the need to locate new wheels… My car was stolen right out of my apartment’s parking lot the day after I returned from visiting Marc! Apparently even old, dented Hondas are desirable for their parts. Marc and I are now the proud new owners of an outrageously teal ’93 Saturn, which he has yet to see.
With the car situation settled, I bring you… the completion of Marc’s Basic Training:
As the men reached the end of basic training, many of the rules relaxed. I was able to spend a little more time on the phone with Marc and he was still wonderful about sending me daily letters. His letters have made me feel connected with this part of his life and provided me with something to look forward to every day.
Army life is definitely a different world for Marc. His latest night of “mandatory fun” was a trip to a local high school football game. After warnings about dire consequences if the men did not respect the cheerleaders, they were herded into a stadium to root for the brigade commander’s son. So, Marc enthusiastically supported the Vikings against the other team, also the Vikings.
On October 27, the men completed a “Confidence Course.” Marc identified the highlights as “the Skyscraper, the Weaver, the Zipline Descent, and the ‘Tough One.'” The Skyscraper required Marc’s team of four to form a human pyramid and raise themselves over successively higher platforms. The weaver involved snaking their bodies through the rungs of a log pyramid. For the Zipline, they climbed a tower and then lowered themselves down a steep, diagonal rope. The Tough One involved a series of acrobatic feats at dizzying heights, with only “meager” nets and mats for protection! One challenge involved a 7-foot wall that Marc needed to vault over. Marc says that each challenge looked insurmountable until he conquered it, bringing the promised confidence.
The next day brought more of the sort of training one would expect from boot camp. The men learned about grenade launchers, antitank rocket launchers, claymore mines, and light machine guns and then the fun part- firing the weapons. The weapons produced a satisfying whoosh sound and parachuting airborne trainees provided the perfect background.
Between these two days of hurling himself against walls and firing large weapons, Marc was declared “too bruised to move” by the doctors. Apparently, as the body works to heal bruises, it produces byproducts that the kidneys need to process. Marc was bruised so extensively that the doctor insisted on running tests. The doctor placed him on a three-day no-PT profile. Although the drill sergeants usually give people on PT-profile a hard time, Marc has been so consistent with his physical efforts that the sergeants actually seemed concerned about him. Marc began to do some push-ups and a sergeant walked over and said, “Just don’t blow a gasket.” Despite these problems, on November 1, Marc completed the final PT test with impressive scores. Technically, this test was the last requirement but Field Training Exercises still awaited the men.
To get to the FTX site, the men road-marched 10 miles. Marc carried one of the large Squad Automatic Weapons (SAWs), much to the delight of his fellow soldiers. Impressed by the size of Marc’s, ahem, weapon, they called out such witticisms as, “The defense rests!” Once at the site, the company formed a circle and each platoon prepared to guard a quarter of the perimeter. Marc’s squad leader chose Marc to share the foxhole so someone “squared away” would man the foxhole solo while the squad leader patrolled throughout the night. They dug and chopped through roots with shovels, pickaxes and axes for most of the afternoon and then set up the pup tents.
According to Marc, that evening’s Night Infiltration course was one of the highlights of the training. Again, Marc’s own words convey the most dramatic moments best: “Our entire platoon lined-up in a trench and, on command, hopped over the wall, yelling… [We] began crawling toward a machine gun emplacement that was throwing real bullets at us. We had to keep our heads at 18” above the ground, or below, or else we would be hit. The machine gun spewed tracer bullets, so bolts of red sailed overhead as we frantically crawled the length of a football field. As we moved, explosives also rocked the earth around us, sending showers of dirt flying over us. During the crawl, we had to negotiate barbed wire fields and logs. We scrambled beneath the wire on our backs and slithered over the logs, always maintaining a low profile to avoid enemy fire. It took us about 10 minutes to make our way across the dark field. Whenever a flare went up, we had to freeze so the enemy would not notice our movement and direct fire accordingly.”
The following day, encrusted with dirt, the men dealt with “near” and “far” ambushes during patrol training. Marc was a squad leader in one of these sessions. Once the enemy was spotted, he silently directed the group in a flanking maneuver and poured fire (blanks) on the would-be ambushers. After the patrol training, the men went to a range to practice night fire. Some of their tracer bullets started a fire in the wood behind the targets, producing a dramatic backdrop for their nighttime practice.
Returning to camp at 2000, the men received warning that “enemy units” would be probing their perimeter until dawn. At 2200, Marc’s foxhole companion needed to use the facilities. To provide cover, Marc followed him halfway up the hill and then took a defensive position and waited. Somehow, though, the soldier returned a different way and ended up in another platoon’s perimeter! Marc waited for about 15 minutes and then, when the soldier did not show, returned to his platoon’s area. The soldier was not there, but Marc heard that he had been brought to the drill sergeants. Marc headed to the drill sergeants’ encampment and discovered his companion handcuffed around a tree. The drill sergeants decided that Marc, as the battle buddy of this prisoner, must be an enemy, too! Since he was being treated as an enemy, Marc refused to give up information despite the interrogation techniques of one of the drill sergeants (tightening the handcuffs, shining bright lights in their eyes, etc). So, Marc ushered in his birthday handcuffed to a tree!
After being freed, Marc and the others returned to their camp and raised a raiding party. His battle buddy’s crew provided a distraction and Marc’s crew mowed down the unsuspecting guards and fired into the tents to eliminate the rest. With a real enemy and live ammo, this might have worked. In this case, however, the corpses ignored their recent deaths and surrounded Marc’s crew. The drill sergeant of this platoon, one of Marc’s early captors, exclaimed, “I said I wasn’t going to release you because you’d turn around and attack us. You did. Good stuff.”
On November 5, Marc’s birthday, the men broke camp and killed some time with skits and impersonations. To much amusement, Marc led the company in a song parody he had created. After a night fire training session, the men who completed graduation requirements had their Rite of Passage Ceremony. Judging from Marc’s letter, this is an intense ceremony, with flashing grenades, machine gun bursts, patriotic and “mosh-inducing” music. On this day, my husband officially became a soldier in the US army.
In preparation for graduation, the men acquitted themselves well in a Drill and Ceremony competition. They would have won but their drill sergeant forgot to call out two of the moves. The loss of those points was enough to knock them to second place. The drill sergeant felt terrible — and even did push-ups as penance — but the men were in good spirits nonetheless. The following days mainly involved cleaning in preparation for Fort Benning’s reorganization.
Finally, two months and change after I dropped Marc off in Massachusetts, I was able to see him again. I flew into Atlanta on Tuesday, Nov. 11 and picked up my rental car. At the rental car agency, I ran into an army major who provided all sorts of useful information. After a two-hour drive to Columbus, I checked into the La Quinta hotel.
Early Wednesday morning, I set out to find Fort Benning. At Sand Hill, I waited with other family members for family day ceremonies to begin. Each platoon marched in singing cadences, some funny, some eerie, others downright creepy- “put me in a barber’s chair, spun me round I had no hair; the army life is not style, they’ve got me looking like Gomer Pyle,” “kill the enemy and take his soul, so early in the morning.” I was toward the back and couldn’t even tell Marc apart from the other bald-headed, uniformed men. When the platoons shouted their names, Renegades (Marc’s), Wolf Pack, Mad Dogs, and Rough Riders, I could at least tell which group was Marc’s. After this very brief display, Marc was mine for the day!
I kept double-checking to make sure I had the right soldier. While he wasn’t completely bald, Marc’s “high and tight” haircut made me feel like I had a new husband! The haircut is a lot of fun to touch. Marc also lost a bit of weight and was wearing camouflage throughout family day. Due to too many Vietnam movies, he looked most like a soldier when his dogtags occasionally peaked out of his green shirt. I had rented a car and we set out to explore Columbus. Over the next few days, we covered every inch of the two main blocks of Columbus and the area surrounding our hotel. There is a surprisingly robust counter-culture in the area, and we quickly settled into the local coffee shop, “The Fountain.” The men were not permitted to drink alcohol or smoke so you can imagine how many joined us there for their caffeine fix and internet access. Marc was very excited about this opportunity to drink coffee and read the newspaper. These two blocks also provide barbeque, a brewpub, Caribbean food, a used bookstore (“Judy Bug’s Books,” run by a man who LOVES the Wizard of Oz and can’t wait to travel to New York to see “Wicked”… you connect the dots), and access to the riverwalk and historic district. Outside of these blocks, you can find “Ranger Joe’s” (where we picked up some supplies for Marc); strip malls; and, of course, strip clubs.
Marc’s graduation was a lot shorter than I had anticipated. One of the drill sergeants immediately recognized me (Marc had my pictures up in his locker) and directed me to the best vantage point. We heard the soldiers before we could see them. Finally, they marched onto the blacktop. There were speeches, and a short parade, and then we were allowed to go meet the men. Marc was so handsome in his Class A’s (enlisted formal uniform) and I was so excited to spend a second day with him. I knew I would have to return him again to the barracks at night but after two months I was grateful for anything I could get!
On the third day, I had another taste of the army’s capriciousness. On Friday, Marc needed to report to headquarters and then he was supposed to get a weekend pass. I was not expecting a call until noon but the phone rang at 6:30 am. Marc’s drill sergeant suggested that the presence of a group of anxious wives might speed-up the paperwork. The women arrived to drive the men to headquarters. Just as we were about to leave, a drill sergeant ran out to us to announce that there would be no pass. The men were to report by 1300 hours and then they would be on “lock down” until Christmas exodus. We were in shock. We had no idea why they would do this. The men didn’t even begin OCS until January 5. There seemed to be no possible justification for this decision. Still hopeful that things might change, we left to spend a few more hours with our men and then converged on headquarters at 1300 hours. There were a few jokes about sending one of the officer candidates in first with his newborn baby. The men went to see what the afternoon would bring and the women exchanged contact information. One candidate working at OCS headquarters informed us that there was at least a possibility of seeing the men in the evening on the base. A few of us ran off to the base lodging to get rooms, just in case our men would be allowed to see us but only on the base.
In the end, the candidates were granted their passes, and I spent a heavenly weekend with Marc. One night the OCS candidates and wives/girlfriends went out to a pretty good Mexican restaurant. While we were there, the waitress’s soldier boyfriend proposed! We left her our best wishes and a nice tip. The base lodging turned out to be pretty cheap and I stayed there on my most recent visit as well. The visit ended too soon and I returned to the realities of my empty studio and the unexpected marketability of used Honda parts. I don’t know how I would cope with Marc’s absence and the little obstacles life throws in the way without such wonderful friends and family. Thank you for your understanding and support.