In the summer of 1990 I was in Phase One of the Special Forces Qualification Course. Back then the Q Course consisted of 3 phases. Phase Two was the military occupational specialty phase and Phase Three was the culmination exercise Robin Sage. Phase One was basic skills and patrolling. The weak had already been weeded out during Special Forces Selection and Assessment. During Phase One they were trying to weed out the stupid and uncooperative. Having graduated from Ranger School almost exactly two years earlier I was extremely confident in my ability to lead a patrol and accomplish the standard small unit mission and tactics of reconnaissance, raid and ambush. One particular mission didn't go exactly as planned however.
On this particular night we were to conduct an ambush on a road/stream intersection at a small bridge. Having already passed my graded patrols I was assigned as right side security with a fellow student. This is a fairly cake job during a patrol as our only responsibility was to let the ambushees pass us and then provide early warning and seal off the objective from any reinforcements or anyone trying to escape the kill zone.
All went well and after we heard the demolitions go off on the objective we left our position and started heading towards the patrol base. Unfortunately the only way back to the patrol base was by wading through the stream itself. No problem ya gotta do what ya gotta do but in the process obviously we got wet. Once we linked up with the rest of our element we took off, trying to distance ourselves from the simulated carnage we had just brought down on the OPFOR on the bridge. We moved through the pitch dark woods in a single file. Not being able to see anything but the reflective "cateyes" on the patrol cap of the man to your front. Although it was summer, it dropped down into the 50's. The movement kept me warm despite the dampness of my clothes and foot gear. Eventually we called a halt and re conned a good place to RON for the remainder of the night. Once we set into our night time patrol base the instructors called our student leadership together and let us go semi-admin for the remainder of the night. Unlike my previous experience with Ranger Instructors the Special Forces Instructors saw no reason to practice suffering after the training iteration was complete. Bottom line they allowed us to build a small fire to dry our clothes as long as we kept someone up to watch it and pull "fire guard."
I eagerly took the first watch while the rest of the platoon racked out under their poncho liners. This allowed me to dry off my pants as I sat close to the fire. Once my watch was up I took off my boots and socks and put them by the fire to let them continue to dry. I asked my relief to move them back should they get too close. I then happily covered my head with my woobie and using my rucksack as a pillow I drifted off to sleep. In what seemed like 5 minutes but was probably a few hours the instructors were kicking us awake and telling us we had 10 minutes to pack up and get moving for the next mission.
I reluctantly threw off the poncho liner and hobbled over to the now smoldering coals of the fire to retrieve my foot gear. I sat on a log in the early morning darkness and tried to put on my boot but it wouldn't fit for some reason. I tried again but my foot would still not navigate the entrance. I pulled out my red lens flashlight and shined it on my boots. To my consternation I saw that all my shoelaces had been melted off and the toes of my boots were shriveled up and burnt. The toe area was actually turned up like frickin elf shoes and the leather had shriveled from a size 10 to what looked like about a 6. I saw the last guy on guard and whispered at him "Motherfucker you burnt my boots"!! He shrugged and continued packing. No sympathy.
The Instructors were giving us just a few more minutes to move out and I had nothing to wear on my feet. Thinking fast I whipped out my trustee 7 inch Gerber field knife and cut the the tops off my boots. My toes would stick out like I was wearing hobo sandals but at least I could put my feet in them. I then took some parachute cord I kept in my ruck and made some make shift laces. It wasn't pretty but it worked. For the next 4 days I walked around in my clown shoes. Tromping through the woods running training missions with my stupid ass green wool socks sticking from the front of my boots. Screwed by the man again!! I was never happier than when I finally got back to the Camp Mckall cantonment area and was able to get my spare pair of jungle boots. So the lesson learned here kids is never let someone with no skin in the game watch your stuff because they will let your motherfucking boots burn!!
On this particular night we were to conduct an ambush on a road/stream intersection at a small bridge. Having already passed my graded patrols I was assigned as right side security with a fellow student. This is a fairly cake job during a patrol as our only responsibility was to let the ambushees pass us and then provide early warning and seal off the objective from any reinforcements or anyone trying to escape the kill zone.
All went well and after we heard the demolitions go off on the objective we left our position and started heading towards the patrol base. Unfortunately the only way back to the patrol base was by wading through the stream itself. No problem ya gotta do what ya gotta do but in the process obviously we got wet. Once we linked up with the rest of our element we took off, trying to distance ourselves from the simulated carnage we had just brought down on the OPFOR on the bridge. We moved through the pitch dark woods in a single file. Not being able to see anything but the reflective "cateyes" on the patrol cap of the man to your front. Although it was summer, it dropped down into the 50's. The movement kept me warm despite the dampness of my clothes and foot gear. Eventually we called a halt and re conned a good place to RON for the remainder of the night. Once we set into our night time patrol base the instructors called our student leadership together and let us go semi-admin for the remainder of the night. Unlike my previous experience with Ranger Instructors the Special Forces Instructors saw no reason to practice suffering after the training iteration was complete. Bottom line they allowed us to build a small fire to dry our clothes as long as we kept someone up to watch it and pull "fire guard."
I eagerly took the first watch while the rest of the platoon racked out under their poncho liners. This allowed me to dry off my pants as I sat close to the fire. Once my watch was up I took off my boots and socks and put them by the fire to let them continue to dry. I asked my relief to move them back should they get too close. I then happily covered my head with my woobie and using my rucksack as a pillow I drifted off to sleep. In what seemed like 5 minutes but was probably a few hours the instructors were kicking us awake and telling us we had 10 minutes to pack up and get moving for the next mission.
I reluctantly threw off the poncho liner and hobbled over to the now smoldering coals of the fire to retrieve my foot gear. I sat on a log in the early morning darkness and tried to put on my boot but it wouldn't fit for some reason. I tried again but my foot would still not navigate the entrance. I pulled out my red lens flashlight and shined it on my boots. To my consternation I saw that all my shoelaces had been melted off and the toes of my boots were shriveled up and burnt. The toe area was actually turned up like frickin elf shoes and the leather had shriveled from a size 10 to what looked like about a 6. I saw the last guy on guard and whispered at him "Motherfucker you burnt my boots"!! He shrugged and continued packing. No sympathy.
The Instructors were giving us just a few more minutes to move out and I had nothing to wear on my feet. Thinking fast I whipped out my trustee 7 inch Gerber field knife and cut the the tops off my boots. My toes would stick out like I was wearing hobo sandals but at least I could put my feet in them. I then took some parachute cord I kept in my ruck and made some make shift laces. It wasn't pretty but it worked. For the next 4 days I walked around in my clown shoes. Tromping through the woods running training missions with my stupid ass green wool socks sticking from the front of my boots. Screwed by the man again!! I was never happier than when I finally got back to the Camp Mckall cantonment area and was able to get my spare pair of jungle boots. So the lesson learned here kids is never let someone with no skin in the game watch your stuff because they will let your motherfucking boots burn!!
Never trust anyone with your gear,no one is as careful with your stuff as you are.You learned a good lesson when it didn't really matter.In combat,you would have been toast.
ReplyDeleteEVERYTHING"S a test.(Al Pacino)