Reader, i don’t have all the details, but relay this important story to you second-hand because of its relevance to our lives and our relationship with G_d. And, oh by the way, i could absolutely kiss the sergeant mentioned below. He is too-often rare who understands the power of grace in a young man’s life…
Part 1 of 2 follows.
3rd Platoon (the Hell Hounds), Company B, 2-39th IN, 165th Infantry Brigade is in the midst of another punishing training exercise. It is about six weeks into an eleven-week marathon called Army Basic Training. In this space, fatigue is a constant companion. Stress is your buddy. Hunger keeps creeping in, and pain has simply become the sensation of weakness leaving the body.
And something breathtaking – but very dangerous – is beginning to happen. The “edge” of the warrior is beginning to be drawn out of a young man. Mantras like “yes Sir!” and “we’ll make that happen Sergeant!” now flow easily, and even sincerely off the lips of the man who is ALMOST not a boy any more. It is a perilous time. Everything is in place for the building-of-a-warrior to continue into full completion. But, so many things can go wrong. The smallest miss threatens to end a soldier’s career before it even begins (kind of like battle… even real life, isn’t it?).
The private peels out of formation, drops his pack and collapses to the ground after less than half of a long march. He opens his canteen and slams 500ml of water under his sergeant’s strong admonition to “hydrate!” Then he tears into one of those magical military meals called an MRE (Meal, Ready to Eat). “Must go faster, must eat. Seven miles down, nine to go – mostly uphill. Oh man, am I hungry…..”
Then his buddy cracks a joke about how funny the other platoon was on the obstacle course yesterday. “Man, those girls couldn’t even get over the low net!” “We kicked their butts!” And its on… Soldiers laughing and telling stories, instantly forgetting the pain of the past three hours humping over hills with 126-pound packs on their backs. Infantry. You gotta love ’em.
All too quickly, the Sergeant yells: “Saddle up ladies! Playtime is over! Police up your areas. Stow your equipment and supplies. Then fall in!” There is no doubt what this means. Clean up, put the food away into the packs, and get ready to march. The private has not taken on enough fuel to make it to the end of the march, but his orders are clear.
Enter the daily real-life situations of a warrior-in-training. “What to do? If I just slip my granola bar in my pocket, I might have enough juice to make it home. Gotta keep up! And anyway, its just a granola bar. No big deal…”
The private falls in and starts the march home. Everything is going well and he is thinking it might just be time to sneak a few bites of food to keep up the pace. Then, as invariably happens in any military campaign, the unexpected happens.
Soldiers! Halt! Form up for inspection! Pockets first, then canteens, web-gear and packs! Instinctively, the private peels off and starts preparing for inspection…
Oh crap! “What am I gonna do with that granola bar in my pocket?!?!”
For those of you who have never been through boot camp, i can assure you that whatever is about to happen, it is ALMOST CERTAINLY not good.
Stay tuned!
see: The-hammer-and-anvil-of-grace.html
