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by JudyB Author IconMail Icon
Rated: E · Non-fiction · Experience · #1302951
For a non camper, my three day field trip was notorious!
I knew from the beginning that basic training would not be easy. Parts of it were just fine, and the discipline didn't bother me because I had 39 other comrades to share the craziness with.

When word came that we would be spending three days in the "field," however, my determined spirit did a spin-out! I had always hated camping and the idea of spending three entire days and nights, living and training in the weedy, bug infested Alabama woods, made me want to throw in the towel. Of course, that was not to be!

Leaving before the sun or the birds even had a chance to arise, my platoon marched to silly little songs. It was a lonnnng hike, made even more grueling by the fact we each had our overly loaded backpack to haul along as well.

The Camp Site

I don't know about anyone else, but after marching for several hours, I was "pooped" by the time we reached our camp site. Funny thing was, there was nothing there but grass, trees and dirt!

More than one recruit sighed, "Where do we sleep?" Just then, the drill sergeant, peppy and full of energy, announced we would be given 2-person "pup" tents to assemble. My tent-mate and I made quick work of getting our stakes into the ground and eyed the inside of our new living quarters. Groans of dismay and the shaking of heads was to be seen all around us. The only ones eternally happy were our drill instructors. I'd swear this was pure delight for them.

After grouping up for breakfast, we were sectioned into groups for training. By the end of the day, we would have passed through most of our required learning stations -- first aid, rifle cleaning and assembly, physical training, etc.

The first day actually went quite quickly. By the time supper was over with and the area cleaned up, most of us were actually looking forward to crawling into our little portion of the tent to get some sleep.

But...then came the rain! Buckets of it! I know we had been told to NEVER touch the canvas of the roof of our tent. Like little children, however, we HAD touched the tent...wondering what the big deal was. When the rain came we needed no explanations. What we did need, was to stop the infernal dripping of the rain through the canvas and onto our heads!

A New Day Arises

My tent mate and I were both sleep deprivated when the sun arose the next morning. Breakfast? No thanks, all we wanted was an extra 15 minutes in our damp little confinement.

We were sorry, of course, by mid-morning when we were both hungry and parched from the hot Alabama sun. It was August and that sun could bake a cricket if it dared to not stay hidden. We drank our canteens dry, somehow making it to lunch.

Very humid from the rain, we were happy the earth was at least dry, but...we had some very insistent neighbors wanting to share our food. Bees! Gutsy, bold little bees! Apparently with the continual streams of troops training in the woods, these little scavengers had no need to look for food.

This second day from noon on was and remains a blur! Even if I were under hypnosis, I doubt I could recall anything about that second day. My memory doesn't pick up until the second night...where after the darkness had descended (and let me tell you, in the woods, dark is dark!) we were advised we would be having a "night march".

Under Simulated Attack

To train us in life-like situations, our drill instructors planned a long march from the camp back to our barracks. Mother Nature helped by dousing us with hours of drenching rain.

Rain or no rain, we were to respond to gunfire and rockets as we were trained -- hit the dirt and cover our head! I clearly recall one attack, at roughly 10 p.m., where now out of habit, I hit the ground for safety. As I lay there in that red, muddy clay water, my thoughts went to my home, where my parents were likely watching the late night news as usual.

Back in those days, 1974, the newscaster always began with, "It's 10 p.m., do you know where your children are?" All I could think with a tinge of amusement was, "If my mother had any idea where her "child" was, she would be dumbfounded!

******************************

Looking back, my Army days hold some of my fondest memories..in part because they are over with, but also because the comraderie was exceptional inspite of our tiring training, We learned to trust each other, knowing in a real conflict situation, our "buddy" would be watching our back, helping to keep us safe.

What began as a disjointed group of 40 recruits, miraculously turned into a single, efficient working "whole" that had matured tremendously after a mere eight weeks!







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