(AUGUST 1965)
This past one month was hell in Earth.
Training was grueling. From dawn to dusk, we were pushed to our physical and mental limits. Obstacle courses, endless drills, weapons training, shooting, and more. Sergeant Reynolds had a knack for finding our breaking points and pushing us past them.
The Drill instructor also takes pleasure in collective punishments. If one guy messes up, we all take the blunt of the other end of the club.
The sarge also made us run in different terrains to prepare us for the unpredictable conditions we'd face in Vietnam. One particular run stuck in my mind.
I saw a guy- Bob if I remember correctly, had stumbled and fallen due to the rough and rocky hill we were currently running. He hit the ground hard, skidding a few feet before coming to a stop, his face twisted in agony.
The drill sergeant was on him in an instant, his face a mask of fury. "Get up, recruit!" he bellowed.
Bob struggled to his feet, but it was clear he was in no shape to keep running. He clutched his side, the fall probably sprained his ankle as his face pale and drenched in sweat.
"What's your excuse, soldier?" Sarge demanded, his eyes narrowing as he loomed over Bob.
'Poor Bob.'
"You think the gooks gonna give you a break because you're tired? You think they're gonna let you rest when you're dragging your sorry ass behind your squad?! Huh?!!"
Bob shook his head as he said trembling. "N-No Drill Sergeant. I... I just tripped..."
"Tripped?!" Sarge's yelled with a snarl. "You tripped? What are you, a goddamn toddler?! Were training men here and this isn't some fucking playground! you hear me?! This is boot camp. This is where we separate the men from the boys. And right now, you're looking like a boy!"
The rest of us had come to a halt, forming a rough semicircle around the scene.
The Sarge wasn't done, he stand up and pointed at Bob as he looked at us with a mocking gaze. "You think this is hard? You think this is tough? Out there, in the jungle, if you fall behind, you die. And not just you. You drag your whole squad down with you. You put every single one of your brothers in danger because you couldn't keep up! Do you all motherfuckers understand?!?!!"
""YES DRILL SERGEANT!"" We bellowed.
"Now, do, you, understand?" He knelt down and whispered to Bob. "Because if you can't hack it here, if you can't push through the pain and the exhaustion now, then how the hell are you gonna survive out there?"
Bob responded. "I'll do better, sir. I promise."
Sarge straightened up, his eyes still fixed on Bob. "Promises don't mean jackshit, boy. Actions do. So here's what you're gonna do. You're gonna drop down, give me a hundred, right now. And if you can't manage that, then you might as well pack your bags and go home, because we don't need dead weight dragging us down and there's no dead man walking on this unit."
Bob gritted his teeth dropped to the ground, his arms shaking as he started to push himself up and down, the sprain obviously making it harder for him. The rest of us watched in silence, each of us knowing that it could easily have been any one of us in his place.
Drill Sergeants voice rang out again, addressing all of us. "You all need to understand something. Out there, there are no second chances. No do-overs. You either keep up, or you get left behind. And if you get left behind, you die, and when you die, you attract more dead bodies. So you better make damn sure that when it counts, you're ready to give it everything you've got and then some. Dismissed!"
We continued our run that day, Bob also rejoined the line after finishing his push ups.
Running wasn't the only thing we did on boot camp.
We also march and sing cadences.
"This is my rifle, this is my gun," we chanted, each of us pointing to our M16s and then to our junks in unison. "This is for fighting, this is for fun."
"I don't know but I've been told,~
Eskimos pussy is mighty cold"~
"Sound off,"~
"One, two, three four!"~
They taught us how to shoot, taught us how to assemble and disassemble our rifles like its the back of our hands. They made us do it numerous number of times, repeating the process, breaking down and reassembling our rifles over and over again. Each time, we got a little faster, and a little more confident.
I also meet new faces I can call buddies aside from Mack.
Tom Miller, a five foot eight with a lean, wiry build, he had the agility and speed of someone who was always on the move.
And Chuck Wilson, the quiet guy of our group, Standing at six foot four with a broad-shouldered, muscular build, he was the kind of guy you wanted by your side in a tight spot.
With the four of us, we completed the bootcamp together.
And now, the awaited graduation of ours finally happened.
*********************************************************************************************
We were lined up in the early morning light, our unit had grown from a group of strangers into a band of brothers. There were thirty of us, all standing in formation, awaiting our final address from Drill Sergeant.
Sergeant Reynolds stood before us, his stern face softened by a rare smile of approval. His eyes scanned the formation, taking in each one of us, from Tommy with his ever present grin to Chuck's calm and quiet presence.
"Recruits," The Sarge finally sopoke. "you've come a long way since you first stepped foot on this base. When you arrived, you were raw, untested, and unsure. Over the past month, you've been pushed, tested, and shaped into soldiers. You've faced challenges and overcome them. You've learned to rely on each other and work as a unit. And now, you stand here ready to face the next step in your journey."
He paused, letting his words sink in.
"Now that your initial trainings are done, you'll be deployed to Nam(Vietnam), a thirteen month deployment."
Some of the guys sharply inhaled, I can see some with fear present in eyes, some with anticipation, some with bloodlust, but it filled me with excitement.
"I wont sugarcoat it," Sarge continued. "Some of you will not make it out alive, your road ahead will be tough, war is hell, and you will see things that will test your courage and your humanity. But I have no doubt that each and every one of you is ready. You've proven yourselves here, and you'll prove yourselves out there."
He stepped forward, making eye contact with us. "Remember what you've learned. Remember to watch each other's backs. The bonds you've formed here will be your lifeline. Trust in your training and in each other. And always, always, stay sharp."
There was a pause as Sarge took a deep breath. "I'm proud of you, every single one of you. It's been an honor to train you. Now, go out there and make us proud. Show the world what you're made of."
Sargent Reynold straightened his back as he looked at us with a smile. "Dismissed."
With that, we were officially done with boot camp. Tom was practically bouncing on his toes, his excitement barely contained.
"Can you believe it, Jimmy? We made it!" he exclaimed while laughing.
Chuck gave a rare, broad smile. "We did. And now the real challenge begins."
"Bet you didn't think we'd all get through this, huh, Jim?" Said Mack with that annoying smirk.
I chuckled, shaking my head. "Nope. But I wouldn't want to go to Vietnam with anyone else."