Zero Day and the Agony of Defeat

I debated whether or not I would even share this little escapade here, but then decided that you all deserved a good chuckle at my expense.  Yesterday morning, I attempted to keep up with the 20-somethings.  Needless to say, this old girl got smoked.  

For each JAOBC class, the JAG school funds 10 slots at Airborne school and 5 slots at Air Assault school.   These are coveted slots because lots of people want to learn how to jump out of airplanes/helicopters and there just isn't enough money to send everyone who wants to go (especially lawyers, who don't really need to know how to jump out of airplanes or helicopters).  To even be considered for one of these slots in September, you have to do extra PT all summer long so that the cadre are confident that, if they spend the money to send you to school, you will actually be able to physically complete the school (and not embarrass the JAG Corps).  Over the years, cadre have come up with a few ways of eliminating the enthusiastic but weak.  The ominous-sounding Zero Day is the first step in that elimination process.  For some ungodly reason, I decided to compete for a slot.    

It all started at 0500 (yes, that's a.m. on a SATURDAY), and about 40 of us reported to the PT field wearing our ACU's, kevlar helmets, and boots, and carrying one small canteen of water.  The weather, even that early, was about 85 degrees with what felt like 100% humidity.....the air was so thick it felt like you could literally drink it.  And despite what they look like on TV, those ACU's are damned hot.  Long pants & long sleeves made entirely out of heavy, fire-retardant, non-breathable fabric.  Oh, and Kevlar helmets aren't all that "breathable" either.  I was seriously missing my fancy-schmancy technical North Face/EMS/REI gear and camelback!!

First Sergeant started barking the orders, and everyone was well aware that any appearance of taking a rest, or any deficiency in form, would get you an invitation to go back to bed.   I survived the muscle-stuff with no problem - 125 overhead arm claps (when counted in cadence is actually 250); push ups; small arm circles; more claps; more push ups.  I actually was lulled into thinking "hey, this isn't all that bad .... I can keep up with the young pups!".  Then the sprinting started.  Up the hill.  This body doesn't sprint, and it certainly does NOT sprint UP a hill wearing BOOTS.  But, hey, I kept up for the first two sprints and gladly returned to formation for more push ups.  Watched two guys get politely "invited to return to bed".  Then 1SGT turned it over to the Chief Warrant Officer, who was ruthless.  She made us do walking lunges to the bottom of the steep hill (about 50 meters away) and then sprint up the hill, back down the hill and back to formation, and do it again.  Never has the word "GO!" (shouted from a 5-ft tall really nice woman no less) ever sounded so awful.  I was completely soaked through and getting lightheaded.  I really needed water.  Unfortunately, the water "break" was 10-seconds long and if you were not one of the first few people to return from the sprint, you missed the water break.  I missed the water break.  Twice.  Then we dropped for flutter kicks and air cycles.  That felt fantastic ..... until Chief screamed "GO!" and it was sprinting up that damned hill again.  Coming down the hill that time, I got very wobbly and for the first time really felt fear that I was going to black out.  That's when my common sense kicked in and I tapped out.  (Some say I quit.  Whatever.  I simply made a choice to leave on my own two feet, not a stretcher).  My decision to tap out was met with a simple "hooah" from both 1SGT and Chief, and I walked (a little wobbly) back to the hotel room with my tail between my legs.  After a brief pity party, some kisses from the puppies, and a pep talk from Doug, we were on our way to go mountain biking.  Who needs to jump out of airplanes anyway?

I lasted only 30 minutes.  Zero Day continued on for an hour after I left, and continued with the relentless hill sprints, even after the sun came up.  I may be in pretty good shape for my age, but hell, I certainly cannot compete with the 20-somethings who finished Zero Day yesterday and earned a spot in the Airborne/Air Assault training program.  I'm glad I tried it, though - it was certainly a humbling experience and reminded me that I still have a lot of work to do before moving on to DCC at Benning.  

     

Phase II: Back to School

We wrapped up Phase I of JAOBC at Ft. Lee last Friday morning, and relocated to the University of Virginia campus in Charlottesville for Phase II  .... we'll be here until 29 September.  The JAG Corps operates its regimental home and school (The Judge Advocate General's Legal Center and School, or TJAGLCS) in a building leased from and located at UVA, so instead of being on a regular Army installation, we are on a college campus and living in a Residence Inn.  And the best part (other than all the Marriott points we're accruing) is that Doug and the pups get to live with me the next 3 months!!  Can't really complain about that.   

The first week has been busy, but not all that exciting.  PT every morning at 5:50 (which means leaving the hotel by 5:25), then rush back to the hotel to shower, swig some coffee and run back up to the school (including the 88 very steep stairs between the hotel and the school) to be seated in class by 8:00.   The classes are taught by more senior JAG officers (Majors and Lieutenant Colonels) with particular experience in the area in which they are teaching.  So far, they have all been great.  They know their stuff and are pretty sensitive to the fact that we've all been awake since 4:45, been through a hellish PT, and are seriously caffeine-deprived, so they give us lots of breaks and try to keep us awake.  All the classes this week and next are focused on Administrative & Civil law, so a little boring for me, but interesting to hear how it all fits together in the Army world.  Not much else to share about that - its really pretty mundane.

I am glad to report that PT is picking up a bit.  I was actually sore the other day after SFC's version of "circuit training" (its a good thing he's really likeable or I'd have some choice words about him after that hour!).  This morning, I took my diagnostic PT test and did fine.  (The Army's PT test is 2 minutes of push-ups, 2 minutes of sit-ups (not crunches, real full-on situps like you did in 8th grade), and a 2-mile run).  Even though I am in the best shape of my life right now, group PT still gives me serious anxiety .... I have very vivid flashbacks to being the fat kid in high school, trailing behind the group and feeling like a total loser.  Here, I'm smack in the middle of the pack, which is just fine by me.  Next week, the class gets divided into ability-groups based on how we performed in our diagnostic PT, so we'll be working out with other people with similar abilities.  After watching some of these guys run 2 miles in 12 minutes, I am very very happy that I will NOT be asked to keep up with them every morning in PT.

I probably won't be writing all that much the next few months.  Stuff here just really isn't exciting enough to justify a whole blog post (oh, and I'm happily filling the limited free time I have by spending time with Doug and the pups!!).  Feel free to shoot me an email or find me on facebook to say hello, though!

The Low Crawl and Other "Warrior Skills"

Tuesday was a really fun day.  We started with a very short "ruck march" (a/k/a/ hike with gear) through the woods to a training area on post.  We then spent the rest of the day in small groups, rotating through 8 different "warrior skills" training stations, all run by our peers with prior military experience.  The mission of the day was just to give us a taste of these skills.  Nobody was expected to become an expert in combat lifesaving or land navigation after a 50-minute field training exercise ("FTX").   We will have plenty of time to become proficient in these critical skills during our six week Direct Commissioned Officer Course ("DCC") at Ft. Benning this fall.

My first station was "React to Indirect Fire" station.  You've all seen this in the movies.  Essentially, there are soldiers on the ground and one of them hears a high-pitched whistling sound overhead.  He yells "INCOMING" and everyone drops to the ground on their bellies, waits for the sh*t to hit the fan, and then waits for the leader to tell them what to do, depending on where the artillery landed.  Too easy.

Our second station was the real fun one:  "Individual Movement Techniques".  This is basic infantryman stuff - essentially, how to move in order to minimize the risk of getting shot in the arse.  We all got fake weapons (as luck would have it, I got the M16 - the biggest, heaviest, most awkward weapon there was).  First we tried  clearing a building.  Now I've seen this on TV, but I never really appreciated how scary it was.  I was breathing heavy even though the guns were fake and the "bad guys" inside the building were just cadre.  Then we learned the "low crawl".   That's where you lay flat on the ground on your belly, with your face turned to the side so your cheek is in the dirt, and you use your knees & elbows to drag yourself forward along the ground.  If you lift your cheek or arse out of the dirt even an inch, the cadre yells "bang you're dead".  (Oh and did I mention that it rained a few inches the night before and we were doing this in an open field under powerlines??)  After 30 yards of that, I was spitting out rocks and grass, and had a really cool mud smear on my right cheek.  Then it was the "high crawl", which is essentially the same, except that you cradle your weapon in your arms as if you were carrying firewood and use your elbows to help you move forward.  Then we moved on to covering each other while trying to advance forward under direct fire.  So, we laid down on our bellies in a high crawl position, but with our weapons at the ready.  Then the rear guy had to shout "buddy I'm moving", to which his buddy would respond "buddy I've got you covered", the rear guy would then jump up, yell "I'm up", sprint forward past his buddy, and yell "they see me, I'm down" and fall straight down to the ground, breaking his fall with the butt of his weapon and resume the ready-to-kill-bad-guys position and yell "all set".  Then the other partner would do the same.  We did this for about 10 repetitions each, and all ended up with really bruised knees.  After only an hour of running these movements in 98-degree heat, I was exhausted.  I cannot imagine being an infantry guy doing this all day, in 120-degree heat, wearing full body armor, and, oh by the way, the guns are real and the bad guys are actually firing at you the whole time.  Whole new appreciation for what those guys go through every day.  Holy crap.

The next station was "Reacting to UXO" (Unexploded Ordnance, a/k/a/ IEDs).  That was interesting, but it was very much a classroom format.  Next up was "Performing Voice Communications" -- talking on a military radio.  There's a whole alphabet, numerous phrases that have to be used when transmitting on a radio frequency, and also a particular give-and-take and order to the conversation.  Interesting stuff.  We separated into two groups and practiced delivering messages.  Definitely useful stuff.

Then it was on to the Combat First Aid station.  "First Aid" seems to be a bit of an understatement - we're not talking about band-aids and splints here -- we got demonstrations on how to triage a chest wound and  collapsed lung;  gaping abdominal wounds (i.e., never put the organs that may have spilled out back into the body, just lay them on top); amputations; and severe burns.  Watching these demonstrations reinforced the gravity of the situation in which we may all find ourselves if we go downrange - we very likely could be the one who has to triage our buddy and save his life.  The other really interesting piece of this class was learning about the "Nine-Line Medevac" procedure.  If a convoy/unit comes under attack and there are casualties, somebody has to call the helicopters in to pick up the serious casualties.  There's a very specific code that all personnel must use when calling on the medevac frequency.  The report consists of nine-lines and all of the information must be delivered in 25 seconds or less.   The instructor told us that, in many cases, its actually the JAG who is actually responsible for calling in the medevac, so this is particularly important for us.  (Not because lawyers have any skill whatsoever in delivering brief and concise messages, but because the JAG is usually the one sitting in the comfy seat inside the MRAP when the sh*t hits the fan, so it frequently falls on the JAG to communicate with the medevac team while everyone else is dealing with the situation.)  Not your typical day at the lawyer office.  (Hey Mom - please focus on the "JAG sits in the comfy seat inside the MRAP", not the "gaping abdominal wounds" part, OK??)

Next was the exercise I had been waiting all day for:  Land Navigation.  Some of you know that I took this very seriously in my pre-Army preparations.   Doug did an awesome job of patiently teaching me the basics of land nav:  learning how to use the military grid map system, getting familiar with the lensatic compass, and learning terrain features both on a map and in the field.  So I was excited to test out whether everything I had learned had stuck with me.  But, it was only a 50 minute class, and most of the people in my group had never laid eyes on a grid map or held a compass.  So all we did was open the maps and find a grid square.  I guess I'll have to wait until we get to Benning to do some real land nav.

Finally, it was off to the Military Intelligence section.  We approached the student instructors at the treeline and were told that there were suspected hostiles in the woods, we needed to go in undetected and gather as much info about the situation as we could in 5 minutes, and report back to the cadre, using the radio communications we had learned earlier, and in the SALUTE format of reporting (Size, Activity, Location, Unit, Time, Equipment).   My buddy and I crawled in on our bellies, observed 5 cardboard cutouts:  two middle-eastern looking men, one with an AK-47, one with an RPG; seemingly holding hostage two women in burkas; and a small boy with an M4.  We noted all kinds of data about the patterns/colors on their headdresses, expressions, weapons, etc., and then called in the report.  Good stuff.

That was the end of our FTX for the day and we were all hot, exhausted and covered head-to-toe in dried mud and ticks.  At least we were able to go back to air conditioned hotel rooms and shower - a major luxury indeed!  This day reinforced two things for me:  (i) we really are in the Army, during a time of war, and we really need to master every single one of these tasks because we absolutely cannot be a liability when/if we go outside the wire; and (ii) I wouldn't want to be anywhere else at this point in my life but right here.

Hitting the Broadside of a Barn (or not)

I have a whole new appreciation for hunters, snipers, criminals, and even the Mariska Hargitay character from Law & Order.  They all make it look so easy - you just whip out the pistol and BAM! the bad guy is dead.   Its not that easy.  Definitely not that easy.

JAOBC Class 182 spent last Sunday on the firing range.  We had 7,000 live rounds and couldn't leave until every single one of them was used.  (The men were much more excited about that than the women).  Yes, 114 lawyers, who have a tendency to talk with their hands, were given loaded weapons and told to fire them all day.  This could be a Saturday Night Live skit, for crying out loud.

The cadre were definitely very focused on our safety.  We must have gone through the "two most important rules of the range" a gajillion times:  (i) NEVER point the weapon at anything you are not willing to kill or maim; and (ii) believe that EVERY weapon is loaded, ALL the time.   Got it.

Most of the class went through Preliminary Marksmanship Instruction ("PMI"), and had lengthy opportunities to fire in the simulator the day before.  Unfortunately, two days in a row, time ran out before my squad made it to either the PMI or the simulator.   About 10 minutes before they sent me up to the firing line, the PMI instructor gave my squad a quick demonstration of how to find  your dominant eye, line up the sights, put the safety on, pop the cartridge in, and how to pull the trigger.  That was it.  Holy crap!  I was TERRIFIED!!!  I was considering telling one of the cadre that I didn't feel ready and needed more instruction, but then I saw that each firing lane had its own range safety officer, who would be standing right by my side, so I sucked it up, picked up my ammunition, and headed up to my lane.  I immediately informed my safety officer that I was TERRIFIED and didn't have a freaking clue what I was doing.  He (a classmate with prior military experience) was awesome - he talked me through every step and really calmed me down.  I never thought I had small hands until I tried to hold an M9 properly and reach the trigger with enough finger to actually pull it.  Wow - really awkward.  Then BAM! it fired, and the recoil damn near knocked me over (pretty sure that would have been a range safety violation!!).  After firing the first 15 rounds, the safety officer asked if I was feeling OK, because apparently I was "sweatin hotter than a pig in pepper patch"  (yes, he really did say that .... in a long Georgia drawl).  NO I'M NOT OK.....I HAVE A LOADED FREAKING PISTOL IN MY HAND!!!!!!!  (I don't think I actually said that part out loud, though .... at least I hope I didn't!).  After firing 30 rounds, I was done and finally allowed to put the weapon down.  My safety officer told me I hit 3 of the targets, but I don't believe him.  (Did I mention the targets were these giant bright green Michelin-men?)

After I exited the line, I made a bee-line for the Major who had taught the PMI classes and told him I needed  a LOT more help.  He was fantastic - he spent about 30 minutes with me giving me all sorts of pointers about my stance, lining up the sites, positioning my hands, etc.  After that I felt completely ready for my second turn on the line.

I was hoping that sometime between my first turn and my second turn, they would have replaced the green Michelin-men with giant red barns (the broadside preferably), all positioned less than 10 yards away.  Alas, the stupid green men were still there mocking me from 25 yards.   I don't think I hit any of them, but I also didn't sweat "like a pig in a pepper patch" or have to bite through my lip to keep from bursting into tears.  That, my friends, is significant improvement!!

The day ended with range clean up.  Apparently, live rounds are inventoried, and you have to turn in the same amount of shells as the live rounds you signed out. (Or at least that's what cadre told us to motivate us to clean the range).  We formed police lines and scoured every millimeter of that range, picking up the discarded shells (a/k/a/ "brass").  We were even frisked before we could get on the bus to make sure nobody was trying to take their own little range souvenir!

The good news about the Range Day was that we were done and released by 3 pm, which meant I could go visit Doug & the pups for the first time in a week.  Doug was very amused by my stories of my first day on the range, and suggested that maybe next time I should just "pick up the bullets and throw them at the targets".  I suggested that he just get me another beer.  :)

Too Much Fun!

Yeah, yeah, yeah, I've gotten your "what the hell, when are you going to update the blog?" emails.  Seriously, I've just been having too much damned fun to sit down long enough to write about it.

First a few corrections from previous posts.  There are 114 members of the 182nd JAOBC class.  21 of those are women (~18%).   Less than half of the 114 are Regular Army/Active Duty (RA).  The rest are Reserve or National Guard.  Of the 114 total, probably 20 have prior service, both as enlisted personnel and officers, from all branches and services.  The class runs the entire spectrum:  from the 25 year old, just out of law school, deer-in-the-headlights types; to "Grandpa Rambo", a 51 year old former SF guy from the NM National Guard; and everything (and I mean everything) inbetween.  Stellar people-watching opportunities every day.

We spent the first few days starting at 0530 with PT, and then the rest of the day in the classroom. IMO, the classes were awesome (OK, maybe not so much the Composite Risk Management class ..... could have died happily having never lived those 60 minutes).  Not all of my comrades found things as interesting apparently, because there were quite a few sleepers who met the wrath of 1SGT.  As far as PT goes, two thoughts:  (i) who in their right mind shows up at OBC having never done a pushup and unable to run 2 miles?  Seriously??? (we actually had a puker on the very first day ..... after running less than a mile!); and (ii) if the PT intensity doesn't pick up, I'm going to be the first person on earth who gains weight after joining the Army.  I'm thinking/hoping the "least common denominator" school of thought will die a timely death once we move on to Charlottesville.

Now the fun stuff.  Saturday was the dreaded Gas Chamber event.  Every single person who joins the Army goes through this rite of passage (and they all live to tell about it.)  IMO, it is less about teaching a soldier how to handle gas exposure, and more of a psychological "you can do this thing that you never thought you could do" event.  Anyway, wee spent the morning learning all about CS gas (a/k/a tear gas), and the proper course of action if there was a gas attack in our area of operation (AO).  Then the scare tactics started.  Everybody had a story ("when I was enlisted, our commander made us drink milk for a whole week before the gas chamber and everybody threw up!" or "when I was cadre at Benning, one of the Privates tried to claw his way out of the chamber and I had to pull him back by his ankles, with his fingernails digging into the ground).
Blah blah blah.  Even the Commander said things like "you WILL cry.  It's OK.  You don't get any 'man points' for holding it in - just cry."  All morning, all we heard was how bad this was going to hurt, how scary it was going to be .... blah blah freaking blah.   I'm listening to this thinking:  (a.) nobody is going to get hurt -- none of the cadre is willing to risk their career by doing something to us during a training exercise that is going to cause permanent damage; (b.) this whole scare tactic thing is all part of the psychological game of the exercise .... and all these people are actually falling for it; and (c.) its not like I have a choice ... when the Army says I have to go into a gas chamber, I'm going into a gas chamber .... you can try to scare me all you want, but at the end of the day, I still have to go, so why should I waste energy getting scared about it?  The morning was entertaining, to say the least.

Then, group by eight-person group, we put on gas masks, got them checked by 2 different cadre to make sure they were functioning properly, and then sent into the chamber.  The Chief Warrant Officer ("Chief") was in there in a full chem suit, yelling PT commands at us.  We ran around, did pushups & jumping jacks - with the goal of getting us breathing heavy.  Then we were ordered to break the seal on our mask, letting some of the gas inside.  That was like swallowing fire.  Burned all the way down to my stomach.  Then we cleared & resealed the mask, did some more pushups (with burning lungs - fun stuff!) and then formed a line in front of Chief.  One by one, we had to completely remove our mask, state our full names and where we were from, and then we were allowed to exit the chamber.  (Where am I from?  "DC" of course ... short and sweet .... I was NOT going to try to spit out "New Hampshire").  Once you exited, everyone had a different reaction.  Some people had gobs of mucus spewing from every orafice.  (I just blew a double snot rocket and cleared it all in one shot .... just like mtn biking!).  There were the select few (men in their mid 20's) who exited the chamber screaming "hooah" at the top of their lungs and flexed their muscles in a bodybuilder pose. (really, I'm serious).  I just kinda walked out like, "checked that block, what's next?"   The worst of it set in about 20 seconds after exiting - eyes, nose, throat, all on fire (and for the brief moment when I thought I really might permanently loose my eyesight, I rememberd that cadre would never intentionally expose us to something in a training exercise that would cause permanent harm).  Gradually the burning stopped, I could breathe, I stopped sweating, my eyes opened, and all was right with the world again.  In the end, we all survived, nobody puked (not even the PT puker) and everyone has some great (likely exaggerated) stories to tell their friends at home.   I'm still stuck on the psychological process of the exercise - I'd love to know more about the effect the lead-up "scare tactics" have on individual reactions.

That's it for this post.  I still need to tell you about my first experience firing a weapon, and lots of other random thoughts rolling around in my head, but its time for bed.  0630 formation tomorrow for field training exercises all day.  Woo hoooo!

Day One Finished and I Haven't Been Voted Off The Island

It's official:  I'm an Officer in the United States Army.  Took the oath, signed the papers, and was told that the Army owns me 24/7 for the next 4 years.  Alrighty then, that is what I signed up for isn't it?

The first day was surprisingly .... well ..... air conditioned.  It certainly did not justify the sniveling slobbering bawling fear-induced meltdown I had last night (during which I wailed "WTF?" several times .... poor Doug!).  Hell, we're not even permitted to do any PT yet.  But, judging by the schedule we received today, we'll get to "play Army" real soon.  Next week when I'm spending quality time in the gas chamber or an entire day wearing protective gear on the firing range in 103-degree heat, someone remind me that I was a little disappointed to spend the first day in an air-conditioned classroom, OK?  

A few observations about my class:
- There are about 80 of us.  Only 10 are women.
- There are a handful of us nearing our 40's.  A small handful.  The rest of the class is in their mid-20's.  (I said something today about how the PT standards get a lot easier when you turn 40, to which the guy next to me responded:  "well, I'm only 25, so I've got a way to go".  Yeah, I felt old.)
- Some people still don't know how to read directions.  They've graduated law school and passed a bar exam, but they are apparently incapable of following the simplest written instructions.  Seriously people -- how do you screw up "white socks with no logos"?
- Army people sure say "hooah" a lot.  Even the lawyers.  Seriously....all day long.  Even when sitting in an air-conditioned classroom.

So, I survived the first day.  I didn't get voted off, didn't fall out of a run, didn't get yelled at, and -- thank good god -- did not get voluntold to be class leader.  All in all a pretty good day.