Blown for Good - Marc Morgan Headley [99]
They kept driving and yelled out to go left or right at certain points and we just ran all over the property. The Int Base covers over 500 acres and some parts were fairly undeveloped. We ran all over the property and kept on running. When one of us slowed down or stopped, the others were ordered to grab that person and force them to keep going. No matter what, we were not allowed to stop for any reason. We ran across grassy areas, dirt, pavement, through trees, and anywhere else the guys on the motorcycles decided to drive. It was almost as though we were not going anywhere specific, but that we were just going to run until someone decided we had run enough.
Finally, one of the girls collapsed. She could not run any more. She was tired and was crying. The rest of us were made to do push–ups while she was yelled at and made to get up and start running again. She cried and ran at the same time. It was horrible to watch. It was horrible to experience. It was just plain horrible, that sick feeling you get when seeing something awful and wrong.
That moment would be burned into my existence forever. I knew then that I would never forget this for the rest of my life. 2:30 a.m. came and we were told that we were now going to run to where we would be sleeping. Finally the torture was over. We were told to run out to the South end of the property. This did not make sense, because there was NOTHING out there. No buildings, no shelters, nothing. Just some trees and grass fields. But as the motorcycles roared behind us, we ran and ran until we reached the South end. We were ordered to stop and told to stand at attention in the dark. Most of us used this time to catch our breath. The one girl was still weeping and would sniffle from time to time amidst her crying.
About ten minutes passed before we all saw a pair of headlights coming towards us. It was a pick-up truck. It pulled up; someone got out and climbed into the bed of the truck. They proceeded to kick a large bundle out of the back of the truck and throw some poles down on the ground. The person got back into the truck and drove off.
It was pitch black out and if there was any moon out it was a sliver. We could barely see each other a few feet away. The only light was from the stars themselves and a faint glow from the nearby town of Hemet. Jon Stumbke told us that we would be sleeping out here tonight. Two tents were provided for us and that was all we got. We were told that we would be marched to our next assignment at sunrise and that we had better have our tents packed up and ready to go by the time the sun was up over the mountain. He got onto his motorcycle, as did the two security guards that so happily drove after us with him for the last two hours. They drove off and with them left the only light we would see for the rest of the night.
Until this moment in my life, I had never appreciated the Coleman camping tent that I had enjoyed as a child. You put two poles into a fabric sleeve and poof you have a tent! The tents we were given on this night were no Coleman tents. They were what appeared to be very old musty canvas tents from the army. They could not have been less than 30 years old, and the poles that went with them were very old and worn down. It took us at least 45 minutes to even figure out how the tent and poles went together. It was pitch black and we had never even seen these tents, much less set one up previously.
By about 3:30 a.m. we had the tent set up. Turns out that old style tents did not have bottoms like the new nifty Coleman tents either. We had tents, but no blankets, or tent bottom to sleep on. The grass was still a bit wet from earlier that night. Most of the grounds at Gold have sprinklers that are timed to go off around 11:00 p.m. Four hours later there was still a bit of moisture left. Most of us had to just rest our head on our hands or sleep directly on the grass. Luckily, it was summer and it was not too cold outside. That was about as lucky as we would get.
At 4:30 a.m. the sprinklers