Chosen Soldier - Dick Couch [47]
I watch as Sergeant Jennings goes to each of the three training platoons and calls out the roster numbers of those successful students and quietly takes them aside. “OK, men, congratulations. You’ve worked hard, and you’ve met the standards of this course. Next Monday, you start selection.” There’s a collective cheer from the students. Jennings quiets them down and continues. “Now, you’ve got the next few days to enjoy your success, rest up, and get your gear ready for Phase I and Special Forces selection. Don’t let up; maintain your focus. Remember what you’ve learned here. Selection is hard—a lot harder than this course. The ruck marches are longer, the nav courses are longer, there’s less sleep, and there are team events that will test your stamina and your ability to work together. Above all, don’t do something stupid this weekend like get in a fight or drink and drive. Be smart. Look after each other just like you did during this training. And while congratulations are in order, remember: You’ve just completed one small step on the road to the Green Beret. You’re now ready to begin the Q-Course.”
Jennings is equally as judicious when he musters those who had quit or were involuntarily withdrawn from training. They are housed in a separate barracks area nearby.
“Men, I want to thank you for being part of this course. This is not easy training and Special Forces is not for everybody. Some of you may, after a tour with the 101st or some other unit, come back to give Special Forces another try. For now, we hope that what you’ve learned here will make you a better soldier and serve you well in your next unit. Thanks again for your effort, and good luck to each of you.”
Close to half of Class 8-04, or some seventy soldiers, will move on immediately to SFAS. Another forty, those who for the most part fall into the VW/IVW category, will soon have orders to somewhere else in the Army. That leaves close to forty men who have to come before the recycle board, where their fate will be determined and/or explained to them. The board is chaired by Captain Shields, with First Sergeant Carter sitting at his right elbow and Sergeant First Class Jennings close by. During my sessions with the recycle board, another first sergeant from one of the other phases is also present. Normally, the soldier’s TAC NCO briefs the board on the soldier who is about to appear before them. The TACs know the men best, and they’re not reluctant to give their opinion to the board.
“This is a really good kid. I know he tries hard. He’s had a lot of problems with land navigation, but as you can see, his scores continually improved. Both his APFT scores were just below the minimum, but I watched him closely the second time, and I know he gave it his best shot.”
Another TAC, another student. “This guy is a total misfit. He falls out of the runs and the ruck marches, and he could only manage twelve points on nav courses—just one on the final problem. And look at his peers. His squad thinks he’s a shit bag, and most of them have rated him dead last.” The board hears the TAC out and then calls the soldier in.
“Private First Class Jones reporting to the board as ordered, sir.” He’s in a clean uniform, and apprehension’s written all over him.
Captain Shields, who is seated behind the table with the others, returns his salute. “Stand at parade rest, Private. You’re here before the board because your performance has not met the course standards, and it’s the duty of this