Chosen Soldier - Dick Couch [48]
The replies range from “No excuse, sir; I did my best” to a litany of excuses and/or requests for another chance and promises to do better next time. The work of the board is serious and emotionally charged. The future and dreams of some fine young men are being determined. Even at this first step on the long path to the Green Beret, the composition and quality of the Special Forces is being determined. I didn’t envy the responsibility of the board, and my heart went out to the men standing before them. Tough business all around. The ones who were just under the performance standard hear things like this:
“Soldier, you need to pay more attention to terrain association.”
“Your physical-fitness test scores are low, and you’re going to have to find a way to do better.”
“You seem to have trouble meeting the times on the ruck marches. What’re you going to do at selection when you have to keep pace on a much longer march?”
“You do OK on the navigation courses at night, but you’re having trouble in the daytime. Why is that?”
“There are spot reports in your file that say you come to formations and evolutions unprepared or missing equipment. You want to tell us about that?”
Peer rankings are factored into the performance rankings. If a man has low performance and low peer rankings, then he’s probably ill-suited for Special Forces. “The peers often tell us something that we miss,” one of the TACs told me, “because we’re cadre—we’re not privy to everything that goes on in the barracks and the interpersonal relationships within the squad. Sometimes we find that a guy who is a marginal performer is selfless when it comes to helping his teammates. That’s important in Special Forces. Sometimes we learn something negative. A few classes back, there was a kid who was a superstar. He was good on the fitness test, the ruck marches, and only missed one nav point. But he cheated on the land-nav courses. He ran along the roads and bragged to his squad mates about cheating. We never caught him cheating, but his squad mates peered him dead last and said why. When we confronted him, he admitted to cheating. He was recycled, and we watched him closely. He did just fine; he never had to cheat in the first place. So we think the peers are very important.” When a man with a stack of pink, low-peer chits came before the board, I hear:
“You seem to have a problem working with others. Your fellow soldiers don’t seem to want to serve with you.”
“Both the cadre and your peers say you need to watch your mouth. You want to tell us about that?”
“You seem to have a bad attitude about the Army and this training. Why is that?”
After questioning by the board, the soldier is asked to step outside while the board considers its decision. Sometimes it’s a brief conference among the board members and the man’s TAC sergeant, and sometimes they discuss the case at length. I’ve watched as they sent for another TAC for his opinion. On occasion, a student is recalled by the board for further questioning. If it’s a man’s first time through Pre-SFAS, the board usually recycles him.
“Private Jones,” Captain Shields tells him, “it’s the decision of the board that you are to be recycled to better prepare yourself for selection.” This is usually followed, as appropriate, by a comment from First Sergeant Carter. “Son, you need more time here. We want you to succeed in Special Forces, so take this as an opportunity to get stronger and improve your performance. It’ll give you a better shot at being selected.”
If they send a marginal student on to SFAS, it goes like this:
“Private Jones, the board is considering sending you on to selection. If we do this, do you think you can step up your performance and be successful?”
“Yes, sir. I’ll try my best, sir.”
“Very well, but you do understand that there are no second chances during Phase I. If you don’t cut it there, you’ll quickly become an infantryman in a line Army division.”
“Yes, sir, I understand. I think