Chosen Soldier - Dick Couch [69]
We reach our destination about 1400 that afternoon. There the team leader checks in with a “Pinelander,” while the rest of the team fans out in a security perimeter. Pinelanders are citizens of the mythical nation of Pineland, one of the nations in the unconventional scenario that is to be played out in some detail during Phase IV. Here the Pinelander is a civilian role player who, like the point sitters on the navigation courses, gives them a new set of coordinates. He also takes possession of their one-wheeled jeep trailer and gives them the parameters of their next evolution, the movement of the deadman. The deadman is a five-hundred-pound duffel bag filled with sand. Our cadre sergeant appoints a new team leader and takes the old one aside.
“You made it here within the time limit, but that was only due to the sweat and determination of your men. They busted their butts for you. But if you’d rigged the trailer better and rotated your men on a more consistent basis, you could’ve made better time and not worked them as hard. You have to get the job done, but you also have to take care of your men, understand what I’m saying?”
“Roger that, Sergeant.”
“Fair enough. Get back with your team and let’s drive on.”
While the cadre sergeant speaks with the outgoing team leader, the new team leader is directing the lashing of the poles to carry the deadman at a shoulder carry. They use one of their soft litters to hold the weighted duffel and lash their four poles in a tic-tac-toe or pound-sign configuration to support the litter. The team leader briefs the Pinelander and the cadre sergeant on his route and rotation schedule. Then the team members ruck up, shoulder their load, and set off. They are able to get eight men under the load at one time. Counting the weight of their rucks, each man has to bear up under a little over 125 pounds when he’s under the litter. The initial movement is along an uneven road through a wooded area. They move for four hours, pausing only for water breaks and to rotate fresh men under the load. All the while, the cadre sergeant notes who shoulders their weight and who does not. When the team takes a break and the team leader calls them back to continue their journey, he observes who is first up and who helps his buddy up—who complains and who contributes. When they’re all tired and beat, who still manages to be a team player and who does not. Our cadre sergeant is also keeping a close eye on his candidates for injuries. At this stage of selection, they all hurt, but the cadre sergeant doesn’t want to lose a man who is performing well to a minor, nagging injury or have a man sustain a permanent injury.
The team events continue for fifty hours. One event has them moving metal cans of sand, each weighing upwards of 120 pounds. In another, they must move a forty-foot telephone pole. Still another has them pushing an old derelict jeep. There are short periods where they can catch an hour of sleep here or a half hour there, but they’re on the move most of their waking hours. Meals are MRE rations by the side of the road. As they move from event to event and team leader to team leader, the dynamics of the team unfold. Some men who I watched struggle on the ruck marches and on the Star emerge as quiet, determined team players. Others evolve as peacemakers, taking charge of teammates who start to grumble and quieting them down. A few, while doing their best, are starting to break down physically. On my team, one of the men was limping noticeably under the load.
“Here, I got it,” one of his teammates says as he steps beside him and takes the weight of the bar from his shoulders.
“Hey, it’s not your turn yet,” the limping man replies.