Life Comes At You Fast:Boot Camp

It seems like a lifetime ago now, since I signed on the dotted line and enlisted in the U.S. Army. Having signed about a thousand forms and allowed them to poke and prod and ask me a bunch of questions one afternoon, I was given the green light. I was sworn in and very soon thereafter I was shipped off to Fort Sill, Oklahoma to participate in eight weeks of what amounted to summer camp on steroids…that time honored rite known as Basic Training. 

It was supposed to cause a massive transformation of a lifelong civilian like me into a fighting machine known as a soldier. It was nothing that many others before me had not done. I was headstrong, rambunctious and undisciplined. All unsavory traits and behaviors that the eight weeks that lay before me would correct, or at least mitigate, for the rest of my life. 

Heading into what I had the crazy notion would be a colossal adventure, I kept telling myself that I could ace this soldier thing without even going to basic training. Of course my dad, a WWII veteran, knew what I was in for. With his guidance I simmered down a little and finally consented to what might have been the best advice he ever gave me. I cut my hair much shorter than I ever anticipated that I would, just on the off chance that my drill instructors might be inclined to show negative preferential treatment to any hippie types. 

All of the recruits in my class arrived from all around the country at the “Reception Station” in early January 1977. While we waited to be assigned to a training company we had plenty of administrative tasks to keep us busy. Things like being fitted for uniforms and my hands down favorite, getting haircuts. They had six barbers and around 150 recruits. The barbers, who loved messing with our minds, would ask every recruit how they wanted their hair cut. Some would say, “Just trim a little” or “just take a little off the sides”, but no matter what was requested those barbers proceeded to peel our heads bald in about six swipes with the clippers! After a while the guys all caught on and would come up with some crazy requests. A few even told the barber to cut it however he wanted but when they were finished, every last one of us looked the same!

After a week in “Reception” we were hauled across Post in very practical conveyances they called “cattle cars”. Aptly named for the raw number of trainees and equipment they could cram onto one of them. When the cattle car stopped, the Drill Sergeants jumped on and the chaos escalated very quickly to pure hell! Nothing we did was good enough or fast enough and our punishment came hard and fast in the form of push-ups. Dished out fifty at a clip I know I banged out five hundred before I covered the twenty-five yards from the cattle car to the barracks! But that was only the beginning…

Several weeks, and several thousand push-ups into the training regimen I was, as the saying goes, holding my own. But the big challenge was right around the corner and it had my name on it. Right now things were looking pretty good. I had recently been selected as a squad leader which was a high honor considering there were only four in the entire company. 

Then one morning after a run I started experiencing some pain in my left knee. It wasn't too bad at first, a twinge really, so I didn't tell anyone because I didn’t want to be singled out for more harsh treatment than I was already receiving. My plan didn't work out too good and within a couple of days my knee was much worse. It was red, swollen, warm to the touch and it hurt like hell! Walking without a noticeable limp was no longer possible, and walking at all was extremely painful. I knew I was in pretty bad shape. I finally decided that I had to inform my drill instructor of my situation and when I did he ordered me to go immediately and get it looked at. So I went on sick call. The medical staff X-rayed my knee and proceeded to tell me that I had a small fracture and that I needed to be off of my feet for several weeks.

Hebrews 12:13

And make straight paths for your feet, lest that which is lame be turned out of the way; but let it rather be healed.

I must admit this news was definitely not part of my plan for success. Nonetheless the doctor recommended bed rest in the hospital. When my knee healed I would be recycled back into the next available basic training class. I gave it some thought for about five seconds before emphatically telling a full bird Colonel, “NO!” I then explained to him that I was already about halfway through the eight week training and I did not wish to waste a month in the hospital and then have to start all over again.

I then asked the good doctor if there were any other viable options because I didn't see his plan as being a good one for me. He then proceeded to explain to me that he could put me on crutches for a couple of weeks and restrict my duty so that I would

not have to run or march, but I would have to participate in everything else that my class was required to do. He also added that in his professional opinion, the hospital stay was my best option because that was the only way that he could see my knee healing sufficiently.

I Peter 5:8

Be sober, be vigilant; because your adversary the devil, as a roaring lion, walketh about, seeking whom he may devour:

I thanked him very much for his time, and then respectfully asked him to break out the crutches so I could give them a try. To this day, some forty-six years later, I am still totally amazed that the doctor, a Colonel in the United States Army, actually listened to me, a Private E2 trainee, but he did! He allowed me to try the crutches instead of going to the hospital!

When I hobbled back to my unit sporting my new crutches, Drill Sergeant Duenas was not even a little bit happy with my decision. In fact, I thought I had seen him mad in the past but he was really mad about this turn of events. He definitely didn’t like the prospect of having a gimp to contend with and he made that abundantly clear to me. He would have been far happier to have had me go to the hospital. Then he could have rolled on with his training regimen without having to slow down for a kid on crutches.

The first thing he did after that friendly little chat, hurt almost as much as my knee did. He formally stripped me of my squad leader status. Then he yelled at me as was customary, complete with a litany of four-letter words. His message was loud and clear. He was not cutting me the least little bit of slack. I would be expected to do everything that all the other trainees did or I would not graduate. That was fine by me because graduating from boot camp was my goal! Besides that, I didn't want favors; I also wasn’t about to get recycled to a different class and begin boot camp anew after a hospital stay. I told him as much and we commenced with training.

Philippians 4:13

I can do all things through Christ which strengtheneth me.

Because of my now restricted duty I could not make an upcoming ten mile road march. Drill Sergeant Duenas assured me in no uncertain terms that I would walk every step of that ten miles by myself on the last day of training. His bottom line was, if I slipped up or failed at any task during the next four weeks I was out!

This challenge was far greater than anything I had faced up to that point in my life. I was not at all certain that I could do it, but I was absolutely sure that I was going to try! The next several weeks were very, very hard. My knee hurt so bad that I would lay in my bunk at night with tears streaming down my face. Of course I didn't dare let anyone see me cry. I also never complained and, more importantly, I never quit.

I Thessalonians 5:24

Faithful [is] he that calleth you, who also will do [it].

Somehow, with God’s help, I made it through four more weeks of required training! The worst pain I’ve ever experienced in my entire life was during rifle qualification. At one point in the training we were required to drop from a standing position, directly onto our knees. Then fall forward into a prone position in order to fire the weapon. 

All these years later I cannot find words to describe the agony. But I mustered the strength to keep going and eventually qualified as an expert marksman, the highest level of marksmanship in the Army. I still really don't know how I did that because I was shooting through tears much of the time.

Psalm 18:32

[It is] God that girdeth me with strength, and maketh my way perfect.

Gradually and miraculously my knee actually began to improve over those final weeks of training. Finally I made it to graduation day and the final Physical Training (PT) test that had to be passed in order to graduate. Of course I was also looking at that ten mile march that I had not done earlier and would need to complete before I could graduate. One requirement on the PT test was a one mile run that had to be completed in under six minutes. Not having run at all in a month I didn’t even know if I could run. When all the times were in I had one of the fastest times in the entire battalion! I performed really well on the remaining portions of the PT test as well.

When the PT test ended I walked up to Drill Sergeant Duena and said, “Drill Sergeant, I'm ready to do the ten mile march now”. I will never forget his response because it was one of the proudest moments of my life. He put his arm around my shoulder and said, “Willis, I have never seen anyone do what you have done these past few weeks. Just forget the march.” A couple of hours later I graduated with the rest of my class on my twenty-fourth birthday!

Romans 8:37

Nay, in all these things we are more than conquerors through him that loved us.