[The Reaper]

Final Push

I awoke about three hours later. I was alarmed at first and then realized that I felt re-born. My shoulders did not hurt as much and the sky had cleared. There was but a sliver of moon light left but the stars were all quite visible. Things began to look up. I looked at my watch again and asked myself “What the hell am I still doing here?” Cheerful, in a strange sort of way, I repacked my gear and moved out to Camp Mackall. I arrived within one kilometer of my destination early in the morning. There was a large body of candidates moving in the same general direction some distance behind me. I still took those much-needed breaks every few hundred meters, but my adrenaline was now numbing my pain. I was almost home and with plenty of time to spare. I had made it after all! I arrived to the cadre shed and read the instructions at the door. “LRIM Candidates knock three times and stand back from door.” I knocked as prescribed and waited … nothing. I tried to be patient, but this rucksack was not getting any lighter. I knocked again. Finally, a cadre member came out. I handed him my scorecard and he looked me up and down for a moment. “Candidate, you have completed the LRIM. Your priorities of work are personal hygiene, sleep and taking care of your gear. Follow all instructions from the board. Do you understand?” I replied an affirmative. He disappeared back into the shed as he closed the door behind him. That was it; monotone voice, no emotion, no encouragement. I shook my head and smiled as I walked away towards my hut. I made it! I would have shouted and pumped my fist in the air, only I was too tired to celebrate. Besides, the selections had not been made yet. I could still fail this venture, and that was one real sobering thought.

A Full Company of Men

Selection came in a quick swath after we arrived from Fort Bragg where we returned our issued equipment. Two days had passed since the LRIM and the instructors made sure to pay little attention to us. This lack of attention unnerved us some. What was the final decision? How did we do? The lack of input was maddening. We had just gotten off the trucks at Camp Mackall when the cadre shouted for us to get into a hut formation. Then, it came. We saw about four cadre members approach us with several lists on hand. We looked nervously around each other in Hut 3’s formation. These were the guys that I had become close to during this ordeal. I knew who I wanted along side me in a team, if we made it. I knew who I didn’t feel was fit for this outfit. But, who was I to judge that? I didn’t even know if I had been considered as good enough to even train in SF. Roster numbers began to be called out in sequence of smallest to largest. As the numbers approached mine, my heart rate increased dramatically. As they passed me, I calmed down, but only slightly. As I looked around, about twenty-five candidates were pulled from our formations and placed in their own formation behind the cadre’s podium. They were the “non-selects”. They were quickly segregated away from us and were marched to another area. I looked around and noticed that our tight little group from the first bay in Hut 3 was still intact. We had lost quite a few in the previous three weeks, but, the ones that remained were good soldiers. The next list was read in the same sequence. This was the list for the guys that had performed marginally and had to go to an official selection board to see if they would be allowed in. Again, my heart rate went up as the numbers approached me, and then slightly subsided as they passed me. “Man, I think I’m going to die from a heart attack,” said another captain to my right. This produced a muffled giggle from us. We felt the same way. “Ok ladies …” shouted the cadre, “I want a mass formation of you guys right here in the center while I double check my list.” Damn it; more mind games, I thought. “All right … Roster number … nah, I’m just kidding,” said the instructor, “you men have been selected … congratulations.” You could have heard a pin drop as we looked around in the formation. We didn’t know what to do. I felt a few guys shake my shoulder from behind and say, “We made it man, we made it!” I allowed myself a smile. The course commander approached us in disbelief. Our silence and shock was still deafening. We didn’t know if it would be appropriate to celebrate. But, the emotions were just cooking inside of us. “Gentlemen …” he shouted, “that is the sorriest excuse for a response I have seen in a class yet! Go ahead, congratulate yourselves!” We erupted into pent up emotion and one could see hugs, high fives and handshakes all over the place. There were just sixty-eight of us, but it sure sounded like a full company of men.

(THE END. I will include the Glossary, if requested)