[Basenshukai]

A young Asian NCO was our Cadre Team Sergeant (CTS), our instructor. A much taller and very fit SF Combat Swimmer Course instructor from the SF Combat Diving School in Key West, Florida, was tasked to assist our CTS in order to give a hand to the already undermanned student company. Like everyone else on the tarmac, we were directed to dump all of our gear from our duffels, rucksacks, and aviator's kit bags in order to inspect the viability of our equipment. Technically, there was some gear that was unauthorized because it was not in the packing list, or was not issued to us. However, our instructors did not fuss over the matter much. They were more concerned that we bring what we needed to perform the tasks that will be asked of us. Some of the favorite unauthorized gear common to us all were the aviator Nomex flight gloves which, if cared for, could get you through the woods while at the same time enabling you to handle the etched bevel of the compass, or the selector switch of the M-4. Our equipment shakedown was fast and furious with one instructor calling out different pieces of equipment while we held it up for a few seconds for closer inspection by the other. There were a total of twelve of us and we were done in about fifteen minutes. Other groups were far less fortunate; their instructors put special effort in ensuring that every portion of this very simple task was as confusing and as painful as possible. The scene around us looked as if it had been transplanted from a Hollywood movie’s basic training scene. There was shouting and yelling all around and we were the proverbial "eye of the storm". I rather liked our situation. We quickly re-packed our gear and moved out of the tarmac onto Camp Mackall's garrison area. Our instructor gave us a quick introduction to the area, which took all of two minutes. For most of us, the memories of Camp Mackall were seared into our minds. Sounds, smells, and places associated with SFAS rarely leave you. We were quite familiar with the area.

We sent a small detail of men over to the camp's supply area to get us several boxes of Meals Ready to Eat (MRE) and proceeded to meet them over at our Isolation Facility; known to us simply as ISOFAC. Our ISOFAC seemed more comfortable than anything I was previously used to. It was a new prefab building with built-in air conditioning. We had a supply storage area up front by the main door, a classroom / planning area next and, through a doorway, the sleeping area. We had a back door at the sleeping area that led back to the rear of all the ISOFACs. We had a full view of the last two obstacles of the Nasty Nick: the monkey bars and the cargo net. In between that and us there was a gravel area and a fence that separated us from the obstacles.

We settled our gear in the classroom portion of the ISOFAC and were in the middle of making usual first introductions when our CTS walked in. We all stood where we were in dead silence. The first few days with any instructor are always filled with anxious uncertainty since each cadre has his own set of personal standards. No one here wanted to be the guy that made that negative first impression that would distinguish him from the rest of the men. The key to most courses is to be the grey man up until one figures out where he stands. To do otherwise can cause one to be that negative anomaly that we fondly referred to as "That Guy". Whatever you do in any Army School, you don't want to be "That Guy". However, this did not excuse anyone from being a leader and taking charge when it is needed. The balance between the two can be a circus wire act without the benefit of a safety net. Our CTS directed us to sit down at the table, with the appropriate names affixed to cardboard signs taped to them, and make a quick inventory of the academic material found on our desks.

On our desks we found the basic manuals one could expect to find in any small unit tactics course. There was a copy of the venerable SH 21-76 Ranger Handbook and a copy of several small workbooks such as "Special Operations in Urban Terrain" and "Special Forces Small Unit Tactics". So far, nothing was new. I expected this to run along the general lines of the Ranger Course, which I had already attended. Our CTS provided us with the usual guidelines for the course - nothing new here. What was new, however, was the amount of autonomy we had in the course. In the Ranger Course, every minute of your life is managed for you. The pressure that is in the air is mostly orchestrated by the instructors and so designed to foster mounting confusion. In Phase II of the Q-Course, the stress is mostly self-imposed by one's own lack of focus in the task at hand, or by the built-in ambiguity of some tactical scenarios. One of the major differences between SF and Ranger training is the emphasis that SF places on ambiguity. While conventional warfare may be said to be "fluid", unconventional warfare could be considered to be in an even higher state of flux. The Phase II cadres understand that they have to inculcate the students with sound infantry tactics while at the same time allowing them to develop trust in their own innate intuition. That hair that stands on the back of one's neck is an ancient defensive mechanism in all humans. Civilized life shunts these instincts, but SF aims to re-kindle them in its students.

We made our inventory of material in about twenty minutes and then sat silently while our CTS went through the usual narrative of the do's and don'ts that are typical of Camp Mackall. We were told how we were going to be graded, what the minimum standards were and made aware of a number of standard operating procedures. After that, our CTS announced that he would be departing for the day and with that he exited as he closed the door behind him. We stood in silence for about ten seconds to ensure that he had traveled some distance away from the ISOFAC. One of the non-commissioned officers (NCOs) stood up and went to take a look out the window to verify our CTS' departure. "Yep, there he goes." I sat silent as I looked around the various name cards on each desk trying to discern the pronunciation of each last name. CPT Miguel Fernandez, a foreign military officer who was assigned to us for cross training, leaned over to me to me and inquired, "Que hacemos ahora?" What do we do now? We get to know one another and get settled in, I told him. We proceeded to go around the room and introduced ourselves and said a little bit about our backgrounds.

The Team

CPT Miguel Fernandez had come to us from a counter-terrorist unit in South America. He was a smaller than average size man and his body did not betray any athletic ability. In my mind I categorized him as a runner, but nothing more. His upper torso was slender and his neck was quite the average, for a sedentary person. His unit was supposed to be the equivalent of some of our own counter-terror Special Mission Units (SMUs), but few units in the world are actually at that level of skill. In fact, from the conversations I had with him up to that point, his unit sounded more like the LAPD SWAT, than anything like the FBI's HRT, or other like units. Yet, the LAPD SWAT is among the most battle-tested such units in the world so I figured that Miguel's unit were probably not as good as the LAPD boys. He mentioned that he was not comfortable with a rucksack. "It's gonna hurt like hell to get used to one this late in the game." I thought. Two weeks prior to the commencement of this phase of training, we were asked if any of us wanted to volunteer to sponsor one of about a dozen international students. I said that I would sponsor any South American; CPT Fernandez became my "Ranger Buddy". I was to help him along the administrative labyrinth of the Special Warfare Center and ensure that he had the proper gear as we reported to Phase II. I made myself available at all times and took him around the town. But, for the most part, he was very reserved.

Captain Scott Carver had come to us from the 4th Infantry Division. He was a prior-service OCS graduate whom, as an enlisted man, was part of an airborne test platoon in Yuma, Arizona. He had over 200 HALO jumps and was qualified as a master parachutist. He had attended the Ranger Course as an infantry 2nd Lieutenant. Scott's greatest attribute was his ability to make a group focus in the task at hand. He had a great sense of humor and related very well to the men. His experience as a former NCO allowed him to see things from very different points of view. I had the privilege to go through most of the Q-Course with him.

Captain Thomas Layman was an armor officer, also from the 4th Infantry Division. He had excellent planning skills and remained calm under pressure. He was a graduate of the Airborne and Ranger Courses. He was the quietest man in the team and kept mostly to himself. Despite coming from the same division, Scott and Thomas had never met before.

(To Be Continued)