July 17, 2011 - Somewhere in Arkansas

Sunday, July 17, 2011:

It was an early morning wake-up at T1G.  (For those of you who are interested, T1G’s website can be accessed at http://www.t1g.com/) Daylight allowed me a better perspective of where we were.  At 6:30 am the warm air was already heavy with humidity. A dirt road was the only access in or out of the compound.



To the south was a tree line.  Far off in the opposite direction, I recognized a farm identified only by the large sprinkler irrigation machinery that traveled over the fields on large wheels.  I remembered seeing the same type of sprinkler systems used on sod farms back home; other than the buildings used for training or sleeping, there were no other structures in sight.

After breakfast we underwent medical screening to determine who would be eligible to take the PT test.  A number of people were temporarily rejected because of elevated blood pressure readings.  Others were advised that they could not continue until they provided their records for any one of a number of reasons.  Some still needed chest X-rays, hearing tests, dental records, and what I thought to be the worst – the required vaccinations.  Relieved that I had gotten all of my medical requirements completed, I remembered thinking, “How could so many people report for training without having satisfied the medical requirements?” I would soon find out: administrative glitch. When it came my turn for the medical review, I was surprised to learn that they had no records of my EKG, hearing test, or inoculations.  After attempting to convince the staff that I had taken and forwarded all of the required tests, the nurse simply opened the folder to show me that the records in question were indeed missing.  I could feel myself becoming anxious over the foul-up.  What if I couldn’t rectify this situation?  I wouldn’t be able to go back to my old job since I had been granted a year’s leave of absence from the college.  A new dean had already been appointed in my position, and a faculty assignment wasn’t an option since the classes had already been scheduled to other instructors.  Being that is was Sunday only added to my frustration.  Since my doctor’s office was closed, I couldn’t contact anyone to fax the necessary information.    Those who had the proper documentation would be taking the PT test Monday, the next morning.  The rest of us would have to scramble and try to obtain the reports that were needed before we could take the test.  So far, this wasn’t going well.  Being my birthday added a little more sting to the situation.

That evening we gathered behind the dining facility (or DFAC) to walk through the two-part PT course for familiarization.  The first event was a quarter mile run which included ascending and descending a set of stairs twice.  It would have to be completed in 2½ minutes.   As we walked the track, there were grumblings about its condition.  It wasn’t a smooth cinder track, but rather quite rocky.  Following the quarter mile run, we would have to complete an obstacle course.  Starting from a seated position, we were given 2 minutes to go over a 2 foot low hurdle, clear a 4 foot wall, carry 2 – 30 pound ammo cans up and down a staircase, go through a 15 foot tunnel, run through a 30 foot serpentine course, then run 75 yards to a 20 foot ladder climb, drag a 185 lb. dummy for 20 feet, and then fire an empty weapon four times within a six inch circle.  Passing seemed to be within the realm of possibility.

At this point, allow me to digress to provide some background information on my physical preparation for training (or more accurately, describe some of the problems I experienced in trying to prepare). Having developed plantar faciitis just prior to my planned schedule of training, I chose to start on a stationary bike instead of running.  However, that was eventually interrupted by the gout; hand, foot and mouth disease; and an allergic reaction to one of my medications.  What a mess.  Eventually, I made my way back onto the stationary bicycle, 12 pounds lighter.     

On Monday, while most in the group were taking the PT test, I was back and forth on the phone with my doctor’s office. I was advised by the medical staff that my EKG results were confirmed, but they had no record of the required shots which I had received.  I guess the colonel jinxed me at the airport when he joked about me looking like “… a nine shot guy.”  “Please roll up both sleeves.” The nurse ordered.  As it turned out, I only got stuck six times.