With my arms still sore from the inoculations the day before, I, and three others were scheduled to take the PT test. Two of the other three, like me, had finally gotten the clearance that was needed. The last of the three was Pasquale Patti from Linden, NJ. He had already taken the test on Monday, but missed the time by about 10 seconds; so this would be his second attempt. If he didn’t make it this time, he would be going back home. The pressure was on. Knowing that he was from Jersey, I watched him test on the previous day. It was then that I learned that he was a member of a previous session, and had blown out his left knee during the same test a few weeks back. As he ran around the course, it was obvious that he was favoring his left leg.
In describing the PT courses, I failed to mention that we had to complete them wearing a 30 lb. vest, carrying an 8 lb. M-4 rifle and a holstered side arm. I placed the vest over my head, and let it fall onto my shoulders. My knees buckled a bit under the weight. It was much heavier than the body armor that I’d last worn over eight years ago while in the state police. I draped the rifle over my shoulder using the “1-size-fits-all” sling and was concerned that it might drag on the ground during the test. I tightened the gun belt as best I could, and hoped that it wouldn’t fall off while I ran, as it did on one of the previous candidates.
About a quarter into the first of two laps, I was feeling pretty good. By half way into the same lap, things quickly eroded – so much for being in shape! After descending the stairs following the first lap, my legs started feeling like jello; and as I rounded the last curve my lungs were on fire. With each inhalation, the added weight of the vest pushing on my chest got worse. With each step, running seemed like a nightmare in which my heavy legs were moving, but I wasn’t getting anywhere. As I crossed the finish line, I didn’t bother listening for a completion time since I was concentrating on not falling down, as I had seen someone do the day before. The best I could do was to look back to the instructor with the stopwatch. After he gave me the “thumbs up” I was relieved that the first part of the test was over. After we all completed the ¼ mile run, we were given a brief respite before beginning the next course.
As soon as I began the obstacle course I could feel the effect of the heavy armored vest as I stood up from the chair. After going over the low 2 ft. obstacle, I leapt up onto the 4 ft. wall. As I swung my legs over, the rifle got hung up and I was snagged, with my legs dangling above the ground. A little manipulation of the rifle was all that was needed to free myself, so it didn’t add much to my completion time. It did, however, provide a few people with a good laugh. The other obstacles posed no problems. Patti (the other Jersey guy) followed me in the rotation, and successfully passed both events – gutsy guy.
That evening, with the PT test no longer hanging over my head, I began to “settle in” and started getting more acquainted with my classmates. In a squad bay of about 20 others, I bunked next to John, a big guy – in good shape, shaved head, and focused (Patti would later come to nick-name him, “the specimen”). He seemed to be pretty quiet and somewhat kept to himself. His planned, deliberate actions seemed to convey his experience. He looked to be in his early to mid-forties. After briefly engaging in some small talk, I detected what I thought to be a New England accent. “You from Boston?” I asked. “No, Long Island; but I live in Charleston.” He replied. After serving in the Navy for 9 years, he worked for 2 sheriffs’ departments in South Carolina. He left law enforcement in 2002 to take part in the international police mission, spending time in Kosovo and Afghanistan and has been doing it ever since. I would come to rely on his experience and take his lead regarding what to expect; both in the upcoming training and during the mission.
Within a couple of days, I decided that breakfast was my favorite meal at T1G. This was because, more often than not, we could order Belgian waffles - and for those of you who know my eating habits, the waffles were of course, drenched in syrup. If the waffles weren’t available, there was always an egg entre prepared in one form or another.
T1G also provides training for select teams of the armed forces. The dining schedule was such that the military groups were usually behind us in the serving line. During our stay, there were some special forces teams undergoing training as well. Many in our group of police trainers commented on the lean, healthy look of the younger, more fit, special forces members. The praises were genuine, with a true appreciation for the sacrifices they were making to their calling and our country. Along with my admiration for their service, I noted how they moved about so freely, without complaints of sore muscles and old injuries. I wondered if others’ shared my respect for the members of the special forces, with a twinge of envy of their youth.
After having completed the medical and psychological screenings, at breakfast on the day we would begin training in earnest, John and I discussed the upcoming training schedule over my Belgian waffle floating in syrup. The practical instruction would consist of firearms training, vehicle operations, tactical movement, combat casualty care, etc. Other topics such as the Afghan culture, administrative procedures, stress, IED’s, etc., would be covered in the classroom. About midway through the meal, John slowly looked down into his bowl and said somewhat dejectedly, “Look at this! Here I am eating granola, and the special forces guys are eating Fruit Loops!” Well, I guess I wasn’t the only one thinking of earlier days…
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