Dehydrated

Since I still had some time before reporting to the Wardak assignment, there I sat in the Personal Security Detail (PSD) class.  The instructors seemed knowledgeable and sincerely interested in providing the students with a good learning experience.  There were eight of us in the class; including two Nepalese Ghurkas. The topics of instruction would include weapons familiarization, driving, convoy operations, combat first aid, protection of the “principal”, tactical movement, and plenty of live-fire drills.

In the days leading up to the live fire range exercises, we were introduced to different weapons.  I’m not sure of everyone’s knowledge of firearms, but if it means anything, included were the M249 and the M240B machine gun; the 870 shotgun (with which I was familiar from the state police); and my new favorite, the M99 Barrett .50 caliber rifle.  Now I’m no gun nut, but the rifle won me over.  The M99 is a single shot sniper rifle whose round reportedly can travel up to 5 miles.  Even before firing it, I was drawn to it because of its looks.  I began to refer to it as the Dr. Doom Weapon.  Neat stuff.

Most who know me, also know that I don’t drink a lot of water – despite all your best efforts to get me to do so.  Even my physician, after I had taken the battery of tests and examinations to come here, told me that I needed to be drinking more water.  So, of course, the instructors’ warnings to hydrate the day and night before we were scheduled to go to the range fell on deaf ears. 

One could tell by early morning that it was going to be a scorcher. By 7am, after loading the trucks with the range equipment needed for the day’s shooting, we were already drenched in sweat. Since there would be no pit stop on the way, I decided to pass on drinking water until we got to the range.  As soon as we arrived, we began qualifying with both our handguns and rifles.  I was glad to see that all were good shots, since we would be shooting past each other during our bounding over-watch exercises.  By lunchtime we were finished with the qualifications and started practicing shooting while moving.  Since I started drinking water to quench my thirst as soon as we got to the range, I could feel the water jostling around in my belly as I ran past the targets, firing at them on the run. 

In the afternoon sun we started the training in earnest. We practiced our movements as we had a few days before, but this time with live ammo.  After my partner and I engaged our first target, I shouted, “Set!”  This was his signal to get ready to move while I would provide cover fire for him to retreat to my rear. After a few seconds, I yelled, “Move!” and began firing downrange.  He immediately shouted back, “Moving!,” before turning and retreating to the rear.  As I continued to shoot towards the targets, from behind, I heard him shout, “Set!”  This was now my signal to prepare to turn and retreat past him.  Shortly after he started shooting, I heard him yell, “Move!”  Over my shoulder, I checked his position so I wouldn’t run directly into his fire, then shouted back, “Moving!”  As I got up and turned to run, I realized that this was the first time I was between a target and a shooter with his weapon out; let alone out and firing.  As I ran, I could see the flashes from the barrel of his gun, and empty shell casings being ejected as he fired at the targets that I was trying to leave far behind me.  While I was glad that he had the “muzzle discipline” to keep his rounds on the target, and away from me; I was also trying to figure out where the other rounds that were pinging around were coming from.  I ran to a point offset and behind him, took up a position, acquired the target and again yelled, “Set!” to begin the sequence all over again.  As I continued to fire, the source of the other shooting became clear.  The instructors were letting the bullets fly as well.  Their rounds, however, weren’t aimed at the paper targets.  Their rounds seemed to be falling far enough away from us, yet close enough to give us pause.    

Lunch break at the range:  Gear off and trying to stay in what little shade there was. Man it was HOT!!

It was now late afternoon and we were about to finish up a full day at the range.  The end didn’t come too soon.  As the day wore on, so did my energy level.  At about the time we were being told to load our weapons for the ride back, I was having trouble shielding my eyes from the sunlight. The pain from the bright sun that reflected off the bleak landscape, only allowed quick glances through my tightly squinted eyes.  I wanted to get into the truck, not only for the air conditioning; but also for the shade and relief it would provide my eyes from the bright sun.  Gathering the last remaining strength I had left, I was able to clamber into the right rear seat.  I could barely feel the air conditioning, but the protection the tinted windows provided my eyes was a great relief.  For a few moments, all I could do was sit, leaning slightly forward with my head against the back of the front headrest, and try to catch my breath. It seemed as though I had used every bit of what little strength I had left to pull myself up into the truck.  As I tried to recuperate, it seemed as though the truck was spinning. This brought on a feeling of nausea.  As I attempted to shove the bullets into my magazines, my fingers were cramping.  I could feel the strain all the way up my forearms which were periodically going into spasm.  I was losing my fine motor skills.  Lacking the strength and coordination to cinch up my vest, I decided to leave it undone in order to take advantage of the cool air that was finally making its way between my body and the hard, hot, sweaty body armor. 

Still dizzy and trying to keep the nausea under control, I was grateful when we finally arrived at the camp.  For the whole ride back, my primary concern was my ability to respond, if needed.  Since I was having trouble focusing, and my coordination was shot, I was fearful that I didn’t have enough strength to even pull the trigger, if I had to. It was a good day that was ending badly.  I knew enough to conclude that my condition I was experiencing was heat related.  

After unloading the trucks, exhausted, I made my way back to my room.  As soon as I opened the door, I began dropping my gear as quickly as I could.  As dehydrated as I thought I may have become, I still had to pee – badly. Once in the bathroom, still dizzy, and with eyes closed, I steadied myself with an outstretched arm, as I stood above the toilet.  Even when I was done voiding, I just stood there for a few seconds with my eyes closed, supporting myself with one hand on the wall.  When I finally opened my eyes I saw the darkest urine I had ever seen!  I was amazed! If it had been any darker, it would have been red!  I stood in a cool shower for what seemed like an hour.  If nothing else, one valuable lesson was learned – I gotta start drinking more water! 

By all accounts, the “hard” part of the course was over.  We would still have to complete one more day on the range, do the driving course, and finish up some coursework in the classroom, but for the most part, I wouldn’t have to worry about dehydration! 

That evening, with about six more days left of the course, the Specimen, Greg and I were called to a late meeting.  We were told that our assignment to Wardak was being put on hold because of slow construction.  Instead, Greg and I would be reporting to Camp Phoenix, at least temporarily.  I immediately asked when we would be reporting.  Our supervisor said that since Greg was already scheduled to assist with some training for the next week, I would probably be going very soon.  I replied that PSD training was to finish on Sunday.  The supervisor said, “I don’t think you’ll be here that long. You’ll probably be leaving tomorrow or Wednesday.”  With such a quick departure there was no way I’d get to complete the PSD course.  As we were talking, a member of the security team was returning from an airport run, looking dog tired.  I decided that if I wasn’t going to be able to get a certificate for the course anyway, I may as well withdraw from the class and help with the transports.