Authors: Steven Manchester
For the first week of training, everywhere David and his fellow recruits went, they ran. Monsters wearing drill instructor hats frothed at the mouth, while the boys did enough push-ups to move the state of Georgia right off the map. The camouflaged demons screamed orders that were never understood, though it never mattered anyway. Their game was all about creating chaos and pushing limits.
Private David McClain easily endured the sixteen weeks of torment hosted by Harmony Church, Fort Benning, Georgia and graduated a soldier—an infantryman. Undaunted by the sweltering heat, he stood rigid at attention, while the company commander spoke of “duty, honor and courage.” Throughout the speech, David pictured his father’s face and thought,
I wish the old man was here to see this.
When the commander stepped up to him and slipped the light blue infantry cord over his shoulder, David could almost feel the discipline, independence and strong sense of duty that came along with it. His mind continued to churn with thoughts of his dad.
He’d choke on his words for sure.
David expected orders to a regular Army duty station but was surprised to discover that Uncle Sam had other plans. After graduating in the top five percent of his class and making the commander’s list, the options for further training remained open.
Why not?
he thought.
Jump school is only three weeks long. How hard can it be?
Satan himself barked orders, while David and his comrades ran a marathon straight through hell’s kitchen. David never minded. In fact, he enjoyed most of it. There were constant opportunities for an eighteen-year-old man to test his mettle and David never let himself down. Some called it heart. David laughed. It was more of an attitude. He refused to quit and would rather have curled up and died on the side of a road than be sent home to Gooseberry Island a failure. Stubbornness played a much bigger part than heart.
As required, David made the five jumps but figured each one took two solid years off his life. The whole experience was a rush, combining raw excitement with paralyzing fear.
The night jump was a hairy one. No one could tell how fast the ground was coming or when it was time to tuck and roll. A few of the boys miscalculated and were forced to trade in their parachutes for crutches. Still, that fear didn’t compare to the first time David tested the Earth’s gravity by stepping out onto a cloud.
The first time was definitely the most terrifying,
he thought.
Thousands of feet above a checkerboard of green and brown, the jump master’s mouth snapped open and shut, while his words were stolen by the C-130’s whining engines. It didn’t matter. They’d gone over each detail a thousand times on the ground. That was one of the joys of being in the Army. Everything was done with relentless repetition, leaving little need for the human thought process. As practiced, everybody stood, hooked their chutes to the static line and shuffled one step closer toward the door. “The first step is the hardest,” the jump master joked. David quickly discovered he wasn’t kidding.
Some guys needed a size twelve right in the backside to help them along, but David was determined to see himself out. When his turn came, he hung his toes over the lip and anxiously awaited the green light. The few seconds it took to get the signal was just enough time to pick out one of the million thoughts that raced through his mind.
Ironically, he pictured one of those infamous Army commercials where decorated veterans marched in a patriotic parade. It was the one where older men from earlier wars stood and saluted from the sidelines, while small children by their sides waved the red, white and blue. “Courage is simply a matter of placing fear aside to get the job done!” claimed the narrator.
Unfortunately, he never went on to define the intensity of such fears.
With that last thought, David became a screaming eagle and, with only one step, found more freedom than anyone could ever want.
Not five months from entering America’s Big Green Machine, David graduated a second time. This time brought even more pride, along with the same picture of his negative father. As the commander pinned wings onto the line of graduates, David awaited his turn. Finally, the stern commander stood squared before him and pinned the wings above his left breast pocket. David tried not to smile.
I’m airborne now,
he thought, “Death From Above” as they called them, and the commander had sealed it with a firm handshake.
I can’t wait to show Dad,
he thought. Those in the Airborne Infantry were an elite breed of soldiers and Private David McClain was now one of them.
Hoo-ah!
A few years rolled by when the 101st came in from two months of field-training exercises. They showered, grabbed some hot chow and headed out to drink every beer ever brewed. On the way to the Enlisted Men’s Club, Corporal David McClain halted his pack to make way for a more lethal band of soldiers—the Rangers.
A battalion of Airborne Rangers was on the last leg of a death march and stumbled past them, a convoy of ambulances following in their wake. Out of sheer respect and sincere pity, David and the boys applauded. The death marches were legendary within the ranger units. They were the ultimate gut check. Lasting countless hours, men marched under the weight of full packs until eventually collapsing from total body shutdown. It was considered shameful to drop out. Though rare, there were commanders who showed mercy on their troops. This march didn’t appear to be one of those. Their commander looked tougher than any one of them. David cheered the last of them on.
I wish I were right there with them, walking in their footsteps,
he thought, and leaked his wish to one of his buddies.
“McClain, you’re as crazy as a Billy goat,” the southerner commented. “Do you realize what those guys have to go through?”
David’s eyes lit up. “I do.”
David emerged from his daydream, thinking,
Of course I have it in me
. He snickered.
I actually asked for this.
A moment later, he wasn’t surprised when his thoughts landed on Lindsey Wood again.
My God, what is it with this girl?
he thought.
It was only one night.
He thought about it some more and smiled.
But what a perfect night.
For the next few hours, he ignored his exhaustion and allowed himself to bask in every last detail he could recall.
David and his team were assigned to Camp Phoenix in the Kabul Province
.
Camp Phoenix…rising from the ashes,
David thought, reading the sign at the heavily fortified entrance. As their convoy sped into the barbed-wire complex, they zigzagged past one cement Jersey barrier after the next.
Big-time security
, he thought.
This place must be surrounded by unfriendlies.
With one quick scan, David took it all in—there was a makeshift memorial to a fallen brother; a tattered Afghan flag that had been claimed by someone along the way; laundry hanging outside long concrete bunkers that clearly served as housing.
Well, at least we’re not in tents
, he thought.
After the first formation and roll call, David located his assigned billets. Inside the concrete shelter, small rooms were divided by thin sheets of graffiti-laden plywood.
This could be a long twelve months
, he thought and shook his head. He threw his gear onto his bunk and headed out to find a phone or a PC where he could email Lindsey.
The communications building was packed with soldiers seated around two dozen tables containing three computers on each. David stepped through the heavy scent of mildew, locating an unoccupied PC in the back corner. After logging into his email account, he wrote:
Hi Lindsey,
Miss me yet? I hope so because I don’t mean to scare you away, but I can’t get you out of my head. And trust me, I’m not complaining. Anyway, I wanted to let you know that we landed safely. The flight attendant wore a five o’clock shadow, and it would have been better had they fed us bags of peanuts for the entire flight. But we made it. And you’ll be happy to know that I didn’t even have to jump out of this plane. They were good enough to land it for us.
I’ll be getting my living quarters set up and learning my way around the camp for the next few days. At that point, I imagine that they’ll put me to work. I’ll contact you again just as soon as I get my bearings.
Lindsey, thank you for giving me something so amazing to think about on that long flight and for the days ahead.
It feels strange that fewer than twenty-four hours ago, I was sitting on a park bench with you, trying to picture what the inside of a lighthouse looks like. And now I’m in Afghanistan, where there appears to be nothing but rugged mountains and goat villages. Bizarre!
Anyway, please think of me, and trust that I’ll be thinking of you over here. We’ll have to sync up our schedules soon so we can Skype. Let me know what times work for you. And please keep me updated on how the Red Sox are doing.
Talk soon.
David
Wearing his finest smile, he logged off and headed to the chow hall to recharge his batteries.
Two plates of tasteless chicken cacciatore later, he hurried back to the communications building, hoping Lindsey’s response might be waiting. When he logged back into his account, he was so thrilled that he had to pretend an excited squeal was nothing but a strange-sounding cough. Three fake coughs later, he read:
Hi handsome,
Yes, I do miss you. And I can’t believe I’m telling you this, but I’ve missed you from the moment we left that park bench. (It’s much easier to be brave over email, isn’t it?) Although it was much too brief, I really enjoyed our night together. I loved being with you and can’t begin to explain how incredible your lips felt on mine and how awesome it was to be in your arms.
Thank you for the flowers you sent before you left. They’re still making me smile.
I’m so happy to hear that you arrived safely. See, my first prayer for you has already been answered!
There’s not a whole lot to report on your Red Sox, as you’ve only been gone a day. But I’ll keep you updated.
David, although I’ll definitely miss you, I want you to know that what you’re doing over there is incredibly selfless and I’m very proud of you. You have ALL my support, respect and admiration for doing what you do. Please stay strong and stay focused.
Can’t wait to Skype with you! I’m sure my schedule is a lot more flexible than yours. Any night from 5:00 p.m. on (my time) will work for me. I hope it works for you. I can’t wait to see your face again and hear your voice.
That’s about it for now. Please be safe and remember, life is better than good.
Lindsey
David left the rancid-smelling building and had to be careful not to skip across the camp back to his billets.
No matter how happy or excited,
he thought,
Army Rangers don’t skip
.
At Camp Phoenix, David and his team spent the first few days trying to establish a routine: breakfast at the mess tent, followed by a morning debrief in the headquarters or HQ tent. This was when they received an account of the previous night’s events. At that point, missions were assigned by the command staff. It was all standard protocol. What surprised David, however, was the number of men who volunteered for the dangerous missions. Some of those raised hands belonged to soldiers who wanted to play the cowboy and exact justice; others were attached to wanna-be heroes, who enjoyed kicking in doors in order to kick asses. And then there were those who volunteered just to break up the boredom.
Without an assigned mission, morning briefings were followed by physical training, lunch, laundry and letters, dinner, hygiene and a long night of nothingness.
David and his team weren’t in-country for a full week—barely settled in—and they were already anxious to get into the action. Besides writing letters home to Coley, Craig, Captain Eli, Aunt Jeanne and his mom, David had been staring up at the bunker’s corrugated steel ceiling and couldn’t bear it a minute longer.
On the upside, thanks to Skype, communication with Lindsey was turned up a notch.
When David’s baby face first appeared on her computer screen, Lindsey lost her breath. He smiled and, if she didn’t know better, his eyes misted over with raw emotion.
“Hi beautiful,” he said, excitement oozing from his voice. “It’s so good to see you. How are you?”
A moment passed before she replied. Between his voice and face, she was taking it all in.
“I’m great now,” she said honestly—and feeling just as courageous over Skype. “More importantly, how’s it going over there?”
“Truthfully?”
“Ummm, yeah. You wouldn’t lie to me, would you?”
He laughed. “It’s been unbelievably boring. I’ve heard a few horror stories from some of the guys who’ve seen action, but I haven’t seen a whole lot worth reporting myself.”
“That’s a good thing, right?”
“I guess.”
“You guess?” She leaned in toward the PC’s camera. “You’d better not be trying to play the hero over there because I want…” She stopped.
During her awkward pause, he asked, “Yeah? You want…”
“I want you to stay safe,” she cleverly recovered.
He lowered his tone. “Is that all you were going to say, Lindsey Wood?”
“Nope. Not at all. But unless you stay safe, David McClain, you’ll never find out, will you?”
“Good answer,” he said.
“I thought so,” she teased as she studied every crease that his smile sculpted on his face.
“How’s the food over there?” she asked.
“Horrendous. What I wouldn’t do for a decent plate of pasta or real bacon and eggs. Oh yeah, and some sweets.”
“You have a sweet tooth?” she asked.
“Unlike anything you’ve ever seen. It’s terrible. Thank God I like to run and work out, or I’d be a very large boy.”
She laughed. “Good to know. I’ll start baking tonight.”
“Because you like fat guys or…” His attention was completely on her. It felt like he was sitting right there with her.
“Because I like
you
,” she blurted.
Even though they were thousands of miles apart, she could see him swallow hard. “That’s so mutual, you can’t even imagine it,” he said, his voice somewhat muffled.
She felt her face blush.
After they stared at each other for a few moments more, he asked, “What about you? You like sweets?”
Nudged from her wonderful trance, she grinned. “Sometimes, but I’m definitely more of a food eater.”
He laughed.
“I love hummus, tabouli, anything vibrantly healthy,” she volunteered. “I’m a seafood-eating vegetarian who loves my food to be colorful.”
He moved closer to the computer screen, wrinkling his nose and making her heart flutter.
“I like clams and calamari, and I really like fruit,” she added, “especially strawberries and melon.”
“That seems random,” he joked. “So meat’s completely off the menu for you?”
“Well, I probably won’t eat meat, except maybe a piece of General Tso’s chicken once in a while because it’s a million miles removed from meat.”
He laughed hard, lost in the moment. He then looked down at his watch, and his smile was erased. “Listen, I hate to run, but I need to get going. There’s a special briefing in HQ in ten minutes. With any luck, they’ll break up this boredom and put me to work.”
“Is there time for one last question?” she asked.
“Of course. Shoot.”
She grinned. “Where would you be right now, if you could be anywhere in the entire world?”
He smiled and cleared his throat. “Well, let’s see, my favorite place in the whole world is on the beach at sunset in the arms of someone who really, really likes me.”
She giggled under her breath; it came out as a mousy squeak.
“And you?” he asked.
“I have a bunch of favorite places,” she said, teasing him. “Reading in my big puffy chair. Sitting on my porch just as the sun comes up, drinking a cup of my favorite tea.” She stopped and grinned. “Oh yeah, and sitting on a park bench with someone who likes me even more.”
He laughed.
“Spending time with you right now hasn’t been all that bad either,” she added.
“I know,” he said. “I wish we could talk for hours.”
“We will,” she said. “I’m planning on it.”
“Good.”
She took a deep breath. “So when can we talk again?”
“Tonight,” he said, “in my dreams. Will you meet me there?”
“I’d love to,” she whispered.
“Don’t worry. You’ll be there.”
“I want to know the details.”
“I’ll call you when I can and let you know what we talked about.”
She giggled. “Be safe, David…please.” It was one degree shy of begging.
“I will.”
Driven by the immediate need to share her heart, she leaned in close to the computer screen. “David, if I could be there with you, I would,” she said, as if it were a final confession. “But since that isn’t possible, please know that I’ll be with you in spirit the entire time.” She paused. “Concentrate on what you’re doing over there because there’s nothing on Gooseberry Island that can’t wait, okay?” She smiled. “Hint…hint.”
“Good to know,” he said, happily.
“I’m serious,” she said. “Stay focused and please be safe.”
“I will,” he promised. “Please don’t worry.”
“Oh, and one last thing,” she blurted.
“Yeah?”
“Your Red Sox are on a winning streak. They’ve taken two in a row.”
“That’s a winning streak?” he asked, laughing.
“If you’re a positive thinker like I am, it is,” she said.
“That works for me.” He peered longingly at her. “I’ll miss you, Lindsey. Bye.”
She placed her hand flush to the screen just as their connection was severed.
At the conclusion of the debriefing, David asked to speak to his first sergeant alone. The request was granted, and they stepped off to the side.
“Top, when are you going to assign my team to one of the patrols?”
The older man studied David. “Things have been heating up this past week, lots of insurgents out there looking to even the score. You boys are still…” He stopped.
“Anything would be better than losing our minds cooped up here,” David said, shrugging.
“Listen, I’ll tell you the same thing I told Lieutenant Menker an hour ago. You boys are being brought into the rotation in the next day or two.”
“Good!” David said.
The man studied him some more. “You’re still young, G.I., but you’d better start watching what you wish for.” He grinned. “In my experience, it usually ends in a steaming pile of crap.”
G.I. stood for Government Issue, but whenever David heard the acronym it made him think of home—of Gooseberry Island. As David walked out of the HQ tent, he also wondered whether he’d just made a fool’s request.
But we’re trained for this, right?
His mind immediately flashed back to the intense training he’d received only a few years before.
Chosen from the best, David was selected a U.S. Army Ranger School candidate and began preparing for the sixty-one most grueling days ever concocted by man. The majority who dared test everything inside of them flunked out and reported it was like living a nightmare without ever falling asleep. David was confident in his physical condition, but it was the mental hardness he questioned.
No man really knows if he has it in him before putting all he has to the Army’s harshest test.
The main objective of each recruit was to perform effectively as small unit leaders in a realistic tactical environment under incredible physical and mental stress. They were exposed to conditions and situations usually exceeding those found in war. Factors such as reduced sleep, hunger, reaction to frequent and unexpected enemy contact, difficult terrain and operating under the pressures of restrictive time limits were all thrown out at once. Graduation depended on quick, sound decisions, as well as the demonstration of calm, forceful leadership under such distress. The first instructor at Ranger School—a man who had been cheated out of a neck at birth—picked up a stick and threw it over his shoulder. Turning toward the group, he grinned. “The toughest of you will return that weapon to me.” There was one sudden surge, while men punched, kicked, scratched and even bit for the coveted prize. The instructor finally reached in and plucked it from their bloodied hands. From there, he ordered the group to form teams of six. Gesturing toward a pile of telephone poles, he ordered, “Each team will shoulder a pole, three men per side, and commence running.” After reaching a destination of a mile and a half out, they switched shoulders and ran the heavy burden back. On the first day, the teamwork theme became brutally clear. After twenty-six of the most strenuous hours David had ever endured, they were allowed to sleep. Two recruits had already dropped out, while one was informed it would be best for everyone that he leave. In shame, he did. David felt ill with exhaustion but thought,
I can’t imagine what it would take for them to be rid of me.
He fell asleep comforted by the thought. Three hours later, he was violently tossed from his bunk. It was time to do it again. For twenty solid days, averaging twenty hours per day, they built stamina, mental endurance and confidence. The combat scenarios created seemed so real that the deepest fears were brought to the surface—to either be folded into or overcome. David stayed strong.
All it took was to be constantly and completely abused,
he thought, and through it all David hung tough. He continually reminded his tired mind that he’d volunteered. He had asked to be trained to move farther, faster and fight harder than any other soldier—and he refused to embarrass himself with failure.
Quitting is not an option,
he vowed. Though he never let on, it was more pride than intestinal fortitude. It didn’t make a difference. Whatever it was inside him, he decided,
I’m going all the way.