Re: Military: Most Young Americans Are Unfit (Caution: Military Stroy)
- From: aozotorp@xxxxxxx
- Date: 13 Mar 2006 13:18:13 -0800
Amused wrote:
<aozotorp@xxxxxxx> wrote in message
news:1142283738.580881.227660@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx
Amused wrote:
"Old Salt card carrying Curmudgeon" <oldsalt@xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx> wrote in
message news:g4aa12hvrcs72hmnjuuqrr4fcoml3mfmrq@xxxxxxxxxx
WASHINGTON (AP) - Uncle Sam wants YOU, that famous Army recruiting
poster says. But does he really? Not if you're a Ritalin-taking,
overweight, Generation Y couch potato - or some combination of the
above.
I weighed 165 pounds the day I started basic training. Three weeks
later, I
weighted in at a whopping 145 pounds. Start every morning at 4:00 with
a
three-mile run, with a 45 pound pack, an M-14 and a frigging heavy steel
helmet, and such weight loss is not unreasonable. Not to mention the
double
time marches, from training area to training area, all day long. *
*Two cycles before me, a group of Dallas Cowboys football players, (in
the
National Guard) went through the training. Strange as it may seem, ALL
of
them lost weight. While they were in excellent physical condition, the
demands of running mile after mile are different from the explosive, but
short duration demands of professional football. The drill sergeants got
a
big kick out of running those players into the ground. And they did it
with
gusto.
I don't know of any studies, but, I would imagine that even long distance
runners and soccer players would change under the regime. (They'd
probably
put on weight.) Carrying the pack loads simply demands more muscle mass
that running without a load.
Back in the 60's, with all the draftees, the Army ran "special platoons".
Usually composed of grossly overweight people, the platoons would do no
real
training, but they would run, everyday, all day. There were rest periods
and they took their meals in the mess halls, just like everyone else.
They
weren't trying to kill them, but there might well have been some
"attitude
adjustment" going on, too. ("Private, you WILL get up and move or I WILL
put my size 12 boot straight up your ass.) They had a very high success
rate. After the special platoon treatment, then, the trainees were sent
to
a full cycle of basic training. There was one private in my basic cycle
that hadn't had a pass, or even a day off in months. But he had lost
about
150 pounds. And that guy could run. Most of the men coming out of the
special platoons had to be issued a complete new set of uniforms, because
their original uniforms issued, looked like ponchos. A new issue of
uniforms was considered the "graduation present" from the special
platoons.
I never personally witnessed any direct physical abuse by a drill
sergeant.
HOWEVER, "they'd" been at this training business a long time. They had
developed "techniques".
One night, during bed check, it was discovered that a trainee had gone
AWOL.
At two in the morning, the entire company was woken up, (and by then, I
personally would have killed for an extra hour or two of sleep), and we
"fell out" into a full formation. (Get up, get dressed, make the bunk,
put
on the pack, and do it all in the next three minutes.) Another head
count
was taken. One private was gone.
Then, the entire company was ordered to stack weapons, get down on our
knees, fold our hands and PRAY for the private, since he obviously had
such
a personal emergency that he had to leave his buddies, and leave the
company
without permission. Then we did one solid hour of "grass drills", a
particularly exhausting form of exercise. Then, we had to return to the
barracks, take a shower, get undressed, get into bed, and wait the five
minutes before they blew the whistle to start the real training for the
day.
The reception that the trainee received, (from the other trainees), when
he
was finally "returned" to the unit, a week later, was not pretty. He was
"convinced" one night, that going AWOL again, was not an option.
We had to "buddy-up" the first day of training. This was the guy that
you
did all the physical tests with. That skinny son-of-a-bitch that I
buddy-ed with started out at 165 pounds, too. Eight weeks later he
weighted
in at 185 pounds, but he was still the one I had to carry around in the
"man-carry".
Man-carry is a staged event. Your buddy is shot. He's un-conscious.
Pick
him up, put him over you shoulder, and run 100 yards. Time the process.
We
quickly learned that the "buddy" should stiffen up, otherwise, picking up
a
dead weight is damn difficult.
Late in the cycle, we started the real training. We left the barracks,
and
lived, more or less like a WWII frontline infantry unit. Fire and move.
Set up perimeters and guards all night. Cold C-rations. (By the end of
the
exercise, every man had scrounged a P-38 can opener, and wore it on the
dog-tag chain. Nothing like running around trying to find a can opener,
when you only have ten minutes to eat the whole meal. Time management
was
an integral part of the training. It is possible dig a cathole, take and
dump and eat at the same time.
Rule #1. A unit on a does not stop for someone to take a leak. ALWAYS
empty your bladder everytime you get the chance.
Rule #2. Sleep is important. And you don't know when you'll have the
next
chance to sleep. If you have some down time, clean your weapon and take
a
nap. In that order.
Rule #3. ALWAYS carry plenty of water. The extra weight is a small
sacrifice for being able to take a drink when marching for hours on end.
We were out for four days. (It was April in Missouri. No snow, but it
was
frostily every morning.) The last day was the hardest. I don't know how
far we actually moved, but it lasted 24 hours. We would double time for
a
couple of miles, do a live-fire exercise (lasting anywhere from 15
minutes
to an hour), and then double time to for varying distances to the next
exercise. At ten o'clock that night, with NO rest, except what could
gleaned in the middle of live fire exercises, we started the night
exercises. We had to "low-crawl" 250 yards with M-60 machine guns
firing
live rounds, over our heads. The tracer rounds were probably six feet
off
the ground, but they LOOKED like they were coming right at your head.
The
field was purposely soaked with water, just to add to the flavor of the
exercise. Weapons were inspected at the end of the exercise. Serious
woe
befell the private that didn't have a "fire-able" weapon.
So, how did you do in actual combat boy????
If I thought you was any smarter than the average fence post, I might be
inclined to share experiences, but since you aren't, I'm not.
Were you in actual combat or not???
.
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