The Diaries - 01 by Chuck Driskell Read Free Book Online

on,
blinding them as they jumped into the creek on both sides, thinking it might be
a simulated ambush.   As their eyes
adjusted, they saw every cadre member standing in the road, silently waiting.  
    Each of the eleven
men was too depleted, too confused, to know what to do.   Had they screwed up?   The commandant’s voice boomed as he stepped
into the roadway, motioning the men up from the water.
    “Congratulations, men!”   He waited a moment, letting reality sink
in.   “You eleven have passed the physical
test.”
    There was no
celebration.   No real reaction at all.   Gage later learned his class’s reaction was
normal.   They’d been deceived too many
times to feel relieved.  
    “It’s really over,
men…no games this time.   I’m sure you
feel for those who didn’t make it, and you should.   But you did make it.   You persevered.”
    The men began to
reassemble on the road.   Grimaces gave
way to relieved smiles.   Tears ran down
several faces.   One soldier fell to his
knees, holding his arms open to the sky.
    “You’re each gonna get a good night of sleep, then a week of easy classroom
block while you heal up.   After that,
it’s on to the peninsula in California.”   The commandant shook hands with each man, looking him in the eye,
congratulating him by his full name.
    The instructors walked
behind every soldier, relieving each of their pack and leading him to the
medical tent where he was given multiple IVs.   After three bags each, the men were led to a large tent where they were
allowed to finally eat their Thanksgiving dinner as the sun came up
outside.   After the feast, each man was
allowed to sleep on a cot for as long as he pleased.   One selectee managed to sleep for a full day
before he finally awoke.
    They had made it
through the physical portion.   Gage endured
it with a broken foot.   Afterward, he hid
his injury for three more days, gritting his teeth with every agonizing step.   Finally, when he learned it wouldn’t keep him
from attending the language school, he allowed a doctor to schedule a simple
surgery for a few screws and four weeks in a cast.
    Gage excelled in
language school at Fort Ord , in Monterrey,
California.   The eleven selectees were no
longer a unit, many chosen for a different language, and thereby another group.   Due to his sandy hair and European heritage,
Gage was selected to learn both Russian and German.   Following language school, he spent four
months in training to be an 18-Bravo: a Weapons Specialist.   On the next to the last day, when all that
remained of his training was a month of Operation ROBIN SAGE—essentially a
simulated, full-scale war—Gage was summoned off the rifle range to a
cinder-block room on a dusty field next to a copse of Fort Bragg woods.   It was late afternoon, the small building
illuminated only by glassless windows and hollow lines in the battered tin
roof.   As the afternoon sunlight blared
in, Gage ate sunflower seeds, enjoying the smell of gunpowder on his
hands.   He waited for a full half-hour,
not knowing why he had been beckoned, and not caring.   It’s the Army way—hurry up and wait.   Finally, he heard the rumble of a diesel
engine as a vehicle stopped outside.   The
door opened and a full colonel stepped in, introducing himself simply as Hunter.   Gage popped to attention before the colonel
waved him down, shaking Gage’s hand instead.
    “How’s the foot,
Sergeant Schoenfeld ?” Hunter asked, using Gage’s name
at that time.
    “Fine, sir.” Gage
answered almost robotically.   They spoke
briefly, with Gage recounting the harsh training without a trace of fatigue or
regret.  
    The colonel wore
the badges of Special Forces and the Rangers.   His hair was iron gray, cut short and flat on top, contrasting with a
deep tan that could only be achieved by decades in the sun.   Affixed to his chest were five rows of medals
indicating Vietnam and other foreign service, as well as a few