Another challenge was the confidence course — an inverted crawl on ropes hanging forty feet above murky, over-our-heads water, with explosives in the water going off constantly. At some point on the rope, we'd be told to drop into the water and swim to dry land about a hundred feet away — with the explosives still going off.
During the three weeks, we only saw base camp, our tent, and the mess hall about four or five times. At other times we ate food provided by "partisans" (that is, if we linked up with them at the designated place and time — we didn't always do that); and it was usually live chickens, rabbits, or even a goat.
We didn't get much sleep either. I was one of the designated "sleep keepers." That meant I had to keep a record of whatever sleep 1 was able to get that was more than thirty minutes. As I recall, at the end of seventeen days, my records indicated it totalled eight hours and ten minutes.
I've always loved the outdoors. I really enjoy the wilderness and its challenges. So, acute discomforts aside — the constant wet and cold and lack of steep — I really enjoyed the Florida phase. I had never been in a really big swamp, especially one as treacherous and challenging as the Okefenokee. The Yellow River runs right through it — very swift, deep, and dangerous. You can easily blunder into it, especially at night, without knowing it. That is, you can be wading up to your waist in standing swamp water, and then bam, you're in the river, swift, strong, and deep, cutting right through the still water. It's dangerous!
When the three weeks were over, most of us who'd started were still hanging in and looking forward to the next phase, though some had been eliminated — for attitude, lack of motivation, physical failure, or whatever: the rest of us never really knew why. You knew somebody'd been eliminated when you saw a student standing out at the end of Flight Strip Number 7, which was located near our base camp, with his bag packed, waiting for the plane from Fort Benning, which came about every three days. He stayed there by himself until the plane came. I can't imagine how humiliating this must have been. At least it would have been terrible for me.
THE MOUNTAIN PHASE
We came in from our last patrol in Florida at midafternoon on a Saturday, finished our patrol debriefings, and began to clean and turn in the weapons and equipment that would remain at the campsite. After a big meal in the mess hall we hit the sack somewhere around midnight — dry for a change — for much-needed sleep.
At about 0300 Sunday morning, the Ranger cadre came running through the camp yelling: "Formation in ten minutes. Fall out with all your gear, prepared to move out."
We jumped out of the sack (having slept in our fatigues), quickly put on our dry pair of boots, rolled up our sleeping bags (which stayed with the cot), put on our Ranger web gear (harness), and fell in at our appointed place in a company formation. The camp commander, a major, positioned himself before the formation and announced, "There has been a major enemy breakthrough in the northern part of the operational area." — northern Georgia—"You are to move out immediately as much-needed reinforcements in that sector of the combat zone." Buses arrived ten minutes later, and we set out for northern Georgia.
I don't remember much about that trip, because we slept most of the way. But I do remember that at about noon the buses pulled into a Howard Johnson's restaurant somewhere in central Georgia (no doubt arrangements had been made in advance), and an announcement was made: "We will be here one hour. This is your last chance to eat before arriving at the front."
I will never forget the surprised look of the families there, obviously just out of church services, when we stormed into the place wearing our camouflage paint and fatigues. It did not take them long, though, to recognize who we were, especially when the Ranger lieutenant accompanying us announced, "Rangers, you have fifty minutes until you go back on the buses."
I don't know how it was possible to serve so many in such a short time, but the restaurant staff managed it, and we were all well fed.
Back on the buses and back to sleep again.
At about 1600 hours, the buses pulled off the highway where a gravel road ran off into the woods and several empty two-and-a-half-ton trucks were parked. A Ranger captain was standing in the middle of the road. As soon as we'd dismounted and formed up in front of him, he advised that it was not safe to take the buses any farther because of enemy infiltration teams in the area. We would have to take the trucks. He also indicated that the beds of the trucks had been sandbagged and that we should be prepared for ambush. Since we didn't have any weapons, we were glad to see two armed guards with each truck. Even though we didn't have our individual weapons, we had rehearsed counteraimbush drills from a truck or convoy many times, so we knew what to do.
We had probably gone no more than five miles until we were ambushed by a platoon of dug-in "enemy." Of course, it was all explosives and blank fire, but they really shot us up good. We quickly dismounted and dived in a ditch alongside the road. When the smoke had cleared, we were assembled back on the road and told that our trucks had been destroyed and that we would have to run the rest of the way — about five miles and mostly uphill.
At the base camp (it was in a beautiful spot, as it happened), we were fed a great evening meal — all we could eat. Then we drew our weapons and individual equipment and squared away our sleeping tents. As in Florida, we wouldn't see much of them for the next three weeks.
The next morning started with rappelling instruction, which was conducted under Master Sergeant Stinchcomb, who knew more about rock climbing and rappelling, and about ropes and how to use them, than any man I have ever met.
First we learned how to tie every knot needed for Hanger-type operations. Then we trained in rappelling until we'd mastered all the rappelling techniques — first on the lower cliffs (thirty to fifty feet) and then on higher ones (sixty to eighty feet). Finally, we were required to rappel with our Ranger buddy hanging on our back.
After the rock work, there was instruction in the mountain adaptations to already learned skills, such as land navigation, wilderness survival, and operational survival.
Though the basic land navigation techniques still applied, keeping track of distances traveled in rugged mountainous terrain is more complex and challenging than on level ground. You can never be sure of the length of your pace, for example.
Then came instruction on wilderness survival. In the mountains, the snakes arc different than the ones in Florida — copperheads and rattlesnakes rather than water moccasins and coral snakes. And in the mountains you don't find the same edible plants and berries that you do in the swamps.
We also got instruction on avoiding detection. We were taught to stay away from danger areas, such as roads and built-up areas (towns, houses, etc.), and how to cross danger areas (open fields and roads) without being observed.
We also patrolled, day and night, just as in Florida. But the rough terrain and heavy loads (like machine guns) some patrol members had to carry made a big difference, requiring more careful planning of patrol routes and more time for reaching the objective.
As was the case throughout the entire Ranger instruction program, every patrol had to be planned and rehearsed in every detail to ensure that it would go right, and every student had to know every detail of the plan. Although a patrol leader and assistant patrol leader were designated in advance, you never knew when you may be called on to be the patrol leader — most usually in the most demanding situations, such as the middle of a firefight. A member of the Ranger cadre (called a lane grader) accompanied every patrol. This was usually a first lieutenant or a senior NCO, but sometimes both, depending on the size of the patrol. Their job was to evaluate the performance of every member of the patrol, and to be present in case of an emergency or life-threatening situation.