A JRTC Birthday

I celebrated my 24th birthday at a laundry mat in Fort Polk, Louisiana, eating lukewarm pizza with my Soldiers while doing laundry for the first time in several weeks. I was touched by the celebration of my day. My Soldiers took turns telling vignettes of their memories with me: something I’d done to impress them, a newcomers mistake that now made me blush, anticipation of events to come. As the night wore on and wet clothes were shifted to the dryer, I enjoyed sitting back and listening to my Soldiers talk. The conversation splashed and sparkled as the current took my Soldiers from childhood memories and times gone by.

*****************************************************
Anything meant to simulate crawling through caves in Afghanistan is a cause for concern. In southern, swampy Louisiana, complete with alligators and water moccasins, caves are rare, or at least, natural ones are. This is how I found myself standing with six of my Soldiers, looking suspiciously at the small metal pipe that allowed a creek to continue its flow underneath a road. Pounds of crushing earth and asphalt bearing down on the small enclosure. Our trainer led the way. My Soldiers followed, alternatively pushing and pulling their eighty pound rucksacks, as they crawled through the mud and water as it soaked into their clothes and equipment, making their task even harder, all the time keeping the weapons out of the mud that now clings to their clothes, their bodies, their gear. A dirty weapon won’t fire.