Today is sunny and clear, the kind of day which recalls memories of good days past and brings forth hope for good things to come. It will be hot though.
This morning we had our second PT test, this time with a full two mile run and everything. I did 42 pushups (60%), 75 situps (83%), and ran the 2 mile in 12:34 (93%). These scores are all well above passing, and we're only in the 3rd week now. I only lack 64 points for an overall PT max- that's not too much. It feels great!
My body seems to be holding up well too. Others are having bigtime feet problems, what with blisters and callouses and chaffing. I have zero foot problems- my boots are comfortable. Also, my only bodily pain on a daily basis (beyond minor soreness- really minor) is a pain on the lateral, posterior portion of the right calve. I interpret it as a slightly strained ligament. It loosens up when I run anyhow, so all is good here.
This morning at the PT test, I was in drill sergeant Ruiz's line- he's my primary drill sergeant. Anyhow, when I came up to do the pushups, he said "You're in 3rd platoon? How come I don't know you?" [This was great news- stay anonymous, stay alive].
"It's because I'm good, drill sergeant." I replied.
"What, you're good 'cause the commander gave you a medal, what?" he rebutted.
"No, I mean I'm not a troublemaker, drill sergeant" I said.
"Do you smoke pot, private?" he asked.
"No drill sergeant" I responded.
It was funny, I thought. Play the game is the deal. Evidently I've played very well, seeing as I'm unknown into the 3rd week.
Today we have the Phase I test- shouldn't be a big deal. It's over field/pressure dressings and tourniquet application, identifying military rank and time, evaluating a casualty, and donning the gasmask in 9 seconds. This last bit may give me trouble, though.
Saturday, June 13th continued
1832 hours
I passed the Phase I test 5 of 5, so it appears I will be a "go" into Phase II. This phase officially starts Monday, with a roadmarch to the Rifle Marksmanship range to get orientation out there. We will spend all week out there too. That probably means either "field mess" or "MREs". "Field mess" is exported from the mess hall in trucks, while "MREs"- Meals Ready to Eat- are in vacuum sealed packages from the factory. These are actually the better of the two.
Tommorrow will be Sunday the 14th- Father's Day, I believe. I have no phone priviledges, however, due to an individual in our platoon who took it upon himself to use the phone without permission. Maybe next weekend we will get phone priviledges back.
June 13th, 1998 continued-- The Box
My mind is in a box of sorts, a rotating, fully mechanized, armor plated and lock-hardened capsule. My body too is placed in these constraints, though the space has been bored out for my ever thickening limbs to swell. This is a suit of armor, heavily fortified, boxing me in while also making me impenetrable. This is the irony, the paradox of this metal contraption which binds me.
Through restriction, I have learned the value of life in freedom. Through restriction, I have also discovered the waste of a discipline-lacking free life. Through restriction, I grow strong and incorporate the metal into my very tissues. This will always be a part of me now, a reinforcing, stablizing encasement.
Through pain, I am discovering the irrelevance of pain itself. The skin rubbed raw, chaffed against the rough steel edges, is the smoothest, strongest skin of all. With each movement I can feel the metamorphoses, can see the transition of straw into gold. Pain's only place in my body is that of motivator. Where there is pain, there is most definitely gain.
I am passed through the forge each day, smelling the heat curl and shudder against my metal suit, bending and molding it with character into a garment for a lifetime. I pass through this fire, and though I ever tremble, I am not burned.
I look forward to the day when my suit is complete, though I know I will not live to see it. The completion of this suit is not important: it is the process which renders strong, character-driven men.