"Walking Away From The Ledge” The Cut List: Vol. 2. These are the stories that didn’t make the cut to the final edit in my book.
Some of these stories will jump around, but I’ll do my best not to leave you, the reader, guessing when and where they happened. The following few stories will take place in Ranger School. Ah, yes, all the sleep and food-deprived shenanigans while trying to maintain composure in the face of leadership. Enjoy…
During Ranger School, we had to complete a 2.5-mile equipment run in under 24 minutes, I think. Full uniform with a basic load, helmet, and rubber duck weapon. The rubber duck was horrible to run with since it weighed more than the actual M4 did. The catch to this run was that you had to run the entirety of it with a battle buddy. If you teamed up with someone slower than you and didn’t pass it would be the other dude’s fault and you’d be screwed.
Failing at Ranger School isn’t an automatic dismissal. You could “recycle” and hang around doing details of cleaning or whatever else needed to be done in the area, and wait for the next class to begin. The worst part would be to recycle right at the beginning and then wait a whole month, or in our case, two months, since Fort Benning was preparing for the Best Ranger Competition. It was imperative for me not to recycle, as I did not want to stay there for a long time. Two months and I’m out, son, peace! I think the longest I have heard someone stay at Ranger School was nine months. Anyone over four months was affectionately called a “double tabber.”
There were two obstacle courses to complete and a water confidence obstacle in Benning Phase. Malvesti (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9ZV68OxHD00) is a short half-mile obstacle course that was relatively easy to complete; however, it was January, and there was a mud pit to crawl through. It wasn’t muddy for us; it was brown ice water. They were generous enough to break the ice for us so we couldn’t crawl across the top. You know that feeling when you jump into cold water, and you can’t draw a full breath or breathe at all, so get out and go warm up quickly. Yeah, not happening here. I hit the water and think it won’t be that bad, and quickly find out I’m dead wrong! I manage to crawl through, and think I’ll feel better when I get out. Nope, just shivering cold and running to the next obstacle. It sucked.
The water confidence course (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hrtDBLEiIm) was a considerable challenge to those with a fear of heights. You had to climb a ladder to about 35 feet, then walk across a log that spanned water, and that log was about 50 feet long. Next, you had to climb down an angled rope to a wooden Ranger Tab hanging from the rope. This is usually when an RI tells you to do a pull-up and kiss the tab before having you drop in the water. Of course, being February, the water was frigid.
After the first week at Ranger School, we had a company movement from Camp Merrill to Camp Darby. 18 miles, one way, all gear on our backs except for our duffle bags of extra stuff that we wouldn’t see again until the end of Darby Phase. Somehow, I ended up in the weapons squad for the march out. This meant we had the ammo bags, tripods, and the heaviest, the M240B machine gun. The entire march was supposed to be at the slowest individual’s pace. I think these are all head games they say to make you think it won’t be so bad. It was a bunch of BS.
We were moving out. It wasn’t as bad as my EIB road march, even though it was six miles longer, but it was rough to be sure. We stopped every hour for five minutes to take a break, which only made matters worse. Your muscles would relax for a moment, and then it was always a strain to get them back to moving again. It would have been better to keep walking. We used the break to swap who was carrying the “pig,” the beyond-acceptable term for the 240. Think of carrying a 30-pound rod with both hands. Not too much weight, but with 50 to 60 pounds of gear as well, your biceps got smoked quickly! Once we reached Darby, it was lights out and sleeping bags. The following days were practice for graded patrols and the Darby Queen.
One mile, over 20 obstacles, 100+ dudes, the Darby Queen. I’ll describe what I remember, which isn’t much, so check out the link! (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ZrtzO7AR0N0) I watched this with my daughters. I experienced both joyful feelings and flashbacks of having completed this thing, as well as unhappy feelings of remembering the pain each obstacle can inflict. “The Dirty Name” was a miserable obstacle, as you had to hit the top bar with your belly. Why? Some asshats probably thought it would be funny to see someone else hit it like that and it stuck as the technique.
Some of the more standard types are crawling under wire, hoping walls or logs of various heights both with or without the use of your hands over the logs, climbing walls that were made of spaced-out logs of varying spacings, rope climbs, log walks, and monkey bars or “horizontal ladder” as it was called. All these obstacles were spread out for one mile, and while you were waiting for the guy ahead of you to get off the obstacle, you had to jog in place.
The rest of jogging in place was welcomed, as it gave you a moment to catch your breath. Near the end, there was a large hill that an RI would make two guys sprint up, and whoever lost had to come back down and do it all again. I was having some fun up to this point, but kept losing the sprint. I think I ran that hill at least six times before I beat someone up it. Another special torture challenge completed.
A couple of weeks in, very little sleep, two MREs per day. We would eat every bite in those light brown bags before throwing them away. Trades were common; peanut butter for cheese, crackers for bread, a disliked main meal for a more favorable one. The only thing in an MRE that wasn’t tradable was the jelly. Everyone hated getting an MRE they knew had jelly in it. Only a few brave souls bothered to heat their meal; most everyone ate it cold. It was like slurping food-flavored toothpaste out of a slightly larger and flatter tube. It was fuel, and at this point, it needed to be in the tank. Down the hatch, dream of the DFAC and graduation, when you could be back in the “real world” and have some good food again.
Want to know more about some of these situations? You’ll have to get the book “Walking Away From The Ledge" for more details! If this story hit home—or reminded you of your own service—drop a comment below or share it with someone who might need it.
