"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. More Ranger School stories, moving into the mountains.
While in Ranger School, you must get a “GO” in more than 50% of your leadership positions to successfully pass and graduate. Everyone wanted to get a squad leader position in Darby since that was typically easier to get a GO in, team leader positions didn’t receive a GO/NO-GO that counted toward the overall pass rate. At least that’s what I had been informed, but found out later after my final patrol in Florida that my Team Leader position did count.
I only had a team leader position while in Darby, and the irony is that it was for a recon. Two other guys and I were conducting surveillance on a small building that was barely larger than a storage shed. Priding ourselves on our camouflage and ability to move stealthily, we kept getting closer to the objective to get a better look. We were within 100 meters and began writing down our intel of the objective and drawing sector sketches when one of the OPFOR came out and started shooting in our direction. Relax, it’s blanks, but still irritating nonetheless to learn that we had been spotted, NO-GO. Or at least I thought.
Sheepishly, we brought our intel and sketches back to the Squad Leader, who was pissed off since he would surely get a NO-GO now and the squad conducted an after-action review (AAR. Common to anything done in the military, even after taking a long piss! What happened, why did it happen, how can we do it better). Unless you really mess up in Darby, you're pretty much guaranteed to move on to Mountain Phase in Dahlonega, GA. I remember that guy who was the squad leader didn’t move on to the mountains, but not because of that patrol; he was dumpster diving for food with another guy, and they recycled Benning. The hunger is real.
Three weeks or so down, on to the big bad mountains of Dahlonega. DFAC for breakfast and dinner for the first few days, MRE for lunch. We were rushed in and out of the DFAC, but still, we all ate as much and as fast as we could to try to pack on a pound or two that we had lost from the weeks prior. We learned knot-tying techniques, rock-climbing methods with and without ropes, belay procedures, and platoon-size field operations. 
We were able to get a bit of sleep, but not much - just five hours per night, maybe? The first thing was a knot-tying test. I don’t think this would have been much of a challenge, but it was still February, and we were outside in the cold mountains. It only snowed a nice little flurry that, under any other conditions, would have been just fine.
However, being outside in it while using your bare hands to learn to tie knots - no thanks, keep the flurries. I was mainly glad that it didn’t snow at all. You would think that trying to stay awake while it was freezing and wearing minimal “snivel gear” (the military’s term for cold weather gear, like a sniveling little bitch!) would be relatively easy, but it wasn’t, and that’s when I learned about “pluses” and “minuses.”
Ranger School had an incentive program, which could be described as such, with both major and minor pluses and minuses assessed through spot reports. A type of on-the-spot “attaboy” or warning not to do it again. Three minors equaled one major. If you had three major minuses during a phase, then at the end of that phase, you would appear before a board that determined whether you would proceed to the next phase or not. While sitting in the bleachers during one of the classes, I was nodding off, as were most of the class, and all of us who were caught received a major minus. Strike one.
The knot-tying test wasn’t too challenging. The RIs teach you the knots in a day, then you have that day and the next to practice, then a test the following day, or something like that. I passed that test without issue, and then it was all the rock-climbing events. I don’t remember much about the rock climbing; maybe the sleep issue was getting the better of me. The Swiss seat, made from 3/8-inch rope, was painful, but of course, they weren’t wasting money on rock climbing harnesses for students to use for just two days.
We couldn’t do the rappelling days since there was water and ice on the rocks. I had rappelled a few times before anyway, and it’s a blast, for sure! We had to ascend some vertical rock formations the following day, using a belay man to assist for safety. If you like rock climbing and think it’s fun, so do I. Now try it in military fatigues, shitty jungle boots, and shit rope harness. The military has a fantastic way to take fun things and make them… not fun. All these classes and training out of the way, and now it was time for the field.
The field in the mountains is a four-day problem, followed by a two-day refit back at the barracks, and then a second five-day problem. But first was Mount Yonah. I just went on a hike with my wife and daughters the other day here at Green Mountain, AL. I was having flashbacks of Yonah, especially as one of the paths was labelled “Ranger Trail.” I can’t make that up. I would try it with the proper footwear, but I had on regular running shoes that were a bad choice anyway, so I didn’t bother.
Anyway, Yonah was on this steep, uphill death sprint with rucksacks on. We weren’t sprinting, but I felt like I was, as I couldn't catch my breath at any point during this ascent. You weren’t allowed to be more than an arm’s length behind the person in front of you, and if that line started to accordion out, you were screwed, playing catch-up the whole time! I think this was the new, most challenging thing I have done in the Army so far. That EIB march broke me off, but this was next level for me, and I’m glad it wasn’t any longer than it was.
I think it took less than an hour, but it might as well have been a whole day, for as much energy was expended. I can’t go on a hike with rocks and steep terrain without snickering and remembering that day. We all made it to the top, set up a General-Purpose tent (GP Medium, which was still rather large for the “Medium” designation), and were allowed to change out of our wet gear. It rained, but fortunately not until we reached the top. Begin mountain patrols.
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.
