"Walking Away From The Ledge” The Cut List: Vol. 7. 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. These tales of lore continue into the mountain phase of Ranger School. These weren’t no foothills, these mountains were no joke!
The platoon size was merely three squads to patrol with, and conducting larger-scale ambushes and raids, recon missions were only for the Darby phase. We would set up in patrol bases where one squad would secure one side of the triangle that made up the base. The platoon leader and platoon sergeant were in the middle with the squad leaders and the heavy weapons placed at the corners of the triangle; everyone was set up for overlapping fields of fire. That’s all you need to know. Go, graduate, you can do it too.
Ambushes were designed to destroy, raids to gather something or someone, and had a planned exit strategy. Four and five days of this with varying lengths of movement between operations, all of it within the confines of VERY steep mountainous terrain while having two MREs per day and next to sleep. During one movement that was a very foggy night, or early morning, there was no sun, so I can’t be 100% sure what time of day it was, I fell asleep standing straight up with my ruck on and everything.
We had stopped, but no one wanted to take a knee since we all knew that we would be moving again in a second. I closed my eyes for a moment, and the next thing I know, the guy behind me says, “Where is the guy in front of you?!” I wake up in a panic and start running straight ahead, and within five seconds, I run straight into the back of that guy. Relieved I found him, I said a quick “sorry,” turned to make sure the guy behind me was still there, and we all continued. Not five minutes later, the guy in front of me did the same thing! I woke him up, and he took off, running into the next guy, and we were all together again. I’m exhausted just typing the story again.
Platoon Sergeant… I don’t remember my student number, but that’s how the RI’s identified who was next. They would call a number, what to hear “here Sergeant” and yell out your leadership position, usually accompanied with a sadistic chuckle. Last day of the first four, and I was “Toon-Daddy” (yes, acceptable vernacular for Platoon Sergeant) for an ambush, and then we were marching back in to refit. I wasn’t in charge of a patrol base or anything; I was just involved in this ambush and then returned to the house. It should have been a relatively easy GO, but I had one problem —the same problem that plagues everyone in the military.
Nope, not a drunk Private, a shamming Specialist, a Sergeant that thinks he knows everything, or even a Sergeant Major who wants to point out every uniform violation while his or her fat ass can barely even pass a PT test! No, I had to deal with the worst of the worst, a Lieutenant (LT) who was put in charge. The... Fucking... worst! And why, you may ask? Because they don’t listen to anyone, let alone anyone with any experience at all! Sound embittered? Yes, and this is one reason I didn’t stay in the military any longer. You can’t escape the LT.
This LT was also the Platoon Leader (PL) for the ambush. He began by planning the ambush and preparing to brief the plan of action to all involved. I got the squad leaders ready to prep their men for movement and getting set into position. Briefing time came, we moved to set up, and then this dickhead changes the plan, moves people around and we are basically in some “polish ambush” where one squad is somewhat pointed to another one. I make my case to change this, but no, leave it as is.
I again encouraged him by informing him that we would probably be a NO-GO, and it would make the ambush harder to pull off. HOLD THE LINE, he may as well have said. I’m thinking about my grade and how I'll have to argue with the RI afterward, but I think, 'Okay, he’s the PL; his show, maybe I’ll get some leniency if I plead my case.' The ambush goes off and it’s a clusterfuck. One line of everyone shooting all their ammo so they don’t have to carry shit back in on the march to the barracks, which we found out was only like three clicks.
I don’t remember what all was messed up with the ambush, but it was a lot. The RI let me know it was a NO-GO quickly, and I tried to argue with him that I had to argue with the PL the whole time about it, and decided to let him sink or swim since he wouldn’t listen to me. The RI informed me that I should’ve just conducted the ambush correctly behind the PLs back and saved his ass instead of the way I did. Maybe he was right, but I wasn’t into having every move questioned and overruled by an LT with no experience. I took my NO-GO, knowing that I had more time to try again. We moved back to refit and prepped for the five days.
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.
