Chapter 2Survival of the Fittest- Monday, June 4th - Tuesday, June 5th
After meeting up with another Humvee which contained the remainder of his crew, the group headed down the highway in a two-vehicle convoy at a steady 65 miles per hour. Private Taylor turned on the FM radio that he had installed in the Humvee, pushed a few buttons and turned up the volume. The tinny voice of an announcer came out of the small speakers affixed to the dashboard.
“… showers will be possible for the next couple of days in the valley and up over the mountain.
In other news, Richard Flaherty held another rally in Norfolk, Virginia today. The crowd became violent as protesters stood outside the venue, yelling and blowing whistles. Men in full military outfits entered the crowd of protestors and started beating them with their weapons. No one was arrested, but several protestors needed medical attention. Flaherty’s violent rhetoric has become more and more intense and his support of using pseudo military personnel to quell anyone who disagrees with him has increased in the last several days.
The Baltimore Orioles lost their game last night against the…”
Clayton reached up and turned the station on the radio to the local classic rock station and the guitar intro to (Don’t Fear) The Reaper, by Blue Öyster Cult came flowing out of the small speakers. “That’s more like it,” Clayton said, as all the occupants started nodding their heads to the beat. The next ten hours passed in a blur as they listened to music and talked about the training they were heading to. They didn’t talk about politics and the trouble that seemed to be brewing in Virginia and all over the country. They wanted to forget about all of that and concentrate on practicing the skills of survival.
Two Humvees moved down the dirt road with a cloud of dust rising behind them and came to a stop on the shoulder next to an already parked vehicle. Standing just off the road were four soldiers in uniform. One was an Army officer. Second Lieutenant Jason Pierce had a very stern face for someone only a few years out of West Point. His short black hair was always cut in the highest of high and the tightest of tight and his uniform was always crisp and clean, even after being out in the bush for a week or two. He was the instructor for this survival course, and he didn’t like anyone having any ideas of their own. It was his way or the highway. There was no room for improvisation. The soldiers exited their vehicles and Clayton threw a salute to the Lieutenant. “Good afternoon, sir.” He greeted his superior. “Watch team Bravo ready for training.” He added with false gusto. Clayton never really liked the Lieutenant, but always remained professional when they were together. The Lieutenant’s presence was the only downside to these survival training sessions.
Pierce returned the salute and said with a distasteful grimace that seemed to always be on his face, “Have your men get their gear and be ready to move out in five minutes.” Pierce turned to his men to give them their final instructions as Clayton and his men got to work unloading the Humvees and donning their packs.
The men from the other Hummer were the rest of John’s watch team. Staff Sargent Kell Sumpson was a large black man with bulging muscles straining his uniform. Staff Sargent Sumpson looked like a football player, and he had actually been a pretty good linebacker during the two years he had spent at college before deciding he wanted to serve his country and join the Army. He was Clayton’s second in command during their watch routine and Clayton relied on him a lot and liked him as a person. They had spent quite a few off-duty hours hanging out together at each other’s house and got along well. Private First Class Jason Webber was a short squat fireplug of a guy. He was only 19 and had been in the Army only a short time. He was always laughing and joking, and it was sometimes a challenge to get him to be serious about a situation. The last of the team was Private Anthony Masvanni. He was an olive skinned, tall Italian boy from Staten Island, New York. He had a scary look in his eye from time to time and Clayton was pretty sure he hadn’t had a very good childhood. Tony had joined the Army to get away from the poverty and violence he had endured growing up in one of the rougher parts of the island. The six soldiers were ready to go in four minutes. Lieutenant Pierce looked them over, nodded his head, turned and started off into the woods. The group followed the Lieutenant in single file. As they started up a rise in the forested slope, they heard the other soldiers firing up the Humvees and driving off. They were on their own now. They weren’t expecting to see those vehicles again for another five days.
The wooded slope rose steadily, and the group easily climbed through the mix of oak, maple and other large trees. They followed no trail but knew which way they were headed since they had studied their maps for a few days and a simple compass bearing got them on their way. The day was starting to come to a close after their ten-hour drive. The plan was to continue to hike after dark for a few hours in order to get to their first planned camp. The moon was full and due to arrive shortly after sunset and since the sky was still clear, they may not even need their head lamps to make their way through the forest.
Lieutenant Pierce was a serious man who exuded an arrogance that belied his simple rank in the outfit. It seemed that he looked down on the group he was tasked with training and running through their paces, and this was evident to each of the men. Of course, he was an officer, and they were only enlisted, so everything was kept professional. Sometimes you can learn just as much from an incompetent person as an expert, thought Clayton as he adjusted his load and concentrated on picking his next step in the rocky hillside. Right now, Pierce was setting a relentless pace. They had about 10 miles to cover before making camp and it was mostly bushwhacking through woods that were rather thick in some places.
As they crested the hill and started moving along the ridgeline, they could see a small hamlet in the valley below. Everything looked so peaceful from up here, thought Clayton as he looked down from his high vantage point. You never realize all that is going on in the town and in the houses. Who is fighting with their wife? Who is making love to their husband? What is the newsman talking about on the television? Up here, everything is simple and complete. Where will you sleep? What will you eat? How far will you go tomorrow?
The men continued along until they came to a trail. The sun was low in the west now and it would be gone within the next half hour. Darkness was just another obstacle that they would overcome. This trail led to another, which would eventually lead to the Appalachian Trail fondly referred to as the AT. Springer Mountain is where it officially starts. From there it crosses fourteen states until it terminates at Mount Katahdin in Maine. This training mission wouldn’t go near the AT, but Clayton felt the connection of the trail that he thought about nearly every day as he crossed the trail going to work. He remembered hiking through this forest 20 years ago as he traveled the approach trail to Springer Mountain. The excitement of a new adventure just starting was coursing through his body and he was practically running as he made his way up the steep steps in Amicalola Falls State Park. Just getting out into the woods brought a little of that excitement back and he was feeling pretty good right now. He loved being out there.
Twilight was dwindling as they saw the bright moon rise in the East like a huge ship coming over the horizon. It was bright and full and provided lots of light. They could see the trail easily and didn’t turn on their lights just yet. They walked along in silence, enjoying the night and listening to the night sounds as the inhabitants of the forest went about their nocturnal business. It was warm and a little humid and each had worked up a bit of a sweat as they carried their loads and negotiated the ups and downs of the Georgia Appalachian Mountains. After two hours of traveling, they descended from a small ridge into a flat plateau that had wide spaced oak trees. There was a stream on the south side of the flat that gurgled happily through the forest on its way to its salty destination far away. Lieutenant Pierce called a halt and ordered the men to set up camp.
The men were carrying no weapons. They had the basic needs of survival and not much more. Within or attached to their packs, each man was carrying a light weight sleeping bag called a patrol bag and a sleeping pad, some cooking containers and a few bags of Meals Ready to Eat or MREs as they are always called. They each also carried a small first aid kit and some personal hygiene items, including water treatment pills. A poncho for rainy weather and a bivvy sack to put a sleeping bag into which is about as portable of a tent you can carry. It was waterproof and durable. They each had some sort of light, mostly head lamps and some extra batteries. On their belts, they all had a nice combat knife and two 1-quart canteens. Each man also carried a team item. Clayton carried a small hatchet; Kell carried a small collapsible shovel. Taylor carried the maps they would need for the surrounding area. Every man had his own compass. Webber carried a small tarp that would be used from time to time when the situation called for it and Masvanni carried a more extensive combat first-aid kit, with tourniquets, bandages, morphine and other items that they hoped they wouldn’t need. This is all the gear they would need for the next five days. One of their practical tests was to forage and harvest wild edibles to supplement their sometimes unsatisfying MRE meals.
Each man selected a space within the clearing to set up his sleeping area. The ground was relatively level and there were not a lot of rocks. Their sleeping set up ended up looking like the spokes of a wheel. In the center of the wheel, they cleared a space to make a fire. The fire had many uses. They could sterilize the water from the creek by boiling it to kill all the bad bacteria and make the water safe to drink. They could heat their meals and best of all, the fire just made them feel good. They had removed the leaves and sticks from the area, piling them out of the way for later use. They dug into the topsoil a bit, also saving that material. They planned to restore the area to like they had found it when they moved on. This set up was safe enough to not let the surrounding leaves catch fire but didn’t use rocks that would be harder to restore back to the natural site of the area.
The group got the fire going, ate an MRE meal and settled in for the night. Two men would stand watch, moving out into the bush in an ambush position while the others slept. Every two hours a new team would relieve the on-watch pair and so on until dawn arrived. Since there were seven men in the group, the LT would sleep the whole night through without standing a watch. No big deal to the guys, they were used to it.
Clayton took the first watch along with Private Taylor. Taylor was a quiet and rather standoffish 20-year-old man from Chicago. Clayton figured it would be a quiet two hours and he was right. Before he knew it, he was waking up Corporal McAfee for the second watch. McAfee and PFC Webber would take the next two hours staring into the darkness as the night creatures did their thing. There wasn’t too much else happening out there in the Georgia woods in the early part of June.
The morning light slowly crept into the camp and the soldiers each came awake without any prodding. They quickly and quietly ate a quick cold breakfast and broke camp. After they replaced all the items they had moved to make camp, you couldn’t even tell that they had just spent the last seven hours hanging out there. They were a good team, and it didn’t matter if they were doing their shift at Mount Weather or surviving in the woods; they had worked together long enough to have built that modicum of respect and familiarity to know what needed to be done and to get it done.
The LT came over to Clayton when everyone was packed up and handed him two maps. Each had a different set of objectives for the day, with a meetup at the end of the day. Clayton would be travelling with PFC Webber and Private Masvanni. Staff Sargent Sumpson would lead McAfee and Taylor to the day’s rendezvous. LT Pierce would move from one group to the other throughout the day and observe our completion of the objectives. Before dismissing the men, Pierce held up a burned match in front of Clayton’s face. “I found this over by the tree next to the fire,” Pierce said with a smirk. “You were supposed to restore the site to perfection, with no sign of our use. I’m going to deduct points for this lapse.”
Clayton looked at the LT for a few seconds and said, “Yes sir. Won’t happen again.” As he turned away from the LT, Staff Sargent Sumpson caught a glimpse of the eye roll Clayton tried to hide. He smiled at Clayton, and they turned to their groups.
Both teams’ first objective was to find water and make it safe to drink. Each of the men still had at least one canteen full but knowing where the water was and getting to it was an important skill. This first task was pretty easy. The nearby creek provided the source and the pills each man carried made the water safe to drink. That task completed, the two groups now each went in a different direction for their next task.
The next objective on the list was to navigate through the forest to a set of coordinates and build a small debris shelter. John and his crew headed off to the east over a small rise. There was no road or trail to follow here, and the brush was thick in places. The poison ivy was growing nicely, but each man maneuvered through the woods easily, and slowly, following the bearing they had calculated until they crossed a stream, headed up hill and found their objective. An open area within the forest with less underbrush and lots of material to work with. Each of the three men moved off in different directions to collect material. First, they selected a level spot to erect their shelter. Next, they crossed three logs they had gathered in a tripod with two short ends and one long one. Along this long beam, they placed numerous small sticks to create the framework of their roof with a decent space to fit all three of them inside. It would be a little cramped but spooning helps save body heat they say. On this frame, they started dumping large handfuls of leaves and other debris they had collected. After about 20 minutes or so, the shelter was ready. The small squad climbed inside to test the fit. It would do just fine.
About an hour later, the LT came stumbling through the forest. They had heard him for about 10 minutes or so and knew he was coming. LT Pierce moved into camp, thinking he was being stealthy, but the guys were ready for him. “Hello, LT. How did the other guys do?” Clayton asked. “You’ll find out in the debriefing.” The LT replied snootily. “Now drop your canteens there and craw into your contraption.” He sneered, pointing to a spot in front of the shelter. The men all climbed into the shelter, settling themselves not quite spooning, but close none-the-less.
The LT picked up two of the canteens, opened their caps and started pouring the contents onto the shelter. This continued until the six canteens were once again laying in a pile, but now they were empty. The three grunts relaxed in their shelter and Webber started to snore (either real or staged, Clayton wasn’t quite sure) as they stayed dry as a bone. They knew how to make their shelters water resistant, and this was no exception. After about five minutes, the LT called them out, ordered them to dismantle the shelter and restore the area. They completed that task in about ten minutes and then they refilled their canteens in the nearby steam and started on their next task, which was to make a fire using primitive methods. They would use the fire to purify their water later.
They started navigating to the next waypoint, as the LT headed back into the woods. Following his own compass bearing back to the other group of trainees. The objective was a small gully with a cliff on one side and a small trickle of water running through at its deepest point. As they went, they started collecting material to use to make a bow drill and the fuel they would need in the form of tinder, kindling and the small sticks needed to grow an ember into a fire. They were also all on the lookout for anything edible that they could augment their bland MREs, which they would be eating again that day. They each only had three MREs apiece. Not really enough to provide the calories needed to hump these Georgia mountains, complete their tasks and keep their heads straight, but a little starvation never hurt a grunt. They could handle it. Clayton found a few wild strawberries and Webber stumbled into a small patch of Ramps. He gleefully picked a good handful, all the while describing how he would sauté them up in his canteen cup and flavor his meatloaf meal with some oniony goodness.
After another hour of traveling through the underbrush, they found the small gully and set about their next task. Masvanni was good with a knife, so he got to work creating a bow drill set, while the other two used the materials they had gathered to sort the small sticks by size and build a “bird’s nest” of tinder which would take the ember and grow it into a flame.
The olive skinned Private quickly created a fireboard, spindle and handhold from a piece of cedar he had found. Webber had found a nice bow shaped stick and he tied a piece of para-cord loosely on each end. Before too long, everything was ready to go. Masvanni had the honor of going first, since he had crafted the device. He put all the pieces together and started slowly moving the bow back and forth, turning the spindle in the notch in the fireboard. Gradually he started to move faster as smoke started to rise from the board.
All the men had done this before, and after another minute or two of spinning, Masvanni checked the board, blowing lightly at the dark notch. He was rewarded with the subtle glow of an ember. Carefully, the Private lifted the board and tapped the ember into the “bird’s nest” that Clayton was holding. Clayton lightly blew into the tinder bundle, moving the material around to keep the air flowing, but giving the ember something to burn. As he blew, the smoke became thicker and thicker. Suddenly a flame erupted from the bundle. Clayton quickly moved the flaming bundle under the teepee of small sticks that Webber had constructed.
Slowly, Webber fed the small fire small sticks. Treating it like a baby, only feeding it small stuff until the flame was stronger. As the fire grew, he would place a few more sticks, increasing the size of the sticks until he was placing thumb sized pieces onto the fire.
They had a nice fire going and were each boiling a canteen cup full of water by the time LT Pierce came walking into the small clearing they were using for this stage of the course. “I see you got the fire going” he pointed out the obvious. “I hope you used the bow drill and didn’t cheat.” he sneered. Clayton bit his tongue on his preferred response and instead lifted the bow drill for inspection, which had clearly been used recently, with its dark notch showing the wear of Masvanni’s efforts.
The LT nodded his head and checked their progress on the water purifying. “Once you finish with the water, douse the fire, return the area to a pristine state and continue on to the bivouac for the night. I’ll see you there.” He added as he headed off to the east, back into the woods.
The men completed their task and when they too headed off into the woods to the east, the small gully looked just as it had when they had come in from the west.
The final walk to the second night’s camp was a little more technical than the other treks. They had to navigate around a small swamp and negotiate a cliff of about 15 feet before they entered another clearing where they would be spending the night. As they approached, they saw the other men already setting up for the night.
Each of the men took their own positions and stowed their gear for the night. Tonight, would be a fireless one, so they each ate an MRE as the sun once again set on the squad. They then settled into the watch rotation for the night. The training was going very well so far. Tomorrow would be another challenging day.