OOC: Trying my hands on writing short stories, and this is certainly inspired by the American Sniper
Part 1|Part 2
The Forgotten War – Hammered
There all comes a time when you have to enlist for the military, the police, the fire department or the emergency medical services in Mapletish. The practice of conscription has been in the Maplish culture for a very long time, dating back to the days when kingdoms were scattered in the land to the Unification of the Crown. Deeply ingrained in the culture, it has always been said that a Maplish man plays three important roles, a warrior, a husband and a father. It was thought and is still forms the main foundation of Maplish family and societal values. Young and able bodied men are required to serve once they reach the age of 18, and usually that is when you have completed your post secondary qualification exams.
Joining the military and becoming a soldier, was what I really wanted to do and I jumped at the opportunity when my enlistment package arrived straight after my graduation from high school. Well before all the hammering in the SOF, I had to join basic training and the department of choice was the Navy. I had earlier indicated my interest for the Diving Unit in the Navy. The Military Diving Unit in the Navy specialises in two key areas, special warfare operations and clearance diving. The military did a thorough check on my health and background before approving my application and getting my placement into the Navy.
Basic training at the boot camp was a piece of cake despite the higher training standards expected from a military diver. I was taught were basic soldiering skills , infantry-like maneuvers and transiting my ass to the military lifestyle from a civilian, basically the same thing every Maplish son goes through when they get themselves into the regimentation of the uniformed services, whether they are a soldier, policeman, firefighter or a paramedic, but just with higher standards than the norm. Outside of boot camp, I found time to engage in some of my favourite activities, from swimming, cycling, running to putting in work at the gym to keep myself in shape, at least mentally.
Transiting from basic training to the navy, the Basic Combat Diving Course (BCDC) comes next and that is where the real challenge begins. Lasting for over 6 months, it is extremely demanding both physically and mentally, and only the most motivated will stay. With a dropout rate of over 90%, it is a place where conscripts wouldn't want to be in and I dared to put myself through this journey. Most of the guys around me are either military regulars with around a year or two of military experience after their mandatory 2 years of military service. This is basically an all regular course. The most notorious part of BCDC is the Team Building Week, 168 hours straight of team building exercises and physical activity which will bond the heck out of everyone in your section, that is as promised. It is more than a physical test for everyone but also a mental exercise. Perspective, that is all that matters here.
"The only easy day was yesterday," I remembered the Course Instructor's first words as he briefed us about what was to come. The Course Instructor call sign, "Number Two", was one of the most notorious figures in the military community in Mapletish Armed Forces. A recipient of the highly decorated Medal of Honour for combat bravery during one of his many military deployments. We had mad respect for this man, strict when the time called for and a guardian to all of us when the time called for it. The first phase of training started soon after and I got my butt kicked hard, real hard and it was on a regular basis.
"Drop! Two hundred pushups! What are you waiting for? NOW! NOW! NOW!"
Right at the corner of your eyes, two hundred and fourty something men dropped to the ground and started pushing the ground away from them. All in their combat uniforms and helmets on buckled to their chins. The next thing you know it, you get hosed. Hosed with seawater and it gets everywhere. The pain starts settling in when it drips into your eyes, coupled with your sweat, you will find yourself tearing right when the session got into what would become the longest hour that you will experience. I thought I was physically fit enough to take the hammering but it was not all right down to what your body can handle. It is whether your mind can handle it. Constant harassment can take a toll on the mind and the very next thing that happens, your mind decides to give up and there you go, that is the end of your journey.
"I'm not going to go through this, damn, my arms are falling off, it is hurting everywhere."
Somehow, I mustered enough mental strength to cover those negative voices in my head and kept going.
The first time the water hit me, I turned away. That earned me a lot of affection from the instructors. A lot, with a pinch of sarcasm of course.
"Don't turn away," shouted the instructor, "Turn back and face it, you don't reject your mission when you are given the orders to proceed, don't you?"
So I did. With a mouthful of water when you struggled to breathe, I took on a couple hundreds more pushups, flutter kicks, crunches, squat jumps, or whatever exercises that we were made to do. I do not know what I was facing, my mind at a blank and the will to keep going continued.
Failure, that was not to be, everyday and several times a day.
People often ask me how tough were the exercises, was it really as bad as you made them sound? Surely they are humane enough right? A couple of hundreds here and there, but the numbers were always besides the point, I would answer. It was the constant harassment, repetition and stress that will wear you out, this made the course tough. But it's hard to explain to anyone and even more difficult to visualise, especially since you haven't lived through it.
There's a misconception that most people have and that is SOF guys are all huge muscular guys in top physical condition. The first part is largely untrue, since the guys come in all shapes and sizes. You can be between 1.6m to 1.9m, it all depends. The latter part is generally true and every SOF member is in excellent shape and will still be even after many years they leave the force. The one thing in common wasn't muscle; it was all about the mentality and will to go beyond and do whatever it takes for mission success and come back home safe.
Getting through BCDC and being a special warfare operator in the SOF is more about mental toughness than anything else. "Having a tough neck" as the guys in SOF will say which meant being stubborn and refusing to give up, that was the key to success and that sure unlocked doors. Somehow, that was the formula that gave me the answers.
The first week of training was about being as "invisible" as possible. Not getting noticed. Not getting shelled at. Not getting into trouble. I had no trouble with any of the exercises and I tried everything I could to get under the radar. Getting noticed and being the center of attention was certainly something that you wouldn't want to be in. Any slight mistake that you commit, you are 101% going to get a shelling at. If I did my thing right - and sure I did - they ignored me and went on to someone else. Getting something right, that was expected. On the battlefield, not getting everything right is the same as going back home dead. That was how serious it was.
Despite being under the radar, I got myself into being the center of attention several times throughout the course. I was slouching a little as i was stretching my upper back and they fixed me right there and then. "You having some issues with your back?" The pull up bar I go, "Go stretch your back out on the bar."
Other than land activities, swimming was one of the key components of life in the BCDC. I enjoyed swimming but even though I might not be the fastest, but I was certainly the most resilient. Minimum distances rarely tell you the whole story. A 1km swim in the rough ocean is the standard and you do that all the time. It is when the 4km swims become routine and when the boat drops you 15km out or about 8.09 nautical miles away, that is when the fastest swimmers get their kick, it is not about swimming fast here but it is about sustaining once the mileage gets longer.
"There's only one way home, boys," said the instructors, and you noticed the joy in their voices, as if they were all delighted that we are suffering in the water, "Start moving your asses or you are not going home."
Team Building Week as the week is often called within the force to make it sound less intimidating but it was essentially "Hell Week", who are we kidding here. It's seven days of continuous beat-down designed to see if you have the will and endurance to continue despite everything that is thrown in your way.
Every force member has a different story for the week. And I was not different. I had prepared my mind for this week quite a few weeks back even before it actually happened. It was just everything that we have done, morphed into a week. I convinced myself as the weeks dwindled down to the last week of Phase 1.
That night before Team Building Week, my imagination was all over me. I was nervous, palms sweaty, feet watering. I was psyched up. I knew at some point an instructor will knock down the door, hosed us with water, start firing machine gun and shooting blanks and all our bags would be everywhere, our beds flipped over, belongings flying everywhere and it will be chaos. Beneath the chaos, I will have to run out and assemble at the parade square right in the center of all of our bunk blocks. But when? That was the question. That question irked me out as I felt my stomach churning. I couldn't get myself to sleep peacefully and I could only catch short naps as I drifted in and out of the shut eye zone.
Finally, someone burst in and started shouting. Chaos ensued.
"It's here, oh finally"
It was weird. I'm about to get abused, but I was relieved and happy. As a section, we gathered ourselves in an orderly fashion and duck walked our way to the parade square, with blanks firing, hoses going at full blast and flash crashes everywhere. The test of my will finally arrived. But at the same time, I was wondering, "What the hell is all of these?"
"Will I die?"
On the brink of death but never crossing that barrier, that was the answer that would accompany me for the next 168 hours. We were split up into our boat crews, sent to the different stations to get ourselves wrecked. Boat PTs, normal PTs, sand PTs.
We ran, we swam, we did PT, we paddled. Mostly we were just kept moving around. The level of fatigue reached its peak and we have boat mates who began hallucinating.
Before the Team Building Week, someone told me one of the less demanding ways to deal with the week would be to go meal to meal. Go hard and not give in until you get your asses at the dining hall. We were routinely sent to the dining hall every six hours. So that was where my focus was on. Hunger was not an issue here since we were fed like clockwork and rest was always coming soon as I counted down to the run to the dining hall.
Simple as it might seem, sometimes, I still thought that I couldn't make it. I was tempted to get up and dashed over to the bell that would end my suffering - if you ring the bell, you can end all of the suffering, get a cup of coffee and a warm bun. Ringing the bell, meant you had enough and "I quit". Even as the bell seemed near most of the time, I didn't get my body over to ring it. I was probably too lazy to reach that, or I was just too stubborn to quit.
The pain you feel in your body are just temporary but it became normal and you got used to feeling that way. But the cold was something that not most of us will get used to. Lying out on the beach and getting the surf, freezing and windy, you started shivering uncontrollably with the chills and your teeth starts to "jitter". The only escape from this would be when someone urinates and everyone huddles together and exchange the warmth.
As the days go by, I started feeling I was going to make it. By that point, you have already felt what there is to be felt and the main goal that is keeping people moving and continuing would be to stay awake. The only shut eye I get it during meal times when you are free from the constant harassment and that became a blessing and everyone takes advantage of that period. And when the sirens sound out again, another round of harassment ensued.
It was a mental challenge. "90-10, that is the golden ratio," preached by many instructors and they are right. Mental toughness was what that will keep everyone going. You are not going to ring the bell in the battlefield. No matter the suffering, if your radio breaks down and the air carry is not coming your way, you are going to go back home however you see fit and capable to while everyone thinks you are probably dead.
It is all not sunshine and rainbows and the constant harassment is an effective way of weeding out guys. It all goes well until you see exhausted men. Are you still able to carry on when you have given everything? Can you still dig deep? My instructors in BDBC were always saying things like "If you think this is bad, you can ring the bell, because trust me, you are going to have it tougher in the force. Suck it up."
Bullshit, I thought. Little did I know that I would get to face that situation over and over again and this time in a physical state that was more wrecked and suffering that had prolonged to more than a week. I'd think that Team Building Week was stage 1 to hell.
Eventually, you lived through the week and the week that comes after, you are off to shuffling everywhere, slow jogs, fast walk. It's a concession that the instructors grant to you for staying through. But they will soon beat the hell out of you again.
"You are supposed to be over it, when the week ended. Suck it up."
Phase two was just about to begin and all the harassment started again. That is where you start simulating dives, learn about your equipment, do specific training on the tasks and drills that you are supposed to do and you practise it over and over again. One of the few methods that were taught to us is keeping the pressure in your inner and outer ears. Close your mouth, pinch your nostrils closed and blow gently through your nose. If you don't and or can't clear it properly, you will be in a lot of trouble. You might pierce a eardrum, and get blood coming out through your eyes, nose, ears maybe even through your mouth as you surfaced.
Something similar happened to my batch mate and he got himself rolled back. But he would come back soon enough and recycle to the next batch.
Injuries usually won't disqualify you in your journey of being a diver, unless it is very serious that they end your career. Mental toughness over physical prowess - if you have the mental fortitude to come back from an injury to complete and graduate from the training program, you stand a decent chance to being a good diver and force member.
