By P. KELLY SMITH
05:30 wake-up calls, grenade assault courses, rappelling down 40-foot walls, yelling hoo-ah? What did I get myself into?
Oh, yeah, the army.
This weekend, I joined forces with BYU's Army ROTC cadets at Camp Williams for their annual field training exercises.
Little did I know what I was getting myself into as they issued me army fatigues, a sleeping bag, a canteen and meals ready to eat.
I soon learned what the army was all about when I heard phrases like, "Company Attention, Are you motivated?" and "Welcome to the jungle, cadets," and "We're going to smoke your trash!"
We arrived at Camp Williams in Draper, Thursday afternoon. The scenery was pretty sparse -- the ground rolling in sagebrush, stumbling terrain and an occasional sunflower popping up here and there, just to see what all the commotion was about.
Since the army doesn't believe in wasting time or daylight, the cadets got right into their five-line formation for a briefing of the obstacle course they were about to run.
Their task was to negotiate each obstacle of the course in a safe and timely manner as a team with the purpose of building individual confidence, teamwork and motivation. The cadets were warned about the high, slick obstacles and wildlife -- then they were told to take all commands from their squad leader, help each other out and to stay motivated.
My Assistant Editor, Misti Pincock came along with me to offer me moral support. I was grateful for her presence, because it meant I wouldn't be the only outsider standing awkwardly in the cadets' dust as they energetically ran past me.
Misti and I joined a squad and when the clock began, so did we. Over huge walls, under barbed wire, up rope climbs and down nets, the cadets ran through them -- with us taking pictures or writing notes.
The squad couldn't advance to the next obstacle until all members had made it through successfully. The object of the course wasn't to beat the clock, but to work together as a squad.
I was impressed to see the male cadets helping the female cadets up the rope climb. There was no male chauvinism or power trips going on here. I've never seen an organization have such a high level of team camaraderie and enthusiasm. Our squad made it out in 45.32 minutes with no penalties.
We didn't come in first place, but at least the company motto, "Can't smoke a rock, hoo-ah!," still ran true.
That night we settled down in our barracks for a quick bite to eat before lights out at 10 p.m. I don't know what I expected to find when I opened my spaghetti MRE (meal ready to eat), but thoughts of gourmet dog food and processed cheese were definitely among them. But I was delighted to find a five-course meal, all wrapped individually before my eyes. I had a spaghetti and meat sauce packet (which wasn't that bad), crackers, peanut butter, oatmeal cookie bar, beverage powder, Charms candy, mints, a miniature Tabasco sauce bottle, salt and even a moist towelette---at least the army worries about our personal hygiene.
One cadet asked me what I found most surprising about the army during my weekend stay. I told him I wasn't prepared for the hourly watches, where one cadet spends an hour at-post, and when their hour is up, they can go to bed. We weren't in enemy territory, or in tents out among the wildlife. Why do we need watches?
I never really got an answer, but I think I came to my own conclusion: The army has certain traditions and protocol that they've been following for years. When in doubt, don't ask questions, just follow the crowd.
Friday morning we rose at 5:30 a.m. with the blaring lights and female cadet saying, "Oh good, the reporters are up." We had just enough time to brush our teeth, lace our boots and stuff another MRE into the many pockets of our camouflaged pants, before we disappeared with the crowd for another day of adventure.
We drove out to the grenade assault course and waited in the vans until the sun came up. When the course became visible, it was pretty clear what the objective of this drill was: If you don't get sand in your pants, you didn't do it right. But for this course, Misti and I weren't just spectators.
When all the cadets had run through, it was our turn. And since this would be my only time to say I was in the army, I wanted to make the most of my experience; not to mention how great a story it would make.
So while the cadets held my camera and tape recorder (a couple of them wanted to put the tape recorder near the ground, hoping to catch some grunts or an asthma attack), I swallowed my pride and began to run. I first jumped over a wooden barricade. It looked a lot easier when the cadets did it.
I then threw a grenade (no pin), crawled under a hole, threw another grenade (not very far), jumped through tires (fell once), went underneath a barbed wire fence on my back, crawled around steel cans, threw another grenade, went across a log and then finally threw my last grenade.
Exhaustion was an understatement.
Next came the rappelling, which I was actually looking forward to. They assembled a squad, showed us how to fasten our harnesses and then let us go.
But before we could climb the great fortress, we had to recite a little command. Here's what I said: "Cadet Smith of the mighty cougar battalion, requesting permission to ascend the tower, sir!"
They make you stand on this cement slab, with your arms to your side, in front of the rappelling gods -- or in this case the, rangers who were supervising this exercise. I forgot to say "sir!" on my first time up and was quickly corrected with a reprimand.
I came down a lot faster than I went up, and my stomach can still feel every jolt. Who says the army doesn't know how to have fun?
Now that my adventure with the army has ended and my body has recovered from using muscles I never knew I had before, I can proudly say I was part of an extraordinary organization.
Here, honor, dedication and leadership are not just recited words. They're personal mottos tattooed on each of the cadets hearts. For BYU's Army ROTC, they don't just walk with pride, they march.
Copyright Brigham Young University 13 Oct 1997
