I had promised to “Go out with a Bang,” on my final course of 2008. I said it to reassure and excite the guys’ coming that I was pulling out all stops for them and making October the best class yet.

Turns out, what I should have said was “I’m going to make you wish you hadn’t come at all!”

The seventeen that regretted showing up, came from as far away as Alaska, Texas, and Idaho, and were greeted with a steady rain lasting into Hell Night, and unseasonably cool temperatures.

Unseasonably cool; a few hours later it became dangerously cold.

With reveille at 0600 on Saturday, I greeted them at the cabin by saying that we were going to wait until the rain cleared before starting Hell Night. The reaction I got when I said that, told me I didn’t need to go into such detail writing these debriefs after the courses.

No reaction at all, they knew immediately I was just f**king with them, and worked hard on the ‘game faces’ they’d need for the day.

Before briefing the PRT, I was hit by a few guys’ asking, “what’s a mud puppy?”  Again, any surprises I had were spoiled by Youtube and my debriefs of previous classes, and guy’s knew what was going to happen before I said it.

What they didn’t know, and I didn’t either, was the damp weather and unseasonably cool weather would turn miserable cold in a few hours.

The final class of 2008 would get a lesson in survival and reach deeper inside themselves than any class before them. Hell Night would stay the regular 24-hours it always had, but to student and instructor alike, it would feel like a full blown Hell Week in BUD/S, as the winds picked up, and the temperatures plummeted to near freezing.

Any sane guy in my position would have modified the training and taken into account the extreme cold. There was no Trident for these guys’ at the end of Hell Night, no orders to report to a SEAL Team after graduation, no real incentive to endure the training except deep inner pride.

Why not play it safe and take it easy on them without them knowing it?

That’s NOT what we do here, and I’d work hard to fully exploit the miserable weather and give them a gift, and a lesson in hardship they’d never forget.

Tonight was going to SUCK OUT LOUD…

The day was uneventful and pretty standard, but a few guys’ struggled. Walking at points during the 1.5 mile run earned 4 men a spot in the “Quartet.” Worse than the Goon Squad, the Quartet would stay together for the rest of the day wondering “How’d I get in this group, and “How do I get out of it?”

The lesson was simple, if you can walk, then you can jog. If you can jog, you can run.

Never show weakness, EVER… Always look strong. Humans are no different than lions on an African Savanna. The lions can spot a weak or crippled animal in a heard quickly and attack. Same with humans, we see weakness, and attack. I don’t care if you work at Home Depot or SEAL Team; it makes NO difference. You’ll get pushed around and dominated by stronger guys’. It’s human nature for most people to kick sand in the face of a weaker person.

NEVER, EVER, show weakness, no matter how bad you feel…

I explained that SEALs admire guys’ who have worked hard to reach a level of fitness required in BUD/S. We also admire guys’ not even close to that level that show “Heart.” The Quartet had heart, and they’d leave here and work harder on the strength part later. Much harder for them than the other stronger guys’, they stuck it out and earned bragging rights, and a well deserved spot in the Class.

Over the Beach Training, Hand 2 Hand, log PT, and great chow. Do some shitty things for a while, then do some cool training, do some shitty, do some cool. In 24-hours, you’ll transform into something you never knew you could become.

A F**KING BADASS… and you’ll stay that way forever…

As badasses go, we had one arrive with his Father and Grandfather around lunchtime. Dillon ate and slept everything SEAL Team. Training at a young age to one day enter BUD/S, the eleven year old worked hard for his dream. That dream was put on hold temporarily when he was diagnosed with leukemia as short time ago.

We’d been trying for months to get Dillon down for a day, but setback and disappointment followed each course and a lengthy stay in the hospital was the norm.

Not this time, he’s picked a perfect course to watch guys’ get their ass kicked, and showed up all smiles, now a twelve year old.

DJ taught him hand2hand using other trainees who gracefully volunteered, and I took him to shoot a couple cool weapons as Dillon was a bit of a gun nut himself. His little gaunt face showed he’d had a tough fight, and it did all of us good to see him forget his troubles for a day. That face, spent the day with a HUGE smile on it.

He followed us around and warmed up quickly to the cadre and class, and all had much fun. The real fun began at log PT for Dillon when he was handed the bullhorn and began barking out orders to the class. A BUD/S Instructor in training, he had a great time inflicting PAIN on a class of guys’ who endured his wrath with graciousness.

The class was gracious now, but a few hours later Dillon would turn EVIL and stay within arms reach of the bullhorn for the remainder of the night. We’d see how hospitable and caring a group of guys’ could be with the horn inches from their heads and being told, “IT’S ONLY WATER YOU SISSIES” on a very cold night.

Ten Bears would lead tonight’s mission. His third Hell Night here, I told him I’d pull him out of log PT so we could plan the mission he’d be responsible for, because log PT suck so much, and he’d done it so many times before.

He replied something to the fact of “Isn’t there something else we can do later, I don’t want to miss log PT!”

A gentle giant of a man, I’d picked the right guy for the job that night. Go do you’re log PT badass, I’ll adjust on my end.

Log PT sucked, but it sucked a whole lot worse for the Quartet, who just couldn’t seem to pull it together. The instructors turned their attention to them and ground them down to the point that I had to remind the Cadre “This ain’t First Phase in BUD/S.”

They survived the evolution, but the day was young, very young, and it would be dark soon.

The Quartet would continue to “suffer in silence” a short time later.

The class cammied up after a great dinner and a well deserved break. Dillon ate with the guys’ and joined a pair who helped each other apply the face paint, Dillon included.

Ten Bears and the boat crew leaders began planning the mission in wet cammies and exhausted from a tough day. As darkness fell, so did the temperatures.

Briefing the class, Ten Bears explained the mission.

Launch the Zodiacs, and paddle close to the target.

Launch Swimmer Scouts for a Reconnaissance.

Signal the Platoon to swim in when safe.

Assault the Target. Kill DJ and Luke. Capture Ben.

Finally, don’t get caught…

Ten Bears, is a sharp guy, and he had some great boat crew leaders and a switched on class to help him.

 I heaped a bit more responsibility on him that night by not wanting him to pass ‘Code Words’ on their progress. For the first time running these courses, I’d know nothing about what they were doing, or where they were. They’d be on their own, and if anything bad happened, they’d deal with it themselves.

The only thing I told them was to hit the Target by Midnight…

With the class underway, the Cadre manned the Target and began patrols every 15 minutes looking for them. In between patrols, we sat and shot the shit, as the winds picked up and I began to notice the instructors putting up hoods on sweatshirts and Gortex jackets.

It got COLD… Really cold, and I wondered if my decision to leave them to their on demises was a good one. It was on, and there was no way to recall them.

Windy, and in wet cammies on a cold night, I could imagine the jack hammering going on in the boats, while the guys’ waited to be signaled in by the equally freezing swimmer scouts.

It was becoming dangerous fast, and my concern only elevated each time an instructor said “I’m glad I’m not in those boats, its F**KIN FREEZING tonight.”

As the hours passed, I hoped Ten Bears would assault early. As we neared Midnight, I realized ‘He’s been here three times before and knows what happens after the mission.” As cold as it was, I figured he was not coming early, as the pain inflicted after the mission, outweighed the misery of being so cold in the boats that were hidden out there somewhere, and I started getting nervous.  

Dillon joined DJ and Luke on the patrols. Close to midnight, he leaned to DJ and said “There here.”  Bat like ears that were much keener that the SEALs who suffered so much hearing loss during training and combat, DJ and Luke were caught completely by surprise as the trainees swept the Target taking out DJ and Luke, and quickly turned their attention to Ben who was captured after a short run for freedom.

Cuffing Ben and moving him to the waters edge for extraction, I asked for a head count and demanded the class set up a tight security.

Taking up positions behind cover, I looked at each man shaking violently from the cold swim. Miserable, they kept a game face, and successfully accomplished the mission on their own.

After a short debrief, they were told to swim back and bring in the boats. Moving slowly back in the cold water, each man sent out ripples from the continuous shaking as they disappeared into the night. 

Back soon, it was at a hypothermic level for all, and I asked the class who was the best fire-starter. Receiving no answer as they all stood in ranks shaking, pissed me off to no end, and they’d receive a beating to warm them up if that’s’ what they wanted.

The ugliness began, and muscles strained with clenched teeth. We needed a fire, it was getting dangerous fast.

On their feet, I again demanded to know who was the best fire starter, and someone finally raised their blue, wrinkled hand saying it was him. I quickly made assignments; you guys get wood, you guys’ get paper from the dumpster, you guys’ bring that barrel over here. GET A F**KIN FIRE STARTED RIGHT F**NING NOW…

Soon the fire began to grow, and the class surrounded the barrel “nut to butt” sucking in the warmth.   The shaking soon died down and Dillon passed each man an MRE to eat. They’d need the calories… We weren’t done getting cold just yet… Not even close…

One of the hardest evolutions in BUD/S is getting cold, then getting warm, getting cold, them getting warm. On and on it would go with a steady stream of quitters heading for the bell.

We’d fully exploit that tonight… The class would earn this one…

In the water, “Hide the Trainee,’ sing a song as a class, boat tug of war, warm around the fire, and back in the water. It was a bitch, and the night was still young when Luke broke out the hose and began singeing guys out for special treatment. It would pay to be a winner tonight as he’d get the last guy from the races and lay him out on the cold cement boat ramp.

As the shivering trainee lay there, Luke would say, “Tell me which stream is the worst?” and he go through all the setting on the nozzle allowing a sample of the shower, mister, stream, and other setting as the trainee would reply “ Well, that ones pretty bad,” through clenched teeth, and Luke sprayed them while the wind cut like a knife, and the others watched the torture from the warmth of the fire.

Not supporting each other as a Team earned the class a MAJOR beating, until they figured out “Were all in this together.” After that, any time someone was getting the hose, someone from the fire would volunteer to take his place after a while, and often the whole class did.

The “Not giving a Shit” thing happened, and they dug in deep and began to have fun, and cared little about the cold, knowing it would end at some point and I’d secure Hell Night sooner or later.

Some had a little more fun than others…

DJ yelled through the bullhorn and asked nicely for someone in the class to QUIT…

One of the trainees yelled back “Hey Instructor Ben, why don’t you QUIT?”

Becoming cocky and pulling together as a class was what we wanted. Very funny when he said it, he would not go unpunished for his arrogance, and Ben called him out.

“Get your shirt off, and lay on the ramp.” Spread your arms and legs, the hose came out and the torture began. A sharp stream to his armpits, nose and mouth, I’m sure “Dan the Trainee’ regretted saying it a little and enduring the hose.

I’m also sure he’d never regretted it fully, and kinda began enjoying the extra attention. Born again hard, Dan suffered in silence.

Dillon stayed near the bullhorn barking out orders, and sending a steady stream of trainees into the cold water, over and over again. Any time an instructor took the bullhorn from him to announce another evolution; Dillon would get a bit perturbed. I finally just gave him his own bullhorn as any good SEAL Instructor always has a spare lying around, and Dillon began running his own evolutions, with me being able to do little to control the adrenalin flowing through his small frame.

I think Dillon would have preferred if I had just packed up the Instructors and left him to run the training alone! 

With them pulled together too tight for us inflict any additional pain in their spirited bodies; I decided that continuing any longer was pointless. The lesson had been learned. “If you don’t mind, It don’t matter.”

Lets get the boats back, and secure Hell Night.

They didn’t break a record time getting back, but they came close. Taking into account how cold and drained they were, they did hold there own record for being the class that endured the most miserable Hell Night I’ve run in 16 years of doing them for civilians.

A hard bunch, they cleaned up and the Helo arrived at 0700 for their low level flight down the River. They elected not to cast back in the water they had spent so much time freezing in that day and night, and I don’t much blame them.  I would not have either…

Dillon and his Dad took the first flight on the Helo.

As Dillon got off with a HUGE smile, his wool hat had come off in the Helo and he approached they guys still wearing cammie paint on his face, his small, hairless head, shined in the morning sun from the terrible treatments he endured, and said his goodbyes to a class that embraced his strength with tears in their eyes.

Dillon, as sick as he was, had in his own way endured as tough a night as the class did, and I was sad to see him leave. I received letters from his family and him a few days later; Dillon said he cried most of the way home as he missed being with us and didn’t want to leave.

We'll get him back down soon…

I graduated the class a short while later, and all went into a deep sleep for a few hours before Platoon Training began.

I’m writing this debrief on Sunday the 26th, and temperatures outside today allow a tee-shirt to be worn. I write this a couple days after training for the full course ended.

What none of us knew at the time, was that the survival portion of training, would truly turn into survival training. The temperatures the guys’ struggled with dropped into the twenties at night, freezing the ground they slept on.

Disaster would strike the “Leper Colony” Fire Team, as an unattended fire claimed a well-built shelter and much survival gear would go up in flames.

The rest of the class, Ben and I included, would reach deep to accomplish the training in the bitter temperatures.

A smart guy would have cancelled the training by respecting the extremely cold weather, and knowing the novice trainees were not fully prepared, had little gear, and no food.

What they did have was each other, and a strong Teamwork ethic from such a tough Hell Night.

I decided to be a dumb guy, and continue training.

Save you’re own lives was the lesson we’d teach.

As bad as it got, we weren’t coming out of the field early…

We'd all continue to "Suffer in Silence..."

The guys’ began stirring after Hell Night around 1400.  A long day before, you’d think they’d pass out in dead sleep; instead it’s a restless sleep with the mind still in the game.

The Class Leader pulled them together and Ben began his tracking course, showing the class skills he had learned, and put to good use in Afghanistan as a Point Man for his Platoon.

Ben has a knack for keeping things simple, and had the guys’ tracking quickly. Running, walking, stopping and looking over a shoulder. Being followed, male or female, good guy or bad, carrying a load, and trying to deceive by laying a false trail.

Amazing stuff, and perfect training for a Hell Night hangover…

Diane laid out a spread of country cooking for supper, and the guys got a pile down their necks. It was ‘free time in the pool’ that night. Watch a movie, dry your boots and cammies, bandage blisters, and get the gillie suit ready for the mission.

Chris would be running some Sniper Training on Thursday, and brought a plain gillie suit and burlap for the guys to build. Giving a class on proper construction and blending in colors, the guys pulled apart the burlap into strings and began weaving patterns into the suit.

Time-consuming stuff, they’d need to do a good job and quickly, as we were counting on the Snipers to go undetected during the mission. They’d lay in hiding a few feet from the bad guys’ for hours before the main assault force hit. 

It wasn’t going to be easy…

Up at 5 am on Monday, I took back some coffee and made sure the class was ready for Master Chief Matto. Some were ready and fired up, others had the ‘thousand yard stare,’ and not used to getting up so early.

Making matters worse, it was just a simple dark, cold morning. Putting on wet, squishy, boots, and seeing your steamy breath roll feet from your mouth, doesn’t do much to motivate the average guy.

Guess what? It doesn’t excite SEALs either, but we learn to embrace the suck, and get the job done no matter what.

They met Matto at 0600 for PT, and were joined by a couple extra guys’ who lived close by and were going to BUD/S. The River was beautiful as the sun slowly rose, and covered in an eerie mist.

Beautiful to me… I don’t think the class appreciated the splendor, as the thought of getting back in it distracted some. Get a game face on, Matto demands perfect form for PT.

After a very tough PT, Matto told them to move to the edge of the River and face the water. Moving slowly, when they reached the waters edge Matto had them turn and face him on a dock and fired them up about SEAL Team and answered questions.

When finished, he said he’d ‘ramp up’ the PT the next morning, and turned them over to the class leader for a run back to the cabin.

Very funny, when he released the class, they moved away from the water a Hell of a lot faster than they approached it.

Matto had kept them dry, as the day would be cold and wet cammies and boots all day would potentially get some guys sick.

It took all Matto’s strength not to get them wet; I was sure he would cave under pressure the next morning and really turn up the heat.

After breakfast, Ben began the survival training that included shelters, editable plants, and water to name a few. The guys’ were taught how to make cord from plants as an improvised way to tie up shelters and a host of other uses, and build proper fires. Very interesting stuff, Ben finished by making a fire with a hand drill that just kinda leaves you with your mouth open in amazement.

His final challenge was for the class to build a fire in under 5 minutes and save the life of a class mate who had fallen in cold water and risked hypothermia and death unless they could warm him up.

Ben quickly told a member of the “Quartet” to jump in the pond, as punishment for being late for PT that morning and a fire was soon ripping to warm him up.

Don, the jump dude, showed up after lunch to teach Free Fall Parachuting to the class.  I took two guys who’d not be jumping, on a Recon of the Targets the class would hit over the next few days.

One guy was a paramedic from North Carolina who was staying for Platoon Training and would not be jumping; he stayed busy during survival training keeping wounds cleaned and bandaged though.

The other guy not jumping was Spence…

Spence was the youngest guy to ever go through training here. Just shy of his sixteenth birthday this spring, I broke my own rules and allowed him come for training where he kicked major ass and was a force to be reckoned with.

I think Spence, after coming here the first time, didn’t look at his friends back home the same way again.

I’m guessing he felt a little outta place when he got back, and needed to get back in the game and be around guys’ who were as aggressive as he was.

Sixteen now, Spence was back for round two, and he’d play a major part in the upcoming exercises.

As darkness fell, Ben and I taught patrolling to the guys. Once they grasped the concepts and were moving well together, we began a night patrol that would challenge everyone.

Challenging, it would also bring much in the way of ‘hushed’ laughter, as a constant stream of guys’ took mud baths throughout the patrol on the slick trails.

On Point was a Mexican badass from Arizona.  

I’ve seen a lot of Point Men over my years as a SEAL, but I can't remember a Mexican one. Point Men are usually a good ole country boy, and someone who grew up in the woods shooting squirrels as a kid, a farm boy type.

Not the first thing you stereotype of most Hispanic guys’ backgrounds, this one had it, and did a GREAT job of leading the class through dark trails, and over less than perfect terrain.

So much so, I had him lead us into areas that would have challenged most veteran SEAL Point Men.

Finishing late that night, the class cleaned up and prepared for Matto in the morning…

Meeting Matto at 0600 for PT, I could tell he wasn’t his normal self. Not moody, or distracted at all, he just carried a strange look on his face that was noticeable.

I found out soon enough that Matto was going through withdrawals from not running his kind of PT the day before by being concerned with the cold.

Matto needed a fix that morning and the only thing that would help his PT addiction was seeing grimacing faces, and steam rising from wet, straining, bodies.

Matto turned up the heat in a BIG way…

The ragged bunch returned and had a quick breakfast. We’d insert for the mission at sunset that night and had much work to do.

I taught the class how to butcher a large animal, and they passed the cut up meat to Diane for their supper before a tough few days in the field.

The survival course is always a bitch, and the guys’ always miss Diane’s cooking. This course would be one for the record books. Eat a good meal; you guys’ are going to need it.

Tex, the horse chiropractor, came back on Sunday to join the class. He had just finished the September Course and missed the camaraderie he found here. A glutton for punishment, he’d lead tonight’s mission having done it a few weeks before.

Whatever he wanted to do was fine, just do the unexpected and kick some ass…

The ‘Booger Eaters” that man the Target as bad guys’, have come to expect us using the Zodiac’s in some form or another. They know we proceed up River after the mission to the survival area.

We have hit them in almost every conceivable way; from the North, from the South, by Zodiac, by swimmer scouts, delivering pizzas, Trojan Horse, and friendly agents playing the part of fisherman.

Taking advantage of them expecting the Zodiac’s, Tex’s plan was to insert a Sniper pair early to report back enemy positions and routines.

With the Snipers in place, one squad would come in from the North, and another from the South on foot. The Zodiac’s would be left at the Cabin and brought down after the mission was over.

The Booger Eaters would never see this one coming…

I inserted the Snipers at 1800, and they snuck into a concealed hide site very close to where the booger eaters set up a security position. The plan was for the Snipers to take out that position when the assault started and establish an area we could get a foothold on.

I often talk about how sneaky we are in screwing the bad guys’ on the Target. Truth be told, the bad guys are no slouches and often just as crafty at keeping us at bay. A tough group of veteran Airsofters, no matter what happened tonight, everyone would eat a face full of painful BB’s.  

Ben’s group left the Cabin at 1900 and began the long patrol to the Target. My group left by vehicle at the same time for our insertion point to the South. Arriving at the insertion point, Tex had his guys’ do a final gear check and test fire of the weapons.

With Spence on Point for his squad, the method of insertion would be a claustrophobic one, and a test to control panic in the squad.

The insertion point forced the squad to cross a busy four-lane highway. Four lanes, with plenty of room for six lanes; it was three hundred feet of danger, and no way they’d go undetected trying to cross it.

The only way was under it…

Spence led the squad into a dark culvert that ran under the road. Entering one by one in the wet tunnel, the guys would rely on touching the boots of the guy in front of them to ensure they stayed together.  Zero visibility, the guys’ fought panic in the tight coffin, as creatures squirmed across hands with each foot of them crawling toward the entrance and fresh air on the other side.

A deep exhale of relief by each man followed as they finally excited on the other side and melted into the darkness moving closer to the Target.

Within a few hundred meters of the Target, a dim glow of lights led the way. Frequent stops to call for updates on activity from the Snipers became tough. The bad guys were so close to the Snipers that it made most communications impossible.

We’d have to hope now that common sense would take over, and everyone understood the plan.

Tex’s squad inched closer to the Target and kind of in the open along a railroad track using the shadows to hide the squad. Being in the back, I could see clearly the dark figures of the squad moving steadily forward crawling to a final position for the assault.

Soon, I mouthed the words “Shit” when I looked up and could clearly see a bad guy standing on the tracks with the squad still moving forward not seeing him.

We were danger close; how he didn’t see or hear us was pure luck. Perhaps he did, as a few minutes later he returned with another bad guy and a flashlight sweeping the tracks.

Everyone saw them now…

Lying prone with weapons ready and trained on the bad guys’, they came closer and closer covering us with the lights. Blending in well with the shadows, they knew something was there but still couldn’t make us out.

Within fifty feet and getting closer, it was only a matter of time and I wondered why the Point Man wasn’t shooting them. They’d be right on top of us in a few seconds and I whispered to the guy in front of me to shoot them, shoot them, shoot them.

Finally the Point Man opened up in the dark and sent a burst toward them that brought a “Hail” of return fire that pelted my face. The whole squad opened up sending one bad guy running and killing the other.

The gig was up; we were compromised and lost the element of surprise. No time to dick around, I fired a red flare signaling the assault was underway and all elements began the fight.

It got messy, with plenty of confusion and a steady stream of good and bad guys headed toward the safe area after being killed.

Tex regrouped the Platoon which pulled together, finally taking the Target from some seriously ‘dug in’ booger eaters…

All had some big laughs’, and a few pick up games with the bad guys’ shooting each other with the painful projectiles for a couple hours, while Ben and I got the boats ready and prepared for a tough couple days in the swamps of Virginia.

We left the Target and proceeded up the river to the survival area. Concentrating on the tough navigation down the narrow canals and inlets, I noticed a bunch of guys’ with their heads down and huddling. I quietly asked what they were doing and was told, “We’re trying to stay warm!”

I hadn’t noticed how cold it was while driving the boat.

If they thought it was cold now at midnight, they we’re gonna love 3 am.

I beached the boats and we unloaded gear on a dark night. I designated three areas for the Fire Teams to set up. Same spots they always set up in, but call me nuts, depending which area they set up in, good things happen or bad things follow them through the exercise.

It all started this spring with a group we called the Leper Colony. Seemed that everything that could go wrong, did go wrong at their camp. The second camp we called the Soup Group. Bad things happened to them also, but not nearly as much as the Lepers.

Finally, the Dream Team who never has any problems at their camp

We make fun of the Lepers, camped on the far end of the site. Hurling insults, it’s best to stay away from them if you’re superstitious.

The guys’ began setting up hammocks. From my position near the Dream Team (I’m no dummy) it was a light show of headlamps and flashlights with much laughing and still talking about the mission.

Fires were started at each camp, and I crashed in my hammock being an old f**ker.

I woke up a few hours later feeling like I was back above the Arctic Circle in Northern Norway. The temperatures had plummeted quickly, and without adjusting my sleeping arrangements, I’d go without sleep the rest of the night. 

Pulling myself out of the hammock, I scanned the camps and saw every head from the class huddled as close to the fires as they could get.

We had a big problem…

SEALs ain’t stupid. We’re hard guys’, but there’s a difference between hard and stupid. On missions, we do everything we can to arrive at that Target in great fighting shape. Anyone can suck it up; Hell, I’ve lived a life of sucking hardship up, but we try not to for the sake of mission success. Try to eat well in the field, try to get solid rest when you can, make yourself feel better on a hard Op with a comfort item or two.

The point is, you need to be in the best condition you can be in for the Assault.

That’s how SEALs win…

These guys’ were gonna be zombies without some sleep. Hard getting them moving in that condition, it also becomes dangerous with guys’ doping off from exhaustion.

I had to do something, and I knew they weren’t gonna like it.

I got the Dream Team on their feet. A quick speech about saving their own lives and doing something besides curling up in hot ashes, I sent a pair away from the warm fire for leaves to act as a mattress of sorts. I took all the gear they had to build a quick shelter. Poncho’s, blankets, what ever they had and all of it.

I used a hammock and tied off a poncho, the other end went to the ground and was staked down. Others got wood and plenty of it to last the night. The leaves were bedded under the poncho and blankets on top of leaves. We moved their fire closer to the shelter and built up bigger logs behind it for a heat shield to direct heat into the shelter.

Finally, after 30 minutes of hustle, they all squeezed in side by side, and used the remaining blankets to cover themselves. One guy had the wood piled next to him, and would toss a log on when needed throughout the night.

Ben was close by and sleeping like a baby under the roots of a large fallen tree. The hole from the roots was a few feet deep and he had a nice fire built. He was elevated a couple feet above the fire and tucked into the roots on a natural ledge that fit his size perfectly. The root ball from the tree acted as a natural heat shield, and he slept soundly in nothing but his cammies and a bed of leaves.

I hated to wake him, but the survival course was starting earlier than expected…

I took the Leper Colony and got them on their feet. I could have had Ben take them, but Ben was too important and I felt expendable. It was my course and if someone had to go near the Lepers, then the responsibility rested with me.

I slowly inched my way toward them feeling panic and anxiety flow through my veins.

Just kidding… Well, kinda kidding…until I realized they were missing a man.

Turns out Spence went AWOL and abandoned the Leper Colony for the Dream Team. It kinda pissed me off, until I thought to myself “Spence is a pretty smart guy,” and was only thinking about getting off a sinking ship before it went down.

OK, I’m done beating up the Lepers…

Ben got the Soup Group a quick shelter built, and soon all three Fire Teams were tucked away for the night. I had gone back to get a piece of gear shortly after working with the Lepers, and found the Dream Team sound asleep and snoring.

A good night sleep for all, we awoke a few hours later and began the survival training.

Ben had them work on more efficient shelters for tonight, and I took a group out fishing. I showed them how to set limb lines. Sneaky fishing, and perfect for Escape and Evasion training.

A limb line is just gutted parachute cord with a hook and bait. We tie them to flexible limbs from tree’s along the river that act like fishing poles, giving the caught fish some spring.

Each group set out eight to ten lines, and we’d check them every couple hours.

Classes and practical work on purifying water and editable plants, they worked hard to get enough food and water for the remainder of the training, and began catching fish.

Ben had taught what parts of a Cattail to eat, and then cleaned a pile of the starchy roots and shoots. Fish were cleaned, and the guys’ began to settle in for supper when I looked in the direction of the Leper camp.

None of the Lepers were at the camp, instead joining the others at a communal fire for dinner.

Looking at the camp some fifty feet distant, I thought to myself “Damn, that’s a big fire!” 

I quickly realized the fire was consuming more than wood, and the whole camp was burning like an inferno.

Turning to the happy campers, I asked if anyone noticed anything wrong at the Leper Colony.

Ohhhh SHIT!!!

I never saw the Lepers move so fast.

Quite a spectacle as they ripped down burning poncho’s and hammocks, trying to salvage as much as they could.

Much was lost, and the Lepers began re-building their shelter as insult after insult was cast their way…

There is just something about that area and the guys’ who inhabit it that brings bad luck.

I thought about tying them to trees that night; binding them tight so nothing else bad would happen to my misfits, but we had a mission, and the Lepers would get a chance at redemption by leading it.

The guys’ would have a meal of fish and cattails, and get some rest. We posted sentries that night and each man would take a shift. We’d be up at 0330 for a tough hump and a challenging mission to forage for food.

The temperatures that night would plummet below freezing, and the Lepers had one more stroke of bad luck in the form of ensuring everyone was up at 0330 to begin the patrol. They woke everybody in the Class all right, but failed to wake Ben and me.

What woke me up was a booming voice from Tex yelling to another camp at 0345 about something. <

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