Capstone
On Monday, we got up early enough to make a 7A.M. formation so that we could ruck march about five miles to our camp. My rucksack weighed around thirty pounds, plus we each wore Kevlar vests and helmets. So we were carrying enough weight into the early morning march with seventy degree weather. The sweat started pouring out of me quickly until I remembered that I had purchased a nylon cap that I was wearing under my helmet. As soon as I remembered I took it off and became somewhat cooler. We had a couple of injuries during the march, but not so much that anyone had to miss out on the training exercise.
We stopped half way to drink water and change socks. Some of us who are not used to marching or hiking also had to deal with blisters. I was in good shape in that department. The heavy winter boots that I had were very comfortable, but a bit hot. We marched mostly off the pavement along the sandy trails until we came to a dirt road which lead to our camp area. My stamina held up very well, but it was a relief to lay down the load.
Initially we lined up in formation and put down our rucksacks and rested a bit. Shortly thereafter was tent assembly. We raised five tents, three of them large enough to fit thirty persons lying down. We were fairly orderly for having a number of persons who had never done this before. I got to pound in a few spikes while a few other students were surprised about how aggressive I could be.
After the tents were up, our next task was to dig foxholes "personal survivability shelters" for ourselves. We dug them in "v" formation in order to accommodate two: one for each side of the "V." We faced a wooded hill opposite ourselves in order to simulate the direction the enemy was expected to come from. Later that evening and a couple more times thereafter we were surprised by the enemy with loud simulated mortar rounds and gunfire. In addition, loud Arabic call to prayer was played to give an other-worldly effect. We quickly donned our masks and lay face down in our foxholes and then we were critiqued on our reaction times.
I slept on a mat and sleeping bag between two soldiers who were snorers. It didn't seem to bother me too much. It took me more time to get myself in a comfortable position on the ground. One evening someone sounded the alarm and we all ran out to our foxholes only to discover that the class instructors were surprised by our false alarm. They sent us back to bed. One morning, CH Tripplett impressed upon us the importance of these foxholes by telling us that when shrapnel hits the ground, it runs outward along the ground and hits anything in its way.
Our main purpose in the exercise was to hike out to different sites where we would learn about different aspects of ministry and soldiering. These were called situational exercise lanes or "STX lanes." (By the way, in the military it is possible to speak in complete sentences only using acronyms.)There was a triage STX lane, an Improvised Explosive device (IED) lane, and a Memorial Service/Ceremony STX lane. During each hike to the various STX lanes we carried a dummy in a stretcher in order to add realism to our hikes.
A Jesuit Priest and I worked on a Memorial Service together. The assignment was to respond to a scenario given to us and to determine if a service (religious) or ceremony (military custom/non-denominational) were best. We had to have everything in order including a homily to deliver after 15 minutes of preparation. Our scenario was a mass casualty in Iraq of three single soldiers, each of differing faiths including one Muslim. I preached from the OT (Ps 23 and portions of Ps 139) and emphasized how amazing it was to have three persons of such diverse backgrounds willing to fight for each other. I spoke of how the Muslim must have felt odd, being an American soldier and fighting predominantly soldiers of Muslim faith. I mentioned that he held America precious just as each of us did. I talked about respect and how one who is not outwardly religious (one of the soldiers had indicated "No religious preference") is still a child of God.
The other lanes also had significant learnings for me. We crept through a wooded area and attempted to point out all the mines. We were pretty good, but died at least once if not a couple times. These devices are insidious. They can be hidden and booby trapped in countless ways. We were told that some units have to face high pressure like this for 24 or more hours at a time in some cases. Our triage lane was excellent. We were briefed on how medics make decisions and were taught carries and how to call for Medevac (helicopter evacuation). We topped the lane off with an exercise of responding to several wounded. Some of us got silly by trying to make the "chaplains" or the "patients" laugh while playing along. They threw us a curve by having an Arab looking man who was armed and carrying a baby walk into our area. One of our chaplains didn't react in the best possible way to the situation. We were told that we needed to stay aware of the fact that all sorts of chaotic things might come our way and our job was to be as deliberate as possible in our actions.
The atmosphere during our exercise was part military and part church camp. Most of you are probably aware that I listen to preachers with at least one ear of skepticism. The one night, I was deeply impressed by one of our colleague chaplains who preached. CH (1LT) Martin was a young man who came from a holiness or Pentecostal background. He spoke eloquently of how he had wrestled with hopelessness in his life. He was remarkably vulnerable with no hint of cheap platitudes or self pity. CH Martin spoke with a compelling simplicity. A couple days after the service, I sat and spoke with him. (He was one of the snorers next to me at night.) In our conversation, I discovered that he had done Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) at a hospital with a Trauma unit. I affirmed to him that I believed he had a powerful ministry to share.
In the tents at night there were silly antics and laughter. There was a remarkable cohesiveness given how much we were being stressed. It is obvious that this is a quality that the military rewards. Morale remained good. Two meals a day were hot and good. And the weather was amazing until Thursday morning when rain was threatening. Range control closed down our course and we were packed in buses rucks and all tighter than sardines and headed back to hot showers. It was a really just an appetizer of what soldiers often experience out in the field. But, that was the point. We weren't sent out to be survivalists, simply chaplains who have some grounding in soldier skills. More will come later.
We stopped half way to drink water and change socks. Some of us who are not used to marching or hiking also had to deal with blisters. I was in good shape in that department. The heavy winter boots that I had were very comfortable, but a bit hot. We marched mostly off the pavement along the sandy trails until we came to a dirt road which lead to our camp area. My stamina held up very well, but it was a relief to lay down the load.
Initially we lined up in formation and put down our rucksacks and rested a bit. Shortly thereafter was tent assembly. We raised five tents, three of them large enough to fit thirty persons lying down. We were fairly orderly for having a number of persons who had never done this before. I got to pound in a few spikes while a few other students were surprised about how aggressive I could be.
After the tents were up, our next task was to dig foxholes "personal survivability shelters" for ourselves. We dug them in "v" formation in order to accommodate two: one for each side of the "V." We faced a wooded hill opposite ourselves in order to simulate the direction the enemy was expected to come from. Later that evening and a couple more times thereafter we were surprised by the enemy with loud simulated mortar rounds and gunfire. In addition, loud Arabic call to prayer was played to give an other-worldly effect. We quickly donned our masks and lay face down in our foxholes and then we were critiqued on our reaction times.
I slept on a mat and sleeping bag between two soldiers who were snorers. It didn't seem to bother me too much. It took me more time to get myself in a comfortable position on the ground. One evening someone sounded the alarm and we all ran out to our foxholes only to discover that the class instructors were surprised by our false alarm. They sent us back to bed. One morning, CH Tripplett impressed upon us the importance of these foxholes by telling us that when shrapnel hits the ground, it runs outward along the ground and hits anything in its way.
Our main purpose in the exercise was to hike out to different sites where we would learn about different aspects of ministry and soldiering. These were called situational exercise lanes or "STX lanes." (By the way, in the military it is possible to speak in complete sentences only using acronyms.)There was a triage STX lane, an Improvised Explosive device (IED) lane, and a Memorial Service/Ceremony STX lane. During each hike to the various STX lanes we carried a dummy in a stretcher in order to add realism to our hikes.
A Jesuit Priest and I worked on a Memorial Service together. The assignment was to respond to a scenario given to us and to determine if a service (religious) or ceremony (military custom/non-denominational) were best. We had to have everything in order including a homily to deliver after 15 minutes of preparation. Our scenario was a mass casualty in Iraq of three single soldiers, each of differing faiths including one Muslim. I preached from the OT (Ps 23 and portions of Ps 139) and emphasized how amazing it was to have three persons of such diverse backgrounds willing to fight for each other. I spoke of how the Muslim must have felt odd, being an American soldier and fighting predominantly soldiers of Muslim faith. I mentioned that he held America precious just as each of us did. I talked about respect and how one who is not outwardly religious (one of the soldiers had indicated "No religious preference") is still a child of God.
The other lanes also had significant learnings for me. We crept through a wooded area and attempted to point out all the mines. We were pretty good, but died at least once if not a couple times. These devices are insidious. They can be hidden and booby trapped in countless ways. We were told that some units have to face high pressure like this for 24 or more hours at a time in some cases. Our triage lane was excellent. We were briefed on how medics make decisions and were taught carries and how to call for Medevac (helicopter evacuation). We topped the lane off with an exercise of responding to several wounded. Some of us got silly by trying to make the "chaplains" or the "patients" laugh while playing along. They threw us a curve by having an Arab looking man who was armed and carrying a baby walk into our area. One of our chaplains didn't react in the best possible way to the situation. We were told that we needed to stay aware of the fact that all sorts of chaotic things might come our way and our job was to be as deliberate as possible in our actions.
The atmosphere during our exercise was part military and part church camp. Most of you are probably aware that I listen to preachers with at least one ear of skepticism. The one night, I was deeply impressed by one of our colleague chaplains who preached. CH (1LT) Martin was a young man who came from a holiness or Pentecostal background. He spoke eloquently of how he had wrestled with hopelessness in his life. He was remarkably vulnerable with no hint of cheap platitudes or self pity. CH Martin spoke with a compelling simplicity. A couple days after the service, I sat and spoke with him. (He was one of the snorers next to me at night.) In our conversation, I discovered that he had done Clinical Pastoral Education (CPE) at a hospital with a Trauma unit. I affirmed to him that I believed he had a powerful ministry to share.
In the tents at night there were silly antics and laughter. There was a remarkable cohesiveness given how much we were being stressed. It is obvious that this is a quality that the military rewards. Morale remained good. Two meals a day were hot and good. And the weather was amazing until Thursday morning when rain was threatening. Range control closed down our course and we were packed in buses rucks and all tighter than sardines and headed back to hot showers. It was a really just an appetizer of what soldiers often experience out in the field. But, that was the point. We weren't sent out to be survivalists, simply chaplains who have some grounding in soldier skills. More will come later.
posted by Chaplain (CPT) Fokas at 4:21 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home