The Storm

didn’t talk much, and I knew as little as the men under me. I was just curious about the next course of action."

"Our group," Henry continued, "entered a building in the motor pool area, Building 14-A, a rounded, camouflaged quanset building with a single, goose-necked light hanging over the door. We stepped in. The room had just enough chairs for us 10, and we stood at attention in front of the chairs. In the front of the room was a large, erasable marker board covered with a sheet. From behind us we heard, 'Gentlemen, have a seat and relax,' from a gruff military voice, floating over our heads and reverberating around the room. 'I am drill instructor Grey and I will be your babysitter for he rest of this month, and your training officer to keep you from getting flabby.'" "'I am not here to discuss your mission or where you will be deployed. I am here to keep you fit and healthy and relevant. We sure do not want Uncle Sam to deploy slobs on the battlefield, do we gentlemen?' 'No Sir,' we all responded. The next six weeks were brutal. Early marches, weight training, extended martial arts training, sleep deprivation, fake interrogations, even waterboarding and CS gas assaults. It was standard military training on steroids! It struck me odd, that there were no explosives training, so it dawned on me that we would be quiet in-and-out on our mission tasks. The sarge raised the sheet from off of the marker board and showed us our scheduled training chart. We weren't disappointed. It was as brutal as advertised."

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