Field Exercise Three - The Combat Load

Gear was everywhere

Everything that I brought for the next weeks field exercise was dumped onto the grass of the landing zone that early Monday morning. The sun was not even above the tree's near edge of the road. The dim blue tint  of the sky was lifting slowly, allowing all the equipment I brought for the next 5 days to come into view.

A black ski mask, gloves, brown fleece, and the rest of my clothes and cold weather gear were piled next to my gas mask. The two sleeping bags were un-zipped and flattened out. A digital poncho and gortex jacket and gloves were crunched into a pile. The medical kit and magazine pouches attached to my load bearing vest were open and their contents placed by my bullet proof vest. My knife, a spool of black cord, map, and other writing material for future orders were placed on our secondary backpack. Eight light brown bags of MRE's (Meals ready to Eat) as well as my camelback, were placed behind me. And finally, the large bag called an Individual Load Bearing Equipment (ILBE) pack was unzipped and the straps all undone. I waited patiently.

This is called a "Line Out". Before starting a field exercise, a safety check is made to ensure that we have no live rounds in our weapons or anywhere in our gear. Accidentally mixing a live round with blanks could prove fatal in a training exercise.

Lt. Marathon, our squad leader for the morning, walked up to me after inspecting Lt. Kansas to my left.  He was a small and skinny man. His droopy eyes and poised nature made him look as if you could explode a grenade next to him and he would not care. He is highly respected in our squad. 

"Go ahead and clear out your weapon." He said.

I took my rifle and racked the bolt back, then lifted it toward the sky so he could look up the chamber. He looked, stuck is finger inside to ensure there was no round then looked at me.

"Clear" He said, following a snap of the bolt riding home in my weapon. He picked up the magazines and checked them for more rounds. He dropped them then moved on to the next person.

Lt. Memphis came by and began to rummage through all the articles on the ground. He felt in every corner of the ILBE, every pocket and everything that had a zipper, and thoroughly shook out all my clothes on the deck.

"Arms up" He said to me

I put my arms parallel to the deck. He felt all the pockets on my sleeves and on my chest.

"Ya sure ya don't have any rounds Brian?" He asked.
"Nope", I said
"Kay... pack yr' crap and stand by. The helo is gettin' here soon.", he said.
"Roger." I said.

I started to place the steel plates of my bullet proof vest back in, along with the rest of my equipemnt. Once all my gear was strapped in, I took a seat on the 65 pound pack. Hundreds of other Lt.'s were completing their line-out and getting their equipment stuffed in the ILBE. My platoon was almost finished. I shifted my shoulders and allowed the 25 pound vest rest naturally.

"Sup Brian." Said Lt. Texas as he walked up to me.
"Hey dude." I said.
"Here you go." He said setting down his very large and heavy M240B machine gun next to me. "You got your card out?"
I reached into my pocket and produced a small laminated white card with a list of serial numbers and weapons. I signed off that I was taking control of his weapon for the next two days.

"Have fun with that dude." Said Texas. "And the strap wasn't in the A-bag, so looks like your gonna have ta' muscle it for movement to contact."
"Crap, are you kidding? How the hell 'm gonna to move 4 clicks in the woods 'muscling' it with this damn thing?"
"Hope you been going to the gym and doin those good curls." He responded.

We both laughed.

One of the students far off in the field yelled to the gaggle of Lt.s standing in the landing zone.
"Alright Echo! Get your gear on and into the tree line. The Helo is on station!"

Getting the pack on is no easy task. Everyone took their packs in front of them, then lifted it over their heads and down onto their back, tightening the should straps and clipping the waist band down tight. The shoulder straps dug into the bullet proof vest and down into my skin. Most of the weight was balanced on my hips, and I could already feel my leg strength being tested to keep myself upright. I took a great deal of strength to bend down and lift up the machine gun.

In total, my load for the next 8 hours of moving through the forest would be 130 pounds. As I looked to the sky and watched the helicopter land, I could not help to think how I would be able to fight, let alone move, through the tree line with this much weight. The back gate of the CH-53 opened, and a flight crew member came out and gave us the thumbs up.


And some how, we all ran at full speed toward the chopper.