Field Exercise Three - Going Internal

It is my happy place.

I remember that day vividly; Snowboarding in the mountains of Utah for my first time was an unforgettable experience.The snow had just moved in to cause white out conditions. My board glided silently over the snow in such a smooth fashion that I didn't even feel like I was moving. It took an effortless amount of energy to sway back and forth down the run between the pine trees. Everything felt light. My family followed right behind me, their ski's pressing ever so gently into the powder. Never had I known such quiet or peace. It was like heaven.

B-B-B-BANG.

Machine gun fire. Shouts to my left. Heat. Pain. Sweat running down my face. A burning sensation in my lungs. Marines scrambling through the trees. Chaos. 

This is definitely not my happy place. 

The pack that I wore cut into my shoulders. My flak jacket was soaked with sweat and steamed with heat. My legs burned from trying to walk up the hill in the forest. The muscles in my arms could barely hold the medium machine gun after 3 miles of marching. I scrambled up the hill to get to a position to lay down my machine gun and join the fight, but the blinding pain of carrying near 130 pounds kept me unmotivated to move forward with urgency.

More yells and commands came through the forest as others returned fire.I finally reached the crest of the hill and dropped to the prone position. Other Officers in my squad did the same. They painfully dropped down and attempted to look over their rifles to search for the simulated enemy in the forest. Everyone's breathing was labored. All their faces said the same thing; agony.

Several of my muscle groups screamed in pain. I tried to catch my breath but couldn't. I shut my eye's and tightened my face. So much pain for such a long period of time. It must have been three hours. Or was it four? I couldn't concentrate. I could not go through another attack like that again.  I had no idea how much further we had to go to our objective. It could have been another 3 miles for all I knew. 

I wanted this to stop. I wanted to be somewhere else. I kept my eye's shut and tried to bring back the memory of Utah. This was hell.

Someone tapped my shoulder and I opened my eyes. It was Lt. Pittsburgh. He motioned to me that the rest of the platoon was moving on.

Going internal is the mind's first defense when faced with pain. No one wants to be walking through the forest with 130 pound on their back. Trying to concentrate and actively scan the tree line for enemy is even more difficult. Running toward the fight and employing your weapon, even more difficult. Instead, everyone's mind seeks a memory, a string of thought, or anything else that will take the mind off of whats going on in the moment. Some would argue that a Marine's greatest enemy is not the person pointing a weapon:

It is his ability to go internal.