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davidtsblog · 11 years ago

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Phase Zero

There are certain experiences in life that people tend to make a big deal about but really aren’t so bad once you go through them. This was not one of those cases. For me, Phase Zero was worse than what some of the other Officer Candidates made it out to be. It was a continuous onslaught of physical torment combined with sleep deprivation and a general shittyness; in other words a gut check designed to weed out the weaker candidates. I point out that I am speaking for the Michigan OCS program only because Phase Zero is state-run and not all states run it the same.

Day 1

Phase zero always starts on a Monday morning (and ends Friday), so we were allowed to occupy the barracks on Sunday night in order to prepare ourselves and get some extra needed sleep. Only one of the candidates had the audacity to show up in the morning, at the last minute, completely unprepared, and with no clue of what was going on. Suffice it to say she was the only one that didn’t make it through the week, but not before clearly emerging as the “Private Pile” of our platoon.

So naturally I woke up wretched with that f*ck-me-I’m-about-to-do-something-shitty feeling I have grown accustomed to in the Corps. I was expecting all the yelling and confusion to begin right away in the morning formation, but for the first hour or so the uncomfortable calm-before-the-storm painfully loomed. They brought us to a classroom where we filled out some forms while waiting to be in-briefed by the Company Commander. In hindsight his speech could have been summed up as: “Stand the hell by because we are going to destroy you… just don’t quit though.” I sat there uncomfortably hoping they would just hurry up and start the torture already - I was mentally exhausted from dreading it.

After the in-brief we were instructed to march out...as soon as the first Officer Candidate broke the plain of the classroom door, it began. Upon hearing the first “HUR..RY..UP!” that old nasty cloud of boot camp misery re-materialized over my consciousness, followed shortly thereafter by a feeling of self-loathing for the masochistic compulsion I possess for the military. As soon as we scurried outside into a formation they swarmed us, getting in our faces, telling us how bad our PT uniforms look, saying that our shaves were jacked up, etc. Nothing new to me, just the typical scorn and mockery that comes along with military indoctrination. This time around I was more concerned for how my body would respond.

The way it worked at Phase Zero was that each time we got into a formation, the trainers would check us individually, looking for a unbuttoned pocket or for an unsecured pouch or most commonly for a canteen not filled to the tippity tip tip stupidity tip top (i.e. does not make a sound when you shake it). If the trainers found something, and they always did, the item would get snatched off the candidate’s body and tossed a good distance away, resulting in the candidate having to do some sort of crawl to retrieve it while everyone else waited in an uncomfortable position. Even when it was full there were times they would still toss it away and say, “OH SO WE HAVE FULL CANTEENS, SO THAT MEANS WE DON’T WANT TO HYDRATE! HOW ARE YOU GOING TO LEAD SOLDIERS IF YOU BECOME A HEAT CASUALTY!?” Being wrong no matter what was just a big test of resilience.

So anyways, most of our canteens had been ejected from their pouches and we were still standing at attention, in formation, unable to move. After some condescending direction by one of the trainers, the candidate leading our formation (all are student-led in OCS) figured out that he, as the platoon leader, must give the command for us to go retrieve our canteens. Like me, he was also a former Marine and new to the Army; in such a situation with little time to think it can be easy to forget how no one would relate to our use of Naval terminology. So the Platoon Leader said to the rest of the candidates, “If you have gear adrift, go ahead an…” [the trainer interjected] ”ADRIFT??” “GEAR ADRIFT?!” “WHAT ARE WE AT SEA NOW?!” [cue the bear crawls to retrieve the canteens] “HEY WHY DON’T YOU GO LOOK FOR THE MISSING MALAYSIAN PLANE WHILE YOU’RE OUT THERE!” Hilarious. Later on I was to receive corrective physical training for calling the duffe lbag a “sea bag".

Then we moved out for the initial PT test; which continued with further ridicule during each event. Although we were well aware that the first day of Phase Zero involved a PT test immediately followed by more insane PT, it really didn’t make things any easier. A PT test by itself can be exhausting if given full effort, so I had to conserve as much energy as possible for what was coming and at the same time try not to look bad. The moment the last candidate crossed the finish line of the final event, all hell broke loose. They proceeded to spread us out individually by age across the grass inside of the running track, to have us do sprints, bear crawls, crab walks, lunges, and low crawls to the end and back, over and over and over and over. Each time the trainers said “GO!”, they counted down so that whoever didn’t make it back in time had to low crawl the rest of the way. The candidate that finished last got it the worst.

Myself and the other former Marines pushed it and stayed ahead of everyone, however we were also the three oldest and our slower-recovering bodies would later pay for this arrogance. This post-PT test smoke session of doom went on for over two hours with a water break in between. By the end of it we were toast, with still a ways to go.

After the PT fiasco we were rushed over to the barracks and given about 17 minutes for “hygiene” time – nobody showered, we barely had enough time to throw on our ACU’s and prepare our equipment, because God help us if we were late to the next formation. From this point on, our time alternated between hour-long classroom periods and 15-20 minute “Platoon Trainer breaks”; in other words we would go outside and get physically punished every hour, on the hour. That is, until it was time for Chow Hall procedures, which is a ridiculous formality involving the entire class presenting itself in a company formation before each meal. There are several commands and movements along with a final exercise portion, that when executed incorrectly provide various opportunities for the trainers to inflict pain on candidates. Basically we run around like idiots until we get it right. Although I do understand its purpose, NEVER EVER should the words “YUM YUM!” be shouted by a formation of United States Army soldiers.

This whole day one shit show went on close to midnight, giving us about three hours sleep until wake up.

Day 2

Waking up at stupid-o’clock on day two was exponentially more shitty than day one. They had us do some kind of circuit PT involving flipping over huge water-logged tires and running with full 5-gallon water jugs. Whatever. After that it was another 17 or so minutes of hygiene time and then quickly back to classroom instruction, which of course was broken up by smoke-checks every hour. Sometime during that morning, a well-known, highly-motivated soul-crushing Major showed up to ruin our lives. The mid-day chow hall procedures was undoubtedly the pinnacle of my Phase Zero misery.

This was the time that the trainers were putting their strongest effort into getting a candidate to quit, and so what was supposed to be an execution of procedure instead turned into a spectacle of candidate pain. After inevitably failing our first attempt, it just snowballed from there, as I can remember spending most of the time doing flutter kicks while waiting for “Private Pile” to get her shit together. Feeling more and more like a circus clown, I began to realize how amusing it must have been to anyone watching; later on I spotted an actual crowd forming in my peripheral. It wasn’t long before there were multiple smartphones and iPads aimed at us from all directions. And I don’t blame them, I would have definitely pulled out my smartphone to get in on that action. As it turned out one of the onlookers was an Army Sergeant Major (former Marine) that I ran into a few weeks later…he just shook his head and said to me, “Man, you guys got destroyed”.

I think it’s safe to say we were all physically shattered after what turned out to be the single worst go-around of chow hall procedures. Anyhow, we moved on to the road to get in formation, and for a cruel moment they let us believe we were finally ready to move to chow, but then, in an act of soul-crushing greatness, they accused us of moving too slow and told us to bear-crawl all the way to the dining facility, around 200 yards away. Surely this was premeditated. I mean, bear-crawling with full strength is unpleasant enough, even at shorter distances, but to crawl that far immediately after being sapped of all energy was the crucible of bear-crawling.

I slogged through the first 20 or 30 yards and then died for a minute. One of the bolts in my kevlar broke off and the whole thing kept falling down and swinging over my face and I couldn’t tell if I was crawling in the right direction. On top of that I had this female trainer on my ass the whole time calling me a ”weak little man.” I learned a long time ago not to take it personal, but somehow it carried a bit more of a sting, not to mention I am the opposite of little. I was running on fumes, repeatedly crawling short distances until collapsing, all the way to the end.

Best trainer quote of the day (while bear crawling): “YOU ARE NOT HUMANS, YOU ARE BEARS! I’LL TELL YOU WHEN YOU CAN EVOLVE!”

In the afternoon they sent us out to the land navigation course to practice our individual lanes, which in it of itself is never a fun time in the military, however in OCS it provides a three hour period in which candidates do not get smoked. We welcomed it. I always hated doing land nav in the Marines because of how backbreaking the courses were and hoped it might be a little different in the Army…but there I was again, irritably trudging my way through the thick brush, cursing at myself every time a stick whipped me in the face or a thorn bush hooked to my leg. I swear if I had a nickel for every time I said “f*ck you” to a thorn bush, I could buy enough gasoline to burn that entire forest down. And yet land nav was still without question more preferable than three hours with the trainers, who themselves were aware of it and made sure to smoke the dogshit out of us every time we returned from a course.

After making it to evening chow, we all quietly sat down together and shoved as much salty food down our throats as possible. In that moment of solace, me and the other two Marines just looked at each other and smiled while shaking our heads, collectively acknowledging the suck. After we finished eating we all met by our equipment as usual and got ready to move. We knew the next movement was to the classroom and so the candidate leading the class at that time decided we should go ahead and move there on our own (without waiting for the trainers to tell us when to) - this silly attempt at initiative backfired worse than Bill Cosby’s Twitter campaign….

The trainers caught us halfway down the hall…‘OH, SO WE JUST WANT TO GO PLACES ON OUR OWN NOW?! GET DOWN!!….[Jesus Christ here we go again]…”I GUESS YOU DON’T NEED US TO TRAIN YOU, PLATOON LEADER. YOU CAN RUN THE WHOLE SHOW ON YOUR OWN, RIGHT?? WELL GO AHEAD, LEAD YOUR PLATOON AROUND THE PENTAGON, PLATOON LEADER. BEAR CRAWL, GO!”…[f*ck my f*cking life]…Not much of a choice other than to just start bear-crawling down the hallways (pentagon-like building) while our stomachs were still digesting food. After we made the first turn everyone started losing their minds, bumping into each other, crawling into walls, unable to see much with kevlars falling down over our faces, all while trying keep our dinner in our stomachs...“HEY PLATOON LEADER, YOU AREN’T LEADING. YOU HAVE SOLDIERS FALLING BACK. CIRCLE BACK AND TELL THEM TO FOLLOW YOU.” They made him say the words “Follow me!” while making the hand gesture and then made him repeat it until it seemed more passionate. Right after that, he went head first into a trash can. This prompted a response from the trainers as there were other more expensive things to crash into: “YOU BETTER NOT CRASH INTO ANY OF THE CLASS CASE DISPLAYS OR THIS WILL SEEM LIKE A LULLABY!” Fortunately, everybody kept down their food. I could sense there were a few candidates getting close to vomiting, however the threat of low-crawling through it most likely inspired some intestinal fortitude, literally.

The long day continued into the evening and we moved into night land nav, which again was a nice break relatively speaking; tripping over logs, unknowingly stepping on wet spots, and getting caught in the bush happens more frequently during night courses, so it’s definitely no walk in the park. At the finish point, one of the candidates didn’t make it back in the allotted time and we found ourselves doing crab walks and bear-crawls in circles around the barracks until we were released just before midnight. After preparing what we needed to for the next day, there was again really only about three hours of sleep time. For obvious reasons, it was required that each candidate drink a canteen before sleep. Being so tired I would almost rather have just stayed dehydrated instead of being woke up after an hour by the need to urinate, only to spend the next two hours half-awake trying to fight off the urge because I didn’t want to get out of bed, and finally getting up to go and realizing I only had 20 more god damn useless minutes of sleep left.

Day 3

Getting out of bed was a bit of a challenge. Anyone can deal with a little sleep deprivation, but having no time for your body to recover is another thing. It made me wish I would have done this at 23 instead of 33 years old. While awkwardly pulling myself out of the rack, it felt like my body was made of wood and my feet were on fire. It took a few minutes for me to loosen up enough to be able to put my boots and clothes on. Once I got moving the soreness and stiffness went away, but throughout the rest of the week if I sat down and stopped moving for five or more minutes it would come right back.

Day 3 was more land nav, night and day, which if you haven’t gotten the point by now is a skill that is beat into your head at OCS. After chow, they drove us out to a “more challenging” land nav course and so we had to carry our rucksacks and other personal equipment with us - oh yes, we were walking back.

The nature of this particular course was that of a pure asshole. Normally when you are navigating from point to point, there may be a river or a swamp or some kind of environmental barrier that is better to just navigate around, however in one area on this course there was an unavoidable stretch of woods heavily populated with nothing but thorn bushes, for hundreds of yards in both directions. No way to avoid going through them. I'm pretty sure I muttered out loud to myself, "You've gotta be f*cking kidding me."

Once I finished the course I made it back to the main area where everyone was supposed to meet and sit in the bleachers. The trainers were there chatting it up, waiting to mess with each candidate as they returned. When I got back I walked up and identified the senior officer (said soul-crushing Major) and rendered what I thought was the proper greeting of the day, "Sir, Officer Candidate Thorp, Good Morning, Sir!"... NOPE, WHY DON'T YOU TRY IT AGAIN...[I noticed that there was also a female officer]..."Sir, Officer Candidate Thorp, Good Morning, Gentlemen, Good Morning, M'am!"...."NOPE, I'LL GIVE YOU ONE MORE CHANCE"...[Shit, how was that wrong? Oh that's right, it's not morning anymore]..."Sir, Officer Candidate Thorp, Good Afternoon Gentleman, Good Afternoon, M'am!"....[that's gotta be correct]...”NOPE!”...[f*ck me]...."NOW BEAR CRAWL AROUND THE ROAD!"...The bear-crawl was beginning to emerge as my nemesis. Exhausted from the course and soaking in sweat and mud, the thought of taking off my wet boots and socks provided a slight boost but I was still pretty miserable.

Really though the party was just beginning. After all the candidates had a chance to change their socks, the break was over and we found ourselves down in front of the bleachers in the push up position while the Major went on for at least 20 minutes about how jacked up we were. As a candidate you can only stay off the ground so long, switching between sagging in the middle and the bent-back position before you run out of options. The longer it went on the more candidates moaned and groaned straining to stay off the ground..."SUFFER IN SILENCE. I DO NOT FEEL SORRY FOR YOU!"...and then finally....we switched exercises. We got up and started doing half-jacks as he counted off calmly. At first it was a relief just to be standing up and doing something else; however it was a different feeling when we passed 200 and he was still counting.

The funniest quote of the day was the Major paraphrasing our emotions..."I JUST WANT TO GO HOME! MAKE THE BAD MAN GO AWAY!"

As soon as this ordeal was over we geared up to hike back to the base. It was only around 4 or 5 miles but it was very hot that day and we were already half dead. On the hike back, "Private Pile" kept falling back to the point where the rest of us had to take turns carrying her pack on top of our own. To make things worse, she continued falling back even without a pack. The trainers smelled blood…”WOW…AND YOU WANT TO BE A LEADER??! I WOULDN’T FOLLOW YOU INTO WALMART!” She was dropped from the class by dinner time.

After evening chow, we moved our gross bodies back into the classroom…”YOU CANDIDATES SMELL”…By this point it would have been impossible to comprehend the enormity of the f*ck I did not give. I was enveloped in a blanket of sweat and dirt and when I moved around I felt like Pig-Pen from the Peanuts cartoon.

The Company Commander came to tell us that the worst part was over and the intense smoke-checks would ease up, as the focus of day 4 and 5 was administrative in preparation for Phase One in Minnesota. Not sure I believed the first part. So then we were briefed on the night land nav test. Once again we went out to run through the course, and once again we later found ourselves at the barracks doing flutter kicks into the midnight hours. One last proverbial kick in the balls before we went to bed.

Stay tuned for Phase 1...

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