Boot Camp -- Tug-Of-War, the Ropes course, and monkey-fucks.

Following my regression in boot camp everything else went well. My new platoon turned out to be very cohesive and the experience was both beneficial and enjoyable despite the circumstances. My mother's transfer still loomed in my mind but I was doing my best to distract myself with the world around me.

Every week the boot camp held an official field-day for the six platoons. The single-most anticipated event of these field-days was the tug-of-war competition. Many people have competed in tug-of-war events. I doubt, however, there were fifty people on either side of the rope, each in the physical prime of their lives. With such numbers a cadence is necessary for success, and if you can manage to get that many people working fluidly in conjunction it is almost impossible to lose.

The platoon who generally won this event was the dominant platoon of the facility. Out of six platoons, each separated by two weeks of seniority, the senior-most platoon "held" the rope ninety percent of the time. The weekly winner was allowed to take the rope back to their barracks and proudly display it until it was "taken" from them in a future field day.

My new platoon, the Bravo platoon, were winners of this event my last six weeks of the program. We were the envy of the camp and graduated without losing the rope back to anyone. It was interesting to see so many people of so many different backgrounds with so many different motivations all working together for a common goal which altogether depended on teamwork.

Another twist to boot camp in Texas, which will stand out blatantly in effectiveness from my boot camp experience in Colorado a couple of years later, was the on-site "Ropes" course. It would prove to be an interesting technique in promoting a teamwork mindset upon a group of individuals who likely would be trying to kill each other on the outs.

Bloods, Crips, Folks, and spoiled little crackers like myself all worked together in harmony to overcome the various challenges presented in the Ropes course. I witnessed several people terrified of heights defeat their fear; I witnessed sworn enemies depending on one another for success. I also witnessed perhaps the fastest descent of a zip-line ever when one of our 350 pound fat-bodies gave it a whirl.

One of the more memorable landmarks of the facility was a mosquito-larvae and microorganism infested stagnant wading pool which was reserved for days when your platoon was altogether fucking up. The condition of the water was far more of a punishment than any exercise they could have us doing in it. Keep in mind -- one of these exercises was called "monkey-fucking". This entailed squatting on the balls of your feet with your arms behind your calves and each thumb positioned inside your shoes. In this position you were then required to lift your ass up and down repeatedly. Try it some time if you are an exercise guru! The backs of your thighs and buttocks will hinder your walking for days if you do it right.

Monkey-Fucks seems like a good stopping point. In my next post I'll be discussing a few more aspects of boot camp, my graduation, and how I ended up in Colorado. (Click here to subscribe to my feed!)