finding what you are made of − 21 August, 1995
We got up this morning, tents pitched for something like a week now, and we are going through the combat assault course.
It rained last night.
I remember there being this feeling of not wanting to do it. The mud was thick, and black. Like the exhaust of a diesel engine made into thick watery sludge. Barbed wire over he top of these ruts from so many Marines crawling through it before me.
Something clicked and I went into a mode of thinking that I just haven't ever been in before. Total disregard for what I feared, for what I felt, for anything other than accomplishing the mission. I'm goig to feel this as often as I can through my career in the Corps, I'm going to take this with me.
I dove, attacked and went crazy. My Drill Instructors seemed to see something happen to me, they were feeding on me as I was on them. I could feel the momentum driving me forward through the course, and I didn't look back.
I came out of that day feeling like there was something in me that wasn't there before. I can do. That simple, that plain, and that full of power.
It rained last night.
I remember there being this feeling of not wanting to do it. The mud was thick, and black. Like the exhaust of a diesel engine made into thick watery sludge. Barbed wire over he top of these ruts from so many Marines crawling through it before me.
Something clicked and I went into a mode of thinking that I just haven't ever been in before. Total disregard for what I feared, for what I felt, for anything other than accomplishing the mission. I'm goig to feel this as often as I can through my career in the Corps, I'm going to take this with me.
I dove, attacked and went crazy. My Drill Instructors seemed to see something happen to me, they were feeding on me as I was on them. I could feel the momentum driving me forward through the course, and I didn't look back.
I came out of that day feeling like there was something in me that wasn't there before. I can do. That simple, that plain, and that full of power.
