Motherload Collection

I
got all the shitty assignments. No matter how bad I felt, how little
sleep I got, he just kept pushing... pushing... pushing.

I
can still remember him yelling at me right after I’d field-stripped my
M1 rifle (that
dates me, doesn’t it?) and was having trouble putting it back together.

This
guy just didn’t care. Like I said, it didn’t matter if I was sick,
exhausted from lack of sleep, nauseous from tear gas or what. He just
kept pushing, yelling and forcing
me
to perform.

I
hated
him. I mean, I really
hated him.

Or,
so I thought. Until basic training was over (finally, thank God)...
and... he had a private conversation with me.

He
told me not
to have a bad opinion of myself. That he didn’t. That, during every
basic training bootcamp, there is always one guy who gets picked to be
the “goat”... and... how that
guy, always
gets pushed harder than the others. How the “goat” sort of sets the
standard (in basic training) for what a soldier can endure.

He
told me he really cared about me. How much he wanted me to make it. How
important that was to him.

He
was telling the truth.

You
know, since that time, I’ve had to (as I’m sure you
have
also) walk down many mean streets.

For
three years I was an MP in Europe operating under extremely stressful
conditions.

I
was selected to go through some very special training at a certain U.S.
government “facility” in Oberammagau, Germany... the existence of
which... is not even dreamed about by any civilians and, very
few commanding officers in even
the highest echelons of
the military. I think maybe I shouldn’t write much about that
but, I can tell you, the violent types I was introduced to there are
far worse than any
nightmare you’ve ever
had.