@infantrydort Remember basic when we were feeling the worst after being smoked for 5 weeks. Padre was the only bright light at the time. God bless them.
Before I go to work I want to tell you about a type of Soldier in the military that is near and dear to my heart. I have so many stories to tell about these folks but this one chokes me up to this day:
I was testing to get my Expert Infantryman's Badge awhile back at Fort Benning. I had passed every event without failing thus far. The final event was the 12 mile ruck march and it had to be completed in 3 hours or less.
Ruck marching was always easy for me. I used to pretty much run most of them in my career. But this time was different. I got VERY sick the day before after crawling through a creek during one of the testing events.
I started off with the pack just fine. Then when the 6 mile mark came up, I felt like the transmission fell out of me. Before I knew it, I was alone in the dark and walking at a snails pace. I went through all of my water and food. Which was rare because I NEVER drank water before on a ruck. I was suffering.
I was kind of out of it for awhile. I remember asking God for help. Suffering, out of breath, dizzy, asking for help. It was all silent and in my head, I never uttered the words out loud.
Mere seconds (and I am not exaggerating) later a shady figure in uniform with his own ruck on approaches me from who knows where and says "Hey brother are you ok?" I obviously said no.
He said "I'm with you, let's do this together, we've gotta move." I agreed, thankful that someone was helping me out. Also slightly embarrassed because I've never needed that before in that type of situation. I was always the one HELPING others.
He gave me water, skittles, words of encouragement, you name it. He stayed with me for SIX MILES. Literally half the event.
I usually finished my 12 mile rucks between 2 hours and 15 minutes to 2 hours and 30.
I crossed the finish line at 2 hours 59 minutes and 57 seconds. I passed the event by 3 seconds...
I was so out of it for about an hour after the event that when I finally came to my senses, I asked other Soldiers who I crossed the finish line with. They told me it was the Chaplain.
I damn near broke down right there. One of the most emotional non-combat related moments of my career.
I asked God for help in my head, a shadowy chaplain appears, and literally willed me to the finish line.
I frantically looked for him to thank him. I couldn't find him. He just went off to help others like some kind of spiritual Roomba. Never asked for thanks or recognition, just did his job. To this day I still don't know his name.
Chaplains are with us at our absolutely darkest moments. The best of them help in ways we can't put into words. I guess George Washington knew this, hence why he created their corps.
There are some good and bad ones out there. But the good ones? They are the BEST of us.