by Dick Couch
“I’ve always wanted to serve my country, but like a lot of guys, I kept putting it off. Then you have a family and family comes first, so it’s easy to say you’re too busy to serve. Then 9/11 happened. I’m a little old to be looking at military aviation. One of the other pilots at Northwest was in Special Forces in the National Guard, and he got me interested. So here I am. I’m lucky. I can do this and return to my job with the airlines. I’m also lucky to have a terrific wife. She’s supported me in this, above and beyond.”
“What’s the difference in the pay of an airline pilot and a specialist in the Army?”
This brings a genuine smile to Specialist Costa. “Well, it’s getting smaller, but it’s still significant. We planned for this, but I’ll admit, it’s caused us to make a few changes. Then again, I’m married to a very understanding woman.”
The following day, after a normal physical-training session, a four-mile run, and morning chow, Class 8-04 crowds onto a file of Army stake trucks—bench seating and canvas cover—for the trip across base to the Special Operations Academic Facility. This academic facility is a large, four-story concrete building the Special Forces students and candidates call the Grey Elephant. Since my time at Fort Bragg, the Special Operations Academic Facility has been renamed in honor of the father of Army Special Forces, Colonel Aaron Bank, who passed away in 2004 at the age of 101. It’s now the Aaron Bank Hall, and home to other phases of training as well as the language laboratories. The class files into the auditorium and quietly takes their seats. On the screen is a PowerPoint slide with yellow lettering on a green background that proclaims, “Introduction to Special Forces Pre-Selection.” A speaker’s podium stands in the front of the room, off to one side.
“On your FEET!” barks First Sergeant Carter. “The Alpha Company commander will now give you your indoctrination briefing. It will behoove you to give him your undivided attention. The captain has some essential word to put out, and if I catch you sleeping, you’ll answer to me.”
Carter moves away from the podium, and an officer of medium height and a crisp set of BDUs steps up to it. He has short dark hair, neatly trimmed and combed, and a mild, youthful air about him. He glances at the screen and steps to the center of the room.
“Take your seats, men.” His voice is soft, confident, and almost conversational. “If you feel sleepy, get up and stand in the back of the room. If you can’t hear me, raise your hand and I’ll speak louder. My name is Captain Shields, and my job over the next four weeks is to get you ready for Special Forces selection. I’ll do my job. My cadre will do their job, and I expect you to do your job. The purpose of this briefing is to let you know what we expect and what you must do to successfully complete this training and prepare yourself for selection—SFAS. There’s no silver bullet to this training, and there are no shortcuts. Pay attention and perform to the best of your ability, and you’ll do just fine. This is not meant to be a pep talk or to jack you up in any way, but I’ll give you some advice, up front. This is a hard course, as many of you know by now. There are standards you have to meet. If you want to successfully complete this course and move on to selection, then put everything else out of your mind and focus on training. Forget about your car, your cell phone, your girlfriend, your dog, your family, everything. If there’s a family emergency, we’ll find you and let you know. For now, think about nothing but training and doing your very best. It’s the only way to get through this course. It’s the only way to show us you’re ready to move on.”
Captain Jason Shields has been in the Army for ten years, half of that in Special Forces. He has a degree in international studies from the Virginia Military Institute. He was in 5th Group for four years and has made deployments to Kuwait and Uzbekistan. Shields was in Afghanistan with the first wave of Special Forces infiltrations following 9/11, and in Iraq before the 3rd Infantry Division and 1st Marine Expeditionary Force crossed the Kuwaiti border on their way to Baghdad. His father was a case officer at CIA, and he’s lived all over the world. Captain Shields has a fair command of Arabic.
Shields punches through a list of administrative and housekeeping matters that include uniforms, ID cards, musters, personal appearance, personnel inspections, barracks cleanliness, barracks inspections, and standards of conduct.
“Regarding conduct. You may be a new Special Forces student, but you’re still a soldier in the United States Army. It goes without saying, but I’ll say it anyway. A soldier does not lie, cheat, or steal. Do that and you’re history. It’s not tolerated in the Army, and we certainly don’t tolerate it here in Special Forces.
“During the first two weeks of this course you’ll complete your in-processing for the Special Warfare Center and School, conduct daily physical training and testing, conduct road marches, attend classes that will prepare you for the selection process, and begin classes in basic and advanced land navigation. The second two weeks you’ll continue with physical training and participate in the land-navigation practical exercises.” While Shields speaks, the PowerPoint slides follow him through the presentation. He pauses a moment and slowly paces the front of the room. “Regarding land navigation. Seven of these eleven land-navigation exercises are graded. If you don’t know how to navigate with a map and compass, you soon will, or you won’t complete this course. Land navigation tells us a lot about a man’s competence and his character. Pay attention in class and during the land-nav problems. If you don’t master land navigation here, when you get to the harder land-nav problems during selection, you’re going to be in serious trouble. Again, pay attention and do your best.
“All of you here today will leave this course in one of four ways. One way is to work hard and graduate. That’s what you want; that’s what we want. The second way is VW—voluntary withdrawal. You can do that at any time after morning formation this coming Monday. Some of you might be thinking about this already. It’s your choice. The 82nd and 101st are looking for airborne-qualified infantrymen. But you all came here to be Special Forces soldiers. Think about that as well. The third way is IVW—involuntary withdrawal. IVW means we kick you out of here.” Shields begins counting on his fingers. “You can get IVWed for safety violations, multiple spot reports—TAC write-ups for course violations—and, of course, integrity and conduct violations. You’re also subject to the Uniform Code of Military Justice. Violation of the UCMJ will also get you removed from training and perhaps disciplinary action as well.” His head snaps around and he steps close to the front row. “Excuse me, number 103, but am I boring you, or are you just too sleepy to keep your eyes open?”
The young soldier blanches, jumps to his feet, and heads for the back of the room. One of the TACs heads him off and quietly puts him in the leaning rest. Several more students slip from their seats and go to stand in the back.
“The fourth way is as a medical drop. If you get hurt and can’t continue, you’ll be recycled to the next class or sent to the regular Army for a tour of duty to heal up. We’ll let you miss some training for a minor injury, but you have to complete the major portion of the class. We are not here to hurt you. If you have an injury, go to sick call, get some attention, and get back in training. But if you’re going to be in Special Forces, in this training and in the groups, you’re going to have to take care of yourself, and sometimes you’re going to have drive on when you’re hurting. That said, if you have an injury that seriously affects your performance, let’s get it fixed.”
Captain Shields pauses a moment to survey the class. “It boils down to this, gentlemen. Be at the right place, on time, in the right uniform, and have the right equipment. Stay focused and pay attention to detail. In this training, you have the weekends off; that won’t always be the case later on. Use your weekend time to rest and take care of your equipment and uniforms. Do the right thing and do your best. That’s all I have. First Sergeant?”
“FEET!”
There’s a mild commotion as Class 8-04 scrambles to their feet. Carter makes his way to the back of
the room, and one of the TACs takes his place at the podium. Several other TACs begin to hand out forms and the class begins to fill out the inevitable paperwork—personal history forms, medical questionnaires, course survey forms—and, as in every phase of Special Forces training, they will sign a statement saying they understand and will adhere to the honor system. Each phase of Special Forces emphasizes the honor system in a slightly different way, but it comes down to the same thing—a soldier cannot lie, cheat, or steal. This means a half-truth is a lie, and concealing the wrongdoing of another is also a violation of the honor system. The honor system demands that a soldier not only conform to a standard of honesty, but that he must be intolerant of other soldiers who are dishonest.
The next morning there is no class physical training or conditioning run. Instead, the class takes the Army Physical Fitness Test, or APFT. Students are graded in three areas: the number of push-ups they can do in two minutes, the number of sit-ups they can do in two minutes, and their time on a two-mile run. The Army APFT standards have a sliding scale for age, but everyone in Class 8-04 will be graded in the seventeen-to-twenty-one age group. Top score in the APFT is three hundred points. To achieve this, a man has to do at least seventy-one push-ups and at least seventy-eight sit-ups, and run two miles under thirteen minutes. Minimum scores in these three events are forty-two push-ups, fifty-three sit-ups, and just under sixteen minutes for the two miles. Six members of Class 8-04 score three hundred points, and ten of them fail to make a minimum score. Those who fail usually have foot problems or other medical issues. They’ll have one more chance to make the minimum score.
After the push-ups and sit-ups, the class runs the two-mile course, which is two and a half times around Pike Field. The best two-mile time of the finishers is 11 minutes flat, which is back-to-back 5:30 miles. Standing at the finish line, I follow one of the better runners, noting that he had scored well in push-ups and sit-ups. He is one of the six who max the APFT.
“Mind if I walk with you while you cool down?”
“Oh no, sir. Glad for the company.” He doesn’t seem too winded, yet he had finished under twelve minutes. He is shorter than myself, about five-seven, and wears the Army-issue field glasses, which are a combination of glasses and goggles—a banded rubber frame that holds the lenses straight across the bridge of the nose. “I’m David Altman,” he says, holding out his hand. There is another group being timed, so we have a moment to talk.
Specialist David Altman is a twenty-seven-year-old Korean-American who grew up in Sweetwater, Tennessee. Before joining the Army, he worked as a legislative assistant for a congressman in Washington. Altman has a quick, easy smile, yet I find him very serious about Special Forces training.
“I know I won’t quit,” he tells me, “but I hope I can make it through selection. I’m a little worried about the ruck marches.” Then he adds with a self-conscious shrug, “I’m not the biggest guy in the world.”
Altman has a degree in Bible studies and is a licensed, if not a practicing, minister. To my why-are-you-here question, he answers, “Like most of the guys, 9/11 was a big factor in my decision. I read a great deal about Special Forces and decided that if I could handle the physical part, it would be a good fit for me. I want to be with a military unit that works closely with other government agencies and the CIA.”
“Do you speak a foreign language?”
“I understand Korean, because of my mother, and I speak it a little. It probably won’t take much for me to get up to speed. But I think I’d like to try for 7th Group and learn Spanish.” I ask about his personal goals as he begins his training. “My personal relationship with Jesus Christ is very important. My goal is to do well here and become a qualified Special Forces soldier. I was the honor graduate of my basic training class at Fort Benning; I’m very proud of that. A lot of my friends thought I was crazy for joining the Army, and even crazier for choosing Special Forces, but I think I can make it.”
For the balance of the first week and into the second, the Pre-SFAS course is a steady diet of physical training and classroom work for Class 8-04. Days formally begin at 0600 with a run or a rucksack march, but the students are up much earlier to prepare for the day’s training. The runs are led by the TACs in platoon formation, and slow runners are segregated for additional work. The road marches are done with full pack and six quarts of water for a total load of close to sixty-five pounds. These marches range from four to six miles, and students are expected to keep a fifteen-minute-per-mile pace. The class breaks for lunch, usually field rations called meals ready-to-eat, or MREs, and ends their day with a physical training session before evening meal. The time between evening meal—the Pre-SFAS students have their own chow hall in the training area—and lights out at 2200, or 10:00 p.m., is for study and gear preparation.
There are classes—lots of classes. There are classes on Special Forces history, organization, and operations. There are classes on nutrition, which go deeply into hydration, diet, and the use—or, more correctly, nonuse—of illegal substances and stimulants. There are classes on first aid and environmental emergencies. Almost a full day is devoted to classes on foot care and the preparation and maintenance of footgear. Several hours in the barracks are given to the packing and carrying of equipment vests and rucksacks. The vest is a canvas or nylon mesh harness worn over a soldier’s battle uniform. They’re called load-bearing equipment vests; the soldiers simply call them LBEs. This vest carries have-to-have items like survival gear, a map, a compass, emergency rations, and ammunition. They learn what goes into their rucksacks and how to properly carry their rucks. The physical exercise, the classroom work, the field equipment, and the road marches are all in preparation for training in the key skill of the 18X Pre-SFAS course: land navigation.
“All right, I want your undivided attention for the next two hours, because what you learn here today and how you apply it will determine your success in this course and at selection. As a Special Forces soldier, you must be able to navigate with a map, compass, and protractor under any conditions. I’ll say that again: A Special Forces soldier must be able to navigate with a map, compass, and protractor under any conditions. Now, you and I know we all go to war with GPSs and Blue Force Trackers and all kinds of neat technology, but you still have to read a map. When your high-speed Garman Etrek or your Magellan Navigator goes south on you, you’d better be able to use a map and compass. And some of the locals that you’ll have to train to fight may not read or write, so you’re going to have to teach them how to use a map and compass.”
The instructor is Sergeant First Class Randy Loften. Loften is from Waycross, Georgia, and has been in the Army for seventeen years, in Special Forces for ten. All his SF time is with 3rd Group. He has two years of college behind him. He’s a French speaker and has seen duty in the Ivory Coast, Guinea, Mali, and Kuwait, as well as two tours in Afghanistan. “I wanted to be a Green Beret ever since I was a little kid,” he told me. “Why be average?” His fellow cadre instructors told me he is a solid Special Forces sergeant, but in at least one way he is far from average. Loften is a top-tier competitive shooter and competes in national-level combat- and precision-shooting events.
“I’m a competitive shooter,” Captain Shields said, referring to Loften. “A lot of us are, but none of us are in his league. Sergeant Loften is one talented marksman.”
Each platoon is crammed into a single floor in one of the old wooden buildings for nav classes. Several air conditioners are running wide open to keep the temperature reasonable, but the air is heavy with the smell of sweat and fatigue. The buildings are old and the post-and-beam construction says they were never intended for use as classrooms, even though they’re now equipped for modern instruction. Behind Sergeant Loften is a large, flat-screen TV, and there are a number of monitors suspended from the ceiling, so none of the fifty-odd soldiers in the room is far from a monitor.
Sergeant Loften makes his way through the basics of land navigation—grid and magnetic nort
h, the military grid reference system, variation, deviation, azimuths, back azimuths, and the mechanics of the Army lensatic compass. He talks about pace count and time-distance calculations. Area maps are passed out to each student, the same maps that they will be using in their fieldwork. They talk about map orientation and terrain features. All this is in preparation for the land navigation problems that are the heart of the preselection training.
“There’s a lot of value,” Loften explained to me, “and, to be honest, a lot of tradition that comes with land-navigation training. Some of these kids grew up hunting and fishing, and they have some knowledge of fieldcraft and reading terrain. Others have grown up in the city, and going into the bush was playing in the vacant lot next door or a family outing in a state park. In Special Forces, we usually work in teams and as a team. That said, a man still has to be able to be out there on his own and get the job done. This part of the training’s very much the same as when I began my Special Forces training.”
“It’s more about what this training teaches a man about himself than a skill he’ll take with him into the groups or into combat,” Captain Shields added. “It’s a confidence builder. If a kid from New York City or LA can take what we teach him and go out on a dark night in these swamps and woodlands and find four separate points on the map that’re two to four miles apart, then that tells us something. It tells us that he’s smart, that he can solve problems in a stressful and unfamiliar environment, and that he’s self-reliant. It also tells us he can perform when he’s tired, a little beat up, and he’s not getting the sleep he’s used to. It’s a pretty good indication that he can learn the other skills he’s going to need to become a Special Forces warrior.”