by Dick Couch
When Sarno steps in front of the former Phase I students, he is the picture of a Special Forces soldier. He’s a well-favored man, just under six feet with dark hair, good shoulders, and a confident manner. His dark eyes have a mischievous twinkle in them. There are master sergeant chevrons, ones that designate him as first sergeant, on his collar points, and his Green Beret is set at a rakish angle. His BDUs are freshly starched with sharp creases in the trousers. Specialist McAlister calls the formation to attention.
“Stand at ease men, and bring it around, in close. I want to talk to you guys for a minute.” The formation breaks and bends in around the first sergeant. “Welcome to Camp Mackall and SFAS. This is where we select soldiers for Special Forces training. How many of you started basic training together at Fort Benning—two, three hundred? Well, that doesn’t really matter now; you’re here, and here we play for keeps. You have to make it in this phase or you’ll be soldiering with another outfit. But hear me on this, we need you in Special Forces. We need all of you. Assessment for soldiers coming from the regular Army can run between 30 and 40 percent. Because you’ve just come from basic training, jump school, and Pre-SFAS, we expect better than that from you. But you still have to show us you belong here. You really have to want this and show us some heart. Doing your absolute best here at selection has to be on your front-sight post. This is a tough course. It’ll hurt; it’s supposed to hurt. Getting through this phase and moving on to Phase II should be your goal. How well you perform should be another goal. Remember, this is a small fraternity and reputation’s everything. Your reputation starts right here, today. Are you going to be somebody who does just enough to get by or someone who goes all out? I’ve been at this a while, and I’ll know if you’re not doing your best.
“I want you to forget everything but this training. Don’t worry about your family; we’ll let you know if there’s a problem at home. Special Forces is a brotherhood, but your family is everything; your family is forever. In Special Forces, we look after our brothers and their families. God forbid, but if there’s a serious problem, we’ll get you home to take care of business and get you back in a future class. Are we clear on that?”
“YES, FIRST SERGEANT.”
“OK, so what’re we looking for here? We’re looking for people who are smart, who are physically tough, and who play well with others. And we’ll watch how you get on with your buddies. If you can’t get along with your fellow candidates, how’re you going to get along with the locals in Colombia or Afghanistan? I’m here to evaluate you, and I’m here to help get you through this. But in the end, it’s up to you; you have to meet the standard or you’re done. You have to perform during ruck marches, the runs, on the land-nav exercises, and in the team events. If you don’t understand something, ask questions. Pack your own weight—be a leader on your team. Don’t lose your rifle or your equipment—give 110 percent all the time. We will watch your every move, as cadre, as evaluators, and as your future teammates. We’ll be looking for a balance of the physical, the mental, and the emotional. We look for how you perform when you are out there at night on your own during the nav courses. We look for maturity. If and when you leave here as a selectee, it’s just the beginning. So don’t get ahead of yourself. Focus on this phase; take it a day at a time—an evolution at a time.
“A couple of things that I’ll insist on while you’re here. You will treat my cadre with respect. Disrespect my cadre, and you’ll think you were hit by lightning.” Sarno folds his arms and kicks at the gravel a moment. “One more thing. Should you decide this is not for you, come see me. You can quit or VW with honor and walk away, anytime, but I’ll want to know why. But don’t try to make that call for your fellow candidates; every man has to decide for himself if he wants to be here—if this life’s for him. I love you guys, and I want you all to make it through selection and come back out here for Phase II, but it’s up to you to show us you want it and measure up to our standards. And remember the four Ls: Don’t be late; don’t be light; don’t be lost; and don’t be last. We’re glad to have you here; make us proud of you. Good luck to each of you.”
Phase I training begins in earnest on Wednesday morning, but that doesn’t mean that the new Special Forces candidates had not put in two very long days at Fort Bragg. Prior to coming to Camp Mackall and the Rowe Training Facility, the class had completed two days of in-processing and testing at Fort Bragg. Each man had his medical record reviewed, and he had been weighed in and “taped” for an estimate of his body fat. There were briefings and paperwork associated with those regular soldiers coming to Fort Bragg on temporary-duty orders. And there were the tests—lots of tests. The Army and the Special Forces put a great deal of emphasis on psychological, aptitude, and suitability testing. Before the candidates leave Fort Bragg, they undergo seven hours of testing. While at Camp Mackall, they’ll be counseled and evaluated on the results of those tests. There’s also a basic swim test, which all are expected to pass. Later on, the Special Forces groups that are good in the water and have an aptitude can put in for scuba school and duty on a Special Forces scuba team.
Day one of formal training at Camp Mackall begins at 0400. After personal hygiene and barracks inspection, the entire class takes the Army Physical Fitness Test at 0500. Scores are noted, and any discrepancies are made a part of a candidate’s training folder. After morning meal in the chow hall, the class assembles for command briefings next to the battalion headquarters, another World War II–era building. First on the schedule is the 1st Special Warfare Training Group commander, Colonel Manny Diemer. Diemer is a slightly built man with a quiet, measured intensity. He drove out from Fort Bragg to address the Special Forces candidates. It’s a small class as selection classes go, with just over 250 SF candidates. The class leader, inasmuch as there is a class leader in a selection class, is the senior enlisted man, a sergeant first class from the 82nd Airborne. He calls the class to attention on the colonel’s arrival.
“Sir, SFAS Class 8-04 is formed.”
“Very well, Sergeant,” Diemer replies, returning his salute. “Fall in with your men.” Diemer pauses to survey the class, then, in a clear, restrained voice that carries to the rear ranks, says, “Good morning, men.”
“GOOD MORNING, SIR!”
“Stand easy, men. First of all, I want to thank each and every one of you for being here. The groups need Special Forces soldiers. The nation needs Special Forces soldiers. Each of you has the ability to make it through this selection process. It won’t be easy, and we don’t want it to be easy. But you can do it—all of you can do it. While we have a pressing need for people, I have no mandate to get a certain number of candidates through selection or any other phase of Special Forces training. There are no quotas. Meet the standard and you can be one of us. If you fail to meet the standard, you will make your next deployment with your current unit. If you young men in the X-Ray Program fail to perform, you’re going to find yourself soldiering with an Army unit other than Special Forces. We may be at war, but we’ll not lower our standards.
“You are here to be evaluated on your suitability for Special Forces. We cannot select you into Special Forces if you quit, so don’t quit. No matter what happens, do your best. We want to assess you on your best effort. If you do poorly on an evolution, put it behind you and focus on the next evolution. All of us have strengths and weaknesses. That’s why we assess men into Special Forces on the whole-man concept. We will identify your weaknesses and help you with them. But you’ll have to work hard. For some of you, this will be the hardest thing you’ve done in your life. So hold nothing back. Show us intelligence and show us some heart. Your goal in coming here is to enter Special Forces training and serve in Special Forces. In the days and weeks ahead, when the going gets tough, don’t lose sight of that goal. Good luck, men, and carry on.”
As Colonel Diemer takes his leave, the class leader shouts from the rear rank, “Class, a-ten-HUT!” The class stands at attention while the colonel leaves th
e area. After he is gone, Lieutenant Colonel Jim Jackson makes his way from the rear to the front of the formation. Jackson is the commander of the 1st Battalion, 1st Special Warfare Training Group. In addition to the Special Forces phase and SERE training, he’s responsible for the daily operation of the Rowe Training Facility. He has a few words for the class, but he is more direct than his superior, and there is an edge to his voice.
“Gentlemen, let me add my welcome to that of the group commander. Ahead of you are twenty-three days of selection—SFAS, or Phase I. During that time, you’re going to have to show us you have what it takes to be a Special Forces soldier. This is a warrior’s vocation. It’s also a technical vocation. We use our training and our smarts to leverage our force in the field. So you have to be smart as well as tough. When the suck factor goes up, each of you’ll have to decide if you want to be in this fight as a Special Forces soldier or if you’d rather be someplace else. Our job here is to assess you based on your performance and on your potential to perform in an unconventional environment. That’s all I have, except to wish you good luck. Do you have anything, Command Sergeant Major?”
The battalion commander’s right-hand man is his command sergeant major, his senior enlisted soldier. At the company level, it’s usually the senior master sergeant in the role of first sergeant who holds sway, but at battalion, it’s the senior sergeant major—the command sergeant major. At 1st Battalion, he’s Command Sergeant Major Frank Zorn. He’s standing at the side of the formation and speaks from there.
“Not really, sir. Other than to remind you men that here we play for keeps. You quit or break the rules or do something stupid, and you no longer have a chance to be in Special Forces. I’ll give you one piece of advice, though. And that is, smile. This training is serious business, and it will demand your best effort to be successful, but every day, try to smile at least once. A little humor will help you to get through this, and it might even help some when it starts to hurt.”
I wasn’t surprised to see the group commander and the battalion commander take the time to address the men who are beginning Special Forces Assessment and Selection. All phases of Special Forces training are important, but SFAS is considered a key course on the road to the Green Beret. It’s the admission slip to SF training. During my in-brief on my arrival at Fort Bragg, the commanding general of the JFK Special Warfare Center and School, Major General James W. Parker, put it this way.
“Dick, I want you to pay special attention to what goes on during SFAS. The other phases of training are demanding and technical, and we’re always tweaking them to produce a more proficient soldier or a soldier that is better equipped to function in the current operational environment. But the selection phase is where we decide who will and who will not enter Special Forces training. This is very important. If we get the right men into the pipeline, then the force will thrive, but we must have the right men. In selection, we are looking for the men who are physically tough, but more importantly, men who have the intelligence, character, and interpersonal skills to be impact players on a Special Forces detachment. Special Forces is one of the only military training programs that seeks out men who can get along with others—who can function in a cross-cultural environment. And it all begins at selection.”
I promised General Parker that I’d do my best. And during my time with this SFAS class, I saw the general on several occasions, observing training to one side and speaking quietly with First Sergeant Billy Sarno.
After the battalion commander and his command sergeant major take their leave from Class 8-04, Sergeant Hacker puts the formation at ease and gives them their Camp Mackall orientation briefing: no cell phones, no phone calls out, no post exchange (the compound has a small one-room PX), no Coke or vending machines. He covers uniforms, formation times, gear lists, chow hall protocol, bulletin board notices, barracks security, and a host of other issues that govern the lives of Phase I candidates. Everyone has white adhesive tape on their uniform blouses and trousers with black Magic Marker numbers, but in SFAS they wear the blouse tape strip over their nametags and they wear no rank insignia. For now, the selection candidates are pure numbers. When Hacker gets to the medical issues, he slows.
“If you’re hurting, drive on. If you have a medical problem or are injured, get to morning sick call and get it fixed. If you get poison ivy or poison oak, let us know, and we’ll get some ointment for you. It’s starting to cool off, but the heat’s still our number one problem. Hydrate, and hydrate often. You will be issued hydration salts; take them every day. Next to the heat, it’s the feet. Take care of your feet. Treat hot spots and blisters early. Moleskin, new skin, second skin, and bacitracin ointment are all helpful. By now you should all know what does and doesn’t work for you. Deal with it. Prescription meds are the only meds allowed, so if you’re on a prescription, we need to know about it. Out here, Motrin is to be used only as prescribed by the medics.” He pauses to consult his notes. “Hygiene. Hygiene is very important. Take care of yourself; shower when you can, and take a whore bath when you can’t. Check each other for ticks; we have a lot of ticks. Also be on the lookout for black widows and brown recluse spiders—we’ve got them, too. There’s a lot of snakes out here, so let us know if one bites you. Usually, it will be a copperhead, and most of their bites are defensive and venomless, but we treat them all for real. Cottonmouths are different. They’re rare on Camp Mackall, but we see them from time to time. If you get a cottonmouth bite, let us know in a hurry.” He again checks his notes. “I guess that’s it. Class leader, take charge. I believe the next evolution is equipment issue and gear shakedown. Let’s get to it, men.”
The following day, the candidates are up at 0500 and out for a four-mile run at 0600. This is a conditioning run, but the pace is brisk. The SFAS cadre run along with the class, cutting them into groups of thirty to forty. There’s no shouting or harassment, but the cadre note if any in the class are having problems running. The run also serves in the continuing acclimation to Camp Mackall. The X-Ray candidates have no problems, having trained in North Carolina and Georgia during July and August. Some of the other soldiers have come from colder, more arid conditions. If one of the candidates lags behind, a cadre sergeant will drop back to check on him and offer encouragement. I asked Specialist David Altman about the attitude of the selection cadre compared to his prior training.
“This is something new for us. We’ve just been through boot camp, jump school, and Pre-SFAS. It seems like for the last six months someone has been yelling at us or ordering us about or dressing us down. It’s different here. There are expectations, but the assessment cadre never seem to raise their voices. When something needs to be done, they ask us to do it. And we do it. This is serious business; it’s all on us now.”
The balance of the day is taken up with a crash course in land navigation. Many of the soldiers coming in from other units have not used a map and compass for a while. Many are competent in using a hand-held GPS, but they need to brush up on shooting azimuths and establishing their pace count. This is almost second nature for the infantrymen, but some of the soldiers are coming from maintenance units or technical specialties in which they have had limited time in the field. The information’s not new to the regular soldiers, but few have had the recent training of the X-Ray soldiers. That evening, they’re back in the classroom. They’re given an hour and a half to write out their personal history. This personal history becomes part of their training folder and a component of their psychological assessment.
“We keep these training folders in our file room,” First Sergeant Sarno tells me. “They’re available for official use or review as needed. The training folders also contain their scores on the physical evolutions, the psychological testing, and their peer reviews. On occasion, when one of my cadre sergeants starts grousing about the deficiencies of these new men, I pull his SFAS training folder.” He gives a gentle chuckle. “It seems some of my cadre weren’t among the leading performers of their selecti
on class. And to be honest about it, I was no big-time stud when I came through here as a young sergeant. It took everything I had and then some to make it through selection. And that’s what it will take for these young soldiers here today. Y’know, sir, what goes around, comes around, even in our little world here at Camp Mackall.”
A part of this selection process is that soldiers not only have to perform to standard, but they have to perform to standard when they’ve been on the go and haven’t had all that much sleep. They’re kept on the move all of their waking hours with the exception of time in the classroom. During the first week of training, days begin at 0400 or 0500. The days are full, and every evening is scheduled for a classroom evolution that will engage the selection candidates until 2030 or 2100—8:30 or 9:00 p.m. They are often up much later than that, preparing their gear and uniforms for the next day’s training. These sixteen-plus-hour days are designed to teach and to tire. In addition to navigation classes and navigation practical work around Camp Mackall, there are physical evolutions. Each morning there is a run or a rucksack march. By the end of the week, the candidates are on the stopwatch. They are timed on four- and six-mile runs and four- and six-mile rucksack marches, the latter under sixty-five pounds of gear. There are teamwork drills with logs—telephone poles, actually—and calisthenic drills with rifles. And there’s Nasty Nick. Nasty Nick, named in honor of Colonel Rowe, is the obstacle course at Camp Mackall, and I can honestly say I’ve never seen a more robust and challenging course. The candidates crawl through water, under barbed wire, walk on elevated logs, climb ropes, hand swing from horizontal ladders, and negotiate cargo nets. Much of the course is high enough above ground that a fall would likely cause injury. At each obstacle, there’s a cadre sergeant noting the roster number of those students who fail to properly handle an obstacle. “You failed to properly negotiate that obstacle, soldier,” I heard many times. “You can try it again, or you can move on to the next obstacle.” Sometimes a candidate would trot back for another try; other times, he would simply move on to the next obstacle. Only those with superior athletic skills or previous climbing experience were able to successfully manage all the obstacles.