I spent four years in the army. Before you pass along what seems to be the obligatory, "thank you for your service," let me explain, I was much more like Beetle Bailey than G.I. Joe.
We were walking back to camp late one night after some training. The moon was full and brilliantly lit up the meadow we were hiking through. Like good little soldiers we were spread out across the field as we walked, but the moon was so bright I could see each one. As we approached the woodline, someone asked if I needed a flashlight. With the moon, I obviously didn't need one, so I declined.
That was mistake number one.
The minute I hit the trees I realized my mistake. The full moon is great at illuminating an open field, but penetrating the canopy of a Virginia forest in the Spring... not so much.
I knew the general direction of my shelter-half. (Apparently the Army could only afford to give me half a tent. If I was Air Force, we would have been staying in a hotel will a fully stocked mini-bar, but that's a blog for another occasion). Since I knew which way to go, I decided to shuffle along until I found it.
That was mistake number two.
What I failed to remember was,we dug foxholes earlier in the day... yeah. The thing about foxholes is, you dig them armpit deep to the shortest man. The one I "found" was dug by two dudes who were about 6'5.
I'm convinced I could have gotten out of that hole by myself, if I hadn't torqued my ankle so badly.
It's kind of embarrassing to yell for help after you've fallen in an empty foxhole, especially when it's happened because of your own foolish choices. What you find though is people respond with concern. They help pull you out, carry you to rest and even take you to a medical professional if you need one.
We've all fallen in foxholes from time to time. It's OK if you're stuck in one. Just remember, there are people who care more about you than the spot you're in or how you got there. Help is available. You don't have to sleep down there.
We were walking back to camp late one night after some training. The moon was full and brilliantly lit up the meadow we were hiking through. Like good little soldiers we were spread out across the field as we walked, but the moon was so bright I could see each one. As we approached the woodline, someone asked if I needed a flashlight. With the moon, I obviously didn't need one, so I declined.
That was mistake number one.
The minute I hit the trees I realized my mistake. The full moon is great at illuminating an open field, but penetrating the canopy of a Virginia forest in the Spring... not so much.
I knew the general direction of my shelter-half. (Apparently the Army could only afford to give me half a tent. If I was Air Force, we would have been staying in a hotel will a fully stocked mini-bar, but that's a blog for another occasion). Since I knew which way to go, I decided to shuffle along until I found it.
That was mistake number two.
What I failed to remember was,we dug foxholes earlier in the day... yeah. The thing about foxholes is, you dig them armpit deep to the shortest man. The one I "found" was dug by two dudes who were about 6'5.
I'm convinced I could have gotten out of that hole by myself, if I hadn't torqued my ankle so badly.
It's kind of embarrassing to yell for help after you've fallen in an empty foxhole, especially when it's happened because of your own foolish choices. What you find though is people respond with concern. They help pull you out, carry you to rest and even take you to a medical professional if you need one.
We've all fallen in foxholes from time to time. It's OK if you're stuck in one. Just remember, there are people who care more about you than the spot you're in or how you got there. Help is available. You don't have to sleep down there.
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