I layed the map down on the hood of the humvee, flipped on my little LED flashlight, and started tracing the roads with my finger. Mentally I tried to remember what kind of condition each road was in, and if each would permit my team of escort vehicles and the numerous other convoy vehicles (of which I was escorting during this exercise) to pass without having to slow down. Slower trucks equal bigger targets for hadji. I've been at Fort Bragg for about six weeks, yet I'm entrusted to escort (and lead) more vehicles in a single column than most used car dealers in Fayetteville have on their entire lot. The original route planned by myself and my NCOs had been 'blocked' by a simulated IED detonation and now I had to find an alternate route. The open area our two elements have linked up at has now become a parking lot- diesel engines rumble at idle and headlights shine into the darkness. I think it's about 2345 hours, but I keep my attention focused on the map. Finally satisfied with the route, I look up at one of the best E5s I've ever met, Sergeant Tim.
"Looks good sir," Tim approves from the roof of my humvee. Ok, let's rock.
"Are you ready for the other personnel, LT?" The question floats out of the darkness to my left. It's the voice of the OC (Observer-Controller), a Captain who is critiqing me during the exercise. In this case, he waits for me to screw up and then verbally pimp-slaps me over the radio. The learning curve is steep tonight- he would be better suited wearing a leopard print cape and driving a '76 Cadillac Eldorado.
"Uh, yeah. Bring 'em over," It's usually only two or three guys that need to be briefed. Simple.
5 minutes pass, and 30 some soldiers appear from somewhere and clump together in front of my vehicle. Not only are there the (somewhat) expected junior enlisted and NCOs standing there, waiting for me to recite the convoy gospel, but also a handful of Lieutenants, Captains, and one Lieutenant Colonel. Let's remind ourselves that I am a Second Lieutenant, and a junior one at that. Sweet. I struggle through my 'brief' like Paris Hilton at an acting lesson. I'm getting sharp-shooted (asked difficult and often unnecessary questions) by people left and right. Even the Lieutenant Colonel gets in on the organized harrassment. I'm the Convoy Commander, the man in charge regardless of rank, and it is apparent to the soldiers I'm leading that I haven't done this a whole lot. I retrace the route I planned moments before, only to realize that now I can't read the map, or speak coherent english. Damn. Sergeant Tim jumps in and helps me out, providing a detailed description of the entire route straight from memory. I answer some questions from the crowd, and finally conclude the brief. I think my pride still has a pulse, but it will be a few weeks before it walks and talks again.
When all the vehicles finally get on the dirt road close to our previously occupied area, the column is several kilometers long. Fortunately I can jockey a radio with the best of soldiers, and constantly pull information from my escort vehicles to keep tabs on their condition and the surrounding area. However, due to terrain and distance, I can't communicate with the lead vehicle. Through some quick engineering we re-establish comms, and drive on with the mission. Through luck we make it to our destination without taking any IED hits or small arms fire from the OPFOR (opposing force).
On the trip back to our little corner of Fort Bragg my Humvee is given 'simulated mechanical failure' and must be towed. No problem, my guys have done this drill many times and can hook up the recovery gear from one vehicle to another in minutes. We stay in the vehicle while it is being towed, and after a several miles the recovery gear can be removed. Apparently Lady Luck isn't done screwing with me for the night. Seconds after the tow bar comes off, the diesel engine on my vehicle dies and will not turn over. Now we really need to tow it, and can't remain in the cab due to post regulations. I grab my carbine and radio, scramble up to the lead FMTV (big green army truck), and switch positions with the staff sergeant in the passenger seat. I'm now jockeying several radios, plotting our position on the map, and telling the driver where to turn. I manage to get the escort vehicles back without any navigational problems. Lieutenants' navigational prowess is not often well-regarded, but I stave off the critics for a bit.
Afterward the OC comes by my vehicle to give me his thoughts. I brace again for the pimp-hand, but it never comes. I had been given a pretty tough mission, and managed to successfully get all my people and vehicles to their destination. Despite some of the jacked up details, I had done pretty well. Lucky? No. I walk back to the broom closet that doubles as the Lieutenant's office, and strip off my helmet and body armor. The clock reads 0459, so I set the alarm for 0700. I forget when I fell asleep, but it didn't take long. Soon after the morning arrived, uninvited. Despite any of this, I love my job.
