30 June 2002 – 1st Brigade Area, Fort Bragg, North Carolina

The sign needs a bit of work.

Jeff looked at the faded sign announcing what building he was at. He leaned against his car, arms crossed, while staring across the area where his Army career started in 1987. While it officially started with Basic Training back at Fort Benning, Jeff considered this place to be where his career really began. He watched maroon beret-covered soldiers wander in and out of the area and remembered when he was one of them.

“Help you, sir?” someone asked from his right. Jeff glanced over to see an Airborne first sergeant standing five feet away.

“Good afternoon, First Sergeant,” Jeff responded while pushing himself off the car to stand upright at a loose position of at ease. “I was just reminiscing about when I was assigned here.”

“How long ago were you here?” 1SG Eberlee asked while glancing at Jeff’s civilian clothes. They revealed nothing about who he was, but his haircut was another matter.

“I left over a decade ago, Top, which blows my ever-loving mind! I barely shaved when I got here in ‘87!”

“I think we all had that problem when we joined up. I’m Shawn Eberlee.”

“Jeff Knox. Good to meet you, Top.”

“Which unit?”

“1st of the 504th back then. Alpha Company. From your beret flash I see you’re in 2d Battalion, 505th?”

“A-firm, Charlie Company. Where are you stationed now?”

“When I make it through SOCM I’ll be assigned to the 3d Ranger Battalion. I won’t know which company until I get back there.”

Eberlee’s eyebrows rose. “I hear that course is a cast iron bitch! You’ve been in as long as I have but you’re just getting into the Rangers now?”

“There’s the rub, Top. I started when you did, but got out after the Gulf.” Jeff gave his story once again. Eberlee’s eyebrows rose higher.

“Man, you’ve got stones coming back at our age. You’ve obviously made it through the Rangers’ selection process or they wouldn’t have sent you here.”

“I’ve got stones or rocks in the head,” Jeff said, shrugging. “One of the two.”

“When does your course start?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Well, best of luck.”

“Thanks, Top. Have a good one.”

Later that evening Jeff and Donal sampled the food at a pub-style restaurant recommended by the soldier working the desk of their VEQ. Jeff hadn’t heard of the place before. It hadn’t been around when he was stationed at Bragg after high school.

“Not bad,” Donal commented while gnawing on a rib.

“I’ve certainly eaten worse,” Jeff agreed. He sipped on a beer which he found a bit too heavy for the meal he ordered, but it was still good and he’d PT it off in the morning. He’d switch to water once he finished it.

“A ringing endorsement.”

“You’d be surprised how difficult it is to make good food for as many people as this place probably sees in a day. They’re doing okay. There’s a similar kind of place not too far from where I grew up which has the best pub food I’ve had yet. They brewed their own beers there too, which were out-effing-standing based on the sampler I tried.”

“Go there a lot?”

“Only once, years ago. I kinda left before they could throw me out. They’re still in business but I’ve never gone back.”

“You got thrown out of a bar?”

“Technically, no. Like I said I left first. Some jerk at the table behind me was badmouthing a friend of mine, calling her a bimbo and an easy lay. She’s a great girl and was my girlfriend during our senior year of high school. I took exception and expressed my displeasure in regards to his behavior and language.” Donal’s eyebrow rose. “I tipped him over backward in his chair, slammed him to the ground, and scared the piss out of him.” Jeff took another sip of his beer. “Scared the shit out of him too, come to think of it. I left not long after that.”

“I can’t picture you doing that,” Donal said shaking his head. “I mean we’re going to be Rangers and I know you’re a black belt and all, but still...”

“I know. I give off such a ’I’m a lover, not a fighter’ vibe it’s hard to believe.”

Donal snorted. “What do you think about this course we’re starting tomorrow?”

“It’s gonna be a brain-buster. From what I understand the Anatomy and Physiology class we took at Columbus State University during pre-SOCM will help some, but it’ll still be tough and far beyond what I know as a paramedic. Remember everything we’ve heard tells us we’re going to need to manage our free time carefully, split it between keeping up with our PT and our studying. No nightly binges.” Donal gave him a look. Jeff held up his hands. “I’m just sayin’. You young kids, first time away from home...”

“Hey, where did your walker go? Did you leave it in the bathroom?” Donal rejoined.

“Good one! Now, seriously, since they’ve assigned us adjacent rooms in the VEQ I think we should be each other’s Ranger buddy while we’re here: to help each other study, to stay motivated, and to do our PT. From what I hear, any SEALs in our class will absolutely kick our asses when it comes to being in shape, but there’s no reason we can’t stand tall and represent as you kids say. Our minimum standard should be to score three hundred on our PT tests.”

Donal nodded while taking a sip of his sweet tea. He was still under age and didn’t like soda.

“I think you’re right. They keep telling us the attrition rate for this class is close to fifty percent. I’d rather be in the fifty percent that stays.”

“Good plan. Have you called Sarah Gillis since we got here?”

“Yeah, once I unpacked. I want to thank you for telling me to keep in touch with her. She’s starting to feel like my big sister now. It’s nice to have something like family again.”

Jeff stared wistfully at the far wall, thinking of Heather once more.

Move on, Jeff. Remember, it is what it is...

Donal and Jeff started their new routine Monday morning before the first SOCM accountability formation. They woke at 0400 and hit the track near the VEQ. Jeff introduced Donal to his normal workout which pushed the limits of the younger man’s endurance, even though he was already scoring three hundred on PT tests. He cautioned Donal – “Don’t let me lap you!” – before they started their six-mile run. They completed their final lap with Jeff chasing Donal while yelling like a hellhound.

Showered, shaved, and in the correct uniform before heading to breakfast, the two avoided carbs there as much as possible. The last thing they needed was to nod off on the first day of the course. SOCM cadre allocated the first day to the admin minutiae that goes with any multi-day class. Donal and Jeff met their Ranger Liaison, most of their classmates, and received their mountains of reading material.

SOCM is required for medics from all branches who wish to work with special operations forces. Some SOF medics add more courses, some have lengthier time-in-service requirements before attending than Ranger medics, but all are deadly serious about keeping their charges alive. Looking around the room Jeff didn’t see many smiles in evidence.

The most dangerous part of the course for Jeff would be the beginning, the Basic EMT training which makes up most of Block One. As far as he could tell, he was the only one in the class who’d been a civilian EMT and the only one who’d have to unlearn civilian habits. Ranger medics who took the class in years past often passed along their observations from training. For this block almost all the advice he heard was to drill yourself every chance you got, to be ready for the tests. The cadre also wanted to see good critical thinking skills more than rote memorization.

A face from class appeared in Jeff’s VEQ doorway later that night. Its owner knocked.

“Hey, there,” Jeff offered while placing items on his desk. He walked over to the door.

“Hey. I’m your neighbor to your right, Shawn Stevens.”

“Jeff Knox. Good to meet you officially, Shawn. Which branch?”

“Navy.”

“SEAL corpsman?” Stevens nodded. “So this is only the first of a couple stops for you then?”

“BUD/S and SQT were my first stops but, yes, I’ve got another twenty-four-week class looming after this. You?”

“Aiming for Army Ranger medic, so this is the only medical class I’ll need before I get back to the Regiment. I’ll be going to Ranger School once there.”

“Not first? I guess I’m confused about how your training goes before you can deploy.”

“Normally someone enlisting on a Ranger medic contract – what the Army calls an ‘Option Forty’ contract – would do Basic Training, medic AIT, Airborne School, Ranger Indoctrination, then come here to SOCM. This is the last step of the journey for most. I’m prior service so I did medic AIT and RIP before coming here. Ranger School is required for NCOs and officers in the Regiment.”

“You’re an NCO, then?”

“Sergeant, E-5,” Jeff confirmed. “That equates to what? Hospitalman second class?”

“Right. That’s my rate and rating.”

“Well, my buddy and I are gonna try and keep up with you SEAL types on the PT, though I’m sure you’re well out front in that regard.”

“How goes the course so far, my husband?”

Jeff laughed a mirthless laugh. “This phone call may be the only time I’m not studying or doing PT all week! I’d heard about how difficult this class would be, but I’m glad I’ve already adjusted my routine. We’re going to be going full-speed until our clinical rotations.”

“I am sure you will do well, as always. How many others are in your class?”

“About seventy or seventy-five. This course has folks from almost every branch, too, which never happened at any other military training I attended. Also, I don’t think I’ve seen more than a handful of smiles since the class started.”

”’Almost’ every branch?”

“The Marines don’t have a medical branch. They borrow folks from the Navy.”

“What about receiving visitors?”

“Weekends would be easier than during the week, obviously. Maybe Columbus Day weekend? That’ll be toward the end of Trauma II, traditionally the hardest block, but I’d like to see you guys. A long weekend will be easier, too. Labor Day’s too close the start of your school year. We’ll be evaluated multiple times over the length of this course, so I’ll have a good handle on how I’m doing and what the potential for visiting is like before then.”

“Remember what I said to you earlier, Jeffrey: kick ass.”

Jeff made one other phone call during a weekday lunch break despite what he told Keiko over the weekend.

“American Association for EMS, how may I direct your call?”

“Barry Silverman, please. Jeff Knox calling.”

“One moment, sir.” <click>

“Hey, Jeff. How’s it going?”

Barry Silverman was the AAFEMS Vice President for Education and Recertification. Barry acted as the point person for figuring out how to credit a military medic’s education to help them maintain their certifications. He took personal interest in the subject.

“Hey, Barry. This course has been full-throttle since Day One, that’s for sure.”

“Well, just worry about the course. Your current recert cycle is all set thanks to your work at medic AIT. Your 2003 to 2006 recert will be credited as complete as soon as you finish the SOCM course. When you pass the course, you’ll get an AAFEMS medic card which reads ‘Expires June 30, 2006’ about three weeks after we get your paperwork. Any Advanced Tactical Provider refresher course you take while you’re still in will count as your continuing education and refresher for whatever recert cycle you’re in as well.”

“Wow! You’re kidding!”

“Not at all, Jeff. You worked hard helping to get the bridge program for Army medics off the ground, and you’re putting your ass on the line for our country, so I thought the least we could do is to return the favor. We’re about ready to add the 91B-to-Paramedic bridge class to the post-Army classes we sponsor. We’re going to work on making all the bridge classes applicable to folks from other services as well.”

“That was quick!”

“Eh, it makes sense.”

“Last time we spoke I only asked what I would need to do to keep my certification active while I’m in! I appreciate your hard work on this.”

“There wasn’t much to it, honestly. Pretty cut-and-dried from our end since we already have a relationship with the Army Medical Department. My next big project will be to see if we can get the Paramedic Specialty Certification Board to allow a SOCM Advanced Tactical Practitioner to transition to their ‘Certified Paramedic, Tactical.’ That’ll be a bigger challenge since they don’t yet have a relationship with AMEDD.”

“Yeah, they aren’t part of AAFEMS so I can see how that’s gonna be a tough sell. Still, it’d be one more way to provide an easier transition to the civilian world for these folks.”

“And that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?”

“I seem to remember telling someone that once.”

“Good thing I listened to you then, huh?”

“I guess so! I don’t think it violates OPSEC to tell you this, but the way they test on EMT stuff here is a ball buster!”

”’OPSEC?’”

“Operational Security. They make sure you know the material but they also make sure you know how to think critically, too.”

“Never a bad thing in our line of work. I’d imagine it’s really important the way you’ll need to do things ‘down range’ as you’ve called it.”

Jeff followed other advice he picked up and skipped lunch after the first week of SOCM. A mile and a half-long running trail next to the ‘schoolhouse’ provided a chance to recharge in the middle of the day. Jeff found that if he sprinted most of it he could finish two laps. He still had time for a shower and a granola bar before class started up in the afternoon. The tree-shaded trail kept the blazing North Carolina summer sun off of him, too. Freshly showered, he munched on his lunch while walking back to the schoolhouse. Food wasn’t allowed in the classroom though water was. Jeff dropped the bar’s wrapper in the trash and took his seat.

“Thank God they sent us to Columbus State for that A&P class! I’d be totally lost right now otherwise!” Donal said with his Block Two Anatomy & Physiology books and flash cards spread out in front of him. There was a similar pile in front of Jeff.

“I doubt you’d be as lost as you think you’d be, Donal. You’re a smart kid.”

“Thanks, but this stuff’s still got my head spinning!”

“Mine, too. You’re not alone, don’t worry there. A lot of this stuff is far beyond what I covered in paramedic school. Suck it up and drive on, right?”

“Right. So, the cranial nerves? Can we go over them again?” They still had five minutes before class restarted.

“Sure. Count ‘em off.”

“Okay, the twelve cranial nerves: one, Olfactory. Two, Optic. Three, Oculomotor, four ... uh, four...

“‘Oh, Oh, Oh, To Touch And Feel A Good Vagina and Hymen.’”

“What?”

“A mnemonic we used in paramedic school to help us remember their names and order. ’Oh, Oh, Oh, To Touch And Feel A Good Vagina and Hymen.’ Olfactory, Optic, Oculomotor, Trochlear, Trigeminal, Abducens, Facial, Auditory, Glossopharyngeal, Vagus, Accessory, Hypoglossal. The Auditory nerve is now called the Vestibulocochlear nerve so one new mnemonic is ’Oh, Oh, Oh, To Touch And Feel Virgin Girls’ Vaginas and Hymens.’” Donal stared at his study partner. “Hey, what do I say about ‘if it’s stupid but it works?’”

“‘Then it’s not stupid.’ Yeah, okay, I guess you’re right.”

“You don’t get off that easy, kid. What do the nerves innervate?”

“Geez, you’re a bastard, you know that?”

“Like I told your roommate at Fort Sam, my parents are married. Let’s go, tell me what they innervate.”

“Okay,” Donal sighed, “the Olfactory is a sensory nerve which conducts the sense of smell from the nose to the brain. The Optic...”

Jeff made sure Donal had the cranial nerves down before they moved on to the next topic. They alternated quizzing and being quizzed each day. They changed up the subjects when necessary. Their study methods proved successful for them to this point, as both were still in the course. Seven of the original seventy-six members of their class couldn’t say that.

“Are you okay, husband?”

“Hmm? Yeah, Keiko, why?”

“You seem distracted tonight.”

“Sorry, Keiko. The course is getting pretty intense.”

“More so than before?”

“Believe it or not, yeah.”

“How are you and your young charge handling it, husband?”

“We’re doing okay at the moment, Keiko. I’ve finally convinced Donal to join me on my noontime runs. The running’s helped me keep my head clear along with keeping me awake in the afternoons because I haven’t filled up at lunch. At the most I have the time for a power bar or something like it before class restarts for the afternoon.”

“It sounds as if you need to change your routine again, Jeffrey, to help you ‘stay loose’ as you are wont to say.”

“Yeah, I think I might. It feels like I’ve had my nose in my books for months, even though I do extra PT when I can also.”

“So, what are you going to do?”

During Jeff’s brief forays off-post he found that precious few of his once-favorite places were still present in Fayetteville. Most of the restaurants he once frequented closed in the ten years since he left, or their reputations declined so badly that he wasn’t interested in returning to them. He discovered one favorite recreation center where he once spent many hours was still open and thriving, however.

He stepped up to the outdoor service window and picked up a batting helmet which fit his head. The bats were different models of the same brands he remembered from high school, so he chose one at random. Jeff walked through the clouds of go-kart exhaust to reach the batting cages. He recalled hosting friends here and the fun they had. He stepped into a cage marked for fifty mile per hour pitches since he hadn’t swung at a baseball in well over a decade.

Jeff’s first few cuts at the pitches revealed his rusty swing. He didn’t even make contact. He stepped out of the batter’s box and let a few balls sail by while he thought about the mechanics of his swing. His next practice swings felt better than the swings he took a few moments earlier. Satisfied that he remembered those hitting mechanics, he stepped back up to the plate.

<BLAM!>

The baseball shot back toward the pitching machine on a line. It ricocheted off the protective screen in front of it.

<BLAM!>

<BLAM!>

<BLAM!>

Jeff settled into a rhythm just before his dollar ran out. The lack of a pitch confused him for a second before he realized what happened. He walked back to the coin-operated timer and dropped in another four quarters. He laced the majority of the next set of pitches back as line drives. Jeff felt his swing smoothing out with each repetition.

When the second dollar ran out Jeff moved to a faster cage. After a few pop-ups and grounders the faster pitches were returned in the same manner as the ones in the first cage.

“You were gettin’ in some good cuts there,” a man on the other side of the screen commented when Jeff went to add more money.

“Thanks. Did you want to get in here? I was going to add more money, but I’ll hold off if you’re waiting for a turn.”

“No, I’m good, thanks. There’s two other cages at this speed that aren’t being used. You’ve got a real sweet swing. I’m guessing you played in high school? Maybe college?”

“High school, yes. College, no,” Jeff admitted while stepping out of the cage. “Some folks gave me a look during my junior and senior years of high school back home, but I opted to do some post-graduate work at the Fayetteville Institute for Vertical Envelopment up the road a piece.”

“Haven’t heard that one before,” the other man laughed while holding out his hand. “Jack Spiker.”

“Jeff Knox. There was a man who ran this place back in the late ‘80s and early ‘90s when I was here last whose name was Amos Spiker. Any relation?”

“Dad,” Jack smiled. “He should be in by now. You wanna see if he is or take some more swings first?”

Jeff twisted his torso, working out a kink in his back from the now-unfamiliar swing movements.

“Why don’t we see if he’s here first?”

Donal sat down next to Jeff while he and Shawn Stevens reviewed their TMEPs – Tactical Medical Emergency Protocols – at the end of another lunch break. Jeff watched the young man open an energy drink and fire it down before throwing the can away.

“What?” Donal asked.

“You’ve read the labels on those things, right? You’ve seen how much sugar they put in them, right?”

“I’m trying to make sure I don’t fall asleep!”

“When you come off that sugar rush your head’s going to leave a dent in the table.” Donal gave him a look while Shawn chuckled. “All I’m saying is you’re not gonna like it when I put my elbow in your ribs to wake you up. You’ll be standing against the wall to stay awake for most of the afternoon, mark my words.”

“Five bucks says you’re wrong!”

“It’s your money, kid,” Jeff shrugged. “You know what I’ve heard about Clinical Medicine?” Donal shook his head. “You know how we’ll practice the physical exams we’ll learn about in the A&P block?”

“Yeah?”

“You’ve heard how in-depth those practice exams get, right?”

Donal’s eyes narrowed. “No...”

“We’ll be introducing each other to the ol’ Wizard Finger soon.”

“The what?”

“The Wizard Finger.” Jeff got a blank look from Donal. “Finger of Doom?” Blanker. “The first half of a Dirty Sanchez? No? How am I more hip than you?” Jeff shook his head and sighed. Shawn looked pale.

“A digital rectal exam. It’s used to check anal tone for evidence of neurological injury, to check the prostate, the appendix, for occult blood – lots of things. It’s part of the physical.”

The narrowed eyes widened. “You’re shitting me!”

“Poor choice of words, Donal,” Jeff chuckled. “Anyway, there will be a lot of good information in this block, too. We’re gonna learn even more about all the major body systems: cardiovascular, pulmonary, immune, GU, GI, endocrine. You name them, we’re gonna learn more about them than at CSU.” Donal rubbed his face. “You thought they were kidding? Remember, it gets harder. You’re gonna wanna stay awake.”

“I’ll stay awake just fine, old man,” snorted Donal.

He wasn’t snorting when he handed Jeff five dollars later that night.

The change to Jeff’s PT routine, adding in time at the batting cages, helped him remain on an even keel. He played baseball for over a decade – from ages five to seventeen – and he missed it. He moved up to the eighty mile-per-hour cage two months before today’s visit. He found his groove there faster than expected. The mid-eighties weather in the middle of September helped, too. Jeff toyed with the idea of moving to the ninety mile-per-hour cage soon.

Today when he approached the cages a large group of high school-aged boys blocked the way, goofing around in front of the one he wanted to use.

“Excuse me, gentlemen,” Jeff called. “Are you waiting for this cage?”

“What’s it to you, Yankee?” one of the youths laughed, not moving.

“If none of you are gonna use it, I’d like to get in there.”

“You’re gonna break a hip, mister!” another shouted.

“You’re too old to hit anything!” a third boy yelled. “Twenty bucks says you won’t get wood on even one pitch!”

“You’re covered,” Jeff responded. That quieted the crowd. “Anyone else? No? Mr. Amos has an ATM in the building there. I got the money in the unlikely event you win the bet.” When no one else spoke up Jeff shrugged, squeezed through the throng, and entered the cage.

Jeff didn’t just ‘get wood’ on a pitch. His weeks of practice allowed him to recover his hitter’s eye. He crushed every pitch. Twenty baseballs shot to the screen above and behind the pitching machine before it clicked off. Jeff turned back to the cage’s gate twirling his bat like he once saw the Yankees’ Mickey Rivers do growing up.

“Got my twenty bucks?” Jeff asked the youth who bet against him. The teenager looked around nervously.

“I ain’t payin’ you!” he blustered. “Y’all are probably some kind of professional baseball player!”

“Me?” Jeff snorted. “I’m in the Army. You gonna pay up, boy?” Jeff saw the youngster hesitate again. “Gee, what a surprise. You’d’a been all up in my shit if I fanned on those pitches, yet you find it perfectly acceptable to welsh on your end of the deal.”

The others started to crowd around Jeff and the boy.

“Touching me will constitute battery, gentlemen. I can assure you that you don’t want to go that route.”

“And I’ll swear on a stack of bibles all y’all started the whole thing, too!” someone new yelled. That someone pushed himself off the tree he leaned against and approached the crowd. “Get the hell off my property. Now.”

“We’re paying customers!”

“Ah, a jailhouse lawyer! ‘Management reserves the right to refuse service.’ Didn’t you boys read that sign? It’d be a powerful shame if your cars suddenly developed some ‘spensive damage, wouldn’t it?”

“It’ll be you payin’ for it, old man!”

“Don’t know why I bother hangin’ any of those damn things,” the man muttered to himself. “Guess you boys didn’t see the one that reads ‘Management not responsible for loss’ neither, huh?” The man lifted the axe handle he carried to his shoulder. “Might be a good time for all y’all to run along home.” The group of teenagers scattered.

“Mr. Amos, don’t be getting yourself in trouble on my account,” Jeff told the man who helped him out.

“Shit, son, I spoke all hypothetical-like! Never said I would do any of that.”

“Though it was implied,” Jeff said, grinning.

“Well, if that’s what them boys inferred, then so be it,” Amos guffawed. “Damn, son, y’all were tattooin’ them pitches just now.” Amos called everyone ‘son’ unless they were female, then it was ‘missy.’

“Like I said when I started coming here regularly weeks ago, Mr. Amos, I just get in this zone when I hit.” Jeff shrugged. “Believe it or not, it helps me clear my head.”

“Got a lot goin’ on do ya?”

Jeff snorted. “Tryin’ to be a medic in the Rangers. I think my head’s gonna explode some days after my classes. We’re about to start the part of the class where it gets ‘really intense.’ Can’t wait.”

“Your family helping you stay relaxed?”

“I talk to my wife and kids most nights, but it’s hard not being around them. They’re still home in Massachusetts. Before I reenlisted there were plenty of days where I got to stay home with my kids, especially when they were real little.”

“How old are your little ones?”

“Our boys are five and a half, our little girl’s four.” Jeff looked away. “Our oldest, Alex, has a better handle on why I’m not home, but our other two still don’t quite get why I won’t be home until after Christmas.”

“From what I hear that class of yours keeps you bouncin’ all over the place till you’re done.”

“The road I’m on will, yes, sir. Since I’ve been back in I’ve already been at Fort Sam Houston in San Antonio, Fort Benning, and here. Once I’m done it’s back to Benning before Ranger School. Ranger School will have me at Benning, northern Georgia and the Florida panhandle before I finish. I’ll be stationed at Benning when I’m finally done.”

“I can see why y’all didn’t want your family to come down with you, then.”

“Oh, I wanted them to, Mr. Amos, it just didn’t make sense for them to. They’ll be visiting over Columbus Day weekend.”

Amos nodded. “Well, make sure you bring ‘em by. Y’all gonna take some more swings?”

“No, I think I’m done. Those kids kinda took the fun out of hitting for today.”

“In that case let me buy you a cold one. I still got that grape soda y’all liked all them years ago.”

“Okay, so, remember you want to have the bevel up on the catheter when you insert it. You want it at about a thirty-degree angle when you pierce the skin.”

Jeff watched Donal make an IV attempt on an IV training arm the weekend before their fourth training block, Trauma I. This was Donal’s first practice IV attempt in months. An early start on retraining the younger man’s muscle memory wouldn’t hurt. The Trauma I cadre quizzed Jeff heavily when he asked to help Donal get some early practice. They came to understand Jeff would allow his fellow student to make all the common mistakes during that practice. Medic AIT covered the subject of starting IVs, but that was a while ago now and wasn’t an ingrained skill like it was for Jeff. Jeff admitted that he needed some practice too, since he hadn’t started a live IV in well over a year.

Donal did well with preparing for his first stick. He avoided contaminating the IV site after he cleaned it and remembered to have his equipment ready before puncturing the skin. Jeff covered his smile with his hand. He saw Donal forget to occlude the vein before releasing the tourniquet and removing the IV catheter from its hub.

The look of accomplishment disappeared from Donal’s face when the simulated blood began pouring out of the IV. He didn’t know where to put his hands first, so he tried to grab a towel, replace the tourniquet, and occlude the IV site all at the same time. Jeff reached over and calmly clamped the line supplying the blood to the training arm. With his other hand he handed Donal a towel.

“And that’s why it’s good to have a mental checklist of things to do before you remove the catheter from the IV hub, Grasshopper.”

Donal frowned while mopping up the blood.

“You’re no help.”

“Do you want to know how many times I did the same thing when I was in medic school or will that depress you too much?”

“Still no help.”

“So you’re not going to laugh if I mention you’re supposed to fix the trauma and not cause more of it?”

“Do I get to cause trauma to you? I might laugh in that case.”

“Seriously, Donal, your technique was fine up until the point where you disconnected the catheter. It just takes practice until the entire sequence becomes second nature. You likely purged the skill from your memory during Airborne School and RIP. We’ll finish cleaning up and we’ll try again.”

“While we’re cleaning up, maybe you can explain to me how Advanced Cardiac Life Support is part of a trauma block?”

“Because you’ll be banging your head off your desk trying to understand it.” Donal gave him another of his patented looks. “I’m serious! Until you have your ‘Ah ha!’ moment cardiology and ACLS seem like total mysteries. Not to mention the pharmacology that goes along with them.”

“Are you trying to raise my blood pressure?”

“You’re the one who asked.”

The week before Columbus Day weekend brought stormy weather though Jeff didn’t care in the slightest. His family arrived that Saturday morning. They almost flattened him when all four tried to tackle him at the same time.

“I have missed you, husband,” Keiko whispered while clutching her husband’s arm. The kids clung to his legs. Jeff made them laugh by walking anyway and carrying them along.

“Really? How much?” he asked, leering at his wife.

“Exactly that much, Jeffrey.”

“Oh, baby! Talk dirty to me!”

“JEFFREY!” Keiko hissed wearing a smile. “We must wait until the children go to bed!”

“You started it. We’re gonna lock the door to the adjoining room, right?”

“If you persist, you will be on the other side of that door and the children will be with me, Jeffrey!”

“Geez, you’re no fun during the school year, Keiko. I think you need a vacation already.”

“School has only been in session for a month!”

“And here I am, offering you a proven method of stress relief and relaxation, and you’re rejecting it!” Keiko rolled her eyes. Jeffrey smiled. He missed every expression his wife’s face made. “I’ve missed seeing you do that, among other things,” he whispered in her ear. It was rare for Keiko to blush.

More rain marred the family weekend on Sunday. Still, Jeff made sure his kids had fun while they splashed together in the hotel’s indoor pool. Keiko cringed watching how far into the deep end he threw them. The fact they all surfaced laughing mollified her only slightly.

Jeff’s family visited Amos’ Amusements on Monday, Columbus Day. The kids were too young for most of the activities there, but the mini-golf was perfect for them. Despite the size of the putter compared to Sabrina’s height she proved to be the best of the three kids. Over lunch in the attached restaurant, Mr. Amos kept Jeff’s family giggling by alternating back and forth between his Carolina accent and the unaccented voice with perfect diction Keiko used.

“Mr. Amos, you been shinin’ me on all this time?” Jeff asked.

“Heck, son, I got me one of them high-falutin’ English degrees from North Carolina back in ‘67. Talked all fancy back then, too, mostly to annoy my Pappy. I bought into the hippie culture back while I was at UNC then, again mainly to hurt my folks.

“Pappy had a heart attack just after I graduated. Marcie and me, we already had Jackie even though we weren’t hitched, but we dropped everything and came here when Ma called us. We made sure stuff got done so Ma could take care of Pappy. I made sure I spent time with him, too. Back then there wasn’t any such thing as ‘cardiac rehab,’ it was all just lying around in bed hoping you’d get stronger. Sittin’ with him I got to catch up on all them talks Pappy wanted to have with me before I started ignorin’ him. Jackie got to know his Grandpappy, too. He don’t remember too much ‘cause he was so young, but he remembers enough.

“Pappy always said he wasn’t an educated kinda man, but he had a damn lot of common sense. Didn’t take any guff, either. He’d look right at you and call you a damn fool if you were actin’ like one. Because of our talks I started learning everything I could I thought might help me out later on. I knew I wasn’t gonna be teachin’ English class – no offense, Mizz Keiko – so I learned what I could before I opened this place in ‘77.

“Pappy was gone by then. Ma, too. But up until a few years ago I did most of the maintaining of things around here myself thanks to the talks Pappy and I were able to have when I came home. He’s why I talk like I do, son, ‘cause he talked the same way and it helps me remember him. Now it’s just comfortable. Folks expect me to talk like this now.” He winked at Keiko. “I’ll save my erudite speechifyin’ for when you bring your lovely bride a’visitin’.”

“I don’t know about this block, Jeff,” Donal said after a day of training in late October.

Jeff saw the stress his young friend suffered under the past few weeks. He was treating Donal to a meal at a mom-and-pop barbecue place about a half-hour from the base to relax him, and to get him away from the books.

“Donal, like I keep telling you – you’re a smart kid. You’ll get through Trauma II and, before you know it, we’ll be off to our clinical rotations.” Donal grimaced as if he didn’t agree before he took another drink of lemonade.

“Jeff,” Donal sighed, “you know I just made it through TPA by the narrowest of margins. CTM is gonna kill me!”

Trauma Patient Assessment and Combat Trauma Management make up the two hardest modules at SOCM. One out of every five students who make it to CTM fail out or recycle.

“Deep breath, Donal. Just remember what the Green Beanies say: ‘Slow is smooth, smooth is fast.’” Donal didn’t look like that advice gave him much comfort.

Jeff’s confidence in his skills came from many years of performing them. He realized he missed working on the ambulance and using his skills despite the emotional toll of the calls he’d run. He was looking forward to the clinical rotations and interacting with patients again.

Though Donal did well at AIT, he still harbored enough doubt in himself that it affected his performance. He couldn’t meet the time requirements in a few of the training scenarios, and the mounting pressure made it worse. Jeff could see him falling behind despite his efforts to help the young man. During the first week of November Donal trudged back into the VEQ one evening. He looked like someone just shot his dog.

“Donal? You all right?”

The younger man regarded Jeff with a haunted look in his eyes.

“I have to meet with the Review Board on Friday.”

“Have you told McNulty?” SSG Todd McNulty was the Ranger Liaison at SOCM.

“Not yet.”

“Come on,” Jeff said while spinning his friend around. “Let’s go see if he’s in his room at the BEQ.”

Friday the 8th saw Jeff jogging over to the building where the Review Board met during his lunch break. Donal’s meeting started at 1100 and the door to the meeting room was still shut at 1205 when Jeff reached it. There was nothing to do but sit and wait.

At 1230 the door opened. Donal walked out with his head down. Todd McNulty’s hand rested on his shoulder in support. Jeff’s heart broke for the friend who already experienced so much adversity in his young life. Donal looked up.

“Recycle,” he said.

Jeff let out the breath he held in one long exhalation. He worried Donal would get washed out of the course by the cadre.

“Like I told Donal already, Jeff,” Todd McNulty said, “the cadre saw the effort he’s put in, both in the classroom and with his PT. Most of the meeting was an oral review to see how much he retained. They came to their decision pretty quickly after talking to him.”

Jeff nodded. “While I was waiting I started to worry they might think he’d been using me as a crutch or something.”

“They mentioned that,” Donal replied. “I told them how our study sessions have been structured since we got here in July, and how we alternate roles. I knew why they were questioning me the way they were and, surprisingly, I didn’t let myself get too worried. I know I know the material. I just needed to show them I can do the job when I restart CTM with the next class in a couple months. I’ll pass this time, no sweat.”

“You’d better, Donal. Otherwise I’m gonna come back here and chase you around the track all day.”