Thursday, December 02, 2004
HUMVEE Race
The long talked about wrestling match between Kip and Ricky finally took place. Kip, my roommate, said it would be held in the downstairs of our gutted physical plant building. I asked Kip not to do it there, warning him that someone would get hurt on the concrete floor. Of course, once I concluded that they were going to do it anyway, I went down to enjoy the show.
The main room is not lit, so we held flashlights on the contestants and stood in assigned spots to keep them from running into hazards such as columns and pipes. Right after the match ended, a familiar voice from the shadows asked us what we were doing.
Very shortly thereafter, leadership was supervising us performing readiness drills - mounting the weapons on the trucks and getting all of our gear on. One Soldier rightly argued that we were just blowing off steam and noted that sports are an Army recommended way of relieving stress. Leadership then decided that we would start doing physical training (PT) every morning; not really a sport, but whatever.
But, then leadership took a step back and thought about how situation could be turned into something fun. It was decided that the people involved: the wrestlers, the flashlight holders, and the designated safety personal would participate in a humvee race. The perpetrators were from two different platoons, so we would be split into two teams of four each.
The next morning we reported to the race course which was about 50 meters long. A captain was selected from each team and we could pick a driver (to steer) from the group of about 20 spectators. Each team would push their respective Humvee the length of the course. Best two out of three heats would win. The track was on a very slight incline, which wouldn’t be a big deal, except an empty up armored humvee weighs almost five tons.
After two heats, we were tied with a win each. The course was then extended to include a gravel covered area with an increased grade. We were a length ahead of our opponents, but then stalled in a shallow ditch. The other truck also stalled, its bumper just a few feet behind ours. The other team’s fans were cheering them on to push harder, one saying, “What’s the matter? Doesn’t it snow where you live?” We tried and tried, but couldn’t budge them anymore. The two platoon sergeants then got behind their respective vehicles and we were able to cross the line first.
I thought the whole thing was hilarious; when I wasn’t pushing, I was laughing. But some of the guys took it too seriously, wanting to focus on it as punishment instead of something turned into fun. One guy complained, “We were just wrestling! What was wrong with that?” I wise corporal responded, “I dunno dude, I think flashlights on a dark concrete floor had something to do with it.”
The long talked about wrestling match between Kip and Ricky finally took place. Kip, my roommate, said it would be held in the downstairs of our gutted physical plant building. I asked Kip not to do it there, warning him that someone would get hurt on the concrete floor. Of course, once I concluded that they were going to do it anyway, I went down to enjoy the show.
The main room is not lit, so we held flashlights on the contestants and stood in assigned spots to keep them from running into hazards such as columns and pipes. Right after the match ended, a familiar voice from the shadows asked us what we were doing.
Very shortly thereafter, leadership was supervising us performing readiness drills - mounting the weapons on the trucks and getting all of our gear on. One Soldier rightly argued that we were just blowing off steam and noted that sports are an Army recommended way of relieving stress. Leadership then decided that we would start doing physical training (PT) every morning; not really a sport, but whatever.
But, then leadership took a step back and thought about how situation could be turned into something fun. It was decided that the people involved: the wrestlers, the flashlight holders, and the designated safety personal would participate in a humvee race. The perpetrators were from two different platoons, so we would be split into two teams of four each.
The next morning we reported to the race course which was about 50 meters long. A captain was selected from each team and we could pick a driver (to steer) from the group of about 20 spectators. Each team would push their respective Humvee the length of the course. Best two out of three heats would win. The track was on a very slight incline, which wouldn’t be a big deal, except an empty up armored humvee weighs almost five tons.
After two heats, we were tied with a win each. The course was then extended to include a gravel covered area with an increased grade. We were a length ahead of our opponents, but then stalled in a shallow ditch. The other truck also stalled, its bumper just a few feet behind ours. The other team’s fans were cheering them on to push harder, one saying, “What’s the matter? Doesn’t it snow where you live?” We tried and tried, but couldn’t budge them anymore. The two platoon sergeants then got behind their respective vehicles and we were able to cross the line first.
I thought the whole thing was hilarious; when I wasn’t pushing, I was laughing. But some of the guys took it too seriously, wanting to focus on it as punishment instead of something turned into fun. One guy complained, “We were just wrestling! What was wrong with that?” I wise corporal responded, “I dunno dude, I think flashlights on a dark concrete floor had something to do with it.”
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