The Road March

It was a typical 75 degree, light breezy day in California with the infamous cloud that threatened rain that never came, situated directly over the post. Although, no one in the 7th PSC was in the mood for the hike the Soldiers knew as a road march. Specialist Whatley dreaded walking the 12 miles the commander required. He wanted to get back to the office and file records like he did every day. He had transferred to Fort Ord 3 months earlier and all he cared about was getting to know his new coworker, Private Hamm, who had just got to the 7th. She was a nice looking, brown skinned innocent looking girl, who packed the biggest breast onto a small frame that drew the attention of all red blooded males with eyesight.

Whatley knew with 10,000 males and only 700 females on post, that he had to make his move fast in order to have a chance at the new private. He was fascinated by the previous night’s conversation in which she confided, that she was from a small North Carolina town, and had never had a boyfriend. There was a time when he looked for experienced girls, but had grown to like the shy, innocent type.
Whatley had below average stamina for a 21 year old dude built like a small tank. He could outrun anyone on post for 40 yards but struggled to make the 5 miles required for physical training. He appeared more confident in himself than he really was. People seen him as a loud talking alpha male who would fight at the drop of a dime. They didn’t see the insecure dude who fought because of his insecurities.
As luck would have it, the road march started and Whatley was on the right side of the formation with his m16 pointed outward while Private Hamm on the opposite side in front where he could see her every step. The only thing Whatley knew was that he needed to make the entire march without falling out like others were sure to do. While he had walked 20 miles 3 years earlier, he wasn’t confident he could make it 12 today.

As they walked, Whatley could barely keep his eyes on his squad leader in front of the formation making hand signs every 100 meters. Stop, go, down, up, and look for enemies he knew weren’t there. They walked 1 mile 2, 3, and by the 5th mile behind the lone vehicle in the formation, a 2 ton truck, which got stuck in sand. Sergeant Smith signaled for the squad to come together. Whatley knew it was to tell the squad to push the vehicle out of the sand. Whatley positioned himself next to Hamm and guarded the spot like a fox guarding a hen house.
Out of nowhere, Sergeant Bell swooped in and positioned himself on the other side of Private Hamm and tried to get her attention. Bell was a slick talking Sergeant who bragged about bedding women with his wife’s knowledge and consent. He didn’t care that he could be court martialed for fraternization and adultery, according to him. As they pushed the Humvee, Hamm looked at Whatley, and away from Bell, and shook her head and smiled, they both smiled at each other.

After expanding waning energy the tired, dirty soldiers pushed the Humvee out of the sand, and the march continued. Whatley continued counting Private Hamm’s steps for 6, 7, 8, 12 miles. After reaching 12 miles and not recognizing anything but woods Whatley knew they were lost. The officers and senior NCO’s huddled together while looking at compasses and maps while trying to find the way back. They marched on and finally after 20 miles completed the 12 mile road march. Now they could take a shower, and get back to work in the office and Specialist Whatley could start the process of getting to know the women who would be his wife 2 years later and remain so for 30 plus years.