Rude Early Morning Awakening

2010/05/08 sgcdo

It was only 3:50 a.m. The whole platoon was sound asleep. Everything was still and quiet. Suddenly, aBANG! BANG! BANG! shattered the peace. In less than three seconds, everyone was awake.

One of our crazy sergeants had burst into our barracks. He grabbed a broom and smashed it repeatedly against our thin aluminum cupboards, shouting, “GET UP! YOU LAZY PIGS! GET UP! GET UUUPPP!” We were supposed to be in platoon formation at 3:45 a.m., ready to meet our sadistic sergeant for extra physical training. But everyone was so exhausted that not even one man had gotten up in time to wake the rest. What caused us to be so exhausted, that we dared oversleep, counter to our most sadistic sergeant’s order? How did it all start?

Ironically, it started on a routine run. We were wearing “vest and slacks”: green army T-shirt, army pants and boots. The run went smoothly — except at the end. A routine run does not equate an easy run. We ran up the infamous Hendon Road. The uphill road was notorious because it was here that we often had to do strenuous exercises. The road, which led to a small parking lot next to our barracks, signaled that the end of the run was near.

So far so good. Still in tight formation, as we were expected to be, we finally caught sight of our barracks. But then fatigue overcame us. Without warning, our formation broke. More and more men failed to keep up with the pace. The furious sergeants yelled. But it was in vain — the formation disintegrated. The sergeants were like the horsemen who could not put Humpty Dumpty back together again. Though exhausted, I kept up with the main body of runners. But not much of Humpty Dumpty remained.

“From now onwards, I’ll be giving you extra physical training every morning, even before breakfast!” shouted a sergeant, well known for his torturous training. “I want you all to assemble at 3:45 a.m. tomorrow.” We knew our nightmare had just begun.

For the next three weeks, hell greeted us every morning. Instead of the usual time of 4 a.m., we had to wake up an hour earlier. Our sleep, already so lacking, was reduced. And we did an hour of exercises even before joining the other two platoons for regular company training. The other two platoons didn’t have to do the extra P.T. So unlike us, they started each day fresh. Our regular training at that time included Tae Kwon Do which by itself was hard. We dreaded the extra physical training (P.T.). And we did them on an empty stomach.

The sergeant often made us “duck walk” uphill on Hendon Road. The “duck walk” burned our thigh muscles, causing much pain. Yet we had to continue. But one man, nicknamed “Bear” because of his flabbiness, stood up to walk instead of “duck walking” each time the sergeant turned his back on us. But Bear’s trick did not last long. The alert sergeant suspected something fishy and turned around swiftly, catching Bear in the act. “Bear! Sign up for three extra guard duties.” Doing extra guard duties was a common punishment.

While we were resting during regular training, the sergeant said, smiling, “I know some of you skip brushing your teeth because of the extra P.T. That’s gross.” He understood. He had observed us scrambling to meet him at 3:45 a.m., not daring to be tardy. Some did indeed skip brushing teeth for that extra five minutes of sleep. In case you are wondering, I wasn’t one of them.

By the time the sergeant woke us with his gentle broom bashings, we had been doing extra P.T. for three weeks. Our bodies couldn’t take it anymore. Yet we still had to take it. Where did we get our energy reserves? I didn’t know, and I still don’t know.

The memory of the sergeant smashing our cupboards never fades. Even to this day, when I wake up in the morning or even before I am fully awake, I can almost hear, “GET UP!! GET UP!!” BANG! BANG! BANG!

Entry Filed under: Army Memoirs

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