Lest We Forget Read Online Free Page B

accordance with AR 670-1 of course) to be greeted by some of the sharpest dressed, singing, clapping group of people you have ever come across.  We were so out of place that we couldn’t help but laugh at ourselves.  It was a much-needed comedic relief before returning to the harsh world of special operations selection.
                  We had made it through the jump training and fast roping, the sleepless nights and the constant physical abuse.  We endured the gut wrenching torture that comes from being told that today is “all you can eat day” in the chow hall after being in the field for days without a hot meal only to be given two minutes to consume all of the food on our plates.  The run back to the company area following that trap had to have been at least a 6-minute mile pace.  Jess survived scoring the only goal on our cadre during “combat soccer” although he paid a terrible price for juking Runza. 
    All of that was over now ; we were graduating.  We would be receiving our Ranger scroll and tan beret on a freezing cold December morning.  As we recited the 242-word Ranger creed in unison on graduation the collective breath of around 40 brand new Rangers filled the air like smoke clouds leaving a wild fire.  We were about to become the most elite soldiers in the U.S. Army, or so we thought.
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    From Left to right; Jess, me, Adam, Chris . On the day that we graduated RIP.
     
    ….
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 4 - The Running Free
     
    Typically being in a holdover status in the military is the absolute worst place to be, it’s purgatory.  Since you don’t have an official job you get tasked to do all the tedious remedial bullshit that no one else will.  There was a small group of medics that had recently graduated from Ranger Indoc that were now ‘Real Rangers’ Instead of a job we had an open ended wait ahead of us for our next school.  Unlike Medic and Airborne school, there were very limited spaces for Rangers in the Special Operations Medic Course (SOMC).  I recognized several of the guys who I was reporting to the Regiment with but a few were strangers.
    I first met Matt in basic training but didn’t really get to know him until our first day reporting to the 75th Ranger Regiment.  We were the final RIP class of 2003 and had a couple of weeks leave for Christmas immediately after graduating.  There were apparently nine medics in our RIP class that graduated. 
    On the morning that we were to report there were only eight of us there.  Again, I didn't know Matt that well at the time so the fact that he just signed his own death warrant didn't bother me beyond the fact that the rest of us would no doubt be getting scuffed up until he returned.  To my utter shock, Specialist Fabra, who was immediately in charge of the nine of us, wasn't pissed.  He didn't drop any of us, even when I made the nervous error of calling him Sergeant.  Over the past ten months of our training it was very uncommon to have someone other than a Sergeant in charge so referring to him as such came very naturally.  The other seven guys in the room looked at me with contempt, as I'm sure they all believed that my error would soon become their burden.  That's how it works in the military, if you fuck up EVERYONE pays for it.  It is a good analogy for combat, and an effective way of weeding out those that cannot effectively work as a team. 
    This time was different though; Matt showed up to Georgia two days later and was never reprimanded.  I would find out later that he was stuck in Chicago due to a massive snowstorm and I would find out even later that this guy could get away with shit that no other person I have ever known could get away with.  He is currently in medical school and has threatened to sue me if I tell any of these stories about him. But fuck him; these stories need to be told. 
    To my surprise , our time waiting for a slot to