Winding Down

We all have seemed to reach that point where we just want to be left alone. Thankfully, 6 days from now we can do just that.

The field went well. It was tiring, dirty, and often times frustrating, but it was also the most fun I think I've had since I arrived at Ft. Leonard Wood. We ran missions, beat the snot out of the humvees, and learned a lot. Im much more confident in my combat skills now, and feel like I have a good base to build on when I get downrange. All-in-all, it was a success.

But, as with any major event in my life, there is a story.

The planning was complete. We had been briefed, and knew our objective. Assault the building, apprehend the Person of Interest, get out. All under cover of darkness. The convoy rolled in, and the gunners and team leaders dashed from the vehicle to their assigned entry points while the drivers pulled around back and waited. It was chaos from the time the first foot hit the ground. Shots rang out. Smoke grenades were set to give more cover. My breach team's entry point was a basement window on the west side of the building. As I crouch-ran through the darkness and smoke, my heart pounded. I rounded the corner of the building, M-4 at the low ready, and then, my boot struck something. Crouch run + full battle rattle + foriegn object in path = bad. I was going down... 30 seconds into the damn mission.

I did the only thing I could: prepare to tuck and roll. But before I could get my arms tucked under me, I was being struck from behind. My battle buddy tripped, on the same object. She fell on me. So, rather than roll, I fell on the ground.

I landed hard. Hard enough that even in full battle rattle I knocked the wind out of myself. And my left hand was scuffed up pretty good. I couldn't see it in the dark, but I could feel wetness on my glove that could only be blood. I pushed myself up and winced at the pain in my hand. I couldn't tell if I had gotten it wedged between my body armour and my weapon, or my weapon and the ground, but it was hurting pretty good. I put it aside and fell in on the stack to breach the building.

"I got you, you're right there." Grard said, as he reached up to help me into the basement window. I trusted my training, and trusted my team, as I threw my legs over the ledge, and jumped into the inky blackness.

I was expecting a 3-4ft fall. So, when my feet didn't hit the ground when I expected them to, it threw me off balance. So, after the 6-ft drop, I had to roll or risk breaking and ankle, and of course I rolled right onto my left hand. I cursed under my breath, winced at the pain, and got back on my feet. As I stacked on the door to.go up the basement steps, my heart pounded, and the adrenaline kicked in. All I felt after that was an awareness of my surroundings and my teammates, and an urgency to accomplish the objective.

We cleared the building, but suffered many casualties. The Person of Interest wasn't on scene. Bad intel. But the mission was still deemed a success as there were lots of dead terrorists.

So then it was time to do an After Action Review. My Drill Sergeant was looking at me as I took off my gloves. As I tried to pull off my left one, it was stuck. I looked at it in confusion and tugged again. This time I got screaming pain in my hand, as the glove came free. In the streetlight glow, it looked grotesque: it was already bruising, and had swollen to nearly double the size. I couldn't really move my fingers.

I looked up at Drill Sergeant. "Blackwood, what the fuck did you do?"
I looked back down at my hand. "Um, well... I think I broke my hand, Drill Sergeant."
"You did not break your hand..." She trailed off as I held it up for her to see. "Well maybe you DID break your hand..."

Well, we don't know if it was broken. The ER xrays were inconclusive, as my hand was too swollen to get a good image. No cast. But plenty of pain.

Some of that as subsided now. The swelling has improved dramatically was well. The bruising, after a week now, has finally started to dull -- but not after spreading down all my fingers, and well up over my wrist. And there's a bump. I had a Sergeant look at it... he's a medic that has been training with us. He says I've got a boxer's fracture. When I get home, I will probably have to have it re-broken and set. Its gonna hurt like a bitch.

But in 6 days I'll be done. If I let the Army toy with it anymore, they'll put me on a training profile that wont let me graduate. Or go home. So, for another week, I can live with it.

Trainig is done. Rites of Passage tomorrow, Gear Turn-In on Monday, Family Day Wednesday, Graduation on Thursday. Then Im out. THANK GOD.