in a company formation. The camp commander, a major, positioned himself before the formation and announced, 'There has been a major enemy breakthrough in the northern part of the operational area.' — northern Georgia —'You are to move out immediately as much-needed reinforcements in that sector of the combat zone.' Buses arrived ten minutes later, and we set out for northern Georgia.
I don't remember much about that trip, because we slept most of the way. But I do remember that at about noon the buses pulled into a Howard Johnson's restaurant somewhere in central Georgia (no doubt arrangements had been made in advance), and an announcement was made: 'We will be here one hour. This is your last chance to eat before arriving at the front.'
I will never forget the surprised look of the families there, obviously just out of church services, when we stormed into the place wearing our camouflage paint and fatigues. It did not take them long, though, to recognize who we were, especially when the Ranger lieutenant accompanying us announced, 'Rangers, you have fifty minutes until you go back on the buses.'
I don't know how it was possible to serve so many in such a short time, but the restaurant staff managed it, and we were all well fed.
Back on the buses and back to sleep again.
At about 1600 hours, the buses pulled off the highway where a gravel road ran off into the woods and several empty two-and-a-half-ton trucks were parked. A Ranger captain was standing in the middle of the road. As soon as we'd dismounted and formed up in front of him, he advised that it was not safe to take the buses any farther because of enemy infiltration teams in the area. We would have to take the trucks. He also indicated that the beds of the trucks had been sandbagged and that we should be prepared for ambush. Since we didn't have any weapons, we were glad to see two armed guards with each truck. Even though we didn't have our individual weapons, we had rehearsed counteraimbush drills from a truck or convoy many times, so we knew what to do.
We had probably gone no more than five miles until we were ambushed by a platoon of dug-in 'enemy.' Of course, it was all explosives and blank fire, but they really shot us up good. We quickly dismounted and dived in a ditch alongside the road. When the smoke had cleared, we were assembled back on the road and told that our trucks had been destroyed and that we would have to run the rest of the way — about five miles and mostly uphill.
At the base camp (it was in a beautiful spot, as it happened), we were fed a great evening meal — all we could eat. Then we drew our weapons and individual equipment and squared away our sleeping tents. As in Florida, we wouldn't see much of them for the next three weeks.
The next morning started with rappelling instruction, which was conducted under Master Sergeant Stinchcomb, who knew more about rock climbing and rappelling, and about ropes and how to use them, than any man I have ever met.
First we learned how to tie every knot needed for Hanger-type operations. Then we trained in rappelling until we'd mastered all the rappelling techniques — first on the lower cliffs (thirty to fifty feet) and then on higher ones (sixty to eighty feet). Finally, we were required to rappel with our Ranger buddy hanging on our back.
After the rock work, there was instruction in the mountain adaptations to already learned skills, such as land navigation, wilderness survival, and operational survival.
Though the basic land navigation techniques still applied, keeping track of distances traveled in rugged mountainous terrain is more complex and challenging than on level ground. You can never be sure of the length of your pace, for example.
Then came instruction on wilderness survival. In the mountains, the snakes arc different than the ones in Florida — copperheads and rattlesnakes rather than water moccasins and coral snakes. And in the mountains you don't find the same edible plants and berries that you do in the swamps.
We also got instruction on avoiding detection. We were taught to stay away from danger areas, such as roads and built-up areas (towns, houses, etc.), and how to cross danger areas (open fields and roads) without being observed.
We also patrolled, day and night, just as in Florida. But the rough terrain and heavy loads (like machine guns) some patrol members had to carry made a big difference, requiring more careful planning of patrol routes and more time for reaching the objective.
As was the case throughout the entire Ranger instruction program, every patrol had to be planned and rehearsed in every detail to ensure that it would go right, and every student had to know every detail of the plan. Although a patrol leader and assistant patrol leader were designated in advance, you never knew when you may be called on to be the patrol leader — most usually in the most demanding situations, such as the middle of a firefight. A member of the Ranger cadre (called a lane grader) accompanied every patrol. This was usually a first lieutenant or a senior NCO, but sometimes both, depending on the size of the patrol. Their job was to evaluate the performance of every member of the patrol, and to be present in case of an emergency or life-threatening situation.
Meanwhile, the aggressors (the bad guys) were all over the place, knew the terrain better than we did, and had co-opted most of the civilians that lived in the area, which meant we could not trust anyone.
The weather became a major factor in early December.
Our last patrol was to be a long-range combat patrol to simulate the 'blowup' of the Toccoa Dam, which was about fifty or sixty miles from our base area. Before we left there'd been reports of bad weather coming in — all the more reason to go.
Our platoon-size patrol (about forty men) was infiltrated late one evening by helicopter to a landing zone about three miles south of the Toccoa River and thirty miles upstream from the dam. As we moved quickly to the river, night was falling and the temperature was dropping rapidly. Because of the cold, the patrol leader decided that we would construct and cross on a three-rope bridge, and that way keep dry.
Though the water was up to his neck in some places and running pretty fast, the designated swimmer waded to the other side without incident, dragging the main rope as he went. He attached it to a tree and came back for the two smaller ropes that would serve as the handrails. Once he had dragged these over, it did not take us long to make the bridge ready to go, and we began to cross.
Maybe ten people had made it to the other side when we were ambushed by a squad-sized enemy element from the far side of the river (no doubt the aggressor had been given the location of our crossing site). This was the most vulnerable position we could possibly have been in. We had very little ability to defend ourselves.
The only safe thing the patrol leader could do was order everybody into the water and have them quickly wade to the other side.
The firefight didn't last long, but most of us were wet by then, and it was snowing — really coming down. As the patrol regrouped and we headed out on our route, the wind picked up, the temperature dropped even more, and somewhere around midnight, our clothing began to freeze. At this point, the Ranger lane grader (a staff sergeant) told the patrol leader to start running the patrol in order to minimize the possibility of hypothermia — a wise decision!
An hour or so later, the snow was maybe four inches deep, and a few of the students began to lose it, my buddy among them. He dropped down in the snow and started begging for someone to knock his brains out with an entrenching tool. He was a strong, determined officer, and I knew he didn't mean what he was saying. And besides, we weren't even carrying entrenching tools.
I had a notion to try to carry him, but 1 instantly realized that wouldn't work, because I already had the.30- caliber machine gun to lug. I slapped him to try to bring him back to his senses, and he came out of it enough to raise himself to his knees. But that wasn't enough. The patrol was running off and leaving us. I knew I had to get him moving somehow before they got too far ahead of us, so I gave him a good kick in the rear. He got up, staggered, mumbled something, started trotting, and then started running again. I kept him in front of me, prodding him, until daybreak, when he snapped out of it. Though he went down two or three more times, the same treatment worked each time. (Later he had no recollection of that night.)
Other students had similar problems, but the other buddies did what they had to do to keep going.
At daylight, it was still snowing hard, the ceiling was down to the treetops, and most of our compasses were too fogged up to read. Fortunately, enough of them worked to keep us on course.
All that day we trudged through the mountains, still on course. By midafternoon the snow had drifted so deep that the patrol had to rotate its strongest members to the 'point man' position to break the trail.
At nightfall, we were supposed to rendezvous with a partisan band to get our supply of food. We arrived at
