SgtMaj, Swim Qual, & Hand to Hand

Back in the pool for yet another swim qual, and I was motivated. I was stoked because this was finally the time when I would have the opportunity to go for the WSQ level of the swim qual. It made for a long day, but I was happy to see if I could do it. The way it worked was that all the guys got in the pool for the lowest level of qualification, the minimum required for the Marines. After everyone passed that level, anyone who wanted to try out for the next higher level stayed in the pool, and so on and so on. The higher level you got, the longer you could go before having to qualify again. I didn't mind whether or not I had to get in the pool in two, three, four, or never again number of years, it was always a good time. I suppose that I should say 'usually a good time'...

We were moving right along through the various portions and levels when it came time to demonstrate the drowning victim rescue. The way that this event worked was that one Marine would play the drowning victim (repeated requests for the local civilian (female) lifeguard squad were mysteriously ignored). The other Marine would demonstrate the proper way to rescue a combative and/or drowning victim. Being Marines, this is where it got interesting...

When it came time to pair up, I got left out like the fat kid on the kickball field. As I would turn one way, that Marine had a swim buddy. Turning the other direction, that guy just got snagged. Eventually I decided to wait to see who else got shafted. The other shaftee turned out to be Sergeant Major Chuckles (Hey, it's my story, I'll call him what I want). The good SgtMaj did not resemble his name.

It might have been just my experience, but it did seem to me that for the most part, whenever anybody with less than 20 years in the Corps got around a Sergeant Major, they started grumbling like you were trying to steal their oxygen or something.


ME: Guess it's you and me, Sergeant Major!

SGT MAJ: Shaddup, thing.

ME: Aye aye, Sergeant Major!

SGT MAJ: *Scowl*

Crap...


We got the order from the instructors, and all of the 'victims' got into the water. They told us not to give the Marines any breaks, or we would have to tread water for twice as long as needed for the test. With our hands out of the water. Holding bricks. They reminded us that if we made it too hard, well, we were up next to play the part of rescuer.

Chuckles slowly swam towards me. By this time of the test, he was swimming a lot slower than the rest of the Marines, due to the fact that he had enlisted back when the Roman Legions were still kicking ass and taking names. He swam on pure hate and disgust. I thought he was going to drown before he even got to me. Poor guy (this would be my one-time error of underestimating a senior staff NCO).

I, playing my part, reached over to grab ahold of him in a somewhat not-so-aggresive manner. He glared at me and growled, "what in the Hell do you think you are trying to do, give me a hug? You see any tits on me, son? I will make you hate life if you try that shit with me again! Grab me like you got a pair!" Hilarity ensued.


Roger. It's on like donkey kong, ya old fart.


I proceed to do my very best at literally sitting on his head, in the middle of the pool's deep end.

Do you remember the L.I.N.E. training? It's the fighting system wherein every technique, whether its a defense against a punch or a kick, a take down, or whatever can be summed up in grab, twist, pull, sweep, & stomp.

I knew that I was doing a pretty good job at introducing him to the pool floor, by his muttered curses floating up on the bubbles rising to the surface.

What I didn't know (until then) is that the beauty of the L.I.N.E. system as practiced by the Corps (and especially crafty old Sergeants Major) is that it can be done underwater. Yup, in the middle of that pool. Against a combative, motivated, kinda pissed, in shape, younger Marine. It works especially well when applied to the younger Marine's giggle berries. Takes all the fight out of him, chop chop.

I crawled out of the pool, laid on the deck, and prayed for death. Right until the instructors sounded off that it was now my turn to play the part of rescuer.

Great...

Scout Swimmer, Part 1

About a month before we boarded the ship for deployment, the call was made that we might have some need of scout swimmers. Not enough time to send any Marines to school, command decided that we would get all the zodiac coxwains (guess what we called 'em), first-class and above rated swimmers, and a few guys from the recon platoon together to figure out how we were going to take care of fielding swimmers, if needed.

For a down and dirty swimming course, we didn't spend all that much time in the water. It was kind of a given that anybody who was there was going to be a decent swimmer, and for the most part, everybody was. The focus of the course was to ensure that Marines from the different platoons would all know the same information, and if need be, could be considered interchangeable when it actually came to training and working joint ops. We spent a lot of time on beach clearing, signaling, and the like.

Finally, the time came to get into the zodiacs and do a number of practice runs.

As it has been said many other times in much better ways, you do not really control an area until you have boots on the ground. Technology is great, but until you have some mean looking knuckle-dragger on the ground and ready to hook and jab, its just all hot air.

Head mean looking knuckle-dragger came in the form of...well, we'll just call him Staff Sergeant Enojado. SSgt. Enojado wasn't the most cheery sort, what with his colorful vocabulary, hatred of everybody (especially Officers), and a muy fuerte accent. About the only thing that I saw give him joy was when he managed to throw off several Marines from his zodiac while attempting to set naval speed records on his boat. ¡Olé!

I would always hear a couple of the good-old boys in the group let out more than a few "yeee-haws" (a la the Dukes of Hazzard) when we went airborne, always followed by muffled curses when we crashed down to the water, and then followed by swallowing several gallons of water when the Ssgt. cut hard to the flank immediately upon crash landing. Several times the 'tactical water insertion' was accomplished thusly.

On one particular nut-numbing practice run, I was holding on for dear life on the starboard side. Marines were stacked upon the inflatable 'arm', facing forward and draped over the tube to maintain a low profile, with their swim buddy on the other side of the zodiac. Theory was when you got to you drop off point, you would look over to your swim buddy, ensure that both were ready to abandon ship, and just kind of lean over into the water. SSgt. was having none of that, of course. Cruising along at roughly the speed of sound and cursing all Officers ever born, Ssgt. was in top form. I could tell he was feeling particularly nice today by the way he informed us of the upcoming drop-off. "Hold on, ju fockers, an get ready to get the fuck outta my boat! Pinche beach is somewheres over dere!". He illustrated his fine directions with a nod to a generally forward direction.

I felt like one of those motorcycle racers, when they lean waaaay over the bike, to avoid being flung off like so many...Marines on a zodiac. We were getting a lot better at holding on, much to SSgt.'s displeasure. If we had enough prior warning, we would anticipate the turn, leaning to one side or the other. Sneaky bastard noticed this and started faking us out, letting us anticipate a turn and then deftly slamming the boat in the opposite direction, promptly tossing one side or the others worth of Marines, and apparently for the Naval Marine-chucking World Distance Record. Inevitably, you would find yourself on the outside of the turn, nothing keeping you on the boat but fingernails, curses, and grit.


From the beach, you would have not noticed anything at all, just the crashing of the waves, birds calling and shitting, and the regular noises of nature. Out to sea, zodiacs would be quietly cruising along (and/or soaring through the air). Marines would depart the zodiacs by signaling their swim buddy and easing themselves off of the boat (and/or flying ass over teakettle, cursing all the way, into the water).


Back on the zodiac, I found myself on the outside of yet another turn. This hard flank was not as sharp as some of the other, probably why I wasn't immediately tossed overboard. When the g-forces get to a certain point at a high rate of speed, I don't care how many pull-ups you can do, your ass is launching. I was barely holding on, arms fully extended, fingers in a death-grip around the rope, willing myself to curl my body back atop the tube. I remember the moment when my determination to remain with the boat started to overcome the force of the turn. I managed to curl my arms and move my body about half an inch closer to the tube. That was when I knew that I had this turn beat.

That was also the moment that Popeye, immediately behind me, lost his grip and started his ungraceful exit from the boat. Apparently, his right boot had slipped from its perch and made contact with the water. Scrambling atop the slippery rubber, he reached out for any purchase he could find, and found....me.

Just as I was celebrating my victory over what turned out to be the inevitable, I was sucked off of the zodiac like I had tied a line to the pier. I caught a flailing boot to the side of my grape whilst soaring through the air, and managed to suck down about 20 gallons of sea water, as I was cursing Popey in about 3 different languages. We bobbed to the surface, exchanged a few pleasantries, and waited for the zodaic to swing around.


to be continued...

Swim Qualification

Being the Men's Department of the Navy, the Marines Corps requires that all Marines qualify in swimming proficiency. Easy, right? Sure...

There was this one Marine, Lcpl. A. who came to me a few days before the swim qualifications to confess that he had some concerns. When I asked what was the problem, he told me that he never swam as a child, and had to have a lot of help to figure out just how to float. I asked him how he managed in boot camp, and he told me that he had a lot of help there too. He told me of a theory that he had regarding Africans having a higher bone density that made flotation and swimming more difficult for him than some others. It sounded only somewhat plausible to me, but what the hell do I know about bone density? I do know how to swim, so I offered to give him some help.

There are several levels of swimming qualifications, the level of which you are awarded are dependant upon the last level passed. To explain further, everyone gets into the water for 4th level. All will do all the techniques, and those that pass will have the option to continue to the 3rd, 2nd, etc., each level adding in number of techniques, difficulty of same, and length of swim. There are those that are quite content to crawl from the pool with a 4th level qualification. There is no shame in this, swimming is not something that we had the opportunity to train in regularly, and everyone recognized that swimming came a lot harder to some Marines, whatever shade of green they were.

When I had the opportunity to test for the highest level, a jump from the high dive lead off to the swim portion. This was to simulate having to abandon ship. The Marine was to; 1) Step to the edge of the board. 2) Cross feet (hitting the water from upon high with legs spread was a sure way to have a Very Bad Day). 3) Cross arms, with one hand pinching shut the nostrils. 4) Look down to ensure that you wouldn't land on anyone, or anyone important. 5) Raise gaze to the horizon, and 6) step. Now swimming was fine, I've just never been terribly fond of heights. I can deal with it, but I very much don't like it.

Upon getting the order to step to the edge and prepare to leap, the instructor started to get pissed when he thought I was taking my sweet time. He then noticed my toes inching in infinitesimal increments towards the edge, and my muttered curses at the world, and asked "are you afraid of heights? Ok then, just take your time and get it done." I remember being kind of surprised by his consideration, and I definitely remember being very surprised when the fucker pushed me from the board.

Bastard.

Back to the Lcpl., I gave him the same advice I give everyone, from how to pack your gear, what are the easiest strokes to maintain buoyancy and economy of motion in the water, and told him that I would be at the pool to offer advice when he was in the water. First thing off was the low board leap. It is the same event as for the higher level of qualification, just from the lower board. He did all the steps, and entered the water...and sank like a stone. We were starting to be concerned, when he finally began to rise. He broke the surface and began to swim.

You know how in the cartoons of childhood, the character will have all arms and legs moving sooo fast that they are just represented by circles? That is what he looked like. His arms and legs were pumping and kicking, water was flying into the air. It took me a second to realize that he was not moving. He was bobbing up and down on the near tidal waves that he was causing, but there was absolutely no forward motion. At all.

I started screaming at him to calm down, breath, cup the hands and all that jazz. He nodded, slowed down, sank about two feet, and almost drowned. Back to 150,000 rpm and 0 mph. After a solid two minutes of all out going nowhere, he actually started to drift backwards. I have never seen anything like it. I could not figure out how someone could be working that hard and be going backwards.

He drifted back so far that he ran into the wall underneath the diving board. Using the wall to kick off from (technically a no-no, but no-one was going to give him any grief considering how hard he was working), he managed to gain some momentum and to keep it going enough to slowly, painfully, inch his way to the other end of the pool. He was so exhausted he had to be helped from the water. 25yds, about 4 or 5 minutes.

He was quite happy to leave the water, but kind of disappointed in his performance. I explained to him that methods and techniques can be taught eventually. It was his display of will power and refusal to quit when the going got tough (or even underwater) had impressed me and most others, for sure.




Man, he was terrible at swimming.