The Skunk River Review - DMACC

Victory Forge would be a nine-mile march to our campsite. It would be the biggest giant
that we would have to conquer. Victory forge would test us both physically and mentally. This
was the finale to my summer of basic training.
I had gone through many feats to get this far. I had crawled underneath barbed wire in
the dirt with sweat dripping down my face. I had been on marches that were five miles long with
20 pounds of equipment pressing me down. The mysterious meat in the MREs (Meals Ready to
Eat) was hard to swallow. After waking up at 4 or 5 a.m. every morning to do push-ups, prone
rows, and running miles, I had passed the APFT (Army Physical Fitness Test). I had crawled
through the dirt and sand as bullets shot through the air above me. I had propelled down a 40
foot wall and got rope burn on my legs while overcoming some of the obstacle courses. Drill
sergeants had yelled in my face, and I occasionally caught some of the spit that had escaped from
their mouths. I had been smoked in the middle of the night for other female soldiers not doing
their duty. I had choked my way through the gas chamber, coming out coughing and snot
dripping down my face, as I waved my arms up and down like a bird in flight. Yet, I did not know
if I was ready for this 9 mile march.
The company had been packing and preparing for this march, and now it was time to set
out. We left at 3a.m. in the pitch dark to conquer the march that was ahead of us. I was suited up
in my army uniform, my combat boots, my bullet proof vest, my kevlar, my ruck sack, and my
trusty rifle. It was still dark outside, so we had to be careful when walking down the dirt trails. I
almost twisted my ankle many times while tripping on the divots in the dirt. As sweat rolled
down my face, my glasses became fogged up like a car window. The sweat left a salty taste in my
mouth. We stopped a few times on the way to secure our perimeters as if we were in a real war.
We took turns drinking water from our canteens, while our battle buddies felt the rocks poke into
their elbows, as they lay on the ground to protect us from any enemies who may be lurking in the
trees. As the sun came up, I began to get extremely tired from marching all this way.
I felt as if I were going to pass out. My legs felt like jello, and my chest ached. Once we
hit the sand, I really thought that I was going to die. Each leg felt as if it weighed 100 pounds.
Walking on the sand was twice as bad as walking on the dirt paths. Trying to keep our spirits up,
we did some cadences along the way. “They say that in the army the coffee’s really fine. It looks
like muddy water and tastes like turpentine. They say that in the army the food is really fine.
The chicken jumped off the table and started marchin’ time.” This helped for a part of the way,
but the pain kept creeping up on me.
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