Free Gray Girl by Susan I. Spieth Page A

the
outer ring of cadets.   Alone, in the
center of the circle, Jan stands at attention, completely naked.

 

 
 
 
    10

 
    “Cadets
cultivate the habit of not offering excuses.   There is no place in the military
profession for an excuse for failure.   Extenuating circumstances may be explained and submitted, but, even if
accepted, such explanations are never considered excuses.”
    The Fourth Class System, Bugle Notes, 81, p.72

 
    The last week of Cadet Basic Training
finally arrived and began with a grueling 14-mile road (and off-road) march in
full gear to Lake Frederick.   The
new cadets and cadre wore the OD green, Army fatigues, helmets and Load Bearing
Equipment (LBE ) which held the water canteen, bayonet,
compass and other necessary items.   Then the rucksack went over everything—holding socks, underwear,
personal hygiene items, sleeping bag, pup tent and various field training equipment.   They also wore their , now worn in, Army issued combat boots and carried
M-16 automatic rifles.
    They had completed plenty of marches
in full gear, but none more than five miles.   This last march would be more than
double the length of any previous marches. “You WILL NOT fall behind on this
march,” Dogety told Jan a few days before.   In fact, he informed the entire squad
that no one would be allowed to quit the march to Lake Frederick.   For any reason.   Period.
    He also warned them about “Bear Hill”
near the end of the march.   “It’s a
do-or-die hill,” Dogety told the entire squad.   “You will either make it to the top of
this hill or you will die trying.   Especially you, Wishart .”
    “Yes, Sir.”   Jan could march with the best of
them.   As long as the formation
didn't break into a run, she knew she would make it.
    “Everyone who ascends Bear Hill
successfully will be welcomed into the Corps of Cadets.   Those who don’t, well, they just aren’t
cut out for the Academy.”   Dogety reiterated this sentiment on several occasions
before and during the march.  
    The first six miles went smoothly for
Jan.   They stopped every couple of
miles for a brief water break.   At
some of those water breaks, they were ordered to take off their combat boots
and change their socks.  
    At the   seventh mile, Jan began noticing
a pain in her left big toe.   She
didn’t mention it to anyone knowing that Dogety would
tell her to “suck it up” anyway.   Besides, a little blister could not, and would not, keep her from
marching.   However, by the tenth
mile, her toe began throbbing.   At
the next sock change, she took her boot and wet sock off to discover a massive
blister.   A soft liquid-filled lump
bulged on top of a larger, harder lump.
    As she examined her toe, Dogety walked over and saw the bulbous growth.   “ Wishart , why
didn't you say something?   That's
the biggest blister I've ever seen.”   He yelled for the medic.  
    “Sir, may I make a statement?”
    “What is it, Wishart ?”
    “Sir, it's fine.   I can march just fine.”
    “Yeah, well, that looks like it’s
infected.   It needs medical
attention, ASAP.”
    “Sir, I don’t want to stop…”
    “I know, I know, Wishart .   But you gotta do what you gotta do.   And that thing isn’t going away
on it’s own.”
    Dogety walked away as a young Army specialist assigned to Sixth Company came running
over.   He took one look at her
blister and said, “I gotta drain it.”
    “How do you do that?”   Jan feared he might have to take her somewhere which would cause her to lose her place in the
squad.
    “I'm going to lance it and push out
the puss.   Then I’ll clean and
bandage it and you should be good to go.”
    “Can you do it fast?   I've gotta stay with my squad.”
    He was fast and good.   He made a small cut with a tiny surgical
tool, and then he pushed on her toe with his fingers.   Jan had never seen anything so
disturbing in all her years.   The
bump exploded.   A gush of ooze