Editor's Note: Eagle contributing writer Max Kopper traded in his civilian duds for camouflage gear on Nov. 5 and 6 to be an "embedded" reporter with the Georgetown Reserve Officers' Training Corps, or ROTC, program during a training exercise in Virginia. This is the second of three installments about his experience.
6:30 Saturday night. It had just gotten dark. All prep time was over and it was time to board the buses. I was assigned to the first squad. Everyone was quiet as we drove to an unknown landing zone. I searched desperately for a stray Kudos bar at the bottom of my giant backpack. Luckily, I found one.
I had already been with the Georgetown Reserve Officers' Training Corps, or ROTC, since early Saturday morning, made up of students from AU, GWU, Georgetown and Catholic University. The weekend's activities all related to a training exercise in Fort A.P. Hill, Va., to which I and other student journalists had been invited to function as "embedded" reporters.
We rushed off the bus and were told by the acting platoon sergeant to get in the woods as quickly as possible. We were almost settled and organized into our correct squads and teams when I heard a concerned whisper from a faint figure in front of me: "I think we are on the wrong side of the road." Crap. If the guy with the map and compass is confused, then I am certainly screwed. We got to the edge of the forest line packed tightly in our teams when the platoon leader gave the order to cross the road.
Once on the other side, the entire first squad formed one giant straight line and began marching-toward where, I had no clue. "Where are we going?" I whispered to the guy behind me. "North," he said. Thanks, buddy, that helps a lot.
I was paired with Kogod Junior Cadet Staff Sergeant Jon McGuire. He told me we were marching to a small road to set up an ambush on the opposition. About an hour later we stopped. We all dropped our packs to the ground. I looked at my feet where I knew my pack was and saw nothing but endless darkness.
McGuire whispered to me that we were going to set up an about 50 to 100 meters away. Yes! The excitement is about to start!
I tapped my pocket to make sure I had my beloved Kudos bar. We crouched low and quietly moved toward the small road. "Make sure that reporter gets back, way back," I hear from one of the dark figures, who has become a friend of mine. I found a comfortable tree about 20 or 30 feet back from the road. Everyone was quiet, spread out in every direction, lying down as still as possible, their mock M-16s facing the road.
As I waited, one of the fourth year cadets observing the squad leaned over and told me to get comfortable; it'd be a while. "But don't fall asleep," he warned me. Damn, that's going to be tough. I got pretty close to falling asleep when a branch fell nearby and scared the crap out of me. OK, OK, Max, you've got to stay awake. I reached into my pocket to see if I had anything to keep me awake. All I find are my cigarettes and an MRE packet with gum, salt and instant coffee. I think for a while. I lick the packet of instant coffee and try with all my will not to cough my lungs out. Man, was that a bad idea.
I heard some commotion coming from the platoon sergeant. He whispered to the squad leader that the intelligence was wrong, that the opposition force was on another road. No one complained. Everyone was quiet. The squad walked back to the packs and lined up for another short march. It was only a little past 8:30 but it already felt like four in the morning. More walking in the dark.
We finally reached the correct point. We could feel this one was real. Everyone was twice as serious, twice as quiet. I stayed a little closer this time to get a good look at the action. Only about 10 minutes passed before someone heard something. No one said a word. Leaves were crunching. It had to be them, for sure. The noise got closer and everyone was attentive.
"BA BA BOOM," someone yelled to simulate an explosive device. Everyone fires: BANG BANG BANG. The opposition dropped to the ground and began firing back. Since ammo wasn't available for the exercise, an observer signaled when fire was sufficient.
"Opp force is all dead," an observer yelled. Good job, I think, no casualties. McGuire and a few other squad members rushed to the opposition to check their "bodies," tossing them around feeling for documents and weapons. BA BOOM. One of the bodies was booby-trapped and one of our squad members dies. I'm pretty sure I heard him utter, "Ah, crap," as he assumed the dead guy position.
Everyone was brought back to life and formed a circle around one of the observers. After briefly going over what went right and wrong everyone got back on their feet. I checked the time and realize the attack took longer than I thought; what felt like two minutes was really 25. It wasn't even 11 p.m. yet - probably a good thing, since we still had so much to do. The night was just beginning. And so began the march from hell.
