I recall an experience early in my assignment as one of the CO’s Radio Telephone Operators (RTO) only weeks after graduating from Basic Training and my Advance Infantry Training. No longer recruits, we were regular army and I was assigned to Company A, 2nd of the 2nd, the Devil’s Deuce, one of the oldest units in US Armed Forces. The long and proud history of our unit was completely lost on those of us who had only recently been assigned; we could only feel how new everything was. Even the CO was new, having taken command only weeks before my arrival. Eager to get the feel of his new command the CO had orders issued for a forced march, full combat gear and weapons. I thought about our, at most, one hour of training on the field radio in Basic and wished I had paid more attention. Now I would be carrying one. I was sure I could set the frequency and turn it on but everything else was just a blur. After breakfast my partner and I began lining up to check out all of our equipment: gas mask, M-16, ammo magazines and radios. This would be my first foray into combat gear (LBE: load bearing equipment) since Basic, and I was quickly inundated with all the details of preparing for a little march around the brigade area, of all things. I struggled getting the web belt adjusted and the shoulder straps just right. Trying to put that canteen in just the right place, then filling it and realizing I hadn’t gotten it right yet. The chin strap on my helmet was too loose, but I had to figure out how to put the radio on the pack frame the supply sergeant had thrown over the counter along with the radio, 2 lb battery (with spare) and the CEOI; a one inch thick collection of call signs, authentication pads and codes. Long before I was ready the company was forming up and to head off for parts unknown. As the platoons of A company marched out of the company area, the CO, and we his RTOs, took up position behind the 2nd platoon and before the 3rd. I wasn’t the only rookie who marched off that day but I was so busy trying to keep everything together that I didn’t have time to notice anyone else.
We RTOs carried separate radios each set to a different frequency, one to communicate with the battalion ‘net’ and one for the company ‘net’ for inter-company communication. Each of the platoons also had an RTO so we could keep in contact. As we moved off the drill area and out between the barracks and the mess hall the radios seemed unnecessary since we could just as easily have called out to each of the platoon leaders and kept in touch very handily, but in only moments our formation stretched out in a very loose order of march and began taking the twists and turns necessary to get free of the Brigade area making the radios very necessary. As the CO began firing off messages to each of his platoons it became obvious that he depended on his RTOs to know the call sign assignments for every unit on the net that day and to be able to relay his messages correctly and quickly. This was immediately a problem since the call signs were hidden somewhere in a one inch thick CEOI which contained the call signs for every unit in the entire army along with codes and authentication pads. Trying to keep up with the march and flip thru the pages searching for call signs was not working, and we began to lag behind. The CO was not in the mood to ask everyone to slow down, so the three of us, two RTOs and the CO, were forced to stop completely and while the CO held my M-16, I finally found the page that contained our call signs. At this point the trailing portions of the 3rd platoon were coming even with us and we had to double time to return to our position in front of the 3rd and behind the 2nd. When we started our quick run, I immediately had difficulty. My M16 sling wasn’t adjusted correctly and I couldn’t keep it slung on my shoulder because of the radio pack I carried. My helmet liner and chin strap were both proving to be too loose and my 3 pounds of steel pot was shifting around precariously with every running step. While trying to keep my CEOI open to the appropriate spot and keep my M16 in place, I managed to dislodge my steel pot. As it fell I somehow managed to kick it, nearly pitching headfirst into the dirt. I had to give up on the CEOI if I was going to retrieve my helmet without dropping my weapon too. Once I had the helmet I had to sprint and caught up with the CO just as he settled in behind the 2nd platoon. It was now time to contact the 1st platoon that was completely out of sight, and I was less able to do that then when we first tried. Needless to say that march was a fiasco. We were reduced to contacting 1st platoon in the clear without authentication or call signs - clearly in violation of current doctrine. This introduction to my new job was an eye opener.
Our disastrous march occurred in January and our training continued over the coming months both in garrison and in the field. My RTO partner and I grew more and more proficient as we spent hours on the radios, keeping radio watch through the nights in the field, coding and decoding complex messages, keeping in touch with our platoons, the various battalion contacts, and even communicating with an Air Force jet which had flown up from Texas to support one of our exercises. The real test of our abilities came during our yearly ARTEP at the Yakima Firing Center. This was a weeklong exercise with umpires and judges following all our units and evaluating our company in every area of measurable proficiency.
One of our afternoons was dedicated to a live fire exercise. Our mortar units were positioned to fire live rounds and march their fire down the range which was located one ridge over and parallel to the ridge where our infantry units were to maneuver. It required complete control over all the units of the company or we could have our infantry units coming under fire from our own mortars although that would only happen on paper in this instance. The mortars began their preparatory barrage, and at the appointed time the infantry platoons began to maneuver as dictated in the battle plan. One unit would advance and take up a supporting position while another would move around their flank to the next supporting position. The judges and umpires would introduce variables as we maneuvered which would require the CO and his platoon leaders to adjust to simulated battle conditions. Our command group and our umpire moved down the ridge as well, keeping physical contact at all times with at least one of the platoons. At one point the CO instructed me to contact one of the platoons and have them move to the right and take up position as the reserve and allow our current reserve platoon to maneuver past them on their left to continue the attack. The platoon the CO was directing was at this time on the far left and it was obvious to me that he had misspoken. I tried to bring this to his attention but he was on the other radio adjusting the fire of the mortars so I radioed the correct platoon and gave them the instruction as the CO had intended. When things calmed down a little I tried to reorient the CO to the position of the units and he must of realized that he had gotten confused but there was no time to waste as the exercise was still active.
Throughout this exercise the three of us had to maintain contact with the battalion, our mortar units and the individual units. Whenever we maneuvered, we had to take up positions appropriate to the simulated battlefield conditions with our weapons at the ready and our attention directed to the security of ourselves and the CO as well as maintaining the communications. I can distinctly remember sharing my canteen with the CO when we had finished a quick movement while he held a radio receiver to each ear. Their were no helmets rolling down the hill, no M16s lost in the scramble from position to position. Things had changed. Our equipment had become a part of us. We were wearing familiar armor.
When the cease fire was called and the range was safe, the units formed up to move out. As we watched this process unfold we were approached by our umpire. It was protocol for the umpires to hold their critique for their formal reports so it was surprising to see our umpire approach with the obvious purpose of addressing Capt. Carley our CO. He asked if the CO was aware that he had lost track of his platoons during the exercise. The CO was quick to admit that he had. The umpire then went on to explain how I had prevented disaster by relaying the instructions he intended rather than those he had given. All our training had paid off. We had become a well oiled machine, as much as that could be said of a peacetime unit on a training exercise out in the barren expanse of eastern Washington.
When I read Ephesians 6 on the armor of God, I think back to my experience with the modern day equipment of the soldier and I can’t help but think there is a parallel. Paul links each piece of armor or equipment to a point of theology that deserves intense study individually. Topics like salvation, faith, righteousness are high and lofty subjects. When we have studied those subjects seriously, we have only begun to put on the armor. The issue then is how do we march (walk) and/or fight in the armor. More than knowledge we need wisdom that allows us to live our daily lives, to walk the walk in such a way that we aren’t constantly hitching up the belt of truth, and we don’t end up kicking the helmet of salvation around in the dust, or have to set aside the shield of faith or the sword of the spirit so we can tighten the laces on our feet shod for the preparation of the gospel of peace. It is not as if learning definitions for theological terms or becoming conversant in doctrinal issues automatically transforms our day to day walk. In Romans 12:2 we are encouraged to “be transformed by the renewing of (our) minds.” I think a renewed mind is less about learning doctrine and more about learning to walk. We are encouraged to “be transformed” in Romans 12:2 so we can fulfill the instruction of Romans 12:1 where we are beseeched to “present our bodies a living (walking, breathing, daily) sacrifice, holy (set apart day after day from dawn to dark), acceptable to God, which is (our) reasonable service (walked out day after day like morning and evening chores on the farm or the morning and evening sacrifices in the temple).” It seems that the body must realize that this more mundane reality, the day to day walk of the Christian, needs to be practically addressed and given equal time and resources if the church is to grow strong. I have come to feel comfortable with the statement that it’s more how you walk than how you believe. Or, to put it another way, it is more how you march or fight than how your armor is polished.
