by xe

Created on: March 29, 2009   Last Updated: April 03, 2009

They call it training. It is named Sand Scorpian. We embark in our HumVee's knowing it is not real. Then, suddenly, it gets wa-a-a-y too real! In Southern California, we had gone through the worm-hole into an Afghan Village. The apparent movie-studio set had seemed pretty harmless when we drove up, and we of course knew that the "Arab Locals" were hired actors who had been trained to act authentically to provide us with realistic training before we deployed for the real thing.

The blast outside my vehicle door had vaulted our adrenaline levels beyond imagination! The turbaned local who had, seconds before, been haggling over the price of the beat-up Toyota pick-up, has turned and whipped out an AK-47. Muzzle-blasts pointed in my direction rapidly convinced me that somehow things had gone wrong and the fight was really on!

Throwing open the several-hundred-pound armored door, I squeezed off a burst of 7.62AP (at this point wishing it was real instead of being the laser-game version). Blood spurted from his robe-covered chest as the squibs under the robe reacted realistically to my simulated incoming rounds. To my left, pfc Smith lobbed a flash-bang, and the fight was on. As we ran towards the relative safety behind the outer wall of the market entrance, an RPG roared right over our heads and detonated right where Smith had huddled next to two local women, who seconds before had been weaving shopping baskets to sell.

I looked over and saw that one of the women close to the RPG blast had suffered serious injuries - her left leg was blown off by the blast, and blood was spurting out all over my chocolate-chip cammo uniform pants and tunic. Smith grabbed a tournequet and started yelling "MEDIC! MEDIC!" As we crawled over, keeping covered behind the wall, the heavy thump of our thirty-cal erupted from the roof-turret of our HumVee - our turret gunner, Adams, recovered from the initial blast, was doing his job and had engaged the available fire-power.

Then the siren sounded and the Time-Out was called. Everyone stood up, dusted off; and the de-brief began. These wonderful people, working so hard to prepare us for the real thing, had just provided us with the most realistic and dramatic practice available to the war-fighter who is training for deployment.

The woman who had suffered the 'dismemberment', actually an amputee actor fitted with an artificial leg (complete with 100 degree spurting arterial "blood"), was helped to her feet and a folding chair appeared for her to sit on. Smith and I, still shaking from the brief experience, slowly started to believe once again that it was only - Training!

What will the "Real Thing" bring?

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