Chapter 14: Obstacle Course
Easy Company's competition ultimately captured the attention of the entire 506th Regiment. The other companies were eager to see what new tricks this consistently outstanding company had up its sleeve. Meanwhile, the officers of the 506th, including Colonel Sink and the battalion commanders, wanted to know if the soldier named Parks was going to deliver a pile of bullshit or a pleasant surprise.
So, on the day of the competition, nearly every soldier and officer in the 506th was present. A makeshift viewing stand had even been erected for the officers.
"Why don't we try to predict the outcome?" Major Horton asked Captain Sobel from his seat on the stand, eager to chat.
"Are you talking about a wager?" Sobel laughed. "I'm not one for betting. All three platoons have been performing exceptionally well, so the result will be difficult to predict. Of course, if Parks's training is effective, that might change things."
"One hundred dollars. I bet on Lieutenant Winters's platoon to win." A voice came from beside Horton. Both men recognized it as Colonel Sink's. Next to the colonel was Lieutenant Colonel Strayer.
"Alright, I'll bet a hundred dollars as well. But I'm backing First Platoon," Sobel said, feeling compelled to agree now that the Colonel was interested.
"It's a deal!" Sink said, his spirits high.
The first event was the obstacle course.
The ditches that had once seemed like impassable chasms, the tunnels, the fire pits, and the high walls were no longer a problem for the brothers of Easy Company. The real test of the past month's training was how fast they could complete the course. Every man was fired up, ready to charge forward with all his might.
"First Platoon is through. Nine minutes, fourteen seconds for the last man!" Lipton said, looking excited. This was clearly good news for Second Platoon, as their slowest man had been timing around eight minutes and twenty seconds. He definitely wouldn't be over nine.
The men of Second Platoon, watching from the sidelines, were in high spirits.
"But…" At that moment, Alton More suddenly frowned. "I think I might have a problem."
Guarnere turned his head and looked at More, his brow furrowed. "More, what the hell is your problem?"
"You know, I ate a little too much at breakfast today. I don't know what's happening, but my stomach is suddenly cramping up. I don't know if I can make it," More said, his face pale as he looked at his platoon mates staring back at him.
"Damn it, couldn't you have eaten a little less?" Guarnere cursed under his breath.
More looked embarrassed. "I just wanted to make sure I had enough energy. It's competition day! I didn't want to drag the platoon down because I was hungry. That was my only intention." He looked helpless and dejected. His stomach was genuinely hurting now, and his face was twisted in a strange expression.
Winters was intently observing Third Platoon's performance. Once he was in a formal setting, he was an extremely serious and meticulous man. But he had heard the quiet discussion behind him.
"What's wrong?" he asked, turning his head.
"Lieutenant Winters, More has a stomach ache," Lipton reported quietly, then explained the reason.
Winters frowned and looked at More.
"I didn't want to mess things up, Lieutenant," More said, looking miserable and ashamed as he lowered his head.
"Can you push through?" Winters asked.
"I think… I can," More nodded, then added worriedly, "But I'll be a burden on the platoon."
"As long as you can push through, that's what matters. Don't worry about our time for now. The first thing we need to do is finish the competition," Winters said, his expression calm as he made his decision. "Just treat it like a normal training day. More, don't worry about the platoon."
More nodded and said no more.
A shadow of doubt quickly fell over the hearts of the men in Second Platoon. Their optimistic mood turned grim. Everyone knew that the platoon's official time was determined by the last man to finish the course.
"Lieutenant Winters," Rhys said, feeling he had to do something. He called out in a low voice.
"What is it, Parks?"
"I might have a way to make More more comfortable, at least temporarily," Rhys whispered.
Winters looked at Rhys, then nodded. "If you have a way, then give it a try." He turned his head. "More, let Parks take a look at you."
In truth, for Rhys, pain relief was a simple matter of acupressure. But for the brothers of Easy Company, it was something mysterious and magical. Although the men of Second Platoon held their formation, every head was turned, staring at Rhys and More.
Rhys had More roll up his pant leg, exposing his calf. "Are you ready? This might hurt a bit."
More nodded firmly. "Go ahead, Parks. Don't worry about me."
Rhys nodded, squatted down, and felt along More's calf. He then suddenly struck a point just below More's knee. A sharp jolt of pain shot through More, but he didn't cry out, merely sucking in a sharp breath.
Rhys then pressed down with his fingers, applying pressure with all four.
After the initial pain subsided, More felt a wave of warmth spread through his stomach. The sensation was bizarre, though his stomach still felt a little hot. His eyes widened as he watched Rhys's movements in astonishment.
After a few minutes of massage, Rhys stood up, rolled up More's sleeve, and began to tap and knead a point about five inches up from his wrist joint. The movements were strange, and the men of Second Platoon watched with nervous anticipation.
"It feels better, Parks," More said. He really did feel much better. Although there was still some discomfort, he knew he could complete the course as usual now. "How did you do that? It's amazing!"
Rhys kneaded for another minute before stopping. "An ancient technique with miraculous effects," he said with a smile. "Give it a try in a minute. The pain shouldn't come back, but it's only temporary. You'll need to see a doctor to get it fixed."
Everyone looked at More and Rhys in disbelief. Could a stomach ache really be cured by a simple massage on the leg and arm? Massaging the stomach would have been understandable, but this was simply incredible. Yet they could clearly see the smile spreading across More's face. That was definitely not the look of a man in pain.
"Eight minutes, fifty-seven seconds," Winters suddenly said. "That's Third Platoon's time. We're up next." He turned to look at More. "Any problems?"
More straightened his chest and replied loudly, "No problem, sir!"
Winters nodded at Rhys, then gave the command to the platoon. "Let's get ready. As long as we use our usual training methods, we will definitely beat them."
"That's right, brothers of Second Platoon, remember!" Rhys shouted. "Exhale—"
"Inhale—" the men of Second Platoon roared in response.
***
On the viewing stand, Colonel Sink lowered his binoculars and turned to Major Horton. "Did you get the time?"
"Yes, Colonel," Horton nodded, his voice filled with excitement. "Second Platoon has already crossed the water ditch. Their time is fifteen seconds faster than Third Platoon's, who had the best time so far."
"Looks like I'm going to win this bet, Captain," Sink said, directing his comment at Sobel.
Sobel said nothing, neither confirming nor denying. He just stared intently at Second Platoon, who had now crossed the fire pit and were charging the final high wall.
This wall had given First and Third Platoons some trouble, as it had been made slightly higher specifically for today's competition.
"Oh—" Major Horton suddenly exclaimed pointing at Hoobler. "I can't believe it! Even a smaller man like him was able to scale that wall with ease."
Hoobler was not the last man over the wall; he was now considered a solid member of the platoon. When the last man from Second Platoon finally vaulted the wall and ran to the finish line, everyone—including the other companies of the 506th—broke into applause.
Their time was seven minutes and forty-six seconds, a full one minute and eleven seconds faster than the next best platoon. And this staggering difference was the result of less than a month of training.
"It seems that training method Winters mentioned is useful after all," Colonel Sink said, standing up. He handed his binoculars to Lieutenant Colonel Strayer beside him.
"The exercise is not over yet, Colonel, sir," Sobel said, quickly getting to his feet.
"Just report the final results to me when it's done, Captain Sobel," Colonel Sink said with a nod. "I will make my final decision then."
The result of the first event, the obstacle course, was clear: Second Platoon had a massive advantage.
"You know, I'm actually looking forward to the cross-country march now, even though I usually hate it," Guarnere said with a laugh. "But seriously, Parks, are you a wizard or some shit?"
*****
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