COUNTERING MILITARY RECRUITMENT
Articles: Military Service: General
Basic training goes old school
Sig Christenson, Express-News Military Writer
March 11, 2006
A red-faced Nathaniel Caldwell inches through the last 15 yards of sand
on the low crawl course at Scorpion Air Base.
On the verge of exhaustion and at times barely moving, he makes it with
the urging of Master Sgt. Robert Hembree, a 44-year-old former San
Antonio cop, and his "wingman" Christopher Balltzglier, 20, of Macon, Ga.
As he stands, sand on his nose and chest rising and falling, Caldwell
is asked if he'd like to crawl another 50 yards.
"I'm not sure," he says.
At this moment, basic training on Lackland AFB is plenty tough for
Caldwell, 21, of Birmingham, Ala. But he and other airmen here know the
worst is yet to come — and are thankful they won't be around for it.
The Air Force plans to add another two weeks to basic training. It will
put more emphasis than ever on transforming would-be techno geeks into
warriors, giving them rifles on the second day of boot camp.
Once dubbed the "Chair Force" for its lax physical conditioning
standards, the service is evolving thanks to war in Iraq.
The Air Force is determined to close the cultural chasm between it and
sister services that emphasize ground combat skills.
"It is sending a message," Gen. William R. Looney III, head of the Air
Education and Training Command at Randolph AFB, said of the changes.
"And the message to each and every one of them is now they have joined
a combatant arm of the United States military and they are going to be
combatants."
Iraq has many lessons, he said. One is the importance of cleaning M-16
rifles, something that cost Jessica Lynch's 507th Maintenance Company
dearly at the outset of the war. Yet another is being prepared for
ambushes and roadside bombs.
Career specialty isn't the first priority in Iraq's desert, Looney
said, adding, "You are part of the fighting force and this is a whole new
perspective for our Air Force. And therefore we've got to start with a
whole new cultural perspective at BMT."
Basic military training is tougher than it once was. The Air Force's
"Warrior Week," a test of war-fighting skills, began in 1999. It's now
called FTX — Field Training Exercise — and comes at the 41/2-week
point. A final field exam called "Culmination" is given at the end of FTX
and stresses fundamentals.
Young boots here defend Scorpion Air Base, a training facility on
Lackland AFB's Medina Annex, from the "enemy" — these days, insurgents.
They provide first aid to one airman in a drill that tests their ability
to treat victims of deadly nerve agents.
One trainee reads through a manual. They have to know which shots to
give, and in what order, and they have to move quickly.
Recruits face an information dump when they come to Lackland, learning
everything from combat buddy care to the Law of Land Warfare.
Airman Basic Manuel Herrera, 18, of Los Angeles said he froze when he
spotted a passing insurgent.
"I saw him," he said. "I'm like trying to talk, but nothing will come
out."
Herrera felt like he was having a panic attack. He couldn't use any of
the information he'd learned.
Trainee Melissa Cortez, 19, of Atlantic City, N.J., was among several
recruits who said 61/2 weeks is too short. "There's not enough time to
process what you've learned because by the time you're done, you've got
to go asleep," she explained.
Airman Basic Melissa Baab, 23, of Sugarcreek, Ohio, joked that the Air
Force can toughen training all it wants after she leaves. But she knows
its benefits.
"I walk straighter. I walk with a sense of urgency. It's a completely
different outlook going on in my life, a lot more focused. I hate PT
(physical training), but yet I love what it's doing to me, how it's
strengthening me," she said.
Down the road from the tents and sandbags at Scorpion Air Base, Sgt.
Michael Collins, 30, of Auburn, Ala., yells at recruits as they emerge
from cover, rifles in hand, and climb over a barricade. Tape-recorded
machine gun fire erupts in the distance.
"Let's go! Let's go! Let's go!" he cries. "Don't jump off it!"
Trainees Zachary Wallace, 21, of Bossier City, La., and Brian Guillory
run, fall to the earth and take cover. They then charge a pair of
dummies. Guillory drives the butt of his M-16 into one and tumbles into the
dirt.
"I'm really for any kind of training that keeps me alive," said
Guillory, 23, of Lake Charles, La. "Any type of training that will allow me to
go overseas and come back and be able to be with my wife and my family
is fine by me."
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