Some of my friends know that I was in JROTC as a boy in my all-boys Catholic School, Saint Louis School.
And some of them even know that I was a JROTC Ranger and that I wore my Class-A Army Uniform with spit-polished jump boots and a black beret. A couple close friends know that when I was in High School I spent every weekend and every holiday out in the boonies as a member of an elite squad of teenage guerillas.
We had an amazing Sergeant Major. I am trying to remember his name and I will. But for now, suffice it to say, he could do anything from his little bat cave which to the outside world appeared to be the JROTC department.
When the other kids were playing tennis, we were doing side-straddle-hops (side-straddle-hop!) and dropping and doing twenty. When the other kids were meeting girls at the local McDonalds we were in BDUs and in the jungle behind the school, practicing silent movement techniques. When the other kids were doing homework, we were huddled in one of the JROTC classrooms, light off, memorizing the silhouettes of ally and enemy tanks, helicopters, and airplanes. We were tested on the turrets of the M1 Abrams versus the new T80s. We listened to the retort on tape of the M-16 versus the more staccato AK-47. We knew how to field strip the M-16 blindfolded.
On the weekends, when other kids were at the beach, getting stoned, or seeing movies with girls, we were in pale green slant pocket Vietnam-era fatigues, we had cammie greasepaint all over our faces, we clutched onto M-16s, and we sat in the back of Scout jeeps, swinging from the M47 Dragon mounted in the back, between our legs.
We were told that our story was that we were a guerilla force, Spetsnaz, and we were dropped, HAHO, way behind enemy lines in order to disrupt the supply channels to the front. We were given M-16s with blank adaptors. We were given blank smoke/bank Claymore mines and told to be OpFor against the weekend best that Hawaii’s National Guard and Army Reserves could offer. And since nobody wanted to associate with us kids on the field, we were basically given carte blanche to do whatever we wanted. We had an entire weekend, a signed note from our parents allowing us on this field trip, boonie caps, and we were armed to the gills with 30-round banana clips doubled-up and taped together.
We were young, fearless, motivated, trained, and between 14- and 18-years-old.
JROTC RANGER TEAM
The JROTC Ranger Team is a six man cadet team that competes in various physical competition with other JROTC units that include: Physical Fitness test, Rappelling, Rope Bridging, Endurance/Obstacle Course, 12 mile Team Run, 1,800 meter swim, First Aid, Terrain/Land Navigation and Tug-o-War. The team trains daily during Period 9 from 1435 to 1545 hours and selected weekends.
Contact LTC Charles Lee or 1SG Jimmy Akuna
{ 2 comments… read them below or add one }
Since you had so much fun in Jr. ROTC, why not sign up for the real deal? I hear there is a slight problem with enlistment these days, but everyone says the commander-in-a-bottle, oops, Dubya, isn’t to blame.
Just think, you could get your hands on all that same stuff now, and instead of playing, you could be doing it for real.
When you get out, you can hang on your wall the same piece of paper, beside all the ribbons and medals, the same thing I have: an honorable discharge. Ohhhh … and just think, as an added bonus, all those hero medals, the ribbons, and pieces of paper the military will hand you, along with a buck fifty, will get you a cup of coffee at a local diner.
Yes, I agree with you. And, I was really just 15-years-old during all of this. I grew up.