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"Humpin' the Ruck Plodding Step"
Paratroopers, being imbued with "that infectious optimism and that offensive eagerness which comes from physical well being" and being "keyed up to the highest pitch, agile as a grey hound, tough as leather, hard as steel," generally start off a rucksack march at a brisk pace. All the more brisk when being led by a young officer, fresh from wherever it is young officers are cloned and genetically re-engineered to be 7'3" tall, (5' of which are legs), with all the teachings about "leading from the front" and "setting the example" resounding in his head.
The Experienced Paratrooper (hence-forward: EP) will generally maintain that brisk pace for approximately 13 steps. He then shifts to the "Humpin' the Ruck Plodding Step" (hence-forward: HRPS). The lead foot is raised approximately 1 inch (3 cm) above the ground, and placed approximately 3 inches (9 cm) forward on the trail. The EP then pauses, scans for threats, breathes deeply, checks his waist belt, checks his shoulder straps, wipes the perspiration from his face, takes a sip from his water bottle (the EP can be distinguished form the Novice Paratrooper [hence-forward: NP] by his insistence upon carrying a 2 qt water bottle, as opposed to a 3 qt Camelbak. With a Camelbak, the opportunity to pause for hydration is removed. The 2 qt water bottle is preferred, as it is so much more difficult to read and remove from the web gear or rucksack, thus prolonging the pause.), eats some beef jerky or trail mix, and consults his map/GPS.
He then repeats this process with the other foot. A truly experienced EP could actually play a hand of euchre between steps, had he a deck of cards, a playing table, and 3 other EPs with him. His forward motion is steady, unrelenting, and defies detection by the naked human eye. An EP can actually fool radar or thermal imagery with his forward progress, as neither can register movement that slight. The amount of distance eaten by the EP in the course of a day's humping is surprising. As is the amount of beef jerky.
It is a source of great, and somewhat condescending, amusement to the EP to see the NP racing away on the trail. While their enthusiasm is commendable, the tale of the Tortoise and the Hare immediately springs to mind. Let me set an example for you, gentle reader.
Just this past summer while on Exercise, a fellow EP and I were leading a number of NPs on some training. Our destination was quite some ways in the distance, and up quite an incline (the exact distance and gradient escape me at the moment. I believe it was about 17, 000 kms away, and up a 90 degree slope). My fellow EP and I gave the map briefing, route briefing, and then set off at the HRPS. The NPs, no doubt intending to impress us with their motivation and fitness, tore away at a high rate of knots, soon disappearing from view. However, since I was blinded from sweat after 3 paces, and my head was hanging below my collarbone, "disappearing from view" is relative.
After a couple of hours they came racing back down the hillside. They had apparently become concerned when my fellow EP and I hadn't shown up the first RV and had returned to ensure we weren't injured. Their concern was touching, but I had to work hard to stifle the smile hovering when I observed how a few of the NPs were already breathing hard. My fellow EP and I just sort of glanced at each other, and told the younger troops to carry on, and that we'd be at the Objective soon enough. Once the NPs had charged back up the trail, we decided not to mention anything when the younger fellows were worn out, and we passed them. While it's a EP's duty to pass on the lessons he has learned over the years, it must be done with care, as he doesn't want to break the spirit of the NP.
A couple of hours later, the NPs came jogging back down the trail to check on my fellow EP and I. Again, it struck me with amusement to note that they were already slowing down. The first to reach us explained that they had reached the objective, gathered the info required, and set up a biv site. They had come back to see if it were alright for them to start fishing and perhaps get a fire started. My fellow EP and I were hard pressed not to show our mirth. The NPs were definitely starting to burn themselves out. My fellow EP told the youngsters that if they chose to sit down and rest a bit, nobody would think any less of them. Just because we EPs never stop, is no reason that they shouldn't. When they stated that they thought we EPs were stopped right then, I almost collapsed from hilarity. Or perhaps exhaustion.
We explained that not only had we not stopped, but had, in fact, quickened our pace. We had decided to forego the standard GPS checks in order to speed the process up a bit. When one has as much experience in the woods as we do, it's not really as necessary. Besides, my arm was too numb and shaky to hold the bloody thing up to where my eyes could focus on it. They let us know that we were almost at the first RV point before departing again.
They made another 3 or 4 trips back to check on us and our progress, and each time, sure enough, they were moving slower and slower. We, however, were simply unable to move any slower without affecting the time/space continuum. Just before sunset, we came upon them sitting alongside the trail, and they looked so worn out, that neither my fellow EP nor I had the heart to offer an unkind remark. Nor did we have the breath with which to do it.
Once in camp, however, I couldn't refrain from offering a bit of hard-earned advice to the young NP at my feet: Easy does it. If you pull a man's boots off too fast, it can hurt his ankles.
It's every EP's duty to pass on the Basics of the HRPS.
- with great respect and admiration for Patrick McManus
Paratroopers, being imbued with "that infectious optimism and that offensive eagerness which comes from physical well being" and being "keyed up to the highest pitch, agile as a grey hound, tough as leather, hard as steel," generally start off a rucksack march at a brisk pace. All the more brisk when being led by a young officer, fresh from wherever it is young officers are cloned and genetically re-engineered to be 7'3" tall, (5' of which are legs), with all the teachings about "leading from the front" and "setting the example" resounding in his head.
The Experienced Paratrooper (hence-forward: EP) will generally maintain that brisk pace for approximately 13 steps. He then shifts to the "Humpin' the Ruck Plodding Step" (hence-forward: HRPS). The lead foot is raised approximately 1 inch (3 cm) above the ground, and placed approximately 3 inches (9 cm) forward on the trail. The EP then pauses, scans for threats, breathes deeply, checks his waist belt, checks his shoulder straps, wipes the perspiration from his face, takes a sip from his water bottle (the EP can be distinguished form the Novice Paratrooper [hence-forward: NP] by his insistence upon carrying a 2 qt water bottle, as opposed to a 3 qt Camelbak. With a Camelbak, the opportunity to pause for hydration is removed. The 2 qt water bottle is preferred, as it is so much more difficult to read and remove from the web gear or rucksack, thus prolonging the pause.), eats some beef jerky or trail mix, and consults his map/GPS.
He then repeats this process with the other foot. A truly experienced EP could actually play a hand of euchre between steps, had he a deck of cards, a playing table, and 3 other EPs with him. His forward motion is steady, unrelenting, and defies detection by the naked human eye. An EP can actually fool radar or thermal imagery with his forward progress, as neither can register movement that slight. The amount of distance eaten by the EP in the course of a day's humping is surprising. As is the amount of beef jerky.
It is a source of great, and somewhat condescending, amusement to the EP to see the NP racing away on the trail. While their enthusiasm is commendable, the tale of the Tortoise and the Hare immediately springs to mind. Let me set an example for you, gentle reader.
Just this past summer while on Exercise, a fellow EP and I were leading a number of NPs on some training. Our destination was quite some ways in the distance, and up quite an incline (the exact distance and gradient escape me at the moment. I believe it was about 17, 000 kms away, and up a 90 degree slope). My fellow EP and I gave the map briefing, route briefing, and then set off at the HRPS. The NPs, no doubt intending to impress us with their motivation and fitness, tore away at a high rate of knots, soon disappearing from view. However, since I was blinded from sweat after 3 paces, and my head was hanging below my collarbone, "disappearing from view" is relative.
After a couple of hours they came racing back down the hillside. They had apparently become concerned when my fellow EP and I hadn't shown up the first RV and had returned to ensure we weren't injured. Their concern was touching, but I had to work hard to stifle the smile hovering when I observed how a few of the NPs were already breathing hard. My fellow EP and I just sort of glanced at each other, and told the younger troops to carry on, and that we'd be at the Objective soon enough. Once the NPs had charged back up the trail, we decided not to mention anything when the younger fellows were worn out, and we passed them. While it's a EP's duty to pass on the lessons he has learned over the years, it must be done with care, as he doesn't want to break the spirit of the NP.
A couple of hours later, the NPs came jogging back down the trail to check on my fellow EP and I. Again, it struck me with amusement to note that they were already slowing down. The first to reach us explained that they had reached the objective, gathered the info required, and set up a biv site. They had come back to see if it were alright for them to start fishing and perhaps get a fire started. My fellow EP and I were hard pressed not to show our mirth. The NPs were definitely starting to burn themselves out. My fellow EP told the youngsters that if they chose to sit down and rest a bit, nobody would think any less of them. Just because we EPs never stop, is no reason that they shouldn't. When they stated that they thought we EPs were stopped right then, I almost collapsed from hilarity. Or perhaps exhaustion.
We explained that not only had we not stopped, but had, in fact, quickened our pace. We had decided to forego the standard GPS checks in order to speed the process up a bit. When one has as much experience in the woods as we do, it's not really as necessary. Besides, my arm was too numb and shaky to hold the bloody thing up to where my eyes could focus on it. They let us know that we were almost at the first RV point before departing again.
They made another 3 or 4 trips back to check on us and our progress, and each time, sure enough, they were moving slower and slower. We, however, were simply unable to move any slower without affecting the time/space continuum. Just before sunset, we came upon them sitting alongside the trail, and they looked so worn out, that neither my fellow EP nor I had the heart to offer an unkind remark. Nor did we have the breath with which to do it.
Once in camp, however, I couldn't refrain from offering a bit of hard-earned advice to the young NP at my feet: Easy does it. If you pull a man's boots off too fast, it can hurt his ankles.
It's every EP's duty to pass on the Basics of the HRPS.
- with great respect and admiration for Patrick McManus
