David Betts | Blot
“Wounded” soldiers are dragged to safety so other ROTC students can practice giving medical aid.
Rain is falling, but University of Idaho’s Professor of Military Science Brad Martin wouldn’t have it any other way.
“It’s good for them,” he tells fifth-year senior and Army ROTC’s Cadet Battalion Commander Brad Townsend.
Townsend nods. From underneath the camouflaged brim of his cap, his eyes dart to the line of ROTC members perched patiently on the damp grass, listening to a lesson on Improvised Explosive Devices (IEDs). Behind him, tucked away in an envelope of trees, two ROTC seniors show a second group how to properly utilize tourniquets. A third group sits in a quiet semicircle, eyes trained to a rain-dotted sheet of paper titled Key Leader Engagement.
It’s the beginning of a long night for members of the University of Idaho Army ROTC program, and the start of one of their training simulations.
The objective is for each platoon to approach the “crash” site with careful urgency, properly call in for a “helicopter” and treat any wounds procured by hidden, fake IEDs along the way to their destination: the UI water tower.
Townsend and the other seniors skipped physical training that morning to prepare and rehearse for the simulation.
The scraggly-treed Arboretum frames the three platoons as they maneuver between bullhorns attached to wires serving as IED stand-ins. A pair of 200-pound dummies lying “injured” among heavy rope spools and overturned crates test each platoon’s strength and teamwork abilities.
The Arboretum also contains a pair of seniors dressed as Afghani civilians that will challenge each platoon leader to negotiate responsibly in reference to the leadership engagement class taught a few hours before.
Townsend’s excitement climbs as darkness falls. The first platoon is set to begin their trek at 7 p.m.
Townsend turns his face upward.
“When it gets dark,” he says, “it’s going to get fun.”
Townsend paces between the platoons of ROTC members, hands behind his back, occasionally pulling out his phone from one of the many Velcro-sealed compartments sewn into his uniform.
As battalion commander, Townsend is in charge of making sure the three platoons and the following simulation run smoothly.
“We’re having the seniors run most of this,” Martin said. “They’ll listen to them better than they’ll listen to us.”
Headlamps send streams of light through the forest as platoon members continue along their route. It takes longer than Townsend expected for the first platoon, headed by junior Suzanne Avery, to identify and assist one of the leaf-bedded dummies, gather the scattered gear and trudge on. He is impressed, however, when the first IEDs are spotted and avoided.
Then, a bullhorn sounds, signaling someone has triggered the fake IED.
Townsend laughs under his breath. “They hit that one.”
Avery sits on the path, a sheepish smile on her face. Senior Ross Anderson approaches the scene with a gradebook and pen in his gloved hands.
“You’re good this time, Avery,” Martin said as he excuses her.
Cold lashes of wind slap against the flushed faces of the first platoon and their entourage of professors and senior observers, including Townsend.
One of the two men carrying the weighted dummy by the straps pauses and begins to gag. He turns against the hillside, holding back vomit.
Craig Collins, a senior military instructor, calls out for a replacement.
“We need a switch-out,” he said.
Part of the platoon has already made it to the water tower, where a green glow stick whirling at its base signifies the waiting “helicopter.”
Another member rushes to the man’s side and takes the straps in his hands.
“Almost there,” Townsend encourages.
The remaining platoon members finally make it to the water tower and drop their heavy loads, smiles jagged with relief spreading across their faces.
“Anderson, help me with this,” Townsend said, picking up the limp straps.
Without a word, Anderson moves toward Townsend, and together they lift the dummy and start toward the truck waiting at the base of the hill.
One of the platoon members offers to help, but Townsend bats him away.
“You carried it all the way up here,” Townsend said.
The simulation is over for the first platoon. According to the walkie-talkie clipped to Townsend’s uniform, platoon two is nearly finished and platoon three is only just starting.
Packed in a tight knot underneath a canopy of trees pattering with the sound of rain, the members of platoon one swap Meals Ready to Eat and sip water. The collected glow of headlamps creates an eerie, greenish glow that pulses through the arboretum, making it feel like the only safe spot after over an hour of exertion.
Senior Caleb Struble reviews their performance as they eat and rehydrate. Anderson pitches his observations, and together the two of them work through comments made by the participants.
“What’d you guys think? Did you enjoy it?” Struble said.
A general note of agreement rises from the circle.
Townsend’s walkie-talkie crackles. He leans into it with his ear, then turns, prepared to finish the simulation with the remaining platoons.