The Silver Star Ruck

    For those of you who have not spent time around the military, or perhaps just the Air Force (ha ha), let me explain what a ruck march is before I start the story.
    In a nut shell, you and your buddies grab some heavy duty backpacks, load it full of stuff so it gets uncomfortably heavy, and go for a stroll.
    Now this doesn't sound very difficult when put this way…but trust me…it's harder than it sounds.

    Last Saturday was the Silver Star ceremony for SrA Brad Smith who I was deployed with in Afghanistan. This medal is one of the Nations highest medals. It is a big deal. This isn't the sort of thing that happens all the time.

    I got a call from a friend back at my old unit Ft. Riley and they asked me if I would be able to attend the ceremony. They also told me that they were going to ruck the medal from the unit in Kansas to Illinois where Brad grew up. I accepted without hesitation.

    It was set up in shifts so that someone was walking every hour of every day. It took six and a half days, non stop, to make it there.

    This is the second ruck the unit has done. When they were preparing for the first one they asked Brad's parents if they could have one of his rucks to use for the event. They were given two packs to choose from and whoever was there decided to take the one that didn't have a strap for the waist. This of course, made things much more uncomfortable.

    Teams of four started Saturday the 1st at 0700. Two people would walk while the other two drove a vehicle and give help when needed. My first turn was from 1100 to 1500 (or 3:00pm).
    I carried the medal and a large paving stone with Brad's name engraved the first six miles of our 12 that day.
   I thought I would have an advantage since I had been living in Texas which is the hottest place I have ever spent a large amount of time. This wasn't the case.
   We were in full uniform and it wasn't long before I was completely soaked in sweat and thought of nothing but trying not to fall flat on my face.
    Our first leg took us around the town of Manhattan, Kansas and then about 5 miles past it.
    This was definitely one of the hottest walks I have ever been on. The road had no shoulder so we had to walk on the street which just reflected the heat and hade things that much more fun.
    The only excitement was a small dog that decided to walk with us for about a quarter mile before deciding we were crazy.

    After we finished our 12 we got to remove our boots and examine our new blisters and other assorted injuries. Our next turn wasn't until Monday and we did as little walking as possible until then.
    We were very fortunate that the friend I was walking with is dating a girl that had taken a sports medicine class and taught us how to wrap our feet up to kep things from getting worse. Life saver is not exaggerating at all.

We walked from 1500 until 1900 on Monday and  things felt a lot smoother for us. No new blisters or injuries. It was great.
     About a mile into to walk while passing though a small town in Kansas a man drove up next to us and asked what we were doing. We explained, and through a few tears he thanked us for our service and wished us luck. It was a huge boost and really got us going.
    As we walked and passed a few farms we talked with some other locals and were offered a few beers. My friend explained that if he drank a beer he would probably pass out and then I would have to carry him…not happening.

We passed a few other interesting folks as well. Some were just yelling at each other, another drove backwards next to us playing some very old school country music I didn't recognize. It helped pass the time if nothing else.

    At about 11.5 miles two large dogs ran out in front of us and started snarling and growling. We had no idea what to do. Our only weapon was a mostly full water bottle which didn't make us feel any safer.
    We just stopped and waited, crossing our fingers that they were just acting tough.
    A few minutes later one of the dogs backed up and we decided to just walk toward the other and hope he backed down. It worked and we left them in our dust. If I am going to be eaten I want it to happen at the beginning, not at the end when I am already tired and sore.

    Wednesday morning a group of about 16 of us left Riley for the last time and split the rest of the rucking between us. We decided to take 6 mile turns instead of 12 to make the strain less intense and stepped up the pace to try and finish early. The schedule has us getting done around 0200 Saturday morning. A lot of guys busted their butts and we finished around 2000 on Friday.
    We had a couple more turns in the last few days but had to miss our Thursday go because of the ceremony rehearsal. We all did the last two miles or so together and the group let me be the one to carry the medal and stone to the finish line.
    It was an amazing feeling to finish to the cheers of Brad's family and friends. It made the week before seem easy when compared to that moment. It was amazing.
    The ceremony was Saturday morning. They read the citation for the medal and presented it to Brad's family. It was an experience I will not soon forget and one that I felt honored to attend and speak at.
    Brad's dad asked me if I would say a few words as well as his wife and mother.
    It is hard to put into words how you feel about one of the people who saved your life. As soon as I stood up my mind went blank and I couldn't think of anything to say that felt like enough.
    I shared a few stories about Brad and talked about the kind of person he was, the kind of person who willingly gave his life for others. I am blessed and lucky to be able to say that I served with him.

    As if all this wasn't enough, another (Army) friend, who led our patrol that day was there and we got to spend some time talking. Naturally I was full of questions about what really happened and was disappointed when the weekend came to an end and we had to say goodbye.
    It had been a long time since I had been able to talk with anyone from 3rd Platoon and it felt good to catch up with him and what he is up to now.

    He then introduced me to a young Navy nurse who it turns out was one of the folks who took care of me when I first landed at Kandahar. She knew I wouldn't remember her but I thanked her for what she did for me anyway. The weekend was full of surprises.

    As I sit here typing this it is still hard to put into words how I felt about all of the events that took place. I was honored to finally be in Troy and finally take part in something to honor Brad. Up until this point I had missed out of almost every other opportunity to show my thanks and spend time with Brad's family. It was an experience I was happy to have and my spirits feel lifted finally being able to show Brad my gratitude and honor for what he did for me and everyone else on that patrol.

    Brad, Josh, Brian, and John will never be thanked enough for what they gave that day for this country and for their brothers in arms. These four, and all of the others who have layed their lives down in the line of duty deserve the gratitude and thanks of every citizen of the U.S.

    We are truly blessed to live in this country and it is an honor for me to able to say that I served beside them. I miss it, I miss them, and not a day passes that I don't think of them.

    The month I served with Brad and 3rd Platoon was the best of my time in the service. I want to say thank you to the parents and family who raised these amazing men and helped them become the heroes they are.


God bless our service members, their families, and their supporters.