In 1999 we were stationed at Ft. Huachuca, AZ. The guys in the unit wanted to participate at an annual event called the Bataan Memorial Death March. It is 26.2 miles of dragging yourself through the hills of the White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico with a pack on your back. Some folks strip down and run it as a marathon but soldiers do it in full uniform in honor of the many New Mexico troops who died at Bataan. Kiehl Harmer was a very enthusiastic 14 year old who wanted to go along with us. He was working on his hiking merit badge for scouting and figured this would be a good way to get it done. I was generally opposed to the idea of him coming but figured it would be better to show him why he shouldnt come instead of just telling him. I told him that he could come if he met every training requirement that the rest of the team met. That should have been all the discouragement that any 14 year old kid needed. It was not. He did it all and had fun doing it. His current hero was Jeffery McQuade, one of the soldiers on our team, and Mac was a great sport about hanging out with him. I did not have much choice but to let him come. The first 14 miles of the event were not too bad. Kiehl kept up OK but we were not the fastest group there by far. At about the 15 mile mark he got way slow. Finally he asked us to go ahead and said that he would just tool along at his own speed. I reminded him that all he needed was 20 miles to finish up his merit badge so there was no reason to hike the whole trail if he wasnt up to it. Then I ran to catch up with the rest of the group. The last 11 miles were torture. At about mile 19 the trail diverted us from the road to a steep hill of very soft sand. It was like one of those childhood nightmares where you are running from a monster but you are in slow motion. We finally made it to the finish line blistered and sore. I waited and waited for Kiehl but he didnt show up. Finally I started walking the trail backwards looking for him. At this point I began to feel my shortcomings as a parent. Slick would not likely forgive me for losing her oldest son in the desert. At some point a member of our party found me and told me that Kiehl had made it back to the rest of our group without finishing the last five miles. What a relief! I was so proud of him for getting through the dreaded mile 19 and finishing 21 miles of the course so he could close out his merit badge. As I was discussing his experience with him he casually told me It was fun to ride in an ambulance. My momentary panic subsided when he reminded me that they had Military tactical ambulances set up all along the path to take people back when they dropped out. The military does not use ambulances the same way the public uses ambulances. After we had rested for a few hours and eaten about an acre of pizza our little group loaded up and drove home. on the way; Kiehl casually said to me: I always thought it would hurt to get an IV but the guy in the ambulance was really good with a needle. There are things that a soldiers kid has to suffer through that nobody else can even relate to. I suppose there are compensations but all I know is that Kiehl would have preferred a more stable environment where his friends in first grade would have been with him for life. Even with that, he did it as well as anybody I know. Thanks, son. . . . and thanks to whoever was in the ambulance for the couple of liters of Lactated Ringers and being so good with a needle. . . . and thanks to Slick for not killing me when I left our son to wander alone in the desert.
Posted on: Sun, 05 Oct 2014 10:33:32 +0000
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