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When I arrived at Camp Pendleton, a distinctly different world came into focus that contrasted sharply with what I had left behind. For the last month, I had been among friends and family, and the actuality of parts unknown had taken no form. Camp Pendleton was another story. Here the very ¤ber of the air rippled with an energy that comes only from frenzied activity, and everything danced in motion with one end in sight, Vietnam. There were refresher classes tailored for the combat tactics of the Viet Cong, and even the survival courses were adapted to the jungles of Vietnam. Lectures on what to do if taken prisoner were presented in such ways as to give us an idea of what we could expect in Asian prison camps, and that formerly abstract thought began to seem much more of a possibility. We also dealt with the more mundane concerns, such as arrangements for family ¤nancial support while we were gone. Not the least of those administrative necessities were preparation of wills and instructions to the Corps on who to notify if we were killed or wounded. Almost needless to say, our attention became riveted on whatever waited for us in the days ahead, and the no-longer vague concept of Vietnam began to form a new shape in our minds. In addition to the administrative details and class time, each of us was assigned a billet, or job assignment, in one of the staging company units. Organized in that structure, we enthusiastically played four weeks of war games across the California hills. With Vietnam staring us in the face, just about everyone wanted to be as sharp as possible for whatever 2 The Transition the coming year would bring, and the reality of it all discouraged just about everybody from slacking off in any way on those tactical problems. This simulated combat took up most of our time, and each successful completion of an assigned mission resulted in genuine satisfaction. This climactic setting stirred up a mixture of emotions that might best be described as an elevated feeling of awareness where everything was felt deeply. An acute sense of the love of living began to impact us and became a counterpoint to the new thought of the possibility of dying. The training and war games continued for the duration of our stay and went without mishap. During this time I had my ¤rst real opportunity to have enlisted troops under me, and I developed a great appreciation for the qualities that the Marines Corps had forged in these men. It was refreshing to see just how sharp these enlisted guys were and how dedicated they already were to ful¤lling the legacy of being a “Marine.” On the other hand, an incident occurred that brought home to me just how young and sensitive most of these men really were. In spite of the tough-guy image so often associated with the Marine Corps, sometimes another side can be seen. It so happened that one afternoon during a survival training class, two instructors walked out in front of the bleachers , with one holding a live cuddly white rabbit. That particular session was to show us how to catch and prepare food if we became separated from our normal supply sources. It must be remembered that many of these men had only recently come from cities and had never thought of meat as anything other than a processed product from a butcher shop. As a practical matter, it was essential that these guys know what to do if they had to kill and clean an animal in a survival situation. One instructor began by pointing to a chart on an easel that depicted various stages of cleaning a rabbit. The other stood by quietly, stroking the live bunny. Gradually it dawned on the group that they were about to see an actual demonstration of the process. Standing off to one side, I could easily see the facial expressions of the men as the class proceeded. Some were visibly shaken as they contemplated the fate of the hapless rabbit, making me realize that “America’s ¤nest” were often nothing more than kids at heart. Several eyes glistened, and everyone’s attention locked in on the demonstration. In truth, most of our country’s ¤ghting force has always consisted of people who are hardly more than teenagers. The common 8 IMPACT ZONE perception of the American soldier usually projects an image of a...

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