by a Rock
Every Marine has to qualify in a certain class of swimming: 4,3,2,1 and Q. Each one has its own criteria and every job in the Corps has its minimum swim requirement. Intitally everyone gets qualified at Recruit Training, like I did at Parris Island in that godforsaken pool. My initial requirement was Class 4. Let me tell you what four was and that I finally got it.
To get classified as a 4 you've got to swim 25m across the shallow end in cammies, and barefooted. Then jump 5 meters into the deep end, and stay afloat for 4 mins. Doesn't sound bad eh? Okay, now you can't bring any limbs out of the water for the shallow end swim, so forget freestyle. Never swam in cammies? No problem just tie some bricks to your arms and legs and try to swim, its about the same. Regardless, I qualified a Class 4 and went on about the rest of Recruit Training really happy that I didn't have to do that again. But I did.
For a drill weekend recently, we went down to the depths of hell, also known as Parris Island, and ran a gas chamber and swim qual. Now, I'm not that nervous. I've taken swim classes in college and after a few failures, chokings, panics, and two semesters I can call myself a pretty decent swimmer. I'm all sorts of proud about that. So I go into that dreadful pool that day ready to requalify and hopefully get a higher qualification. So all of the Marines there get dressed in the cammies, and BOOM, back come the memories. Ewgherugh. I won't go into those. Then we begin, us Class 4's and bad swimmers hit the shallow end first to re-qual. No problem, though the cammies(wet) are alot heavier than I remember. Then I'm sitting awhile in the wet cammies, and now off to the 5m platform. Jump off, no problem. Next, the timed water survival. I tried this blouse inflation method that worked really well in Recruit Training, but my blouse got all fubar'ed when I was trying to get away from the frenzy that started when we all got in. So after some horrible attempts at blowing that dang thing up, I gave up and started treading water. Thank you swim teacher. For three and a half minutes I treaded water and then pulled myself out of the pool, Class Four, alot easier the second time, yet rather tired.
Now, uncharted territory. Class 3 swimmer, all I know about class three is what I saw during Recruit Training. Which wasn't much because my eyes were either confined to being splashed with water in my efforts to swim, or locked on a swim instructor like he held the key to my life. Which he did. So, all I know about Class 3 is that we jump in the water with packs on. This can't be to hard right? Well, come to find out that ain't all. You've got to combat paddle, feet first across the shallow end, then 40 meters from the shallow end to the deep end. THEN you jump off the 3 meter tower into the water, unhook you pack swing it around infront of you and sidestroke about 15 meters to get out. All this with a flak jacket, 7.82 gear, a rubber ducky (stop laughing and see the definition at the bottom), kevlar helmet, boots, and then the alice pack. Yea, sounds like fun. So I don the gear. One boot fits well, the other was like one of Mickey Mouse's shoes, the kevlar and 7.82 gear was dilapidated, heavy, and restrictive. The open canteens that held water was a thoughtful touch too. Kevlar helmets don't float, and mine had a jacked up chin strap that kept popping loose. The pack was the only thing I knew that floated, thank God for that. Ah well, adapt and overcome against adversity right? Right, I was motivated, I can swim, I can do this, so in the water I go. The combat paddle was slighty irritating since you had to lean back on your pack and bicycle your legs while you kinda pulled yourself along with an inside out breast stroke. Wierd and slow, but it works, and I made it across the shallow end and the 40 meters into the deep end. Then I pulled myself out, severely water logged. I kinda shuffled, half-limped over to the tower and waited my turn, nervously. The only thing I had that floated was my pack and I was going to have to take it off and pull it infront of me to side stroke to safety. That did not make me happy, at all. Did I mention that before I could take my pack off I had to switch from holding the rifle over my right shoulder, muzzle down, to slung from my neck muzzle down on my left side. Yea. So to the edge of the tower I go, put one hand on my helmet, the other on my rifle and was ready for entry. I hit the water, sunk under the surface, and in a rare swim qual moment, went right back to the surface. Whew, well at least I still float. I got the rifle off of my shoulder while leaning on my back to use the pack to hold me out of the water. Good, the rifle is sqaured away, now the pack. I found the quick release under my armpit, and pulled it. That damn pack squirted out from under me like the jelly in a doughnut when you bite it too hard. I cursed to myself and grabbed it as it came around the side that my arm was still in. Grabbed ahold of it, and sidestroked to the exit. Still alive and happy that this evolution was only slightly eventful, I dragged myself out of the water. Qualified Class 3.
After once again plopping myself over to the waiting area still in the flak jacket, kelvar, and 7.82 gear I realized that I was still motivated. I'd requalified and survived in the water with all this stuff on. My swim teacher would be proud. So upon hearing that Class 2 qualification was next, I stepped right up. No way was I going to stop now, tired or not. I owed it to myself to at least try, so I did.
Well, Class 2 is a bit**, and it comes in two parts. The first part, you have everything you had for Class 3, except the luxury of a pack. You jump in at the start of the deep end, and you make your way about 25 meters to the wall, turn and proceed another 25 to the other wall in a L-shaped pattern. You can do it in a breaststroke, sidestroke, or elementary backstroke. All of which I learned in swim class, none of which I'd ever done with all this stuff on. Nevertheless, I jump my motivated behind in the water. Following some basic principles of swimming; relaxing, not fighting the water, being smooth, and again relaxing. I was doing good, backstroking my way to another accomplishment. I was relaxed, though slightly disturbed at the water spashing in my face. I was just flowing along, then the instructor that was following me on the side of the pool for safety told me to spread my arms out more on the power stroke. Okay, he's knows what he's talking about, so I corrected my stroke. Ten seconds later I was dragging my coughing, water-filled lungs out onto the pool deck. Lesson learned: if it ain't broke, don't fix it. That was the closest I ever got to finishing Class 2 that day. No matter how hard I tried to sidestroke, and breaststoke my way through afterwards, I was just too tired and had to get dragged out. It sucked, I didn't want to stop, but I could barely get myself out of the pool that last time. The instructor had to help. I was done. Noticed I said that day?
Here's why, I hold two MOS's, or jobs in the Marines, the one I was assigned at Recruit Training only required a Class 4. The one I got trained in at my new unit requires Class 2. So later that night all of us non-hackers in Class 3 and below were informed that we had to at least try and qualify as a Class 2 the next day. This was fine to the ones who just hadn't bothered to try the day before. For the ones who volunteered to try, it was kick in the butt. We had tried, and couldn't do it, now we have to try, again? Well, skeptical as I was, I was hoping that maybe not being so tired might help out on the next try.
I hoped for to much. The next day, after a night of no sleep on racks that I remember all to well from Recruit Training's BWT(Marines, you all know) the other lucky Marines and myself went back to the pool. So, I get all suited up and here we go again. I'm motivated, a little less tired, and I know what works and what doesn't. Come on, let me at that pool. In I jump, sidestrokin'....about 10 meters later, down I go and out I come. Okay, may have to get re-adjusted. In I go again, sidestrokin' on the other side, about 15 meters later, down I go, out I come, exhausted. This ain't gonna work, if I can't make it 15 meters, there is no way I can make it another 10 to the turn and another 25 after that. Somethings gotta change. Okay, the observant portion of the readers may be wondering why don't I try the backstroke since that worked well the first time. Yea, thats what I was thinking right about then too. So after some remediation in the shallow end with an instructor, all those who still are trying go back to try again. Notice I said those who are still trying? Yea, so in I go again, backstroking like a pro. Five meters, relaxed, ten meters, confident, fifteen meters, drowning, out of the pool at fifteen and a half. Okay, need to be smoother, I kept spashing water in my face at every stroke and I couldn't breathe.
Then BOOM it hits me. Like in movie where the story is just about to be solved and all the clips of the clues flash on the screen, one by one unraveling the solution. All the instruction I'd recieved in all my swimming days flashed before my eyes (well it wasn't that dramatic, but you get the point). Just because you have to breathe with your head out of the water doesn't mean you have to swim with it out of the water. Don't want water splashed in your face? Only come up when you need to breathe. Trying to hard to stay afloat? Don't, only try when you need to breathe. The solution, stop worring about being afloat, just swim a few inches below and angle up whenever I need to breathe. Ha, I'm a genius, no I'm a swimmer. So in I go, turn on my back and I'm off. Kick, pull, breath, five meters, kick, pull, breath, ten meters and no problems. Now the instructor is yelling something at me, I can't hear him I'm underwater. I come up to breathe, determined not to change my stroke no matter what. "TURN, TURN, TURN!" Oh, I'm at the corner, sweet, so I start my turn, and off I go again. The instructor is yelling at me again. What now? Up I come to breathe, "You're to far, come...."Down I go to stroke. Huh? Oh I'm to far away from the wall, when I turned I turned too early so I was a good ten feet from the next wall in the L pattern. Crap, if i go down he can't reach me, that's what he was talking about. Okay, up I come for another breath and he yells again,"Get closer to the wall!" Okay, so I angle toward the wall,. Too much, I rolled onto my side. Dang, now I'm sidestrokin'. No problem, just relax. Now I'm closer the wall, and try and roll back onto my back, too late, swallowed to much water, sunk to deep. My lungs are burning, but my mind is yelling, "Suck it up!". So I do, for another 5 meters I'm a dying fish, half-backstroking, half-sidestroking, a full floundering. Down I go. Out I come. The instructor gives me the "you almost had it look", but I'm too busy wondering if this massive burning and gag feeling is about to exposively solve itself in the scum gutter. Then he goes, "You would've had it if you didn't change you stroke." Ah, at least one person figured it out. That's it I'm done, and he helps me out. I get out of the gear and get dressed. Damn. I'll have to get it next year.
So that's what happened. Not many made it past Class 2 that day. As a matter of fact only one Marine who tried that day made it to the second part. Nobody who had come back to retry from the day before got any farther. Yea, it was tough. Most of those who are qualified past Class 3 had done it a Recruit Training. I guess I'll have to start training for next year. I plan to make it all the the way to Class 1. Wait, so what the rest of the qualification? What's the second part of Class 2? Whats Class 1 and Q? Ha, I'll let you know when I make it.
-The Swimmer
Recruit Training : Marine Corps Boot Camp, we call it Recruit Training because they train recruits there, not roast boots and marshmellows over a campfire.
Cammies : Camouflage Utilites, known as BDU's to people who expect that is the only thing they might do battle in.
Drill Weekend : You know the commericials? One weekend a month, two weeks a year. Its the one weekend a month part.
Gas Chamber : Exactly what it sounds like. Non-lethal of course.
Blouse : Cammie Jacket.
Fubar(ed) : Fu**ed-Up Beyond All Recognition
Pack : An ALICE pack. Normally you pack your gear so that its waterproof. Like all your stuff in ziplocks, which is all in a bigger bag, which is inside your pack. This makes your pack compartmentalized like a ship, so it floats on the air inside the bags. The ones we used were the "pinto" model if you consider that a normal one would be a nicely floating Cadillac. (I compartmentalize my pack like there is no tomorrow, just in case.)
Quick release : Exactly what it sounds like, quickly seperates a strap so you don't have to waste time making it loose enough to take off.
Flak Jacket : The "bullet-resistant" personal body armor issued to U.S. Military personnel. In this case the old style, as seen in the 80's. Most with the kevlar threads exposed.
7.82 Gear : Web Belt, and Shoulder Harness, off of which your canteens and first aid pouch hangs.
Kevlar : The standard issue ballistic helmet. These with busted chin straps.
Rubber Ducky : No, not yellow and cute. Basically a fake M-16, dense hard rubber stock and foregrip. Metal barrel and sights. Weighs as much as the real one.
Boots : What they train at boot camp around the fire while singing songs and holding hands...the stuff you wear on your feet.
Combat Paddle : A swim in which you paddle on your back, leaning on your pack for support so you can move while facing foward. That way you can see where you are going and who to shoot when you get there.
Scum Gutter : The grated overflow trough that surrounds the edge of the pool. That's where you are supposed to puke.
Recruit Training's BWT : Its one of those "had to be there" kind of things.
Instructor : A Marine Corps Drill Instructor on Swim Instructor Duty, they make Marines amphibious.