Night Training

I don't think it's possible to be prepared for your first solo night training. At base camp there's so much warmth in the company of your team. Chatter, laughter, the soft whining of the dogs and the erratic chorus of slamming car doors as teammates gather extra layers to put on against the creeping chill of the evening.

Leaving all of this behind is like having the blanket ripped off of you in the dead of night by a cruel hand. You're naked, exposed to an icy blackness that didn't exist in your dream moments before. Each step forward into the quiet reaching arms of the forest muffles the distant mirth of your companions.

On my first solo training mission I was tasked with performing a grid search over a single acre of dense forest. Fall was setting in deep and the trees clutched onto a small handful of leaves, if any at all. The temperature was nearing freezing, standing on a razor's edge and filling the beam of my flashlights with a fine swirling mist.

Critters scurried through the underbrush all around me, startled by the loud crunch of my boots on the endless gravel road that led to Base camp. I felt like a hulking and blind beast compared to whatever small thing fled from the searching beam of my flashlights. I could feel the fear flooding my limbs with each step away from camp. I couldn't see or hear them by the time I reached the starting point for my task.

A lone jersey wall jutted out of the ground, stacked high with falling leaves. It was a man-made marker to signal the start of an otherwise natural trail. As I stepped off the road and into the woods all alarm bells went off in my head at once. I was alone in the pitch black woods - but in the woods you are never alone. I didn't feel alone. I felt exposed. Vulnerable.