I am currently a Pre-dental student and plan on applying for the HPSP scholarship. I am talking to a few recruiters but not sure which branch I want to apply to. I pretty much checked off all the things I was looking for in military dentistry but Navy/Army are still pretty much the same for me at the end. Since I'm tied between Army/Navy, I was wondering if any Dental veterans could share some things they were able to do outside of dentistry in their respective branch that was unique/interesting. (For example I know Army has Expert Field Medical Badge for medical officers and some stories of dentists going to Air Assault/Air Borne School). Maybe some cool activities outside of dentistry, or even in dentistry like working with a combat team, could help me make a decision. I'd love to take advantage of some aspects the military has to offer while in it and have some diverse experiences! Thank you in advance for replying.
All Branch Topic (ABT) Unique experiences while in Military?
- Thread starter NJ_Doc
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Let’s see...if you’re attached to the Marines you’ll get to enjoy the tear gas chamber every other year. Really clears out the ol’ sinuses. Word of advice: don’t shave the morning of. I made that mistake only once.
In all seriousness, in the Navy you may have opportunities to earn the Surface Warfare, Fleet Marine Force, or Seabee Combat Warfare devices.
Big Hoss
In all seriousness, in the Navy you may have opportunities to earn the Surface Warfare, Fleet Marine Force, or Seabee Combat Warfare devices.
Big Hoss
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9 years prior army enlisted here. Just received my commission this past January so I while I can't speak exactly to what you'll do as a dental officer I can probably give you some insight. I doubt that as a dentist your unit will have slots for airborne or air assault. Your unit has to pay for you to go to those and I can't imagine that there is much need for a dentist with those schools under their belt. Also it seems very unlikely you will get attached to a combat unit. The army is paying for a dentist that can work on teeth not clear rooms. I promise you that stuff is not as cool as it seems. It gets really old really quick. Not sure if navy dentist have to do regular tours aboard ship but if they do that would be a huge incentive to me to not pick the navy. Definitely look into the air force as well.
S
schmoob
Dentists are non-combatants. The military pays a lot of money to train you to be a dentist. Sending you to other schools that you will never use is simply a waste of money and takes slots away from others.
One thing I can say about the Navy is the potential for travel. Being stationed on a ship has its pros and cons, but I can definitely say I traveled the world.
I couldn’t agree more. Sim rounds and OC spray hurt!
One thing I can say about the Navy is the potential for travel. Being stationed on a ship has its pros and cons, but I can definitely say I traveled the world.
QFT. There is availability for dentists to go to AA, earn EFMB, airborne, etc. however you must realize that these schools take you out of the clinic, expose you to unnecessary risk for injury, and will have almost zero chance of being useful in real world situations as a dental officer. I am not saying this to down on this stuff; however, as a dentist you must realize your utility to the army is increasing readiness and wellness. Therefore, it is my view that to really serve the army in the capacity of dentist you should work towards being the most efficient, efficacious, and competent dentist that you can be. Indeed, your effort should be oriented towards that rather than the listed above. Put yourself in the shoes of a patient going to visit their doctor/dentist. This is just my 0.02, however. Opinions on this vary.
To answer your question, interesting opportunities to fulfill your role as a dentist and experience something unique is deploying to a theater of war.
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Im active army and from what I've seen if you want to do things outside of dentistry there are plenty of opportunities. You can go to EFMB, Air Assault, Airbone school. Ive met a a handful of dentists with Ranger tabs, I think most got their tab before becoming a dentist. Where you are stationed has a huge part in this. If you get stationed at Ft Bragg and express an interest, you can go Airborne and/or Air Assault for sure. If you are assigned to an airborne unit, you WILL go to airborne school or you'll have to have some compelling reason why you can't. One of the 82nd docs I knew was in the Pre-Ranger Course, but don't think he made it to ranger school. Nonetheless the opportunity was there for him. I don't go for any of this stuff, I just want to do dentistry lol. Good luck!
Thank you guys! I know that as a dentist your a non-combatant officer but I would still love to challenge myself with extra training while also having some unique experiences that would be, I think, applicable as a military dentist(but I have some ignorance). Although extra risk of injury kinda puts the extra training into a new light, since I would be putting my dental duties on the back burner while soldiers and family need the services.
Sounds more like Navy because of traveling opportunities but EFMB makes Army seem intriguing
Sounds more like Navy because of traveling opportunities but EFMB makes Army seem intriguing
If you really want a military career that will offer you unique experiences then I think you should consider doing a 1 year AEGD in the army and request to be assigned to a brigade position with airborne or special forces. These groups deploy a lot and it will maximize your chances for doing army related things as well as dentistry. If you decide not to do an AEGD it is less likely you will be given a brigade position. I do not have any knowledge regarding opportunities in the Navy. Best of luck.
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Depending on the unit you're assigned to in the Navy you may be eligible to (and be expected to earn) your Fleet Marine Force, Seabee Combat Warfare, or Surface Warfare Medical Department Officer qualification
An experience I had at Air Assault:
The second part of today we were practicing hand signals for helicopters.
There are 16 signals and associated commands: important things like "hover" and "hookup complete."
After half an hour they told us to put on our goggles with dust shields, effectively blinding us. Everyone who messed a signal up had to step back out of the circle.
After a while they announced that the people with goggles on were the best of the platoon and would compete with the other platoon.
The platoon sergeants of each platoon agreed to a wager: 100 overhead arm claps. But that's really 200 with the way they count, and we'd done at least 1000 in the past two days, we were all very sore and tired.
Then our platoon sergeant decided to double the bet, 200 overhead arm claps! I'm one of the final 5 for first platoon.
We faced off with the other platoon, our 5 against theirs with goggles down, blind...
There were chants from both sides as each instructor tried to stump or trick us. I couldn't see anything but after 20 minutes, I wasn't eliminated, and I heard that the other platoon was down to their last guy.
They told us to take off our goggles and the winner would be decided by a push-up competition.
We had two people left, me and another guy, the other platoon had one sergeant. The instructors allowed him to choose his competition for push-ups. Guess who he choose? The skinny officer with twig arms! I was shaking my head because I hate the attention and I'm as sore and tied as everyone else.
So we both went down, he started and I have to follow him one for one. 190 people were chanting at us and cheering because so much is at stake.
We matched one for one for 20 or so and he started to arch his back to rest between reps.
Then I started to feel really good, invincible and I started shouting at him, "I'm here all day! Is that all you got!"
The crowd loved it and cheered louder!
With each push-up he was going less and less deep into the exercise, resting longer and longer. I sensed we were close so I started going all the way down, touching my chest to the ground, demanding he do the same.
Then, the fatality: I started doing 3 and shouting air assault every time he did 1.
He droped a knee and I was declared the winner! High fives all around, and another 10 points for Gryphindor.
The instructor told me I could count off the exercises for the other platoon, but I asked for someone more experienced to count and called out SSG N*, a dental tech in our unit! I shouted our motto, "dental LEADS the way!"
The other platoon did 200, really 400, painful exercises while we hung out and enjoyed the counting and the weather.
The second part of today we were practicing hand signals for helicopters.
There are 16 signals and associated commands: important things like "hover" and "hookup complete."
After half an hour they told us to put on our goggles with dust shields, effectively blinding us. Everyone who messed a signal up had to step back out of the circle.
After a while they announced that the people with goggles on were the best of the platoon and would compete with the other platoon.
The platoon sergeants of each platoon agreed to a wager: 100 overhead arm claps. But that's really 200 with the way they count, and we'd done at least 1000 in the past two days, we were all very sore and tired.
Then our platoon sergeant decided to double the bet, 200 overhead arm claps! I'm one of the final 5 for first platoon.
We faced off with the other platoon, our 5 against theirs with goggles down, blind...
There were chants from both sides as each instructor tried to stump or trick us. I couldn't see anything but after 20 minutes, I wasn't eliminated, and I heard that the other platoon was down to their last guy.
They told us to take off our goggles and the winner would be decided by a push-up competition.
We had two people left, me and another guy, the other platoon had one sergeant. The instructors allowed him to choose his competition for push-ups. Guess who he choose? The skinny officer with twig arms! I was shaking my head because I hate the attention and I'm as sore and tied as everyone else.
So we both went down, he started and I have to follow him one for one. 190 people were chanting at us and cheering because so much is at stake.
We matched one for one for 20 or so and he started to arch his back to rest between reps.
Then I started to feel really good, invincible and I started shouting at him, "I'm here all day! Is that all you got!"
The crowd loved it and cheered louder!
With each push-up he was going less and less deep into the exercise, resting longer and longer. I sensed we were close so I started going all the way down, touching my chest to the ground, demanding he do the same.
Then, the fatality: I started doing 3 and shouting air assault every time he did 1.
He droped a knee and I was declared the winner! High fives all around, and another 10 points for Gryphindor.
The instructor told me I could count off the exercises for the other platoon, but I asked for someone more experienced to count and called out SSG N*, a dental tech in our unit! I shouted our motto, "dental LEADS the way!"
The other platoon did 200, really 400, painful exercises while we hung out and enjoyed the counting and the weather.
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I actually wrote up a few of these days from Air Assault for my Dad because they didn't let us take photos.
Part 2: The Hookup
Yesterday we started the day with a 4 mile group run. They said it was going to be at 9 min pace but it felt more like sub 8 and people where huffing and puffing pretty bad.
We changed into our regular air assault uniforms and headed to the big field by the rappel tower for a practical exercise.
It had been lightly raining all morning so it was unclear if "the birds could fly". We waited around and then we could hear the helicopters coming in! A Blackhawk and a chinook landed, we got to meet the crew and look around inside.
Up close, it's impressive that such a huge hunk of metal can fly at all, little less lift 26,000 pounds.
Then we went across the road, they set up some loads and the instructors hooked them up to the chinook.
I was studying against a tree, and even that far away the wind from the rotors was impressive, I had to use the goggles that were previously only used as a blindfold.
Then they asked for some high speed soldiers to hook up some loads! This is why I'm here, to do cool stuff! So I put away my notes and ran over.
But I was too slow, only about 25 of the 190 of us got on those the hookup teams.
I was determined not to let this happen again so I went over to where the teams were gathered in case someone chickened out.
After the first five hookups the instructor said he needed five more! I raised my hand and waved it around like a spaz and yelled, I'll do it!!!
One of the other guys on my team asked the instructor if we got bonus points for being on the team and I said, "who cares about points! I just want to do it!!!"
The other four guys could see I was seriously excited and they said, "sir, we want you to hold the hook, because you are so excited!"
The chinook was just picking up the boxes, and then casually dropping them, so we could get the experience of actually hooking up a load. It landed a short distance away after each lift and idled between lifts, much like a sweaty guy doing reps at the gym.
We ran out and got in position next to the load, me in the front with four specialists holding on to me, so I didn't blow away.
The chinook lifted off and the wind was immense, like being out in a sudden storm without your jacket.
It lumbered over to us and hovered, swaying in all directions as the pilot tried to get close enough for us to attach the hook, but not so close as to crush us like bugs.
Finally, it got close enough and I attached my cargo hook reach pendant to the hook on the underside. I yelled "run away!" And we all sprinted away to safety. Because of the rotor wash, it felt like I was the flash, running away at an incredible rate.
Then the chinook casually lifted our box and dropped it, completing another rep.
Part 2: The Hookup
Yesterday we started the day with a 4 mile group run. They said it was going to be at 9 min pace but it felt more like sub 8 and people where huffing and puffing pretty bad.
We changed into our regular air assault uniforms and headed to the big field by the rappel tower for a practical exercise.
It had been lightly raining all morning so it was unclear if "the birds could fly". We waited around and then we could hear the helicopters coming in! A Blackhawk and a chinook landed, we got to meet the crew and look around inside.
Up close, it's impressive that such a huge hunk of metal can fly at all, little less lift 26,000 pounds.
Then we went across the road, they set up some loads and the instructors hooked them up to the chinook.
I was studying against a tree, and even that far away the wind from the rotors was impressive, I had to use the goggles that were previously only used as a blindfold.
Then they asked for some high speed soldiers to hook up some loads! This is why I'm here, to do cool stuff! So I put away my notes and ran over.
But I was too slow, only about 25 of the 190 of us got on those the hookup teams.
I was determined not to let this happen again so I went over to where the teams were gathered in case someone chickened out.
After the first five hookups the instructor said he needed five more! I raised my hand and waved it around like a spaz and yelled, I'll do it!!!
One of the other guys on my team asked the instructor if we got bonus points for being on the team and I said, "who cares about points! I just want to do it!!!"
The other four guys could see I was seriously excited and they said, "sir, we want you to hold the hook, because you are so excited!"
The chinook was just picking up the boxes, and then casually dropping them, so we could get the experience of actually hooking up a load. It landed a short distance away after each lift and idled between lifts, much like a sweaty guy doing reps at the gym.
We ran out and got in position next to the load, me in the front with four specialists holding on to me, so I didn't blow away.
The chinook lifted off and the wind was immense, like being out in a sudden storm without your jacket.
It lumbered over to us and hovered, swaying in all directions as the pilot tried to get close enough for us to attach the hook, but not so close as to crush us like bugs.
Finally, it got close enough and I attached my cargo hook reach pendant to the hook on the underside. I yelled "run away!" And we all sprinted away to safety. Because of the rotor wash, it felt like I was the flash, running away at an incredible rate.
Then the chinook casually lifted our box and dropped it, completing another rep.
Part 3: The Tower
Where did we leave off? Hooking up the load to the bird...
The next major phase of training was to learn to rappel. For most of us it was the first time and it showed. We learned to tie a "swiss seat" from a length of rope and a carabiner (spring loaded locking clip). The swiss seat was made up of five knots and several loops and harnessed our pelvis to the safety clip. It was also incredibly uncomfortable on the hips and around the "family jewels." The instructor gave us the advice: "make sure you get all the furniture in the same room."
After tying our harness and getting checked off by the instructors, we proceeded up the tower in single file to jump into the abyss. Now, I'm not normally very afraid of heights but the increasing view from each level of the tower made me a little nervous. Your right hand is your brake hand and goes in the small of your back; your left hand is your guide hand and just holds the rope to prevent you from tipping backwards upside down.
My first time off the tower was on the vertical wall portion: at all times my feet were in contact with the wall, and it was a bit like batman in the old television show. They had us jump up and down and scream "AIR ASSAULT" a few times and then bound down to the ground with control. For some reason, I couldn't really get my brake hand into the small of my back and I just kept slipping down the wall. They yelled "FALLING" and the guy at the bottom tightened the rope and I stopped, but it was terrifying. This new "safe" skill they had just taught me did not feel safe at all. I asked to try again, but there wasn't time: the next day we were going off the free side of the tower. Much like a diving board, you have nothing but the rope supporting you after the first jump.
I felt so defeated and scared after that. It seemed like everyone else was able to stop and get down without "falling." I slept very little that night, just thinking of that first jump off the tower the next day and my brake hand slipping again and me falling to the bottom.
The next day I practiced as much as I could with the rope tied to a fence and I mimed the motion to stop a couple of hundred times just to build muscle memory. Then, the 30 minute climb to the top of the tower. After 6 days at Air Assault, I could go home if I couldn't get down the tower safely, or worse yet if I froze up and couldn't jump. I got to the top of the tower, slowly lowered myself into an L position, my legs straight and parallel with the ground, the rope taught and holding my butt out in the air. I thought about everything I had done to get to this point, the humiliation of not jumping, and shouted in my head to jump and release my hand on the brake.
Then, after a few failed jumps with my legs, I did it. I jumped! I made a sound that can best be described as "HRRRRGHHGHGH," and I descended a meager 5 feet the first time, just enough to clear the edge, but I did it and my brake hand held tight. I shouted, "I CAN DO THIS!" I carefully released and braked a few times and I was at the bottom, filled with accomplishment. I can rappel and not die: I am spider man.
Where did we leave off? Hooking up the load to the bird...
The next major phase of training was to learn to rappel. For most of us it was the first time and it showed. We learned to tie a "swiss seat" from a length of rope and a carabiner (spring loaded locking clip). The swiss seat was made up of five knots and several loops and harnessed our pelvis to the safety clip. It was also incredibly uncomfortable on the hips and around the "family jewels." The instructor gave us the advice: "make sure you get all the furniture in the same room."
After tying our harness and getting checked off by the instructors, we proceeded up the tower in single file to jump into the abyss. Now, I'm not normally very afraid of heights but the increasing view from each level of the tower made me a little nervous. Your right hand is your brake hand and goes in the small of your back; your left hand is your guide hand and just holds the rope to prevent you from tipping backwards upside down.
My first time off the tower was on the vertical wall portion: at all times my feet were in contact with the wall, and it was a bit like batman in the old television show. They had us jump up and down and scream "AIR ASSAULT" a few times and then bound down to the ground with control. For some reason, I couldn't really get my brake hand into the small of my back and I just kept slipping down the wall. They yelled "FALLING" and the guy at the bottom tightened the rope and I stopped, but it was terrifying. This new "safe" skill they had just taught me did not feel safe at all. I asked to try again, but there wasn't time: the next day we were going off the free side of the tower. Much like a diving board, you have nothing but the rope supporting you after the first jump.
I felt so defeated and scared after that. It seemed like everyone else was able to stop and get down without "falling." I slept very little that night, just thinking of that first jump off the tower the next day and my brake hand slipping again and me falling to the bottom.
The next day I practiced as much as I could with the rope tied to a fence and I mimed the motion to stop a couple of hundred times just to build muscle memory. Then, the 30 minute climb to the top of the tower. After 6 days at Air Assault, I could go home if I couldn't get down the tower safely, or worse yet if I froze up and couldn't jump. I got to the top of the tower, slowly lowered myself into an L position, my legs straight and parallel with the ground, the rope taught and holding my butt out in the air. I thought about everything I had done to get to this point, the humiliation of not jumping, and shouted in my head to jump and release my hand on the brake.
Then, after a few failed jumps with my legs, I did it. I jumped! I made a sound that can best be described as "HRRRRGHHGHGH," and I descended a meager 5 feet the first time, just enough to clear the edge, but I did it and my brake hand held tight. I shouted, "I CAN DO THIS!" I carefully released and braked a few times and I was at the bottom, filled with accomplishment. I can rappel and not die: I am spider man.
PART 4: The Bird
After learning to rappel, and being forced to practice it over and over again, the helicopter wasn't that different. Originally, they had three UH-60 Blackhawk helicopters reserved to take us up, four soldiers at a time, and rappel to safety. With that many birds, we would each be able to go several times and really enjoy it! But they announced that one bird had been taken back by the unit that owns it for a mission, and one needed repairs, so in the end we had one helicopter for 160 people.
After that first rappel off the free side of the tower, we ran through the drills again and again until it just wasn't scary any more. We would tie the swiss seat harness, get inspected, and line up at the base of the tower. After the third time down, I didn't really have time to think about how high I was (60 ft) or how little was supporting me (one triple stranded 7/16" nylon rope, max strength 4500 lbs). I think the instructors were also tired after their week of training in Germany, they flew out from Ft. Bragg just for these 10 days, and they wanted to get us through training as fast as possible. The only yelling was because we were taking too long to: 1. get down the rope, 2. get off the rope, 3. run over and retie so we can get back on the rope.
My platoon lined up for the one helicopter first while the other platoon practiced on the tower some more. This was testing day, but they made it clear that only the truly horrible or unsafe students would get dropped at this point. One guy dropped his goggles on the way down from the helicopter and he wasn't dropped. Another executed a fatal hookup (when you are tied into the helicopter in an unsafe way) and lost control of the rope at the ground for another student, and he was actually dropped. I was somewhere in the middle of the pack because I'm in the middle of the alphabet. In the first two groups of people to jump out of the helicopter, two people slipped out and dangled upside down for a while before being allowed to descend. This happened a few more times before word was shouted back (because helicopters are really loud and we all had earplugs in) that we should: 1. allow less slack than we did on the rappel tower, and 2. stop f***ing up.
Finally, my group reached the front of the line and we all ran over to the idling helicopter. We tied our snap links to the ropes snaking out from all four corners of the bird's open cabin and held on tight, kneeling for stability. Now, it becomes clear why so many people slipped and fell out of the aircraft and dangled so precipitously. The first big difference between a tower and a helicopter is how unstable everything is. Yes, you are floating above the ground, but because of the chaos of wind and the rotor blades ripping through the air, you are never stable. It feels like getting on a skateboard for the first time, you can't get your feet under you without holding on to something. The second difference is that the guy on the ground, holding your rope for safety, can't actually do very much to save you if something goes wrong. As the "belay" on the ground, you are instructed to run away from the helicopter with your line if anything goes wrong. This makes the rope less vertical and creates a "slide for life" where the person on rappel rapidly speeds towards you for a slightly slower descent before smashing into you.
Once in the air, we are instructed to stand on this unstable platform and back ourselves out into a "deep seated L" position. This puts our legs parallel to the ground and the tension of the rappel line running from our waist to the hookup inside the helicopter keeps us from falling. On the signal to go, we jump away from the aircraft and release the tension in our brake hand, flying out into the abyss. Once I was away from the helicopter, it was very peaceful: I hung in the air 100 ft up, I could hear the the hum of the rotors through my earplugs, and I was on my own to get to the ground safely. I relished that feeling for a few moments, looked up at the helicopter to make sure no one was waving at me frantically to do something, and then bounded to the ground with a few brakes. I landed on my feet and it was over. The helicopter landed, rose with the next air assaulter, I held the rope for them, and they also made it safely to the ground.
PART 5: The Guidon
The next day was the final morning of Air Assault training. For some reason, a lot of these Army trainings end with a 12 mile road march that must be completed in three hours or less. To keep the temperature manageable and avoid traffic, they also insist you start at around 0500 in the morning. The pace is just faster on average than a quick walk, and it would be easy if not for the 35-50 pounds of gear on your back, and the heavy boots, rifle, and full uniform that you must wear. Midway through the course, we completed a 6 mile road march with the same gear to prove we were worth the additional time and effort to train us, so we had a good idea what to expect. At that time they didn't have enough fake rifles (affectionately called "rubber ducks") for everyone to march at once, so we completed the 6 mile marches in two groups, on separate mornings. The lead runner of the march gets to carry the Guidon, a flag and ornate pole with the Air Assault unit crest on it, and if you win the march then you carry the flag for the unit wherever it marches. If you happen to pass the leader of the march, then you hand off your rubber duck and take the Guidon and carry it onward.
Because we marched in two groups, there were two rightful bearers of the Guidon going into the final march: me and a 2LT Army Ranger who looked to be in his mid-20s. I knew the guy was young and tough enough to be a ranger, and the instructors mentioned that his march time was a little faster than mine, so I glared at him all week as we marched around from place to place. The word on the street going into that final evening was that the winner of the road march would be anointed the Road March Champion and presented with an engraved hatchet; this is what they did traditionally at the Air Assault courses back in the States. I ran into some of the instructors in the barber shop the night before the march, and they asked me why I was getting a haircut. I thought back to before all this started, when we were racing for a chance to challenge the EFMB training. One of the other officers in our unit asked me if I was going to win the race. I told her then, "If you run a race you should always do your best and run to win." I told the Air Assault instructors something similarly ambiguous, and went back to the barracks to check my gear a final time before bed.
At 0430 we were already lined up, chatting in the darkness next to our heavy packs, and trying our best not to let the nerves get to us. A failure on this last morning, either by missing an item from the packing list or walking too slowly, would invalidate the previous ten brutal days of training. For safety, they insisted we only drink water from our Army issued one quart canteen that we carried on our hip, and we had to show that it was empty at the halfway point and at the end. The only light source we were allowed to carry was a chemical light stick, taped to the chest strap on our pack. They checked that each of our canteens was full and reminded us that intentionally dumping the water on the ground was a safety violation and we would be dropped from the course, never to return (NTR). There are only a few things that can get you dropped NTR in the course, and all of them are for risking your life or someone else's. Most other serious mistakes will get you dropped from this course, but you can try again with another class of Air Assault. At 0455 we lined up, the Ranger at the front of the pack with the Guidon, and the rest of the 150 or so of us crowded behind a line on the narrow two lane road.
To avoid chaos, the Guidon bearer got a 30 second head start, and we all watched his green glow bounce away down the road and around the first turn out of sight. When we finally started, it felt like a load was lifted from my shoulders: the anticipation of the previous year of training and waiting was finally over, and I could finally start earning my badge. About thirty of us took off jogging quickly down the incline, trying to get enough space to avoid bumping into another person ungainly carrying a rifle and 35 pounds of gear. I was near the rear of that first vanguard because I knew from experience that 12 miles is a long way to jog at any pace, and you can lose everything by burning out at the halfway point.
Here I flashed back to my bunkmate from the previous training. He was a fast runner, and he once tried running 12 miles with 50 pounds of gear. He ended up collapsing at mile 8 with rhabdomyolysis, out of sight of all the other runners. He woke up the next day in the hospital because his body, for lack of easy fuel, had decided to digest his muscles and the byproducts of which caused his kidneys to fail. He told us that his mind was able to push his body past the point of muscle failure and he suffered the consequences.
I jogged at an easy pace, slowly passing those early runners as they slowed down in the first mile. Back when I first started to train for these races, I would jog for some number of minutes and then walk for the same. This was my strategy until someone told me they threw strategy out the window and just ran as long as they could. Ever since, my strategy has been slow and steady: jog at a pace that I can maintain for 12 miles, stopping only to drink water and chug Ensure. The course that day was out-and-back, three miles each way. We ran the course twice to make 12 miles. About halfway out, the paved road became a gravel road through the woods, and it was very dark. There were occasional chemlights marking the road, but other than that it was just the dim glow and silhouettes from other runners in front of me. Every so often I'd see someone in the distance ahead of me and I'd get close enough to see that they were just carrying an ordinary rifle. At the three mile turnaround point, no one had passed me going the other way, so I knew I was close to the leader. They had a vehicle with its headlights on at the top of a hill, and I finally saw the silhouette of someone carrying a flag! It took me three miles, a quarter of the course, but I had pulled even with even the fastest of the soldiers in the class. A few hundred meters into the return leg of the first lap, I passed him my rifle and took the Guidon. He seemed happy to give it up: no longer chased and pressured to run, he started to walk. The flag, despite its size, was quite a bit lighter than the rifle I had been carrying, and I knew at that moment that they'd never catch me. All I had to do was drink water and keep going a little longer.
Near the return leg of the second lap, the sun started to come up and I finally felt tired. Somehow it's easier for me to run in the dark when I can't see how far ahead the road streches, when I can just surrender to my thoughts: focus on putting one foot in front of the other and dreaming of laying down the pack at the end of the race. I had run nine miles but watching the trees slowly crawl by for another three seemed agonizing. I would tell myself just run to the next bend and then you'll be out of the woods, just run a little longer and you can walk while you unstrap your canteen and drink a little more water to lighten your load. I imagined that instead of a backpack full of gear and a flagpole, I was carrying one of my children on a nighttime walk. I did that countless times for three babies and now a fourth: wrapped up in blankets, I could never drop that bundle. Soon, I saw the lights and the paved road of the final mile. I was soaked from head to toe in sweat and my uniform clung to my legs, but my legs didn't stop. I looked back on the longest straightaway and couldn't see anyone behind me. I could have walked and still won the race, but I wanted to show them what a skinny motivated kid from Indiana, a dentist no less, could do. I ran through the small crowd at the finish line, jabbed the Guidon into the pavement so the metal spike on its end rang out, and I yelled in triumph, "Dental leads the way!" I finished nine minutes before the next person, nearly a mile ahead.
Now, my hatchet sits in the window of my dental treatment room where I can see it every day. The winged helicopter emblem of the Air Assault school is etched on near the steel blade and the carved words on the handle read, as they always did and always will, "CPT ***, Road March Champion."
After learning to rappel, and being forced to practice it over and over again, the helicopter wasn't that different. Originally, they had three UH-60 Blackhawk helicopters reserved to take us up, four soldiers at a time, and rappel to safety. With that many birds, we would each be able to go several times and really enjoy it! But they announced that one bird had been taken back by the unit that owns it for a mission, and one needed repairs, so in the end we had one helicopter for 160 people.
After that first rappel off the free side of the tower, we ran through the drills again and again until it just wasn't scary any more. We would tie the swiss seat harness, get inspected, and line up at the base of the tower. After the third time down, I didn't really have time to think about how high I was (60 ft) or how little was supporting me (one triple stranded 7/16" nylon rope, max strength 4500 lbs). I think the instructors were also tired after their week of training in Germany, they flew out from Ft. Bragg just for these 10 days, and they wanted to get us through training as fast as possible. The only yelling was because we were taking too long to: 1. get down the rope, 2. get off the rope, 3. run over and retie so we can get back on the rope.
My platoon lined up for the one helicopter first while the other platoon practiced on the tower some more. This was testing day, but they made it clear that only the truly horrible or unsafe students would get dropped at this point. One guy dropped his goggles on the way down from the helicopter and he wasn't dropped. Another executed a fatal hookup (when you are tied into the helicopter in an unsafe way) and lost control of the rope at the ground for another student, and he was actually dropped. I was somewhere in the middle of the pack because I'm in the middle of the alphabet. In the first two groups of people to jump out of the helicopter, two people slipped out and dangled upside down for a while before being allowed to descend. This happened a few more times before word was shouted back (because helicopters are really loud and we all had earplugs in) that we should: 1. allow less slack than we did on the rappel tower, and 2. stop f***ing up.
Finally, my group reached the front of the line and we all ran over to the idling helicopter. We tied our snap links to the ropes snaking out from all four corners of the bird's open cabin and held on tight, kneeling for stability. Now, it becomes clear why so many people slipped and fell out of the aircraft and dangled so precipitously. The first big difference between a tower and a helicopter is how unstable everything is. Yes, you are floating above the ground, but because of the chaos of wind and the rotor blades ripping through the air, you are never stable. It feels like getting on a skateboard for the first time, you can't get your feet under you without holding on to something. The second difference is that the guy on the ground, holding your rope for safety, can't actually do very much to save you if something goes wrong. As the "belay" on the ground, you are instructed to run away from the helicopter with your line if anything goes wrong. This makes the rope less vertical and creates a "slide for life" where the person on rappel rapidly speeds towards you for a slightly slower descent before smashing into you.
Once in the air, we are instructed to stand on this unstable platform and back ourselves out into a "deep seated L" position. This puts our legs parallel to the ground and the tension of the rappel line running from our waist to the hookup inside the helicopter keeps us from falling. On the signal to go, we jump away from the aircraft and release the tension in our brake hand, flying out into the abyss. Once I was away from the helicopter, it was very peaceful: I hung in the air 100 ft up, I could hear the the hum of the rotors through my earplugs, and I was on my own to get to the ground safely. I relished that feeling for a few moments, looked up at the helicopter to make sure no one was waving at me frantically to do something, and then bounded to the ground with a few brakes. I landed on my feet and it was over. The helicopter landed, rose with the next air assaulter, I held the rope for them, and they also made it safely to the ground.
PART 5: The Guidon
The next day was the final morning of Air Assault training. For some reason, a lot of these Army trainings end with a 12 mile road march that must be completed in three hours or less. To keep the temperature manageable and avoid traffic, they also insist you start at around 0500 in the morning. The pace is just faster on average than a quick walk, and it would be easy if not for the 35-50 pounds of gear on your back, and the heavy boots, rifle, and full uniform that you must wear. Midway through the course, we completed a 6 mile road march with the same gear to prove we were worth the additional time and effort to train us, so we had a good idea what to expect. At that time they didn't have enough fake rifles (affectionately called "rubber ducks") for everyone to march at once, so we completed the 6 mile marches in two groups, on separate mornings. The lead runner of the march gets to carry the Guidon, a flag and ornate pole with the Air Assault unit crest on it, and if you win the march then you carry the flag for the unit wherever it marches. If you happen to pass the leader of the march, then you hand off your rubber duck and take the Guidon and carry it onward.
Because we marched in two groups, there were two rightful bearers of the Guidon going into the final march: me and a 2LT Army Ranger who looked to be in his mid-20s. I knew the guy was young and tough enough to be a ranger, and the instructors mentioned that his march time was a little faster than mine, so I glared at him all week as we marched around from place to place. The word on the street going into that final evening was that the winner of the road march would be anointed the Road March Champion and presented with an engraved hatchet; this is what they did traditionally at the Air Assault courses back in the States. I ran into some of the instructors in the barber shop the night before the march, and they asked me why I was getting a haircut. I thought back to before all this started, when we were racing for a chance to challenge the EFMB training. One of the other officers in our unit asked me if I was going to win the race. I told her then, "If you run a race you should always do your best and run to win." I told the Air Assault instructors something similarly ambiguous, and went back to the barracks to check my gear a final time before bed.
At 0430 we were already lined up, chatting in the darkness next to our heavy packs, and trying our best not to let the nerves get to us. A failure on this last morning, either by missing an item from the packing list or walking too slowly, would invalidate the previous ten brutal days of training. For safety, they insisted we only drink water from our Army issued one quart canteen that we carried on our hip, and we had to show that it was empty at the halfway point and at the end. The only light source we were allowed to carry was a chemical light stick, taped to the chest strap on our pack. They checked that each of our canteens was full and reminded us that intentionally dumping the water on the ground was a safety violation and we would be dropped from the course, never to return (NTR). There are only a few things that can get you dropped NTR in the course, and all of them are for risking your life or someone else's. Most other serious mistakes will get you dropped from this course, but you can try again with another class of Air Assault. At 0455 we lined up, the Ranger at the front of the pack with the Guidon, and the rest of the 150 or so of us crowded behind a line on the narrow two lane road.
To avoid chaos, the Guidon bearer got a 30 second head start, and we all watched his green glow bounce away down the road and around the first turn out of sight. When we finally started, it felt like a load was lifted from my shoulders: the anticipation of the previous year of training and waiting was finally over, and I could finally start earning my badge. About thirty of us took off jogging quickly down the incline, trying to get enough space to avoid bumping into another person ungainly carrying a rifle and 35 pounds of gear. I was near the rear of that first vanguard because I knew from experience that 12 miles is a long way to jog at any pace, and you can lose everything by burning out at the halfway point.
Here I flashed back to my bunkmate from the previous training. He was a fast runner, and he once tried running 12 miles with 50 pounds of gear. He ended up collapsing at mile 8 with rhabdomyolysis, out of sight of all the other runners. He woke up the next day in the hospital because his body, for lack of easy fuel, had decided to digest his muscles and the byproducts of which caused his kidneys to fail. He told us that his mind was able to push his body past the point of muscle failure and he suffered the consequences.
I jogged at an easy pace, slowly passing those early runners as they slowed down in the first mile. Back when I first started to train for these races, I would jog for some number of minutes and then walk for the same. This was my strategy until someone told me they threw strategy out the window and just ran as long as they could. Ever since, my strategy has been slow and steady: jog at a pace that I can maintain for 12 miles, stopping only to drink water and chug Ensure. The course that day was out-and-back, three miles each way. We ran the course twice to make 12 miles. About halfway out, the paved road became a gravel road through the woods, and it was very dark. There were occasional chemlights marking the road, but other than that it was just the dim glow and silhouettes from other runners in front of me. Every so often I'd see someone in the distance ahead of me and I'd get close enough to see that they were just carrying an ordinary rifle. At the three mile turnaround point, no one had passed me going the other way, so I knew I was close to the leader. They had a vehicle with its headlights on at the top of a hill, and I finally saw the silhouette of someone carrying a flag! It took me three miles, a quarter of the course, but I had pulled even with even the fastest of the soldiers in the class. A few hundred meters into the return leg of the first lap, I passed him my rifle and took the Guidon. He seemed happy to give it up: no longer chased and pressured to run, he started to walk. The flag, despite its size, was quite a bit lighter than the rifle I had been carrying, and I knew at that moment that they'd never catch me. All I had to do was drink water and keep going a little longer.
Near the return leg of the second lap, the sun started to come up and I finally felt tired. Somehow it's easier for me to run in the dark when I can't see how far ahead the road streches, when I can just surrender to my thoughts: focus on putting one foot in front of the other and dreaming of laying down the pack at the end of the race. I had run nine miles but watching the trees slowly crawl by for another three seemed agonizing. I would tell myself just run to the next bend and then you'll be out of the woods, just run a little longer and you can walk while you unstrap your canteen and drink a little more water to lighten your load. I imagined that instead of a backpack full of gear and a flagpole, I was carrying one of my children on a nighttime walk. I did that countless times for three babies and now a fourth: wrapped up in blankets, I could never drop that bundle. Soon, I saw the lights and the paved road of the final mile. I was soaked from head to toe in sweat and my uniform clung to my legs, but my legs didn't stop. I looked back on the longest straightaway and couldn't see anyone behind me. I could have walked and still won the race, but I wanted to show them what a skinny motivated kid from Indiana, a dentist no less, could do. I ran through the small crowd at the finish line, jabbed the Guidon into the pavement so the metal spike on its end rang out, and I yelled in triumph, "Dental leads the way!" I finished nine minutes before the next person, nearly a mile ahead.
Now, my hatchet sits in the window of my dental treatment room where I can see it every day. The winged helicopter emblem of the Air Assault school is etched on near the steel blade and the carved words on the handle read, as they always did and always will, "CPT ***, Road March Champion."
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The hoo-ah is strong with this one...
Congrats tho... I’ve not done AA but Airborne was fun.
And it’s good example that If your command supports it you to can do fun schools. Some of it depends where you are stationed, funding, slots etc. As a dentist you have low priority but usually in every branch a few slots are available for their most high speed.
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Seriously no kidding... Feel like this definitely belongs in r/thathappened
Are you a Dentist? were you able to use your airborne training like being attached to an airborne brigade or something similar?
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Not a dentist. I’m a vet student. I was prior service not in an airborne unit and begged my BC to send me. I haven’t used it other than school.
I know of a vet that went to airborne and one that went to air assault. I don’t know if dentists ever get attached with SOF like vets can but that’s one scenario I can see it being useful.
Even At Bragg I don’t think there are any dentists in the 82nd. They are a station asset not a division/org asset. But they could probably coordinate to jump with the 82nd if they have wings.
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Did you do a 1 year AEGD? If so, any chance you can talk about where you completed yours and your experiences? That's currently my plan simply because I'd like to be considered a specialist and increase my dental experiences in the army.
Also, how does being assigned to a brigade position differ from DENCOM? I've heard that even though your an O-3 in the brigade, you can be treated like a private. I've also heard that your deployments are with the brigade so you're looking at 12-15 month deployments rather then 4.5-9 month deployments. These could simply be rumors but I'm interested to hear more as I'm finishing up my D3 year now.
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1 year AEGD is not specialist - only 2 year is considered a specialty.
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Little late here but
-1 year AEGD Fort Sill OK -- excellent training!
-volunteered for "brigade dentist" position --> assigned to a Medical Company (AS) in Germany. Performed field dentistry throughout Europe and Africa. Amazing.
-Highest ranks: Commander: O-3. Me: O-3. Field Surgeon: O-4. Platoon Leaders were O-1 to O-2. All other enlisted. Total respect from my unit and entire Brigade. Earned the EFMB.
-deployments are no longer than 9 months.
-Typically dental officers are welcome and encouraged to do EFMB/AA/Airborne based on availability and clinic demand.
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I'm a dental officer and completed EFMB 8 yrs ago and Air Assault within the past year and have deployed once to Iraq. Opportunities are tied frequently to locations, but despite that I try to allow my Soldiers that are prepared and ready to go to those schools. YMMV.
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I just graduated Airborne School and am in-processing as the new 1st brigade 82nd airborne dentist.
Airborne school was one of the coolest things I have ever done. Perfect way to burn off some steam from four years of dental school and a 1 year AEGD. It was an absolute blast!
Airborne school was one of the coolest things I have ever done. Perfect way to burn off some steam from four years of dental school and a 1 year AEGD. It was an absolute blast!
