HUMPING—THE RUCKSACK AND THE MIND

Regardless of your unit, time or location, if you were a Grunt, you humped the bush.

You carried stuff.

Real and otherwise.

Italy, Vietnam, Afghanistan. No difference other than in name.

Marines and Army-Same Same GI. You Semper Fi me?

You were issued a bunch of stuff; you put it together.

In a ruck and in your mind.

Now the ammo, chow, water, heat tabs, E Tool, K Bar, pro mask—keep the cover, ditch the mask. C rats in socks—everything else in the ruck.

NVGs, MREs, bunches of batteries, thermobarics

Some extra stuff because the squad leader said so. Smoke, C4, det cord, mortar ammo, spare batteries, a couple of belts of Pig food, claymores., flares, trips, pyro, hand-held signal. Whatever—you figured out where to put it.

Dry season adds some five quarts.

5 magazines for each pouch with one on the lid. Six grenades attached with C rat wire to the pouch. Watch how the old guys do it. Each mag upside down alternating corners. Easier to grab.

Black gloves.

I have eight extra magazines at the bottom—just in case. Three LRRP rations I scrounged—just in case. Extra old style poncho. Two in the monsoon.

Real toilet paper, extra field dressing, a Hugh Hefner special in a plastic bag. Foot powder. Hot sauce. Slim Jim’s. Shaving cream. Spare Drive On rag. OD Towel. Minolta SRT 101, couple of rolls of film, a paperback, Betadine solution. Pen, paper, smokes. Transistor. Ear piece.

Rubber bag with shirt, jungle sweater, poncho liner, socks, OD towel.

Jungle poncho Woobie-Indispensable

Hawk Gear. Mountains get cold.

Machete. 

God, it is heavy.

No underwear. That lightens it up a bunch.

A folded C rat carton on the back covers the hard parts.

Some foam on the shoulder strap fixed with 100 mile an hour tape helps. Not much.

GI towel around the neck soaks the sweat and keeps the dog tag chain from cutting. A little bit. How fast it gets totally soaked. Hardly noticed.

It hurts………..

Try not to think. Just move.

When I hump sometimes it is vertical. Sometimes horizontal. Open and too open. Tight jungle—can’t see shit. Sometimes too much. 

  Totally shade but still so hot. How is that?

It is all open. Rice paddy is way too far from that woodline. Bet that’s where they are…….Yes….. SHIT!.

How can dirt be so greasy? I am walking on my knees. God it hurts.

Every time I move, the damn thing bounces off my back.

How many more klicks? Don’t make a shit.

The instant relief when you sit down and rest against the ruck for a moment.

The instant relief of a moment’s unconscious sleep.

The pain and twisting when the ruck slides around to your side as you are fighting to get some foothold up the greasy mountain—one branch pull at a time.

I can see the world from here. How did we make that? Move? Does anyone know what they are doing?  This is Foxtrot Uniform.

Another item for the hump of the mind.

The moment of agony when you put it back on. Deep knee bend. Swing one arm under a strap. Swing. Repeat. Rest both arms on your bent knees until move out.

My weapon is almost an afterthought.

It is cutting my shoulders in half.

The momentary relief and feeling of security when you rest behind the ruck with the rifle on top as the perimeter is formed.

The five quart banging the back of your helmet as you tilt your head back to glimpse the chopper.

The dry season is a bitch. Always running out.

The bird overhead with all the spitshines on board. Come here for an hour and then tell us how slow we are.

Another item for the hump of the mind.

The ruck sliding over your head as you bend down to catch water in your canteen from the stream. Hurry your ass troop……….

The momentary relief when you quickly drop your ruck at the beginning of a fire fight. Can’t lose it. The damn trees all look the same.

After…the relief in finding it. If it still hurts me to hump it, I’m alive.

It is a lot lighter on the fourth day.

The other ruck never gets lighter.

Squeezes the life out of you when you suddenly hit the deck in an instantaneous fire fight.

The grenades—did they fall off? Oh, Shit………..It is ok. They are still there.  I have the bruise on my belly to prove it.

How cold you get when you rest as the darkness falls.

Do we evac the rucks with the WIAs? The dinks may get them.

I can carry Jim’s.

Another item for the hump of the mind.

Figured out how to combat load my stuff so all I have to do is reach here and pull out what I want.

Always room for fruit.

Whatever you are issued, it will be filled.

That’s the real ruck. My mind carries the heaviest load.

That never gets lighter.

I’m a turtle. It’s my house. No one home will understand.

The humping of the mind.