John is on two of the obstacles along the course. In checking the google map, it appears that the dual course has been moved further west with the addition of what are probably the barracks along the southern and southwestern edges of the parade grounds. The course depicted above, if I remember correctly, was along that southwestern edge of the parade grounds.
I actually did well on the obstacle course. When we were timed, I completed it in 82 seconds for 91 points out of 100. You had to run the entire course twice, normally, except the rope climb at the end that you had to do once. I don't have a picture of the first, high, single metal bar obstacle that you could go over one of two ways: the kip (slamming the bar into your stomach and rotating yourself over it) or the college boy roll (grabbing the bar and pulling yourself over the top and then dropping on the other side). The first time through the course, I could do the kip. The second time through, with my arms tired from all of the other obstacles, I would have to do the college boy roll (that was supposed to be a slam on us college grads--that that method was easier and not as manly).
From my first interview with Lt. Nickle, I told him that I did not think I was going to complete the program and become a Marine officer. Maybe I was a bit homesick. Maybe I was a bit turned off by the whole program, especially at the beginning when the psychological pressures were greater and the adjustments more significant. But when I was able to march as we were supposed to march, and run and run the obstacle course and all of the other courses, I gained all kinds of confidence. I found that I did not need to actually become a Marine officer to prove to myself that I could do all that was required.
Lt. Nickle didn't exactly ride me after that first meeting, but I did become a personal challenge for him during my remaining weeks in the program. When I stumbled, having put on my boots for the first time at clothing issue, and then being required to ascend small wooden steps so he could check the length of my trousers, he sarcastically remarked, "What's the matter? Can't you chew gum and walk at the same time?" I did not respond.
One time when I neglected to clean the inside of my M-14 rifle barrel before an inspection, he was so upset with my lackluster effort that he sarcastically lectured me, "Attention to detail is as important in civilian life as it is in military life!" He was so annoyed that he forgot to tell me that I got an unsatisfactory but he gave unsat evaluations to the next three candidates on the inspection line. Back inside the barracks, he called me to his office for the unsat, but I had to explain what had actually happened. He was not upset with himself so much as amused, I think. But he did ask me to send in the three whom he did give an unsat to.
Another afternoon, when we fought with pugil sticks (batons with large padded attachments to either end which you had to pummel your opponent with while he was doing the same to you), Zebal was the next to fight. Lt. Nickle offered me as Zebal's opponent. I have to explain about Candidate Zebal. He was a prior service Marine selected to OCS. The nicest guy on the planet, he whispered once in a boring tin-roofed classroom that "the Z Monster" was about to get him (he was in danger of falling asleep). However, Zebal, when he had his pugil helmet on and the protective padding and the pugil stick in his hand, entered an entirely different, and savage, world. I believe we nicknamed him "animal". I looked into his eyes and there was a blood thirsty beast lurking there. I knew that I was going to die, and that Lt. Nickle was probably taking some bit of pleasure in this total mismatch.
Actually, I just kept trying to fend off Zebal's constant and whirlwind attacks with his pugil stick. I was not going to win, but I did enough to defend myself against someone who was relentless and primed for the kill. When Gunny Williams finally declared Zebal the winner, I heard Lt. Nickle generously say, "I think Sanchez did pretty well."
My buddy Dennis Zito had to fight a few matches because he kept winning. When he won what was his last match, he exhaustedly took off his helmet, wondering aloud whom he had to fight next. John and I ran up and told him that he had beaten his last foe and was the winner. He was finished fighting.
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