Test Of Courage :: essays research papers

Test of CourageOn the night of family line 30th 1999, I was most to begin what would seem to be the eight-day night of my life. Weeks of physical, mental, and emotional training would climax and end after this concluding visitation. A test of endurance, teamwork, mental focus, and most of all courage was more or less to begin. Thoughts raced through my head as I anxiously prepared myself. give I remember everything I take been trained? Will my shipmates allow me polish up? Some had dreaded this night for weeks others awaited its arrival give care children on Christmas morning. I had a mixture of feelings, as I was about to begin what the Navy calls Battle Stations.      Battle Stations is a fourteen-hour test of everything that had been taught in the preceding(prenominal) thirteen weeks of boot camp. The most difficult interpreter of Battle Stations is dealing with the sleep depravation accumulated over the previous weeks. We were allowed two hours o f sleep before the challenge that would "make or disunite" us. I can remember the dark barracks, lit only by red lights representing emergency procedures in a ship setting. The room seemed to have a very still, quiet feel like a draw was creeping near. My bunkmate Johnson and I polished our boots as we agreed that neither of us would sleep for the two hours we are given. Johnson and I had developed a virtually friendship over time and we motivated each other in every obstacle we faced. He was slightly taller than I, had a stalky frame and verbalize with a thick East Coast accent that I frequently humorously imitated. I laid in my bunk focusing on my body, and what will be expected from it tonight. By that time, I had been awake for several(prenominal) hours and lack of food caused fatigue to set in. Piercing alarm sirens and promising flashing lights interrupted my concentration our excitingly eventful night had further begun. Within seven minutes my entire division w as in full phase of the moon gear with tight seals on our gas masks and standing at trouble in front of our bunks. Then something unexpected happened. A team of Ex-Navy Seals cannonball along into the barracks like a stampede of wild horses. Their presence motivated us all as we began chanting Navy songs. Before I knew it we were barreling down the stairs of the barracks, or "Ship" as it is called in the Navy.