RR: A ride worth remembering

Discussion in 'Mountain Bikes' started by Cleanbean, Mar 28, 2003.

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  1. Cleanbean

    Cleanbean Guest

    I get to the trailhead and go through the usual dismounting routine. I go through the mental check
    list as we did in the Army; Rifle, gas mask, ammo, boots, extra socks, gloves, Jacket, food. This is
    just the basic check list to be sure I have the critical items before riding; helmet, camelbak/tools
    w/fresh water, gloves, bandanna. Water is not mandantory since I can get it from the near by boat
    dock spicket or from the lake (but have to drop iodine tablets in water). I start out climbing,
    and start thinking about the war at hand. My mind drifts off to one of the many military exercises
    that I took part in. As I climb I recall my first month in Germany. I was in 1/36 Inf. 3AD
    ('81-83). We were in simulated battle taking a hill, running up it in soft terrain. I was carrying
    a M60 (7.62) machine gun. It was heavy hauling it up that hill. I was not real strong in the upper
    body and depended on my legs to do most of the work. I can hear the Company Commander saying,
    "take that hill Bean take that hill". It was do or die. The CO was watching. I was exhausted by
    the time we took that hill. I was covered with mud from falling while running up that hill.

    I crest the hill on my Mtb. and reap the payoff. I can see the lake and terrain below. I try to spot
    other Mtbers while on top of the hill. My thoughts shift to war once again. We are in a small German
    town. I can see the enemy in the woodline from my position behind a Farmers barn. There is no Farmer
    around since this is a vacant city used for Combat training in the city. Smoke erupts from barrals
    in the woodline then the sound of small arms fire quickly follows. I dawn my M60 and lock and load.
    I let lose with a spray of 7.62 (blanks) across the woodline. I hear an array of MILES beeping
    meaning they were hit by my Miles lazer. I hear a couple of our guys take hits and hollaring turn
    this damn thing off as the peircing tone generates from the miles gear. The fog of battle has begun.
    Smoke cannisters burst before the enemy as they advance on our position. I look up and see another
    machine gunner shooting out the second story window as the enemy advances. As soon as I get behind
    the barn and look up at him he sprays me with machine gun fire. My equipment blares with that
    irritating noise indicating that I've been hit. I yell at him with disgust, "I'm friendly, you
    fool!" He hollars, "whoops!" and continues firing on the enemy.

    I drop into a nice section of single track into a cool 85F breeze. I begin a narley climb this time
    feeling the burn. No pain, no gain I think as my mind changes focus on our troops at war. The mental
    flash of an Iraqi firing a 9mm point blank at one of our shoulders heads sends chills down my spine.
    The anger wells up as I climb. The pain I'm experiencing is nothing compared to the fatigue and
    soreness soldiers are feeling in combat. I wish I could dawn my jump boots once again and go help
    our troops. The reason for war doesn't matter any more. Our troops are committed and have a job to
    wa. They have to fight.

    I'm back onto smooth single track once again. I pause to look for other riders. Its peaceful out. I
    can hear only the sound of wind passing over me and around my helmet. I'm flowing on the trail as if
    by memory because my thoughts fade once again to my past. Honduras, '84. I'm in the 2/7 Cav.
    1CD (227AV Task Force) getting dropped in at night. The C-130 lands and we dismount surrounding the
    aircraft facing out to protect our position. This time its not trainning. The ammo is real
    and so are the weapons. I'm thinking our company is Mechinized Infantry but here we are on
    a light Infantry Mountainous/Jungle region. Most of us veteran soilders are trained for
    light manuvers. We are on a hill out of the thick jungle below. The heat/humidity is bad. I
    think they chose our Batalian because we were from Texas and acclimated to the heat. With
    sweat rolling and completly soaking my shirt we dig in making bunkers completely around the
    hill. There must have been around 25-30 bunkers every 50' or so. We laid miles of
    constatina wire around the perimeter of the camp. We are 20-30mi. from where the
    Sandanistias are. Our mission is to coordinate with inserted Special Forces personnel and
    defend the region. This SF guy introduces us to a young hondurian. He must have been only
    14yrs old. He said he will be your guide. He took us down to a village to scout it out. The
    rain began.

    I'm climbing again on the Mtb. After a few minutes I'm starting to breath hard. The terrain is
    getting rougher as ruts and roots appear. I attack the climb dancing over the rutts and roots. I can
    see the crest, it is near. I crest the hill and begin a stroll through the saddle of the mountain.
    Its all memorized. I take on a pretty steep descent as my mind drifts off to Honduras once again.
    It's raining, pouring cats and dogs. Choppers inserted us into a jungle region somewhere near a
    small town in honduras. We are spread all over a hill crouched down waiting on a "go" from Special
    Forces dudes down in the town. I hear this noise right next to my ear. I look over and its some sort
    of giant black ants crawling up this tree. They were huge! I could actually hear them crawling. I
    moved back a couple of feet away from the tree. My platoon Sargent calls me over. "Bean, I've been
    meaning to tell you if something happens to me I think you're the only one I can count on to get
    these troops out of here and joined up with the company. You can read a map and know how to fight."
    I nodded knowing that I could if need be but hoped it wouldn't come down to it.

    An hour has passed as I look at my watch but it only seemed like 10 minutes. I take a break at the
    lost and found pulling some grass out of the drivetrain of the bike. My thoughts switch to the men
    and women in battle once again. This very trail had Mountain bike soilders on it every weekend from
    227 Av, 4th ID, 1 Cav. They are no longer here. I hope for their return once again. Their sacrifice
    and courage is to be commended. I wish I could be there but since I can't they have my full support
    and encouragement.

    Cleanbean still doing it in Texas US Army 1980-86
     
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  2. L Hays

    L Hays Guest

    "Cleanbean" <[email protected]> wrote in message
    news:h_%[email protected]...
    > I get to the trailhead and go through the usual dismounting routine. I go through the mental check
    > list as we did in the Army; Rifle, gas mask,
    ammo,
    > boots, extra socks, gloves, Jacket, food. This is just the basic check
    list
    > to be sure I have the critical items before riding; helmet, camelbak/tools
    > w/fresh water, gloves, bandanna. Water is not mandantory since I can get
    it
    > from the near by boat dock spicket or from the lake (but have to drop
    iodine
    > tablets in water). I start out climbing, and start thinking about the war at hand. My mind drifts
    > off to one of the many military exercises that I took part in. As I climb I recall my first month
    > in Germany. I was in
    1/36
    > Inf. 3AD ('81-83). We were in simulated battle taking a hill, running up
    it
    > in soft terrain. I was carrying a M60 (7.62) machine gun. It was heavy hauling it up that hill. I
    > was not real strong in the upper body and depended on my legs to do most of the work. I can hear
    > the Company Commander saying, "take that hill Bean take that hill". It was do or die. The CO was
    > watching. I was exhausted by the time we took that hill. I was covered with mud from falling while
    > running up that hill.
    >
    > I crest the hill on my Mtb. and reap the payoff. I can see the lake and terrain below. I try to
    > spot other Mtbers while on top of the hill. My thoughts shift to war once again. We are in a small
    > German town. I can
    see
    > the enemy in the woodline from my position behind a Farmers barn. There
    is
    > no Farmer around since this is a vacant city used for Combat training in
    the
    > city. Smoke erupts from barrals in the woodline then the sound of small arms fire quickly follows.
    > I dawn my M60 and lock and load. I let lose with a spray of 7.62 (blanks) across the woodline. I
    > hear an array of
    MILES
    > beeping meaning they were hit by my Miles lazer. I hear a couple of our guys take hits and
    > hollaring turn this damn thing off as the peircing tone generates from the miles gear. The fog of
    > battle has begun. Smoke cannisters burst before the enemy as they advance on our position. I look
    > up and see another machine gunner shooting out the second story window as the enemy advances. As
    > soon as I get behind the barn and look up at him
    he
    > sprays me with machine gun fire. My equipment blares with that irritating noise indicating that
    > I've been hit. I yell at him with disgust, "I'm friendly, you fool!" He hollars, "whoops!" and
    > continues firing on the enemy.
    >
    > I drop into a nice section of single track into a cool 85F breeze. I
    begin
    > a narley climb this time feeling the burn. No pain, no gain I think as my mind changes focus on
    > our troops at war. The mental flash of an Iraqi firing a 9mm point blank at one of our shoulders
    > heads sends chills down
    my
    > spine. The anger wells up as I climb. The pain I'm experiencing is
    nothing
    > compared to the fatigue and soreness soldiers are feeling in combat. I
    wish
    > I could dawn my jump boots once again and go help our troops. The reason for war doesn't matter
    > any more. Our troops are committed and have a job
    to
    > do. They have to fight.
    >
    > I'm back onto smooth single track once again. I pause to look for other riders. Its peaceful out.
    > I can hear only the sound of wind passing over me and around my helmet. I'm flowing on the trail
    > as if by memory because my thoughts fade once again to my past. Honduras, '84. I'm in the 2/7
    Cav.
    > 1CD (227AV Task Force) getting dropped in at night. The C-130 lands and
    we
    > dismount surrounding the aircraft facing out to protect our position.
    This
    > time its not trainning. The ammo is real and so are the weapons. I'm thinking our company is
    > Mechinized Infantry but here we are on a light Infantry Mountainous/Jungle region. Most of us
    > veteran soilders are
    trained
    > for light manuvers. We are on a hill out of the thick jungle below. The heat/humidity is bad. I
    > think they chose our Batalian because we were
    from
    > Texas and acclimated to the heat. With sweat rolling and completly
    soaking
    > my shirt we dig in making bunkers completely around the hill. There must have been around 25-30
    > bunkers every 50' or so. We laid miles of
    constatina
    > wire around the perimeter of the camp. We are 20-30mi. from where the Sandanistias are. Our
    > mission is to coordinate with inserted Special
    Forces
    > personnel and defend the region. This SF guy introduces us to a young hondurian. He must have been
    > only 14yrs old. He said he will be your guide. He took us down to a village to scout it out. The
    > rain began.
    >
    > I'm climbing again on the Mtb. After a few minutes I'm starting to breath hard. The terrain is
    > getting rougher as ruts and roots appear. I attack the climb dancing over the rutts and roots. I
    > can see the crest, it is near. I crest the hill and begin a stroll through the saddle of the
    > mountain. Its all memorized. I take on a pretty steep descent as my mind drifts off to Honduras
    > once again. It's raining, pouring cats and dogs. Choppers inserted us into a jungle region
    > somewhere near a small town in honduras. We are spread all over a hill crouched down waiting on a
    > "go" from Special Forces dudes down in the town. I hear this noise right next
    to
    > my ear. I look over and its some sort of giant black ants crawling up
    this
    > tree. They were huge! I could actually hear them crawling. I moved back
    a
    > couple of feet away from the tree. My platoon Sargent calls me over.
    "Bean,
    > I've been meaning to tell you if something happens to me I think you're
    the
    > only one I can count on to get these troops out of here and joined up with the company. You can
    > read a map and know how to fight." I nodded knowing that I could if need be but hoped it wouldn't
    > come down to it.
    >
    > An hour has passed as I look at my watch but it only seemed like 10
    minutes.
    > I take a break at the lost and found pulling some grass out of the drivetrain of the bike. My
    > thoughts switch to the men and women in battle once again. This very trail had Mountain bike
    > soilders on it every
    weekend
    > from 227 Av, 4th ID, 1 Cav. They are no longer here. I hope for their return once again. Their
    > sacrifice and courage is to be commended. I
    wish
    > I could be there but since I can't they have my full support and encouragement.
    >
    > Cleanbean still doing it in Texas US Army 1980-86
    >
    >
    <too good to snip>

    Damn good stuff Mr. Bean. A good read indeed.

    Lance
     
  3. Paladin

    Paladin Guest

    "L Hays" <[email protected]> wrote in message
    news:<[email protected]>...
    > "Cleanbean" <[email protected]> wrote in message
    > news:h_%[email protected]...
    > > I get to the trailhead and go through the usual dismounting routine. I go through the mental
    > > check list as we did in the Army; Rifle, gas mask,
    > ammo,
    > > boots, extra socks, gloves, Jacket, food. This is just the basic check
    > list
    > > to be sure I have the critical items before riding; helmet, camelbak/tools
    > > w/fresh water, gloves, bandanna. Water is not mandantory since I can get
    > it
    > > from the near by boat dock spicket or from the lake (but have to drop
    > iodine
    > > tablets in water). I start out climbing, and start thinking about the war at hand. My mind
    > > drifts off to one of the many military exercises that I took part in. As I climb I recall my
    > > first month in Germany. I was in
    > 1/36
    > > Inf. 3AD ('81-83). We were in simulated battle taking a hill, running up
    > it
    > > in soft terrain. I was carrying a M60 (7.62) machine gun. It was heavy hauling it up that hill.
    > > I was not real strong in the upper body and depended on my legs to do most of the work. I can
    > > hear the Company Commander saying, "take that hill Bean take that hill". It was do or die. The
    > > CO was watching. I was exhausted by the time we took that hill. I was covered with mud from
    > > falling while running up that hill.
    > >
    > > I crest the hill on my Mtb. and reap the payoff. I can see the lake and terrain below. I try to
    > > spot other Mtbers while on top of the hill. My thoughts shift to war once again. We are in a
    > > small German town. I can
    > see
    > > the enemy in the woodline from my position behind a Farmers barn. There
    > is
    > > no Farmer around since this is a vacant city used for Combat training in
    > the
    > > city. Smoke erupts from barrals in the woodline then the sound of small arms fire quickly
    > > follows. I dawn my M60 and lock and load. I let lose with a spray of 7.62 (blanks) across the
    > > woodline. I hear an array of
    > MILES
    > > beeping meaning they were hit by my Miles lazer. I hear a couple of our guys take hits and
    > > hollaring turn this damn thing off as the peircing tone generates from the miles gear. The fog
    > > of battle has begun. Smoke cannisters burst before the enemy as they advance on our position. I
    > > look up and see another machine gunner shooting out the second story window as the enemy
    > > advances. As soon as I get behind the barn and look up at him
    > he
    > > sprays me with machine gun fire. My equipment blares with that irritating noise indicating that
    > > I've been hit. I yell at him with disgust, "I'm friendly, you fool!" He hollars, "whoops!" and
    > > continues firing on the enemy.
    > >
    > > I drop into a nice section of single track into a cool 85F breeze. I
    > begin
    > > a narley climb this time feeling the burn. No pain, no gain I think as my mind changes focus on
    > > our troops at war. The mental flash of an Iraqi firing a 9mm point blank at one of our shoulders
    > > heads sends chills down
    > my
    > > spine. The anger wells up as I climb. The pain I'm experiencing is
    > nothing
    > > compared to the fatigue and soreness soldiers are feeling in combat. I
    > wish
    > > I could dawn my jump boots once again and go help our troops. The reason for war doesn't matter
    > > any more. Our troops are committed and have a job
    > to
    > > do. They have to fight.
    > >
    > > I'm back onto smooth single track once again. I pause to look for other riders. Its peaceful
    > > out. I can hear only the sound of wind passing over me and around my helmet. I'm flowing on
    > > the trail as if by memory because my thoughts fade once again to my past. Honduras, '84. I'm
    > > in the 2/7
    > Cav.
    > > 1CD (227AV Task Force) getting dropped in at night. The C-130 lands and
    > we
    > > dismount surrounding the aircraft facing out to protect our position.
    > This
    > > time its not trainning. The ammo is real and so are the weapons. I'm thinking our company is
    > > Mechinized Infantry but here we are on a light Infantry Mountainous/Jungle region. Most of us
    > > veteran soilders are
    > trained
    > > for light manuvers. We are on a hill out of the thick jungle below. The heat/humidity is bad. I
    > > think they chose our Batalian because we were
    > from
    > > Texas and acclimated to the heat. With sweat rolling and completly
    > soaking
    > > my shirt we dig in making bunkers completely around the hill. There must have been around 25-30
    > > bunkers every 50' or so. We laid miles of
    > constatina
    > > wire around the perimeter of the camp. We are 20-30mi. from where the Sandanistias are. Our
    > > mission is to coordinate with inserted Special
    > Forces
    > > personnel and defend the region. This SF guy introduces us to a young hondurian. He must have
    > > been only 14yrs old. He said he will be your guide. He took us down to a village to scout it
    > > out. The rain began.
    > >
    > > I'm climbing again on the Mtb. After a few minutes I'm starting to breath hard. The terrain is
    > > getting rougher as ruts and roots appear. I attack the climb dancing over the rutts and roots. I
    > > can see the crest, it is near. I crest the hill and begin a stroll through the saddle of the
    > > mountain. Its all memorized. I take on a pretty steep descent as my mind drifts off to Honduras
    > > once again. It's raining, pouring cats and dogs. Choppers inserted us into a jungle region
    > > somewhere near a small town in honduras. We are spread all over a hill crouched down waiting on
    > > a "go" from Special Forces dudes down in the town. I hear this noise right next
    > to
    > > my ear. I look over and its some sort of giant black ants crawling up
    > this
    > > tree. They were huge! I could actually hear them crawling. I moved back
    > a
    > > couple of feet away from the tree. My platoon Sargent calls me over.
    > "Bean,
    > > I've been meaning to tell you if something happens to me I think you're
    > the
    > > only one I can count on to get these troops out of here and joined up with the company. You can
    > > read a map and know how to fight." I nodded knowing that I could if need be but hoped it
    > > wouldn't come down to it.
    > >
    > > An hour has passed as I look at my watch but it only seemed like 10
    > minutes.
    > > I take a break at the lost and found pulling some grass out of the drivetrain of the bike. My
    > > thoughts switch to the men and women in battle once again. This very trail had Mountain bike
    > > soilders on it every
    > weekend
    > > from 227 Av, 4th ID, 1 Cav. They are no longer here. I hope for their return once again. Their
    > > sacrifice and courage is to be commended. I
    > wish
    > > I could be there but since I can't they have my full support and encouragement.
    > >
    > > Cleanbean still doing it in Texas US Army 1980-86
    > >
    > >
    > <too good to snip>
    >
    > Damn good stuff Mr. Bean. A good read indeed.
    >
    > Lance

    Wow, Bean, this earns you a berth in the top 5 RR's of all time. How'd I miss it? Good job, and I
    know how riding brings back memories and sometimes unlocks doors that you thought were shut forever.
    That's why I get so jacked riding, and even writing, sometimes. On the bike, I can span the whole
    range, from a butterfly floating atop flowers, to a crazed snakeeater that's been out waaay too
    long. Once again, good stuff.

    Paladin
     
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