This morning we went to the 9mm pistol qualification range, where we were welcomed to participate in firing by the range non-commissioned officer in charge.

Our theory in conducting research for “Warrior Police” is that we will interview, discuss experiences, observe, and when possible, participate in all Military Police activities. It is one thing to be an outsider looking in, but stepping across that line and participating with soldiers brings us inside their world, and we can tell their stories better when we know the wet, the tension, and the stress that they are going through – whether training or combat.
We’ve been getting a lot of rain the past couple of days here, and this morning was a steady drizzle with fog. When we got to the range it was necessary for us to don “battle rattle” – protective vests (interceptor body armor) and Kevlar helmets. The company commander and first sergeant were kind enough to lend us their personal sets, so for this morning’s exercise at least, my researcher outranked me!

Every soldier has an individual target that is scored. The system is simple: either you hit it – and the holes in the target tell the story, or you don’t. So we carried ours to our respective firing lanes. Targets are of human silhouettes – some may think that cold, but downrange the targets are hostile terrorists, not bull’s eyes.
First we fired from the prone position. My spot had a puddle of water in it, so you will see my armor and shirt wet from the rain. One nice thing about being an old Infantryman is that a little water and mud don’t put me off.
Soldiers fire a total of ten rounds for practice followed by 50 rounds for qualification. Hit the target 35 times and you’re qualified on the 9mm Beretta pistol.
I shot my prone position rounds.

Meanwhile, my researcher fired her 20 rounds. Bang! With a little coaching she was smacking rounds into the target.
Soldiers then move to the standing position and fire from both hands – the dominant hand (right, for the majority) and left. This is a new addition from my time on active duty when we fired only from the primary hand, and a good one. Suppose your primary hand is injured? Then you’d better be able to shoot accurately from either side.
Then you go downrange to check your target.

I hit the target 48 times out of 50, not bad for a rusty old soldier – I would have qualified “expert.”
My researcher hit 27 times. The range sergeant said that beat many of the new soldiers who have been training for several days on this range. Not so bad for a first-time shooter and with more practice she’ll get better.
After lunch we went to visit soldiers in their 2nd week of training who are getting ready to go through their introduction to chemical warfare. They were nervous and excited. The gas chamber is everyone’s “war story” from training.
Drill sergeants run the range (another change from my ancient days) and prep the trainees thoroughly before the exercise. This is what they look like before they enter the chamber.

This is what they look like coming out!

Gas used is conventional tear gas – CS in military parlance – and while non-lethal is definitely painful to eyes, nose, and throat. It makes breathing hard.
Having done the gas thing previously I opted out of this exercise, but my researcher wanted to participate, so she found herself at the back of a line of recruits with protective equipment.
“Who are you, why are you here?” one of the soldiers whispered at the back of the formation. The other trainees looked bug-eyed at her red shirt and civilian attire, a figure as foreign to them as a fashion model working in a sausage plant.
Knowing that messing with trainees is a popular sport, she answered with a straight face “Because I’m on vacation and didn’t want to miss this particularly famous attraction, it’s supposed to be the best event on this entire cruise, I simply can’t miss it.” That got a lot of quizzical looks. Vacation? they thought. Hmmm, maybe my Aunt Millie might want to try this one someday!
Inside the chamber photography is tough because of the fumes. At the end of the line, my researcher inadvertently attracted the attention of an astonished drill sergeant, who peered down as if an alien from Mars had suddenly landed in his chamber. He apparently wasn’t used to anyone showing up to such an exercise in blue jeans and a pony tail.

Through the observation window we saw her responding along with the other trainees with the required “thumbs up” to indicate that her equipment is functioning properly.

The company commander – who was inside the chamber along with a few drill sergeants for the exercise – checks everyone out.
New soldiers must then crack the seal on their masks allowing CS gas to penetrate. Then they are taught how to clear their masks. For anyone who has snorkeled or SCUBA dived, the procedure is familiar.

Then soldiers are required to do a right face, place their left hands on the shoulder of the soldier in front of them, and remove their masks, holding it high in their right hands.

Wow! Do they ever feel the effects of the gas at this point! Photography through the observation bubble became difficult as the fumes thickened amongst a mass of drooling, teary-eye trainees who struggled hard for a single breath. After chanting “ALPHA!” (their unit designation) a few times the drill sergeants finally allow them to exit.
They continue croak-chanting on command until the pain – fortunately temporary and non-injurious – gets to the point that they are finally – blessedly! – released from their torment.
Soldiers emerge in every form of extreme discomfort – noses flowing, eyes watering, and throats aching – but lo and behold – who emerges from the door behind the trainees as cool, collected, and in charge as can be from the chamber – my researcher!

First Sergeant King said, “Sure she didn’t like it, but she was under control when she came out.”

The way she put it: “If I can’t shoot a suitable score at this stage on the range then the very least I can do is doing something ‘passive’ like getting gassed with a little style and grace, come hell or high water. Is there a box of Kleenex somewhere… I can’t see a thing right now, drat. And where are my cigarettes?”
Another day of experiences logged for “Warrior Police” under our belts. Much, much more to come so keep watching this space for daily updates!