It happened late August of 1967 during our basic training in the hot White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico. Our entire company was in the bleachers listening to the instructor and assistant on how to properly handle and throw a hand grenade. We were all tired and sweaty and falling asleep. I was at the top of the bleachers with my M-14 by my side, but paying attention.

The target where the assistant was supposed to throw the grenade was an old tire about 30 to 40 yards away. The instructor had indicated that after throwing a grenade you are supposed to hit the ground and put both hands on top of your helmet to protect your head. When the instructor told the assistant to pull the pin and throw the grenade to the target (the old tire), the assistant instead turned toward the bleachers and threw the grenade under the bleachers. In less than four or five seconds the bleachers were empty, and we were all on the sand covering our heads and counting in our minds the eight seconds before the grenade was set to explode. After eight seconds, the grenade—instead of exploding—just blew some colored smoke. The instructor then blew his whistle and told us to get back to the bleachers. He told us he was impressed because that was what would keep us safe in Vietnam. He told us you don't think, you react. I could hear some of the trainees mumbling something about the instructor's mother. I hurt myself when I jumped toward the back from the top of the bleachers.

It was a well-learned lesson that I will never forget, but after that incident I never sat again at the top of any bleachers!