My first two weeks of basic was spent wearing a surgical shoe after treatment for a foot infection. As such, I missed the first forced march of basic, essentially a breaking-in march to see what we were made of. Several in my platoon were jealous of me as they told of the "drop and gimmees" they endured, the rifle in the air sprints and several other basic training maneuvers. None of us realized how lucky I really was.

About a week after getting out of the med-shoe, I was told that I and several others that had missed the march would be making it up with Sgt. Padilla, the biggest baddest drill instructor in our battalion.

When we first got in formation, Padilla didn't disappoint. We started with full packs and at a sprint. As soon as we got out of sight, there was a bridge and that's when realized how lucky we were. We received our first of many combat lessons on that march by being taught how soldiers cross bridges.

Padilla taught us everything from how to lay cover fire over wounded comrades to the correct way to hold a cigarette to hide it from enemy eyes. It wasn't until well after basic that any of us realized and talked about how different that march was. Most in that small squad ended up in intelligence branches, so that march would be the only combat training any of us would see.

Padilla treated each of us with respect and taught us how to be soldiers when all that he really had to do was make us march.