Part of basic training is passing the big, final physical test. Part of my test was running a mile (as I recall) in under eight minutes. I have never done that in my life, period. Strangely, I did’t know of a part of my life when I could have done that.

During Basic Training, when the Platoon would run, we would just double-time in formation, but this is not a fast run but a “jog.” I could handle most of that.
(I could never run. I just couldn’t and didn’t know why. When I was a young kid, I wasn’t worth a damn at running. Back then, a short, fast run would nearly do me in. I’ve thought that maybe my lung problem (they removed my left lung at Walter Reed) had started at an early age. That’s just my best guess and there’s no proof of that.)

Back to Basic Training... this was serious because not passing the physical test would have washed me out of that training cycle and I would have to repeat some of it again. Not fun and I didn’t want that on my record.

However, I found out that the final physical test was passed based on the total number of accumulated points, not on points for each of the individual tests.

As we approached the final physical test, we were a week away from finishing basic training. Off we went for the test. I had made up my mind to give it all I had and I did. The mile run was the last activity of the day. So my plan was to accumulate all the necessary points I could to ensure I passed the test and then do what I could in the mile run and hope that was enough.

I thought then and agree now that that’s a sorry way of looking at a goal but I had no other choice.
(I had always been pretty good at tossing things (from pennies to grenades). We had a practice pit for the grenade throw and I had been practicing this.)

It was pure coincidence that my first event was the grenade throw. Our lieutenant (as did other cadre) had his helmet liner painted a shiny chrome. It really stood out, looked good, with our Company Name lettered on it. So as an incentive to “his men,” he carefully set his shiny helmet liner on the bulls eye of the grenade target. It just so happened I was first up.

I hit that helmet liner dead center with my first throw. This practice grenade (about a pound chunk of steel) hit that helmet liner and a piece of the chrome paint the size of a baseball flew off. He reset the helmet liner on the bulls eye. I threw again and hit it again. He reset it again and I threw again.

I destroyed that helmet liner, got a perfect score on the grenade throw, the lieutenant was not happy about his helmet liner but overjoyed about the scores for his platoon—truly, mixed emotions for him.

I passed my physical on accumulated points.