We were heading to the range late in the evening. This was the night we were going to crawl under live machine gun fire. My Drill Instructor was driving the jeep that two other trainees and I were in. Why we were in a jeep instead of en masse in a troop truck with many other trainees, I have no idea. One never asked such questions! Perhaps the preceding trucks were full to the brim, and we were the last stragglers. As we got close to the range, I said “Sarge, I can’t do this.” Sarge said, “What? You’ve been breezing through basic training. What do you mean you can’t do this?!” I repeated, “Sarge, I really can’t do this.” He replied, “C’mon, just concentrate on keeping your head and butt close to the ground and try to think of something else." I said, “But Sarge, you don’t understand. I really can’t do this. I’m not worried about the machine gun fire. It’s just that it’s 11:30 p.m, and by the time we get through this exercise and you get me back to the barracks…well, I’m only 17 years old, and it will be past my curfew!”
The jeep erupted with laughter!