This story takes place at the US Naval Station - Great Lakes (NAVSTA) in Chicago.
Great Lakes contains the Navy's Recruit Training Command and Training Support Center. It's the United States Navy's largest training station. It's located in Northern Chicago and sits on Lake Michigan. I didn't see much of it. But what I did see was a sprawling base that stretched on and on.
The particular patch I wound up on was the Aquatic Center and fitness track. Both located not very far from the front gate.
What:
I found myself there during springtime in the early 90's. I drove up from C-town to take the Navy SEALs Physical Screening Test. Or PST as it's commonly called.
The winter prior, I had completed my active duty tour and enrolled in classes at OSU. My master plan was to use my reserve status (I was still listed as inactive-reserve even though my tour was done) to take the SEAL PST. If I didn't pass or some other gremlin kept me from qualifying, then I'd return to campus, finish my degree, and begin life as a civilian.
If I did pass, then it was off to San Diego and 6 months of hell.
So on a Friday during Spring quarter, I told my professors I would miss Monday's class and made travel arrangements to Chicago. It's a five and a half hour drive up to Chicago and the PST started at 8:00 am. There was no way I was going to head out at 2:00 am, drive five and half hours and then attempt to pass the physical fitness test from hades. So I made a hotel reservation and drove up the Sunday before.
Physical Screening Test
So what exactly is the PST?
It's the basic physical fitness test that all would be SEAL recruits must pass in order to qualify for training.
If you pass the PST (and meet all the other medical, psych and IQ requirements) then you're off to Basic Underwater Demolition School. Commonly referred to as BUDS. A six month training program in San Diego.
The PST itself consists of five events. Each event must be completed to at least the minimum standards or you fail. A No-Go in Navy parlance.
The events are, in order:
1 - A 500 meter swim. The swim had to be completed in 12 minutes and 30 seconds or less. You were only permitted to use two strokes on the swim. Either a combat sidestroke or the breast stroke. Meaning the crawl, the fastest stroke, was verboten.
2 - Two minute timed push-ups. You had two minutes to complete a minimum of forty-two push-ups.
3 - Two minute timed sit-ups. You had two minutes to complete a minimum of fifty-five sit-ups.
4 - Pull ups no time limit. You had an unlimited amount of time to complete a minimum of eight pull ups.
5 - And the last event was a 1.5 mile run. The run had to be finished in 10 minutes and 30 seconds or less. The run also had to be completed while wearing boots and long pants.
The above standards have changed slightly back and forth over the years. In terms of number of push-up, sit-ups, etc.. But when I took the PST that Spring morning, this was the standard in place.
So I drove up Sunday and checked into a cheap hotel on the North side of Chicago. I found an Italian restaurant, loaded up on carbs, then went back to the hotel for an early bedtime.
The alarm went off the next morning at O'Dark 30. I threw my gear in my ride and drove North to the base. It was early spring and a bit of fog was hanging over city from the lake. The temperature wasn't bad though, dawn was just breaking threw and it was cool but not cold.
I pulled into the front gate and showed the guard my reserve ID. Then I asked for directions. The guard pointed back down the main road to a turn and said to follow the turn along to the left till I saw the indoor aquatic center. So with some trepidation I eased the camaro down the road, past a grove of trees, and into the aquatic center's lot.
I un-assed the car, grabbed my gear and slowly walked up to and through the doors.
I knew the test was administered by SEALs and I had mentally prepared myself to be met by a phalanx of hulking spec-op warriors with bad attitudes. I couldn't have been further off the mark. A quiet group of men, maybe six or seven, sat around a table waiting for us hopefulls to file in. They were soft spoken and looked ... well, very average. If you had walked past them on the street you would not have given them a second glance. They were just regular Joe's there to do a job. To do a job professionally, and to exacting standards.
I was directed to a locker room where I could change into swim trunks. I changed quickly and filed back out to the pool. There were eight of us total there that morning to take the test. Myself and seven recruits from Great Lakes who were in boot camp. A total of eight, middle-class white kids with aspirations to become steely eyed killers. (I thought I knew what that meant then, but as I grow older I'm not so sure I did)
The Pool Phase
The SEALs lined us up into our pool lanes and explained the swim portion. They then asked if we had any questions.
[At this point I need to skip back for a hot second to my first footstep into the center. I expected to find a large indoor pool with cool air and cooler water. Boy was I wrong.
It was a large indoor pool. I got that part right. But the SEALs had turned up the thermostat to sub tropical levels. I stepped through the door and was hit by a wall of steamy moisture. It was like the world's largest indoor sauna. You could literally see the water moisture hanging in the air. My initial thought was, "This is great. I'm not going to freeze my ass off and get the shivers. That's pretty nice of them". ... I would change my opinion...]
Nobody had any questions, we were a pretty quiet and subdued bunch. So the SEALs had us hop into the water (you were not allowed to dive in, which would have given you a free half lane of pool real estate) and take up a position on the wall. In addition to not being allowed to dive in, you also were not allowed to push off after completing each pool length.
Then they yelled "GO" and we were off.
It wasn't a race in the sense of competing against the guy next to you. You were only racing the clock. I started off with sidestroke which is a faster stroke. But laying sideways in the water with a narrow build (front to back) and heavy body mass it took a lot of energy to keep moving. I quickly switched to breast stroke with the frog kick and double arms. And I laid out flat along the top of the water for better buoyancy. The breast stroke also let me glide for a short length after each stroke.
It was right about then that I figured out why the SEALs had cranked up the heat. And it wasn't to be nice. Oh, no. It was because they were total bastards. After swimming a couple laps, cool air would have been perfect to suck in large lungfulls of and power on. The sauna like, moisture laden soup that passed for 'air' in the center was like sucking in oxygen through a hot wet rag. You just couldn't get enough O2.
The air was so laden with steamy water that I had difficulty telling when my mouth had cleared the surface of the pool and it was safe to breathe. That is not an exaggeration. I actually had trouble figuring out if my mouth was out of the water. So I started lifting my head a couple extra inches higher when I came up. Just to be sure.
I finished around 12 minutes. Towards the back of the pack. I knew the swim portion was my weakest event. And honestly I was just happy to come in under the mark. Most if not all of us were still in the game.
Push Up Phase
After completing the swim, the SEALs had us line up along the front of the pool. They then placed us into the push up position. With a SEAL grader in front of each us. It was then that it hit me what a double whammy the heat was. Not only had it made it a bitch to breathe but it acted like a sauna on the muscles. The heat had turned our arm and leg muscles into hot, limp wet noodles.
And just in time for push ups. Bastards! (yes, this will be a recurring theme!)
As we got into the push up position, a SEAL grader laid down on the deck in front of each of us. Each grader then extended his arm, with a clenched fist, out and under each our chests. They explained that in order for your push ups to count, you had to lower your body until it touched the grader's fist. You then had to extend and fully lock out your arms in the up position. After the completion of each good push up, the grader would count out the number. That way you could keep track of where you were during your two minute timed phase. They said "Go" and we were off. I started knocking out perfect push ups.
But there was one small problem. Emphasis on the word "small'.
The SEAL grader who was counting my push ups was the smallest, shortest SEAL in the building. The guy was so short, he looked like a SEAL hobbit. I think the name tag on his uniform said "Baggins". Not only was he short in height but he had little short hobbit arms.
The guy's outstretched fist only just cleared my adam's apple. It didn't come anywhere close to being under my chest. So as I lowered my body down, my chest wasn't hitting his fist. I'd knocked out ten picture perfect push ups and he had only counted one. In desperation I started slamming my entire body down onto the deck in an attempt to get the furry footed bastard to count my f-ing push ups.
They called time. I looked up at Baggins and locked eyes with him. By my count I was in the upper 80's. He looked back at me and said, "42". The bare minimum. My chest ached but I'd passed. Later that night when I took off my shirt, I'd find black and blue ribs all along both sides of my chest.
Sit Up Phase
With the push ups complete, we were instructed to roll over into the sit up position. Our graders then held our ankles and explained what constituted a sit up. We were required to touch our shoulder blades to the deck then sit up until we laid our chests flat against our thighs. While training for the test, I'd been coming up until my elbows, with hands locked behind my head, touched my knees. Then back down.
This was going to be a lot harder. Bastards!
They said "Go" and we were off. I was consistently scoring in the 120's during my training (this was one of, if not my strongest event) under SEAL standards I knocked out 65. But still ... a passing grade.
Pull Up Phase
We then stood up and walked the short distance over to a set up pull up bars which were bolted into the side of the pool's far wall.
The SEALs explained the standards for pull ups. You were to jump up and grab the bar. Then you were to hang there until your body came to a complete rest. Once your body was still, the grader would call out, "Up". You were then to pull yourself up until your collar bones touched the bar. Once the grader was satisfied that you were far enough up he would call out the number of the pull up. You were then allowed to lower yourself down. You then had to wait until your body was completely still and the grader once again gave you the 'up' command to attempt the next repetition.
Most people when practicing pull ups get a rocking motion going to help propel themselves up. Not here. No way baby. Bastards!
But I finished with ten and moved on.
Run Phase
With the pull ups complete, they gave us a short break to change into long pants and boots. We were then to muster back out on the pool deck. This was our first rest. All of the four previous events had been done back to back with almost no break time in between. The breather was welcome.
We came back out and they went over our scores. Only two of us were still in the game. Myself and a very tall, lanky recruit.
They then took the eight of us and marched us out of the center and across to the outdoor track. We had 10 minutes and 30 seconds to run 1.5 miles in boots and long pants. As a reservist, I'd brought light weight, panama style jungle boots and light weight, jungle cammies for pants. Cammies, also known as BDUs or Battle Dress Uniform.
The other seven guys were all "boots" still in basic with no options but what they'd been issued for basic training. Clunky boon docker, mid calf, heavy leather boots with thick rubber soles and steel toes. And bell bottomed dungaree work pants. I looked over at the lanky recruit who was still in it and knew he'd never make it wearing that stuff.
They walked us out the the track at a fast clip and got us started. I finished well under time then looked back to see where the lanky recruit was. I got a shock. He was hauling ass in boon dockers and dungarees. But it was going to be close. The SEAL grader and I started yelling at him. Urging him on. He was doing the best he could in those giant boxy boon dockers but he came across the line a couple seconds over.
However, the good thing about the PST... It's not a one shot deal. If you don't make it you can try again. I had no doubt this kid would give it another shot after boot camp with some better gear and make it.
Post Script
The test was over and I'd made it through. I was beat to hell and it was a rough drive back to C-town. But I'd made it.
Just one last hurdle. The medical exam. ... and I failed it.
My left eye was over the uncorrected vision limit. And in the early nineties, lasik was not yet perfected or accepted by the military. Neither could I get an eyesight waiver. It was possible to obtain one, but at this time there was a glut of recruits and all waivers were stopped.
In fact, I called a shipmate from my unit who had just arrived at SEAL training and asked about getting a waiver. He told me a guy checked into the quarterdeck that afternoon with an approved waiver in hand and the command told him don't even in-process. Instead they turned him around and sent him straight to the transiting personnel barracks. Right back to where ever he came from.
And that killed my dream. That's not to say, if I'd gotten a waiver, or been born ten years later when lasik was accepted, that I'd have made it through. Hell, half the guys who go to San Diego wash out. So who knows?
But, when God closes one door he usually opens another. And so he did with me.
.
