Chapter Eighteen #2
“I’m being sent before the performance review board on Monday morning for failing two timed runs. It’s my fucking thigh, you know? Anyway, I’m probably gonna be dropped from BUD/S, and I just wanted—hell, I don’t know what I wanted. I know you have no use for failures.”
There was a long pause. Matt gripped his phone so hard he was surprised he didn’t crack the damn thing.
“I guess I just wanted you to hear it from me, for what it’s worth. Also was kinda hoping to hear your voice, but you don’t even have a personalized greeting set up, you prick. Thanks for nothing.”
The message ended. With shaking fingers Matt dialed him back and Shane picked up on the second ring, sounding surprised. “Hey.”
“First of all,” Matt snarled, “I believe I said I have no use for quitters, not people who fail something because they have a fucking injury.”
“Matt—”
“Second of all, what’s this giving-up bullshit? The review board might decide to keep you, and you should be getting ready to retake the run instead of leaving oh-poor-me voice mails.” He broke off when Shane started laughing. “What the hell are you laughing at?”
“You,” Shane gasped. “Me. Because I’m a mess and you insulting me makes me feel better.”
Matt huffed in annoyance, but he knew Shane was scared, and frankly, so was he.
Performance review boards were no joke. BUD/S didn’t wait for anyone, even a guy who was fighting a legitimate injury.
Still, Shane was a strong and popular trainee whom the instructors respected and there was always hope.
“Okay, clown, it’s three-foot-world time,” Matt said firmly. “There’s nothing you can do about the performance board. That part is totally out of your hands, right? If they’re planning to get rid of you, you can’t change that.”
Shane gave a watery snort. “Yeah, thanks. You really suck at pep talks, you know?”
“My point is, forget about the board. It’s gonna happen, like it or not, so it’s out of your three-foot world. If by some miracle they vote to give you another chance at the run, and I don’t see why they won’t because you’re strong, a natural leader—”
“Compliments for the clown? Geez.”
“Shut up and listen for one second, would ya?” Matt hissed. “If they let you run it again, I want you to do these stretches first.”
Shane was quiet as Matt described some of his favorite quad and hamstring stretches in meticulous detail.
“Actually, I want you to start doing these now, as soon as we get off the phone. Don’t try to run this weekend, just stretch every chance you get.
Take ibuprofen for the inflammation. Shane, this is all stuff you can control, so take control of it.
” He waited a beat, then said more gently, “And if they go the other way, well, you can always come back and try again in a couple of years, right? It’s shitty luck, but it doesn’t have to be over. ”
“I’m not gonna try again.” Shane’s voice was low. “This is it for me, Soup.”
“Well, we’re gonna choose to think positive,” Matt snapped.
“Hear me? You have two days to rest that muscle, and you’re gonna go before that board and convince those assholes to give you another chance.
Then you crush that run. Visualize it all, step by step, from now until you cross that finish line.
Picture yourself making it with time to spare. ”
He heard Shane take a long, shuddering breath before saying, his voice much more calm, “Okay, I will. Thanks, Matt.”
“Don’t thank me, just do it.” With that, Matt hung up. He dropped down to sprawl flat on the rock again and sent a quick text: We’ll get through this together, okay?
A second later, Shane replied: Okay :) Now go get some sleep. You sound tired.
Matt clutched his phone to his chest, the very real possibility he might not see Shane again twisting his stomach up in knots. Same as with a DOR, guys bounced for performance would disappear back into the fleet almost before they could draw their next breath.
“I don’t want it to end like this,” Matt whispered fiercely. “Not like this.”
Praying his advice would work, that Shane would be able to pull off the impossible, Matt at last stumbled off to bed.
* * *
There were no such things as weekends off at La Posta. The morning following his conversation with Shane, Matt and his classmates were given a land-nav exercise that would also double as a glorified game of hide-and-seek.
“The cadre will be roaming around, watching,” Howe shouted. “If we spot you up on that mountain, you fail. Go get your gear together. You’ll need a ground shelter, and enough water and food for twenty-four hours.”
Once everyone was ready, they were driven in pickup trucks deep into the mountains and dropped by swim pairs at various points. Matt estimated he and Trey were pushed out at least twelve miles from camp.
“Anyone who cheats and follows the road back is outta my program,” Howe warned them all. “There’s no room on the teams for lazy assholes who try to game the system, and believe me, we’ll know if you try it. Good luck, gentlemen.”