I went thru the hardest RIP class to date

[TANGOisinKOREA]

A buddy of mine were bullshitting over the weekend remembering the good ole days. A heated discussion started about who had the hardest RIP class. I thought it might be an interesting topic on here. Here is my submission.

I went thru Dec 90. While doing the drownproofing they had to break the ice off the pool behind the NCO club before we could jump in. my left testical has still not descended 10 years later!

There were no birds as they were all in the desert so we jumped c-bluebirds. They drove the bus around fryar DZ and pushed us out the back I swear it was going at least 40mph and one guy broke his leg.

Anybody else here had a tougher class?

Chas

[realpolypro]

Take it away Tack, my buddy-ole'-pal...

RIP 86'

[Ranger002]

God what wimps....
You guys... don't EVEN go there. Remember I had to go through RIP during the DISCO ERA. Simply put... Platform Jungle Boots and Camo-Glitter. I will let my stats tell the story We started with 50 guys that late November in the hell of North Fort Lewis... Only 15 of us survived. YOU TRY going through RIP with Viet Ranger Vets as your instructors (God Bless George C Conrad The RAD!!!)
William Hazen

[realpolypro]

Ok Haze-man, you have the senority...geez you're only 8 years older then me and Tack http://www.specialoperations.com/ubboard/smile.gif We had some Nam'ers too. God bless Grenier!

Poly

[Dark Helmet]

Well, I went through Regimental RIP in DEC86-JAN87 as a non-tabbed E4 from legland and while I understand it was in no way as hard as it was in BN Rip era (read that is Hazen-ish days of doing pushups while the Bee Gees thumped out of someone's trunk via an 8-track), it was still pretty damned hard. My class started about 55 and ended up graduating 13. Reminds me of a funny story....sit back, thorw a dip in, and come along with me for a trip down memory lane....

We had an instructor there that had reportedly been booted out of 3/75 for troop abuse. Skinny little blonde guy, E5 type, with ETS closing in and nothing to lose. Whenever Grenier wasn't around telling stories about Malaysian Tracking School, this E5 would randomly select a half dozen Rippees to come outside behind one of the old barracks buildings (this is back when RIP was conducted in those old WW2 buildings by the airfield at the top of Cardiac Hill). This Ranger NCO (name was Patterson, maybe?) would have one of us low-crawl to his Pontiac and "secure" his "combat golf bag" and low crawl back with it, not allowing any of the bag to touch the ground. Try it sometime - it's impossible to do. He would line us up in the front leaning rest and pull out a five iron and tee a ball up, smoking us the whole time. Then he would take a swing at the ball and when we heard the telltale crack of the club hitting the ball, we would all have to pop up and race to retreive the ball and bring it back to him. The guy that got the ball back to the staging area didn't get smoked. We would actually fight for that damned golf ball; running "downrange" to be the first one to get the ball and bring it back. I got a black eye once from a stray elbow.....

And God forbid if he ever sliced the ball....we were in for a real smoke session if his game was off....

Anyone else remember this guy?

[Ranger002]

OH MY GAAAWD,

Tack you poor poor boy. I HATE GOLF! LOL
You're right... nothing worse than a RIP Instructor who plays golf or a Rip Instructor who wears POLYester shirts un-buttoned to the waist with lots of Mr-T gold chains...Oh the HELL we went through to wear the scroll. NOW WHAT ABOUT THE REST OF YOU GUYS!!! Don't hold back nothing give us the HELL that was your life as a RIPPIE! LOL
William Hazen

[abn_rngrr]

We were into about the third or fourth day of RIP and had just finished 1 1/2 hrs of PT. The final event of the day was the obstacle course. One of the obstacles was two, 25-foot cargo nets with a section of nylon climbing rope strung between them. The procedure was to climb the net, wait for permission to mount the rope, commando crawl across, and go down the other cargo net. Being the highly motivated RIPee that I was, I mounted the rope without getting permission and started across. About halfway, one Cpl. Falter stopped me, told me to come to a dead hang, and to commence to do chin-ups to atone for my sin. It ain't easy to do chins on a thin nylon rope, let me tell you, especially after 1 1/2 hours of PT. When I couldn't do anymore chins I was told to swing my feet back up on the rope and continue across. With all the bouncing around as the rope stretched, I lost my grip and did a perfect 1-point landing on my fourth point of contact onto the sawdust pit below. Cpl Falter proceeded to get two inches from my face as he chewed my ass for disobeying orders yet again and told me to get my sorry ass back up on the obstacle and to do it right this time. The wind was knocked out of me and I couldn't say a word, let alone move, which is probably for the best as the things I would've liked to have said at the time to the good Cpl. wouldn't have done much for my career advancement. I was eventually taken to the hospital and the damage consisted of a slightly compressed vertbrae and severely bruised ribs. I was given a three week profile of bed rest.

1SG Cayton, Vietnam Ranger vet and RIP commandant at the time, gave me a choice to take the profile and be sent to the 24th ID or continue RIP. I finished RIP but I was in too much pain to sleep at night and the ruck runs, obstacle courses and hand-to-hand nearly killed me. At the time one of the graduation requirements was a 5-mile ruck in less than one hour. Running with that ruck bouncing was like getting hooked in the ribs with each step. I don't know what everybody else thought of RIP, but it was maybe the toughest thing I ever had to do in my life. I'm afraid of heights to this day.

Just for the record, I ain't the Patterson described by Tack but I did do a short stint as a RIP instructor in '83. Grenier was around in my day too, talked often about Malaysian tracking school. That wild-eyed madman was one of the few men that truely scared the shit out of me. Lamica was my first platoon daddy. Purdy was a platoon sgt. in Chuckles company and was a legend even then. Ah, the good ol' days http://www.specialoperations.com/ubboard/wink.gif

[Ranger002]

Ok heres my RIP story,

The only day I ever considered quitting was day 3 of a five day field problem the last week of RIP.It was three weeks back then. It was early December at Fort Lewis and we were in the world famous South Rainer training area. I AM TALKING THICK vegetation my bros ( as some of youse 2nd Batt dudes know). It had been raining all day and all night and we poor sogging wet Rippies were in a "Patrol Base" to plan our next mission. Less than 50 meters from the perimeter the RIP Sp/4 instructor mafia and a couple of the senior instructors had built a nice sized fire and they are sitting around cooking chow and sipping on beers. It was the mind fuck of my life as they asked each one of us if we wanted to quit. The man that quit was givin a place by the fire and hot chow, AND a beer, AND they were allowed to rack out. Well bros we had been living on one cold C-Rat a day for a week or so and we were exhausted. Nothing looked better in my whole entire life!!! It was a masterful pysche job.The Mafia did not yell or scream they talked to us like car salesman
very soft spoken and convincing. It worked!!! First one Rippie got up, then two, then eventually there were 12 (EX) Rippies sitting by the fire eating warm chow and having beers. The rest of us did all we could to keep anyone else from leaving but I tell ya our morale was low. We survivors froze our asses off and OF COURSE we had to maintain security which meant little sleep
. When BMNT hit the mafia yelled RAID and started tossing arty and grenade simulators all over the place and we had run to the last IRP. Man I was fucking smoked, pissed, and questioning my sorry assed little exsistance on the planet. Somehow... my Ranger buddy Lawrence Coutermarsh ( He went to the Alphabots after Rip and I went to B Co) kept me going (and when he got down I boosted him up.) Thank God(!!!) for him else I might not be the fat and sassy Ranger you all see before you today. OK lets hear it from the rest of you guys. GOD BLESS ALL REAL DEAL RANGER BUDDIES!!!
William Hazen

[realpolypro]

I don't remember shit about RIP or School really. For Rip I remember it was cold and dudes were quitting in the chow line, I also remember the 12 mile road "run" and the ftx being wicked hot, and wicked cold. I picked up a "cow killer" ant (big orange and black bastard) and got the shit stung out of me! Tack, Patterson sounds right. Was he the Harley rider that carried sockets to throw at cars? Oh yeah, we were bald and brought up to a classrom, had these little ass desks, and the RIP Instructor says "How dare you f*cks show up with all that hair!" Yee-ha, day one fun http://www.specialoperations.com/ubboard/smile.gif

Poly

[Dark Helmet]

Originally posted by realpolypro:
Tack, Patterson sounds right. Was he the Harley rider that carried sockets to throw at cars?

Well, he sported a "combat golf bag", so a "combat socket set" seems to fit the bill....

Grenier. That guy was a trip.

"C'mere, HERO!"

[Sharky]

LMAO^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^ More later when I get home from work.

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F.I.D.O.

[RangerCharlie]

Well, my time was Dec. Jan. '89, fresh off x-mas break, I guess the cadre had a good rest also as they were hot to get back in the groove. What a treat those WWII barracks were, holes in the floor, half the stuff didn't work, cold showers. Well, we got a E-5 who led PT, should have known that when he was introduced as the human gazelle, things would suck. Needless to say, he loved to run..fast..guys would fall out, and we would endless circle picking up stragglers, who knows how far we actually ran on those five milers. All I know was that I was scared to fail. I actually remember thinking just what the hell I was doing, I guess everyone thought this. I remember the first day when I showed up. Here was rippies laying around in tiger strips and other misc. gear looking tough, funny, all of the tough looking guys quit or got dx'd. I guess I was blessed as I could run and hump, so I didn't gain the attention of the cadre. I also remember the 12 mile road march with the stern instructions "you will conduct a 12 mile march, you have two hours to do it and no one will run, take large steps!" I thought, how in the hell can I make it in that time and not run, in the end everyone ran and it sucked.
I remember guys falling asleep and cadre dinging them with snuff cans.

[Tracy]

Summer '79, Hunter AAF.

We were SD to B/1/75 as Amphibious Warfare Instructors. We had a "rubber boat appreciation day" for the RIP students.

So we walk into the mess hall the RIPs were using for breakfast. Lt Barton, our TL, walks into the chow hall and the CQ yells "AT EASE". Everybody freezes like a statue, to include the Lt; who's looking around for the BMF that just walked in. This goes on for about a minute; and finally the CQ leans over and says "that's YOU sir!".

So the Lt says "Oh, y'all keep eatin'!". Nobody moves. CQ: "The proper term, SIR, is 'carry on'." Lt: "Oh, y'all carry on!". So everyone, finally, continues to eat. This little exchange took two minutes of the five allotted for eating; and the instructors chased all the RIPs out on the mark with hardly any of their chow consumed.

Special Forces was a very dirty word that day; especially when we had the RIPs carrying RB-15s EVERYWHERE that day.

[JPT]

Wet suit appreciation, engine appreciation, boat appreciation, chow appreciation... We are some sick dudes! LOL Yeah Baby! Gotta love it!

[TANGOisinKOREA]

To this day I get dirty looks from people at the dinner table when I only use a large tablespoon to eat! I have been scarred for life.

Chas

[Sharky]

My memory of RIP is pretty much like Poly's. A blur of hell. My Tacs were Schott, Porter and Lamb. (Schott later went to the Golden Knights, Lamb went behind the fence at Bragg, Don't know what happened to Porter) We had one of those human gazelles in my class too. Can't remember his name. I remember after the first mile he said something about since that first mile was just under 6 minutes we should be warmed up, so now we were gonna pick up the pace a little bit. He wasn't sweating or even breathing hard. I think that was the first time that I wondered if I would make it. I remember Minarovich falling out of the final 12-mile road-run about a mile out. I put him on top of my ruck in a firemans carry and a couple of other rippies grabbed his ruck and duck and we just kept running. Schott was yelling at us to leave him behind and let him get on the truck. We just kept running. As soon as the rest of the class saw what was happening we just took turns carrying him and his equipment and we got him there with the main group. He graduated and went to wpns plt in A Co. He was a tough little bastard and a great mortarman. I remember when I first got to the compound after RIP, Doug Taylor came in about 4:30 am and woke all us cherries up. He took us on an 8 mile ruck-run in our new jungle boots and ninja suits. When we got back we just changed boots for running shoes and went to squad PT. Welcome to the batt.

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F.I.D.O.