Toenails…who needs them?

Toenails…who needs them?

by Wil Bosbyshell

There was a time in my life when my relationship with my toenails became very strained. They were not happy and let me know it. 

I am a shower man. I take very few baths, but this was an emergency. I was soaking in the bathtub and guzzling Gatorade to recover from the heat of the day. After an hour, I was beginning to relax and lifted my feet out of the water to prop them on the edge of the tub. Something felt strange; I looked at my feet and noticed that all my toenails were gone. 

Who was tougher, me or my toenails – that was the question. I knew exactly when I lost my toenails, but I felt nothing when it happened. Boy, I was in a tough spot….. that was for sure.

It was July 1984, and I was a 2nd Lieutenant in the US Army. Completing the Field Artillery officers’ basic course in Fort Sill Oklahoma, I had earned a slot to attend airborne School in Fort Benning Georgia. Army Airborne School is a three-week course where you learn how to jump out of planes in full combat gear. I was there now… in the bathtub. 

It was the first week of Airborne School and I was in the best physical shape of my life. I could do 80 pushups in two minutes; 80 sit-ups in two minutes; and run 2 miles in under 13 minutes in running shoes or combat boots. I could walk or hike in army boots literally all day with a variety of packs. Even at this level of physical condition, Airborne School was challenging. You could say it was kicking my butt. In South Georgia the temperature hovered at just over and under 100 degrees. It was hot! It was not dry heat; the humidity was 100%. 

The heat and humidity were a challenge, but they were not my main challenge. After all, I was a native Floridian and accustomed to this weather. 

My real problem was Navy Seals. My jump class was half full of them. Navy Seals have a reputation for being the toughest people on the planet. It's a well-deserved reputation; they really are very tough. Unfortunately, in Airborne School the Navy Seals ran into an in-movable object: Army Drill Instructors or DIs for short. If Basic Training Drill Instructors are super tough, then Army Airborne Drill Instructors are even tougher. Drill Instructors also have a reputation for being the toughest people on the planet. Their reputation is also well-deserved. At the time, before I began Airborne School, I thought that I was tough. Now judging myself wimpy, I was caught in the middle, between the two toughest groups of people in the world. Guess who was losing... me and my toenails.

The goal of the first week of Airborne School is to get everyone in shape and learn the basic skills required to jump out of a plane. (I will not debate in this story the mental state necessary to jump out of a perfectly good airplane. I will leave that to mental health professionals.) This involves a lot of running and calisthenics. The Drill Instructors were in charge. They wanted us to know they were tough. This rankled the Navy Seals who wanted to embarrass the Airborne Drill Instructors. 

The Drill Instructors and the Navy Seals locked horns early. 

When the Drill Instructors ordered us to do 20 pushups, the Seals upped the ante raising it to 40 pushups. In the first three days of this macho-fest about 20% of the class quit or washed out. After we ran two miles, the Seals would yell how easy it was, so we would run two more. 

The competition between the Drill Instructors and the Navy Seals reached a painful crescendo on the fourth day. Our company failed uniform inspection and were sent to the gig pit. The gig pit was a football filed sized area filled with saw dust.

I lost count of how many push-ups, sit-ups, squat thrusts and jumping jacks we did. Four hours passed in the gig pit. As mentioned before, it was around 100 degrees, so to keep us from dying, the DIs sprayed water on us with hoses. In theory this prevented heat stroke. Warped logic or Stockholm Syndrome caused me to think spraying us with water was nice of them. 

My toenails hung in there like champions for a long time. But wet army boots filled with wet sawdust and jumping jacks were a deadly combination for my poor toenails. I believe my toenails and I parted ways sometime around 600 jumping jacks that day in the gig pit. It didn't even hurt, or it didn't hurt any more than the rest of my body considering all my other pain. 

That evening as we did our post duties, all the Privates (and PFCs) who weren't Navy Seals came to me and begged me to do something. I agreed. None of us would survive this competition between the Navy Seals and the Army Airborne Drill Instructors. We would die, or worse, wash out of Airborne School.

The next morning, I pulled aside two of the senior Navy Seal Staff Sergeants. Not to put a fine point on this, I begged. I pleaded with the Navy Seals to let the Drill Instructors win the toughness competition. I told them that they were, indeed, the toughest people on the planet. Everyone knew this, including the Airborne Drill Instructors. They were unconvinced and stone faced. I had a few things going against me and my argument. First, I was a 2nd Lieutenant and 2nd Lieutenants are not held in high regard by anyone in the army. Second, the Navy Seals were just getting warmed up. They wanted to kick some Drill Instructor ass. I knew whose ass was getting kicked. 

I lied and told them that I was not worried about myself, but I was very worried about the non-Navy SEAL privates in the company. They would have a hard time graduating if they washed out. Some of the privates were on their third try at Airborne School, so washing out would end their chances of graduating. Three unsuccessful attempts would upset their new military careers. Then I pulled out all the stops. I mentioned that the group who was truly the toughest would show mercy to the less fortunate. The real toughest group would be confident in their toughness and not need to prove it to anyone. 

The Navy Seal Sergeants walked away in discussion. I tried to look pathetic, worthless and weak, living up to the 2nd Lieutenant stereotype. They had not given me an answer when the Drill Instructors called the company to 1st formation. We fell into our assigned spots. 

After roll call and announcements, the Drill Instructor issued the first exercise command of the day. I could tell the Drill Instructors were geared up to continue the showdown with the Navy Seals. The company responded normally and started the exercise. No challenge came from the Navy Seals. 

I held my breath. Everyone, who was not a Navy SEAL, held their breath. I could tell that the Drill Instructors were a little surprised though they barely showed it. However, I believe they were also relieved …. after all they had won! I am not sure what the Navy Seals were thinking but I was thinking, hell, I won. I might now actually make it through airborne School.

I did in fact make it to jump week and completed my 5 jumps. Jumping out of a plane is truly amazing. You get a hit of adrenaline when you jump out. Figuratively, you have just killed yourself, so yeah, adrenaline is called for. Then you get another rush of adrenaline when your parachute opens, and your life is saved. It is wondrous to look up, past your feet, to see the giant tail fin of a C-140 cargo plane pass closely over you. The plane seemed to move very slowly: time dilation. 

My parents and my sister came to see the final jump and graduation on July 5th. My toenails grew back by the end of October. It was nice to see them again. 

Epilogue

I thought I was in shape in Airborne School. I was a wimp. After a year and a half as a Lieutenant in Alaska I was really in shape. The Airborne unit in Alaska I was assigned to, transitioned to an Air-Assault unit. So, I signed up for the one-time-only Air-assault School at Fort Richardson. On the final day of the two-week school, we had to run 25 miles in full pack and gear in combat boots. Not too hard. After a year in the army, it’s hard to believe, but I thought nothing of it. I easily finished in the prescribed time. 

I arrived home that night to discover my toenails had turned black. The next day they all fell off again! Would they ever forgive me? They did and grew back. My toenails and I are now best of friends. 

Photo: Airborne School Graduation, July 5 1984, Bill and Wil Bosbyshell