How Bad Do You Want It?
In early 2006, I was stationed in Alaska, a young paratrooper in the U.S. Army preparing for my first deployment to Iraq. I remember our Brigade had a rigorous pre-deployment training schedule that even the most seasoned leaders found ambitious. We jumped a lot, both from fixed and rotary wing aircraft, did weapons training all the time, and received countless speeches from our Brigade Commander about the importance of preparing ourselves for the fight we would experience downrange.
I recall in mid-2006 hearing that we would begin conducting 30 mile road marches to “test and prove our metal” for the upcoming large-scale training iterations and combat deployment. Having conducted road marches between 5 and 12 miles on a regular basis, I figured that it would suck but would be doable.
Not too long after, my Platoon mustered outside the arms room to draw our weapons. It was 0330. The air was cool and crisp, and the Sun was already starting to show its light in the eastern sky. Alaska in mid-summer. Our leaders kept reminding us, “drink water, Airborne!”…”failure is not an option”…”if you think about quitting today, speak up so someone can kick the shit out of you.”
The trick to completing a long journey is not to focus on how far away you are from the destination, but how far you have gone from your start point.
We meandered to our start point and set off on our movement. Anyone with military experience knows that the first few miles of a road march in full kit, you are still warming up. Your body is settling in for the long haul, you are shifting your ruck on your shoulders, making sure you don’t step wrong and sprain an ankle, and you are trying to figure out what to think about as you are taking one step after another.
I remember hearing a call out that we had hit mile 15 and that we would be taking a ‘tactical pause,’ so that we could get resupplied with water, force an MRE (meal ready to eat) down our face holes, and have the medic (me) make sure everyone was doing okay. If you are reading this and laughing, first, thank you for your service, and I know that you know it’s because Doc has the unfortunate duty of checking for ‘monkey butt’ [google it or ask a Veteran] and feet for blisters… then eat chow. Note, all of this occurs in less than 10 minutes.
“On your feet,” the command rang out. We all got up, put our ruck sacks back on, and loosened up for the next leg. We step off and your mind and body go through the same process as before. Only this time, your knees, ankles, shoulders, hips, feet, back are all asking your brain what the hell is going on as you have to settle back in… but this time you know what for.
Mile 25. “F&$K THIS,” my mind is yelling. Every step hurts. But, at the same time, one of the U.S. Army Warrior Ethos is replaying in my head, “I will never quit.” Admittedly, there is also the understanding that dropping out of a road march comes with a whole lot of trouble that you don’t want…especially in an Airborne unit.
At mile 29, everyone was either dead quiet or saying ridiculous things to keep their mind off of how bad they wanted it to end. I recall a younger soldier singing songs but changing the lyrics to account for how he was going to sleep for a week straight after we were done. Another was giving motivational speeches to his feet to just keep on going and he promised to baby them later.
Our Platoon Sergeant, a seasoned Special Forces Operator and Ranger-qualified senior Non-Commissioned Officer, turned as he walked and began walking backwards and yelling, “how bad do you want it?” He followed it up by saying, “if you quit now, you have to live with the knowledge that you lack heart to finish the mission… and I don’t want quitters in my Army!”
In pursuit of a goal, if you quit did you really want to accomplish it?
I remember looking up and seeing him issue the hand signal for ‘halt’, his right fist raised in the air. A signal we all repeated so that those behind us understood what was happening.
We did it.
Some people laughed. Some people threw their rucks off of their shoulders and laid on the ground. I think a few people vomited.
Typically, we would have an element formation after a training event like this. This time, however, our Platoon Sergeant looked at us, told us to listen up and said, “The next time you think about giving up, remember this. The next time you see one of your fellow paratroopers dragging ass, tell them to remember this. No one would be standing at mile 30 if they had never taken the first step at mile 1.”
No one said a word. We were exhausted… but we understood.
I know you are probably thinking, “What in the absolute hell does this have to with homesteading for achieving financial independence?”
I will ask you what I was asked many years ago: How bad do you want it?
How bad do you want to cut ties with the hustle and bustle of city life for your own homestead?
How bad do you want to raise or grow your own food?
How bad do you want to be debt free?
How bad do you want financial freedom?
How bad do you really want to meet your goal?
Along the way, you will hurt, maybe cry, or want to quit. If you are taking the journey with other people, they may drop out, throw up their hands and say, “I’m done with this!”
I’ll close with a modification of the words I heard many years ago.
No one would be homesteading or enjoying the benefit of financial independence if they had never decided to start the journey.
