Delta Force Assessment and Selection: Spending nights at base camps

Delta Force candidates who successfully complete a grueling day of marching through the mountains and swamps of West Virginia are rewarded with a night’s peace in a structured campsite with a duffel bag packed full of personalized sustaining gear. Each man is afforded a chance to pack that duffel bag before the days of evaluation begin.

Somehow the duffel always finds its way to its owner. The administration of the selection and assessment course tracks each candidate and makes sure his equipment load finds him at the end of the day no matter at which of the several camp sites he may find himself. At the end of a very long day, the personally-packed duffel is a welcome sight!

I have to mention how one candidate had two duffel bags and cut the bottoms out of them both. He then sewed the ends together and made one really long bag. He topped his creation off by adding a zipper that allowed him to access any piece of his gear without having to dig around or unpack his stuff. He was a genius in my simple mind – BRAVO!

As each man arrived at the base camp at different times he was read a list of the base camp bylaws. One of those rules prohibited group gatherings at the campfire to mingle and associate. No discussion of the day’s activities was allowed! It was enough though that we were allowed to build a fire to recover our humanity and rest.

Each candidate quietly gathered firewood to contribute to the centerpiece campfire. A few men did gather at the fire and eventually inquired how each other was doing. There was no forbidden discussion; everyone played by the rules. I was impressed. These were the type of guys I always envisioned myself working with in the military – quiet professionals.

Every night different people appeared at my base camp. It was clear that the number of guests grew smaller as candidates dropped out of the selection course.

I was in a base camp with America’s own Patrick Arther “Mac” McNamara. While we were together in selection, we had made a good friend whose name was Robert. On one particular night, Mac and I stood by the camp fire watching a cadre truck pull in.

The truck rolled up and a single soul descended from the bed of the vehicle. It was Robert. His leg was hurt so bad he was essentially hopping on his good leg. Our hearts sank, thinking that there was no way he could possibly continue with the marching that we were to endure the next day. He played the base camp role, nonetheless – a man always pressing forward toward his goal.

To our amazement, the next morning, Rob came out of his little pup tent… he was limping but nothing like the previous evening. He must have had it on good faith with the Lord and Savior, or a pact with the devil. To whomever he owed his thanks, he was fit for duty for another day in the selection course. We didn’t see him at our base camp that evening, but he could have been at any other of the mysterious number of base camps; perhaps our camp was the only one left.

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You could tell the background of the men in the selection course based on their tents.

Rangers had a separate one-man poncho tent, dressed right and covered down.

The Green Berets, on the other hand, had elaborate single-man tents of two or more ponchos. No two were the same. I had a tent with an area to cook at and a place where I kept my urine container that I used if I had to relieve myself during the night. You could say my living room flowed nicely into the kitchen and gave passage to the restroom. I lived large!

After a few days, the remaining candidates were so few – only 18 strong – as to constitute a single camp.

At zero dark thirty (0130), we were up and marching on our individual journeys 40 miles through the harsh timberlands of West Virginia with all our equipment loaded on our backs. By the time the sun came up I had already walked for many hours. The day was harsh, but the product of my efforts was priceless.

By Almighty God and with Honor,
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Feature Image: Candidates from the first ever Delta Force selection course. (U.S. Army)

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