A Quitter I Am Not
Switching up from the usual prose - I wrote this poem back in Ranger School in 2019. My mom found it a couple of days ago and sent it to me. I'm biased, but I think it might actually be my best work.
The poem is at the bottom if you just want to scroll to it, but I think some context is important.
Ranger School is a weird place.
Vaughn’s Platoon is an even weirder place.
Vaughn’s Platoon is where you end up if you get “recycled,” in the first phase of Ranger School, i.e., you don’t do well enough to get a “go,” and move forward to the second phase of Ranger School.
Vaughn’s Platoon is where I found myself in March 2019, after falling flat on my face at my first attempt at Ranger School. Most rational people expect to fail and recycle at least one phase of Ranger School. I did not. I was cocky as hell coming into this school with very high expectations for myself, and perhaps rightfully so…
I had finished IBOLC (Infantry Basic Officer Leadership Course) a few weeks before as the honor graduate in my class - the #1 Infantry Officer of 209 eligible candidates. I was full of piss and vinegar to the brim. Coming into the Army after five years of Division 1 college football, no school or test in the Army had really slowed my momentum.
Until now.
After starting Ranger School in late February, two weeks later I was hearing a Ranger Instructor tell me “Ranger, you’re a no-go at this time.”
Not only was I being recycled, I was being recycled at the worst time of year to be recycled, and this is no exaggeration - the worst time.
Normally, a recycle period is for about a week or so - just enough time for a Ranger student to dust themselves off, refresh their tactical knowledge, figure out what they did wrong, then throw themselves back into the fray.
I recycled in the only class all year that the recycle period was six weeks long.
Six weeks of complete limbo. You don’t get your phone back, of course. You don’t get the internet. You don’t get to leave the 4th Ranger Training Battalion footprint and go home, but you’re not in an active Ranger School class.
So what do they do with you? Bitch work, mostly. It’s almost like prison - again, I’m not exaggerating in the slightest - if you’ve been in Vaughn’s Platoon, you’d agree with me.
I painted the same fence for at least eight or nine different days straight. I’m not kidding. Like a normal paint job, I thought I was done after applying two coats. The Ranger Instructor responsible for me just didn’t have new ideas, and still had five weeks to kill time with me, so he had me paint it again.
And again.
And again, and again.
In Vaughn’s Platoon, there’s just more time in the day then there are things to do - even after being assigned with these manual labor tasks. The first few days of our recycle period, many of us dove into the Ranger handbook and worked to refine our tactical knowledge and address the reasons why we had each failed. But after several days of drilling in those corrections, forecasting problems we could anticipate once we classed back up, and entertaining any other possibilities we may encounter in the school… there simply wasn’t anything left to do to prepare.
Our only forms of entertainment were reading, a few board games, or writing. There was a little library with mostly ancient and tattered books that we had access to in the evenings after dinner. This was a Godsend. Any brain stimulation was so welcomed. I think I read twelve or thirteen books in the six weeks I was held here.
And… I did a lot of writing. Obviously, writing is an interest of mine. I wrote a lot of letters to my girlfriend at the time (now wife), family, and friends. Most of these letters were just streams of consciousness. Since every day in Vaughn’s Platoon was pretty much the same, there weren’t really ever any big life updates.
The one unique aspect of this chapter of my life that in a very strange way I kind of appreciate now is that there were very, very few distractions. No news, no social media, no outside influences. This fostered an environment where there was a lot of time for introspection and creativity…
Which brings us to my poem.
Without further ado, here it is,
“A Quitter I Am Not.”
“25 years have come and gone,
and with each passed I learn a bit more
of the man that I’ve been,
who I am now,
and who God has in store.
I’ve adorned many faces,
tried on several suits,
and ventured down quite a few roads.
In a young man’s attempt to “find himself,”
I’ve been lost plenty of times,
and it showed.
I’ve been less than reliable,
morally pliable,
to the bottom, and close to the top -
I’ve been many things,
but what I know for certain is
a quitter I am not.
My life’s been full of fortune,
sometimes lucky, sometimes earned
but it’s not all sunshine and rainbows it’s been said,
and I have learned.
Most all victory comes from struggle,
for most ups, there is a down.
You have to fight to keep your head up in life’s waters,
or you may drown.
The path from “start,” to what’s desired is seldom a straight shot…
so when the going’s tough, remind yourself that
a quitter I am not.
You are bound to stumble, fall short, and fail
but don’t ever stay long in this spot…
dust yourself off, press on, and recall, that
a quitter I am not.
With much life left ahead, there will surely be trials
countless pitfalls that I’ve given no thought…
but I know I’ll defeat them and keep driving on, for
A quitter I am not!
Shit, man, that gives me chills still today. Reading it brings me right back to that moment in time, when that mentality was so present for me - “you can bend me, but I’m not gonna break.”
I had forgotten about writing it until just a few days ago, my mom sent it to me.
As an everyday, normal civilian now - I don’t face much adversity in my day to day life unless I invite it on myself by way of ultra running, jiu jitsu, or something else. Objectively, it’s a good place to be - but you don’t get these epiphanies and moments of clarity to write poetry like this without those times of struggle and hardship.
In hindsight, I’m grateful for my experience in Vaughn’s Platoon, and Ranger School. It obviously sucked ass, but it taught me a lot about myself, and I grew as a person tremendously.
For those wondering, yes, I ultimately ended up graduating in class 06-19, 118 days after I started in the school.
Thank you for reading.
This was a good one - if not for you, it at least was for me.
I’ve been forgetting to add this, too, but I’m also on Instagram as @writtenby_reid if you want to follow along with the blog there and get updates on when I write.
Until next time,
Reid