未進彈！Off target!

Mk. 2 grenade (Image: Wikimedia Commons)

"SIR! New Recruit 030 reporting at the grenade range for my first grenade training exercise, SIR!"

(「報告長官，新兵030於手榴彈投擲場進行第一次投擲！」)

I stood at the staring point of a short runway of about 10 meters in full combat gear, staring down what looked like a typical long jump course, a dummy Mark 2 grenade clutched in my right hand. Typical except for the fact that instead of a sandpit, the track terminated with a thick white line drawn on the ground, beyond which was were two straight lines radiating outwards. Various lines at 20, 25, 30, and 40 meters were marked beyond. Two drill sergeants sat behind a folding desk placed at the thick white line.

I charged forwards suppressing a wild yell.

"Damn, that white line line is coming up fast" I thought.

"Remember", I recalled my drill sergeant saying before the exercise, "a hand grenade is much heavier than a baseball. DO NOT THROW IT LIKE A BASEBALL! We once had a new recruit who tried to do that and we still remember the sound of his elbow fracturing as he hurled..."

Bearing this in mind, I tried to hurl my dummy grenade as gingerly as I could overhand, fearful of the crack from my humerus splitting into a million pieces.

The grenade went sailing over the white line.

Oh yeah, I'm supposed to hit the ground now, right?

I dropped to the dirt with my head propped up between my two elbows.

"Off target!" (「未進彈！」), the sergeant observing the entire fiasco yelled through his bullhorn, as my grenade landed about 15 meters from the white line where I was sprawled on the ground. Well within the blast radius of about 25 meters.

"Twenty pushups, then to the disqualified group!", our company CO yelled, from where he was observing the entire spectacle off to the side.

Hand grenade hurling is one of those tests that every new recruit is tested on at the end of basic training. To qualify, you must successfully hurl a dummy hand grenade at least 25 meters from a running start, and have it land between two gradually radiating lines that at the most, are about a meter wide.

This is also the test that most new recruits fail. I took my place in the group of failures. A drill sergeant glared at us.

"Alright, line up here and try to go through the moves of grenade hurling from this line when I order you to."

Lined up with a dozen other new recruits, I stood at the starting line facing a foam mat about 30 meters away that marked the finish line.

"GO!"

I charged forwards as fast as a I could. Here comes the line... I twisted and hurled, before dropping on the mat.

The sergeant stood over me, shaking his head.

"You are completely uncoordinated. You've got the power, but not the control. Go do the Mario dance until I tell you to stop."

I proceeded to run back and forth in front of the company twisting my hips, and jumping around with my fists in the air, as if I was doing some weird hybrid of the salsa dance while stomping pixelated turtles.

This was supposed to promote coordination.

Another colleague of mine, a big guy, who had been a drum player in an indie rock band before being drafted did an impressive approximation of an Olympics discus thrower... only to have the dummy grenade fall about 5 meters in front of him.

"What the hell was that? From now on you throw underhanded!" 

After the rest of the company had their first round, we tried a second round at the grenade range.

"SIR! New Recruit 030 reporting at the grenade range for my second grenade training exercise, SIR!"

(「報告長官，新兵030於手榴彈投擲場進行第二次投擲！」)

 Okay, run... twist your hips, here comes the line, THROW!!!

"GAHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!"

I threw the grenade like I was trying to make a pass from center field to home plate. Drill Sergeant warnings be dammed.

I hit the dirt. Again. And waited for the observing sergeant's assessment.


My grenade landed about 30 meters away, about 10 meters to the left of the two designed lines

"OUT OF BOUNDS!"

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU? THE SERGEANT MAJOR CAN HURL 40 METERS AND SHE'S A GIRL!"

Walking back to the disqualified line, we subjected ourselves to our CO's latest improvement scheme... flinging dumbbells over our shoulders.

("AND KEEP AT IT", he yelled through his megaphone, after yet another morning at the grenade range)

My indie band friend warmed up for his second try, taking off down the track like an Olympic sprinter on fire, swinging his arm so fast I could have sworn it would have been dislocated on lesser men...

"ARRRRGGGGGHHHHHHH!!!!"

He flung the grenade mightily. We all stared downrange expecting to see company records broken....

"HEADS UP!!!", the spotter yelled.

We all ducked instinctively. The grenade fell about 20 meters behind where he had released it.

"GODDAMNIT! MY NCO'S ARE IDIOTS!", our CO yelled, bringing his foot down so hard on the plastic milk crate he was resting it on that it buckled. The rest of us were treated to the spectacle of the CO trying to kick off the milk crate now attached to his leg, while utilizing vocabulary not approved by the Ministry of National Defense.