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“I will raise my eyes to the mountains; from where will my help come? My help comes from the Lord, who made heaven and earth. He will not allow your foot to slip; He who watches over you will not slumber.”
Psalm 121:1-3
High Highs & Low Lows
The crunch of boots against frozen earth echoed through the pre-dawn darkness as Wade’s team executed their airfield seizure. His breath formed small clouds in the bitter mountain air, a stark reminder of the challenges that lay ahead. The operation had gone smoothly – too smoothly, he thought, exchanging knowing glances with Metro. In Ranger School, easy beginnings often heralded the harshest trials.
The austere beauty of Camp Frank D. Merrill stretched before them, dwarfed by the looming heights of the Georgia mountains. Wade’s boots crunched through a carpet of fallen leaves and pine needles as he and Metro made their way to the assembly area on Mosby. An unusual stillness had settled over the gathered Rangers, the typical chaos of training replaced by an anticipatory quiet that seemed to pulse with its own energy.
The approach of the Ranger Instructors drew every eye. Their weathered faces told stories of countless seasons spent in these unforgiving mountaintops. The lead RI stepped forward, and Wade braced himself for the familiar bark of command. Instead, the instructor’s voice carried across the formation with an almost contemplative tone.
“Welcome to the mountain phase, Rangers.” His words held none of the typical drill instructor fury. “We do things differently here. We don’t need to smoke you – the mountains and weather will extract their pound of flesh for us.” He gestured toward a cluster of crude wooden structures. “Those are your quarters. Basic, but you’ll be begging for them when you hit the TVD. Each hut has a pot-belly stove. Master it, or the cold will be unforgiving.”
As the company dispersed, Wade’s heart nearly stopped. There, framed in a hut doorway, stood a ghost from his past – Jay, his friend who had recycled the mountain phase. Joy and concern warred in Wade’s chest at the sight of his friend’s familiar face.
“Jay!” The name escaped before Wade could stop himself. He quickly corrected, “I mean, Ranger Owens!” The slip felt like sandpaper on his tongue. Security protocols demanded they maintain their cover identities, even here.
Jay’s eyes widened in recognition. “Wade? I mean… Ranger Smith!” They both froze, acutely aware of their mistake.
Metro’s gaze darted between them, his expression a mixture of curiosity and suspicion. Wade could almost hear the gears turning in Metro’s head, filing away this interaction for future reference.
Inside the hut, Wade found himself surrounded by history written in permanent ink. Every surface bore the marks of Rangers who had come before – names, units, and dates scrawled wherever space allowed. His fingers traced over the faded writing:
Ranger Dugway, 1/75, 2-2358, “The Frozen Chosen”
Ranger Hathaway, 4/75, 6-2304, “Death from Above”
Ranger Huong, 3/75, “Pain is just weakness leaving the body.”
Even markings from before the Military Consolidation Act of 2362 remained, like whispers from the past:
Ranger Wood, 2/75, 9-2279, “The Last Hard Class”
The weight of tradition pressed down on Wade’s shoulders as he stowed his gear. These walls held decades of triumph and failure, of dreams realized and shattered. Metro appeared equally affected, his usual sharp wit temporarily silenced by the gravity of their surroundings.
An RI’s shadow darkened the doorway. “Listen up, Rangers.” His voice carried the weight of experience. “The next five days will test you in ways you can’t imagine. It’s not just about endurance anymore – it’s about mastering the climb. You’ll learn basic mountaineering skills here at Camp Merrill, then it’s on to Mount Yonah for advanced climbing techniques.” A grim smile crossed his weathered face. “Remember this: it’s not the fall that’s going to kill you. It’s that sudden stop at the bottom. We call it rock poisoning.”
As the RI’s footsteps faded, Metro turned to Wade, his eyes narrowing. “So, Smith,” he said, emphasizing the last name with subtle emphasis. “Looks like you’ve got a friend here. Care to share how you two know each other so well?”
Wade’s mind raced through possible responses, weighing the delicate balance between trust and operational security. The bond between Ranger candidates was sacred, but so were the protocols that kept them safe. He opted for a partial truth, letting sincerity color his voice. “We served together briefly before Ranger School. Didn’t expect to see him here.”
Metro nodded slowly, his expression suggesting he knew there was more to the story but was willing to let it rest – for now. Outside their window, the mountains loomed silent and indifferent, their creasts disappearing into the gathering clouds of late fall.
Mountaineering
The next morning dawned crisp and clear, sunlight filtering through the pines as Wade and his fellow Rangers gathered for their first day of mountaineering training. The instructors wasted no time with pleasantries, diving straight into the complexities of knot tying and rope bridge construction. Sleep-deprived fingers fumbled with unfamiliar patterns, the importance of each knot emphasized by the instructors’ stern reminders of what failure could cost.
“Recon for Jaws!” The unexpected command cut through the morning air. Confusion rippled through the group until understanding dawned – they were about to become intimately acquainted with the icy stream that cut through the lower mountaineering area. The shock of submersion sent electricity through Wade’s nerves, chasing away any lingering fatigue with brutal efficiency.
Shivering and alert, they faced their next challenge – the 60-foot cliff that would serve as their introduction to rappelling. Wade’s prosthetic hand gripped the rope as he approached the edge, the instructor’s earlier warning echoing in his mind: “It’s not the fall that’ll kill you, it’s the sudden stop at the bottom.”
The first lean back into empty space set his heart racing, trust in equipment and training warring with instinct. The Australian rappel came next, forcing them to face the ground as they descended – a technique that demanded not just skill but the courage to embrace the counter-intuitive. Wade found himself grinning despite the challenge, adrenaline singing through his veins as he mastered each new technique.
The buddy evacuation rappel proved the most demanding challenge yet – both physically and mentally. Wade found himself harnessed to Metro’s back, the combined weight of their bodies and gear straining against the rope as they descended awkwardly down the cliff face. Every movement required precise coordination; a single misstep could send them both spinning out of control.
Mount Yonah brought new challenges and moments of transcendent beauty. The 120-foot night rappel under a full moon transformed the ordinary into something almost mystical. Wade hung suspended between earth and sky, the moonlight painting the Georgia mountains in shades of silver and shadow. The rope hummed softly through his hands as he controlled his descent, each breath visible in the cold mountain air. For a brief moment, the weight of his mission, his false identity, and even his separation from Kristin seemed to fall away, leaving only the pure focus of the present moment.
The primitive nature of their climbing gear added an extra edge to every evolution. Modern safety systems had been deliberately excluded from the training, forcing them to rely on basic equipment and technique. When a Marine from another squad suffered severe “rock rash” after his belay man failed to check his descent quickly enough, the harsh scraping sound and his cry of pain served as a visceral reminder of the consequences of complacency.
On their final night at Mount Yonah, the Ranger Chaplain held a service that offered a welcome respite from the physical demands of training. The chaplain’s voice carried across the gathering of exhausted Rangers, his words finding purchase in their weary spirits as he shared the story of the paralytic and his four faithful friends.
“Now, these guys,” the chaplain began, a hint of humor in his voice, “they weren’t afraid of a little property damage to accomplish the mission – tearing through that roof to get their friend to Jesus!” The tired Rangers chuckled, finding familiar echoes of their own determination in the ancient tale.
The chaplain’s expression grew more thoughtful. “But here’s what really strikes me about this story, Rangers. Before Jesus dealt with the man’s obvious physical need, He addressed something deeper – his spiritual condition. As you push your bodies to the limit here, don’t neglect what’s happening in your spirits.”
Wade found his eyes drawn to Jay during the service, remembering their shared experiences aboard the Skravak ship. They had seen horrors that would haunt them forever, yet here they were, still pushing forward, still fighting. The chaplain’s words about spiritual healing resonated deeply with Wade’s own journey over the past two years.
The next morning brought a sharp wind and the knowledge that their time at Mount Yonah was ending. As the Rangers broke camp and prepared for their descent, Wade, Jay, and Metro exchanged fist bumps – a gesture that carried more weight than words could express. Their shared experiences had forged a bond that transcended their cover identities, even if they couldn’t speak of it openly.
The Back Story
The terrain model took shape under Wade and Jay’s careful hands, a miniature representation of Hawk Mountain emerging from carefully placed rocks and twigs. The task offered a rare opportunity for conversation, though both men kept their voices low and their eyes on their work.
“Still can’t believe what happened at New Quantico,” Wade murmured, his prosthetic hand placing a small marker with precise care. “Feels like a lifetime ago, but it’s only been a few weeks.”
Jay nodded, his focus seemingly on the model but his mind clearly elsewhere. “I heard about it while I was still en route to Ranger School. Security team boarded our transport after refueling on Mars. Next thing I know, I’m ‘Frederick Owens,’ newly promoted sergeant, continuing on my way here.” He paused, adding quietly, “They said I’d get further instructions after graduation… if I graduate.”
Wade looked up from the terrain model, studying his friend’s face. “What do you mean, ‘if’? You seem different this time around – stronger, more focused.”
Jay’s hands stilled over the model. “I failed two patrols in my last class,” he admitted, his voice carrying the weight of past disappointment. “That’s why they recycled me in the mountain phase. I was trying too hard to be everyone’s friend, to be the nice guy. My fellow Rangers didn’t respond to that approach, and I paid the price for it.”
“Sounds rough,” Wade said softly, understanding flooding his features. “Leadership isn’t always about being liked.”
“That’s exactly it.” Jay’s fingers traced the contours of their miniature mountain. “I’ve been wrestling with this tension between being a Christian and being a warrior-leader. How do you love your neighbor while pushing them beyond their limits? How do you balance compassion with the aggression this job demands?”
Wade considered this, remembering the chaos of New Quantico. “Sometimes the most loving thing you can do is push people to be their best,” he offered. “Even when they hate you for it in the moment.”
Their conversation was interrupted by Metro’s approach. His footsteps faltered as he neared the model, his eyes widening with sudden recognition. “Wait a minute… I know who you are,” he breathed, glancing between Wade and Jay. “You’re two of the Marines who broke open the Skravak conspiracy!”
The air seemed to freeze between them. Wade straightened slowly, his posture shifting almost imperceptibly into a more guarded stance. “That’s right,” he confirmed quietly. “But we’d appreciate it if you could keep that information to yourself, Metro.”
Metro nodded eagerly, though his excitement was visible. “Of course, of course. But… the news feeds were buzzing about what you did for weeks! The infiltration, the rescued prisoners…”
“The feeds don’t tell the whole story,” Jay cut in, his voice carrying an edge that made Metro’s enthusiasm fade. “What we saw on that ship…” He shuddered, memories flickering behind his eyes.
“We found hundreds of humans in stasis,” Wade explained, his voice barely above a whisper. “Men, women, children… all being kept as food. The stench of that place, the darkness…” He shook his head, unable to continue.
Metro’s face had lost its color. “I knew it was bad, but… I had no idea.”
“That’s why what we’re doing here matters so much,” Wade said, gesturing to the terrain model. “We need every edge we can get to end this war. And that’s why our involvement needs to stay quiet. We can’t afford any distractions.”
Metro straightened, newfound respect evident in his bearing. “You have my word. But… thank you. For what you did, and what you’re still doing.”
The conversation shifted back to the mission at hand, but something had changed between the three Rangers. A deeper understanding had been forged, rooted in shared purpose and mutual respect.
As they finished the terrain model, Ranger Metropax gathered the section for the operations order. The raid on the observation post atop Hawk Mountain would be their first test as a unit. Weather reports warned of an incoming storm system, adding another layer of complexity to an already challenging mission.
“This is going to be a hard one to start with,” Metro addressed the patrol, his voice steady despite the gravity of the task ahead. “But I’m confident if we all do our job and stay motivated, we’ll succeed. We move out at 1800 hours. Hit time is 02.”
The Ascent
Dusk painted the mountains in deepening shades of purple as the Rangers assembled for movement. The bank of dark clouds rolling in from the west promised more than just rain – it carried the threat of a mountain storm that could turn their already challenging mission into a battle for survival.
Wade adjusted his ruck one final time, the weight settling against his shoulders like an old enemy. His arm ached where the prosthetic hand met flesh, the cold already seeping into the connection point. He pushed the discomfort aside, focusing instead on the mission ahead. Beside him, Jay moved with a newfound confidence that spoke of lessons learned through failure and redemption.
The silence of their initial movement was broken only by the soft crunch of boots on rocky ground and the occasional muted clink of equipment. As they began their ascent of the Tennessee Valley Divide (TVD), the first scattered raindrops struck their faces – harbingers of the misery to come.
Within an hour, the weather transformed their world into a cold, wet torture. The rain, driven by gusting winds, seemed to find every gap in their wet weather gear. The steep terrain became treacherous, each step requiring careful placement to avoid a potentially fatal slip. What had started as a tactical movement was rapidly becoming a test of raw endurance and will.
Wade found his thoughts turning to Kristin as he pushed through the pain. The ache in his shoulder had become a constant companion, intensifying with every step. The cold seemed to have a particular hatred for his prosthetic, the connection point feeling like ice against his flesh. Yet in this struggle, he found a strange comfort – every step up this mountain was a step toward proving himself worthy of the sacrifice she had unknowingly made.
Jay moved through the darkness with purpose, his movements exhibiting none of the hesitation that had marked his previous attempt at the mountain phase. His voice, when he spoke to check on his team members, carried the quiet authority of someone who had finally found the balance between leadership and compassion.
Metro called a halt as they reached what felt like the halfway point, though in the darkness and driving sleet, distance had become an abstract concept. The Rangers huddled against the mountainside, checking maps and trying to conserve what little warmth remained in their bodies. The Ranger Instructors stood like sentinels in the storm, their stoic endurance a silent challenge to the struggling students.
The sleet intensified, the icy particles stinging exposed skin like tiny needles. Wade watched his breath form ghost-like clouds in the beam of his red-lens flashlight as he checked his map. The op-order replaying in his head, its words burned into his memory: raid, capture, report. Simple objectives made desperately complicated by terrain and weather.
Pressing On
The final days of mountain phase tested them in ways none had expected. The weather never improved, seeming instead to find new ways to make them miserable. Sleep deprivation played tricks with their minds – shadows became enemy patrols, rocks transformed into living creatures, and sometimes took on the eerie shapes of the Skravaks themselves. Yet through it all, Wade, Jay, and Metro found strength in their shared struggle and unwavering faith.
Their bodies shed weight at an alarming rate, uniforms hanging loose where they had once been tight. The constant physical exertion combined with minimal food created a hunger that became another test of will. Yet somehow, the hardship forged stronger bonds between them. They learned to read each other’s needs without words, to offer support before it was requested.
When word finally came of their successful completion of the mountain phase, the three Rangers shared a moment of quiet triumph. There was no energy for celebration – their bodies and minds were too depleted for anything more than grateful acknowledgment. They had survived the mountains, but they all knew that another challenge awaited them in the swamps to the south.
As they prepared for movement to the Florida phase, Wade caught Jay’s eye across the assembly area. They shared a look that contained volumes – pride in their accomplishment, recognition of how far they’d come, and determination for what lay ahead. Metro joined them, and no words were needed as they gathered their gear. They had conquered the mountains together, and the swamps, however daunting, would face the same unified front.
The mountains had changed them, stripping away pretense and revealing the core of who they were as Rangers and as men. As their transport arrived to carry them south, Wade took one last look at the Georgia mountaintops. They had entered the mountain phase as individuals seeking to prove themselves. They would leave it as brothers, forged in the crucible of cold, wet, and endless vertical challenges.
The swamps awaited, bringing their own unique brand of misery. But for now, they had earned the right to move to the next phase, and that knowledge would carry them through whatever hardship lay ahead.
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ToBeLikeJesus 