Das Mixture: Bataan Death March

Good tidings to all Netizens. This is a long post, hence it is broken up into sections. Feel free to peruse only the sections you wish.

Roll Call - Two Generations

David (USN)

Glenn Dunston (Grandfather, Deceased) - USMC
James Dykas (Father, Living) - USMC
Darlyne Dunston (Mother, Living) - USMC
Morris Dunston (Uncle, Deceased)- USMC
Dennis O'Shea (Uncle, Living) - USMC
Raymond Dunston (Uncle, Living) - USMC
Dennis Dykas (Uncle, Deceased) - USMC
William Christie (Uncle, Living) - US Army
Lynda Hunter (Aunt, Living) - USMC
Michael Dunston (Uncle, Living) - USMC

Jaclyn

James Gilbert (Grandfather, Living) - US Army
Rex Platt (Grandfather, Deceased) - USN
Jack Gilbert (Father, Living) - USAF
James Gilbert (Uncle, Living) - US Army
Oliver Juntunen (Uncle, Living) US Army
Joe Gilbert (Uncle, Living) US Army
Jay Gilbert (Uncle, Living) USAF
Jerry Gilbert (Uncle, Living) USCG
Frances Platt (Aunt, Living) USN
Bufard Banks (Uncle, Deceased) USN

This list will be updated shortly

Pre-Bataan Memorial March

The mountains rose up behind the ceremony, black, inked against a dark blue canvas that still hid the approaching morning.The temperature was cold. Yet for those in attendance, the chill came as the names of those who had been part of Bataan sixty odd years ago and had passed on in the last year were read. A moment made more somber because seconds before three survivors were able to answer roll call on their own. A shiver down your spine as "Taps" is played in honor of those who have left us.

The Ceremony that kicks off the Bataan Memorial Death March, a 26.2 mile marathon through the desert and mountains of White Sands, New Mexico, is unlike any other marathon. It is unique in its silence. For runners, marchers, volunteers and spectators alike, the ears are open and the murmur that normally accompanies pre-race lectures does not exist. The only noise, other than the words spoken by the speaker, are the doors of the nearby port-a-johns. Silence, but for the call of nature.

"The bombs bursting in air" led to half the crowd jumping as a cannon fired into the darkness. A moment of chaos before calm returned as the National Anthem continued on. We were called upon to remember our fathers. And also to remember this generation's sons and daughters who are once again fighting for our freedom. And unfortunately those, who like many in generations before us, have given their lives for the country they were proud to fight for.

As I stood listening to names of those who have passed on, I could not help but notice how diverse our military was back during World War Two. You certainly don't see this in the old black and white movies. I am more aware now than ever before that Blacks, Latinos, Filipinos and others all played an important role in preserving this country's freedom and helping put an end to a war that spanned across the globe.

The Bataan Death March

As dawn began to break across the eastern sky, the sound of cannon fire signaled the start of the Bataan Death March. Still dark, Felix, Sylvia, Robert, Jaclyn and I moved across the timing mats. But our race was not ready to start just yet. We each had the opportunity to shake the hand of the three survivors who had been able to make it out to White Sands for this event.

These veterans are called "Coyotes" and you shake their hand, you don't squeeze it. It was an honor for me to be able to thank someone for what they gave up and suffered through for the country I live in today.

And then we were off, Felix with Flag in hand and GI Joe in tow. The first part of the course is on the roads of White Sands Missile Base. I thought that Felix might have a crick in his neck as he was continually shaking his head. But this was not the case. The catch phrase during each of those moments was "We'll catch them later on." He was referring to the kids and other groups who were going out far too fast for this type of course. I was to learn later in the run that Felix is an "orator." Apparently he is also psychotic. I mean "psychic," as his vision would hold true on most occasions.

Just after Mile 2 and a bio break, the five of us were on a dirt road. We would not see pavement for another six miles. Keeping in mind that we are out in the desert, the road is not so much dirt as it is sand. Relatively hard packed, but very loose at the top. The sand is very coarse and pebbles are searching for a way to get into your shoes.

Jaclyn, Sylvia, Robert and Felix early on

In some spots, it was necessary to shuffle across the sand. Just for a few yards or so. Of course, this was a harbinger of things to come. Just after Mile Six, another bio break for some of us. Felix went on ahead as the rest of us stood in line. Jaclyn had the misfortune of choosing the wrong line and rather than leave her behind, I sent Sylvia and Robert off to catch Felix.

Misfortune seemed to be Jaclyn's mistress as she emerged feeling not so good with stomach issues. However, we forged ahead and I stayed by her side until we reached the turning point for those doing the Honorary March (14 Miles). Jaclyn took the turn to the left and I went right to catch up with Felix, Sylvia and Robert.

The good news was that I was back on pavement. Jaclyn was also back on pavement, but her time on the blacktop would be short lived and she would be entering the "featured" Sand Pit relatively quickly. More on that later.

I was able to stretch my legs as I pursued the rest of my team and caught them just before we started up the mountain. Yes friends, the mountain.

The mountain starts simple enough. A paved road that keeps reaching up and up and up, without a break. The only time you get a break is at the water stop. This is where the course starts to take it's toll. If you haven't noticed the elevation yet, you will now. The going was slow as Felix wanted to conserve for the second half. No argument from any of us.

It was just after we started up the mountain that the group of kids caught us. Just after Mile Six, when Jaclyn and I were running together, I had overheard one of them say, "we gotta catch the guy with the flag." Once Jaclyn and I split up, I easily overtook them, but they were back as we made our way up the mountain. I think they were all part of the same high school cross-country team. Regardless, they let us know that their goal was to stay with the "flag guy." Two miles later they were out of sight, not to be seen again. A lofty goal to be sure. But they just weren't ready for Bataan.

At the next water stop you catch a break because it is somewhat flat. Of course, you are also leaving the road and running on a sand covered trail. You realize it is not much of a break. The sand is much looser and deeper as you continue your way up the mountain.

At this point, the others had gone ahead of me as I was working on my shoe. It just did not feel right and a bruise was starting to form up near the big toe. As I re-laced my shoe, I talked to a young medic by the name of Kevin Winfield. Originally from Chicago, he had done time in Iraq. He did not know if he would have to go back, but there was a chance. What I noticed the most during our conversation was how soft spoken and respectful this young black military man was. A striking contrast from what we see on the TV and glamorized in the hip-hop lifestyle of today.

Shoe intact, I set out again to catch my com-padres. No stretching of the legs this time as the sandy conditions hampered my pace. Luckily, the group had decided an extended walk break was in order. Good thing too as the next part of the course is meant for four-wheel drive vehicles or cowboys on horseback. Quick drops and rises; more rises than drops as you are still climbing.

Just after the halfway point, you reach the seventh water stop of the run. This was the stop that Felix, Sylvia and Robert were looking forward to. Sure, you are technically at the peak elevation you will reach during the run, but it was also the all-important "hot dog" stop. Personally, I just cannot stomach solid foods of any kind on a long run. But, the others sure can. In fact, Robert not only ate two hot dogs, but ran off with a bag of Cheeto's. Consequently, it would be Sylvia who would con Robert out of his Cheeto's and demolish the bag a few miles later.

Apparently hot dogs are the fuel that makes Felix go as he rattled off a 7:49 mile (Mile 14 to Mile 15) with the rest of us in tow. Sure this was the beginning of the down hill, but it felt good to run fast and allow the legs to stretch out.

The speed was short-lived as the ever popular Felix spent extra time at the next rest stop talking to veterans and having his picture taken. The downhill portion of the course isn't necessarily treacherous, but there are points where it dips down and dives back up rather quickly and steeply. Add in rocks of various sizes and more sand and it is really starting to take a toll on your feet. Unfortunately, you also have another climb before you officially can get off the mountain.

We are also to the point where Sylvia is encouraging and motivating Felix to move on. Felix takes about fifteen minutes of this before he starts complaining his ears are hurting.

Finally we came back to the paved road that would take us off the mountain. This was good news for us, but not so for others. I say that because there were still people going up the mountain. In four plus hours, some folks had not yet made it ten miles. This is why it is called a "march." There is also a water stop and another opportunity for Felix to talk with veterans and have his picture taken.

Before I go on, I don't want readers to think that this was all about Felix. Sylvia, Robert and I were also taking time to talk to various marchers along the route. Sometimes we would walk with them and talk before catching up with our team. Other times we would run ahead and walk with a soldier until the team caught up.

It was great to be on pavement again. However, the sun was high in the sky and the ground was heating up. As a team, we made our way down off the mountain. Highlights included a trip through the mister and Sylvia and I trying to motivate the group by singing "Hooked on a Feeling." This merely prompted Felix to ask if he could quit. No more singing...

Once off the mountain, you continue on a nice stretch of pavement through Mile 21 and then it is time for the featured Sand Pit. Interesting fact: they actually bring in extra sand for the Sand Pit and other areas on the course. Fun...

The Sand Pit is likely the slowest part of the course. You don't get to run through it. You walk, shuffle, trudge, maybe even trot. But you do not run. In fact, the conversation is basically about how much the Sand Pit sucks. And it sucks for an entire mile. We really could have used the rain gods to let loose and firm up the sand a little. Not to be. Just a breeze that did not do much but enable the sand to blow around and stick to your body where you were perspiring. Everyone dumps their shoes after the Sand Pit.

From there it is a hilly, dusty road to the finish. We were getting there. As we were reaching the Sand Pit, we ran into a young man by the name of Ben. Ben's dad was running in the military heavy division (35 pound packs) and had finished second, three years running. Ben's only goal was to finish in front of his friends. And you never know why, but he became our project. An eighth grade runner (mile and mile and a half) Ben had done a 20 mile walk, but probably not enough long runs. But here he was, giving it all to make his dad proud (and finish before his friends). Individually we all encouraged and motivated him at different times. But it was Robert who really took Ben under his wing and kept him going. Just over a mile out, Ben left us for two acquaintances (not the friends from school) and was able to get to the finish line.

As you progress through the last several miles, the sun is beating you up and the dust is choking you. Dirt covers your pores and you are nothing but a sticky mess. Few runners/marchers are ahead and many have been left behind. I help a soldier out with some of his equipment and we walk for a moment, talking, before he runs off. He thinks he can get a six hour chip time and I wish him godspeed.

The last mile or so is done around the outskirts of the base. In fact, the last mile seems to go on forever. And after 26.2 miles we came in how we started: together, Jaclyn cheering us with a couple hundred other folks.

There was one last opportunity to shake the hand of a survivor, which I gladly took and also shook hands with the base commander. Then we turned around and waited for Ben to come in, cheering wildly for him as he approached the finish line.

Bataan Thoughts and Memories

This is the first time I have run with a group in an organized long distance event from start to finish. I have run with Jaclyn for a marathon and two half marathons and I have run pieces of races with different folks, but never with a group. It is an interesting dynamic as we all end up supporting each other and leaning on each other during different points in the race. But what really set's it apart is the commraderie. The fact that through the struggle we can joke, tell stories and pretty much anything else other than sing "Hooked on a Feeling." It's funny how two-thirds through the race we were already talking about putting a team together for "next year."

I wish I could remember the names of all the soldiers I talked to. I talked to more people during this run than any other - even when coaching training runs. It was amazing how each one was happy to talk to you, even if just for a few minutes. It is also relevant to note that each soldier I thanked for upholding our freedom and our principles was not only modest, but showed the utmost gratitute that you not only cared, but recognized their contribution.

There were a number of amputees doing this march. This event is amazing in that soldiers, who have been injured in the line of duty; who have lost their limbs; who have every reason to turn their back; feel priviliged to march in honor of those who came and sacrificed before them. The course was to be shut down at 7:00 PM (that's a 12.5 hour time limit) with the exception of one runner - a double amputee.

Obviously there are many servicemen doing this march. And each one of them is in full camo uniform. Including the boots. Some, those in the "heavy" division, are doing the entire course with 35 pound packs on their back. You have got to respect each and every one of them for making the effort. At every water stop, there were at least a dozen military marchers working on their feet or their shoes. God bless each one.

Robert reported that the average drop out rate for this march is 25%. That seems high until you consider how many people took up this challenge not because it was a marathon, but because they felt the need to honor our military heroes, whether they be fallen, fighting or retired.

On Saturday night, Jaclyn and I went in search for food. We had started down a road which was not looking very promising, however when I decided to turn around, we spotted an Italian restaurant and quickly made the choice to stop there. Five minutes later Sylvia, Felix and Robert show up. Dinner for two, became dinner for five.

Jaclyn probably had the funniest experience on the course. While trudging through the Sand Pit, she looked down and noticed her running pants were not covering her shoes. She bent to fix them and realized they had "shrunk" as her ankles were exposed. "How did this happen?" she wondered to herself. Could the desert have done this? Was it a mirage? Neither. She had forgotten she chose to wear capris instead...

After the run I spent some time down by our hotel pool, soaking the feet. I met five National Guardsmen who had done the march (civilian division for some reason). For each of them it was their first marathon and they had done it as a group in 5:35:00 or thereabouts. When I explained they could probably take anywhere from 45 - 60 minutes off their time by choosing a "regular" marathon, they were somewhat aghast.

I am not sure what our "official" time was. I think I spotted 6:21:00 on the clock as we passed the finish line, but time was not of any consequence. Who knows how much time we spent "visiting" at the various rest stops and the "hot dog" stop. In essence, that is part of the experience of Bataan. The people we met are no longer faceless names, but living, breathing, human American Soldiers - Thanks guys (and girls).

Physically, except for a large bruise on my foot, I am in good shape. We took it easy and ran smart. It is definitely tough during the run. But since the course isn't 26.2 miles of cement, if you run the uphills and downhills smartly, it is a bit forgiving. Oh yeah, Jaclyn and I are brurned in a few spots. The desert doesn't care about sunscreen. Elevation was a bit of a problem, but the slower pace helped us overcome it.

You can find pictures here.