In close-quarters combat, it's called "the fatal funnel."
As the point man, you're about to kick in the door and go straight through it. But you'll have to be swift. Get stopped in the doorway and you could find out the hard way how the fatal funnel got its name. Weapon at the ready, body armor in tow and adrenaline saturating your veins, you breach. Just then, blinding chaos ensues. Behind you, a grenade detonates, knocking you off your feet and into the 8x10-foot room, separating you from your three fellow soldiers. Smoke fills the air. You hear your team taking on small-arms fire outside and instinctively spring to your feet and check your M4 rifle. Suddenly, an enemy emerges from the darkness of a corner in the room, his footsteps through the splintered door fragments and broken glass — barely audible over the ringing in your ears — serving as your only warning. Screaming and wielding a knife, he grabs at your weapon. You're now in a fight for your life. What do you do? Though CNN might lead you to believe that wars in the 21st century are won and lost with Predator drones and surgical missile strikes, situations like the one described above are far more common than you might think. And it's here, on the predawn, humid grounds of Georgia's Fort Benning at Army Combatives School, where many of those battles are decided — not only by churning out soldiers who are tactically superior, but also by inspiring and cultivating a warrior ethos that has redefined what it means to be "Army Strong."
0600 INSTRUCTOR PT
The drive into Fort Benning — situated on the Georgia-Alabama border — is dark and peaceful at 0545, Army speak for 5:45 a.m. Banks of tall trees, barely visible against the early morning sky, frame the road leading into the base, which was established in 1918. Soldier barracks and base housing windows stand quiet, shades drawn. By all appearances, Fort Benning still slumbers. But as M&F photographer Ian Spanier and I approach Army Combatives School (ACS), it's clear that someone's awake.
Soldiers walk casually in and out of the old mat-lined hangar that has been home to the program since its inception in 2002. The uniformed students begin warming up inside, partnering up in twos and starting the basic grappling drills that form the backbone of the program taught here. Minutes later, the instructors start heading out to the lawn adjacent to the hangar — carrying ropes, tires, sleds, medicine balls and weight plates — and in an instant, the morning calm is shattered.
It looks more like a strongman summit than traditional morning PT (physical training). Staff Sgt. Damien Stelly, a 6', 205-pound soldier with four deployments to Afghanistan under his belt, attacks a 450-pound tire lying on its side, bending into a deep squat and grabbing it with an underhand grip. In one smooth motion, he uses his legs and back to lift the tire to his waist before quickly and carefully turning his hands and pressing the tire up and over until it crashes back to the earth with a deep, chest-rattling thud. Three flips in each direction and ACS instructor PT is officially open for business.
Off to the side, Staff Sgt. Chris Camphouse is using a 30-pound sledgehammer to whale away violently with a steady cadence at another oversized tire. Master Sgt. Lewis Fletcher, who at 6'4" and 270 pounds looks more like a middle linebacker than a typical soldier, power-cleans a 100-pound medicine ball from the ground, pauses briefly and tosses it over his head, walking forward a step to allow the ball to slam to the dewey earth behind him. Then he picks it up and does it again.
Staff Sgt. Aaron Cooper, meanwhile, is running 25-yard sprints — with a 75-pound sled dragging behind him. This draining circuit, which also includes two other power-building exercises, mercifully terminates after everyone has spent a minute with each primitive implement. After a full minute of rest, the action starts anew.
As the sun breaks the horizon, the base slowly comes to life. Fresh-faced, flag-toting recruits jog past ACS in formation every few minutes, and traffic steadily increases. The instructors of ACS, on the other hand, have already been working for close to an hour. The punishing strength circuit is a daily routine for the instructors at ACS, who know that in a fight, strength will always be a tactical plus.
