Stories

Walking in snowshoes is a learned skill; it is not natural.

I had never seen a snowshoe until we were issued them in Canada.  I was shown how to wear them but never shown how to walk in them.  We were also taught how to rig them for jumping, strapping our M-16s to them and wearing them on our left side, like we did our normal M-1950 Weapons Container.

The first time I tried walking in them was after jumping into Exersice Réponse Spéciale, with my Canadian Commando platoon.  The made moving to the assembly area much easier, and, though I tripped and fell a few times, I thoight I was doing pretty well for a kid from Alabama.

The exercise was way up north, fifty miles north of North Bay.  It was very cold and the snow was deep.  Snowshoes were essential.

So was the Ahkio, a small sled for our Arctic Tent, Machinegun, and Tripod, ammo, and rations.  This was pulled by six members of the squad in traces, like sled dogs.  It was hard work, and I was always more than ready when I rotated out of the harness to walk lead or trail.

I was walking trail one morning when the squad began climbing a hill.  The guys in the traces began struggeling, so I hussled up to them and began pulling by hand.  We began picking up some momentum.

Then, I tripped and fell directly in the path of the Ahkio.

Rather than stop, the lads continued pulling, running over me, lying there, facing up, watching the whole thing, embedded about two feet in the snow—expendable.

Snowshoes are humbling.