The rope started swaying back and forth; I couldn't seem to stay in one place. My arms began to weaken and my boots couldn't get a grip on the wall. Only about twenty-two feet to get to the top of the rope. My feet found the knots to push me up as I hit my side on the wall.
             "Let's go DePew, you can do it. Don't give up now, you're so close." I could hear the shouts from beneath me. Pushing me, driving me to the top. Not all of the females were able to make it, but I knew I could and there was no giving up.
             Once to the top of the rope there were boards about four to five feet apart from each other. Being so short, my arms already so weak, I tried to pull myself up just high enough to get my leg to the next board. Another twenty-two feet or so, forty-five feet in all, to the top of the tower. It was called the Warrior Tower. You were to make it up, down, around, and back up again. At the top we had to walk back and forth on ropes, double ropes, triple ropes, and even pull yourself on a single rope. Back to the other side to only have a single rope holding me on as I glided, repelled, straight down. This was the one time during basic training that the Drill Sergeants seemed rather nice. They still yelled at us if we were doing something wrong. They still yelled at us while on the tower, yet these yells were of encouragement, to drive us to the end. Any other day the yells would have been of punishment and discouragement.
             I was only 18, just out of high school, lying on my bunk thinking about the day as I fell asleep. Then I remembered things my parents said before I left for Ft. Leonard Wood, Missouri. I could remember the laughing and disbelief they had from the time I mentioned calling the recruiters. What's the big deal, you may not even make it. They won't want to deal with you and kick ya out. You'll hate it, crying, asking to come home. We've even...