Basic training in the Australian Army. We were 12 Platoon Bravo Company, better known as "twelve". Some military forces number training troops uniquely, but in Australia we use the same numbers again and again. There was a 12 Platoon training up for WWII, just like there is a 12 Platoon training up right now. And they are all my brothers.
Army basic training started bad and quickly got a lot worse. Whatever we did, it wasn't good enough, it was an embarrassment to us, an insult to the army and a big personal insult to our training staff. We needed to be punished and we needed to be worked harder. Worked much much harder. When we didn't do something quick enough, we had to do it again (always) but with even less time. If we still couldn't do it in less time, we then had to do it a third time but still even quicker and harder again, and so on. We were spiraling into the abyss.
As if our Platoon staff didn't work us hard enough, we were regularly marched over to the army PTI's (Physical Training Instructors) for a rigorous exercise session. Which is somehow different to a pack march or log run with the platoon staff. Anyway turns out we were an insult to the PTI staff as well (no surprise there) and we needed to be worked harder (no surprise there either).
So one day we were at the pool with the PTI, doing some pool exercise circuit. Some stations were inside the water, others outside on the edge. First the practice, push ups at this station, sit ups at the next, pull ups at the next, jumping in and out of the pool at the next, etc. We were fairly tired by the end of the practice session. Now time to do it for real, full effort or we will be back at midnight to do it again in your sleeping time, because sleep is optional, passing this is mandatory.
With the army if one fails, we all fail. I thought to myself, if we get no sleep tonight, it's not going to be because of me. So I threw myself at the circuit like a frenzy, rushing to the next station every time the whistle blew. Never pausing for even half a second. I was in the deep end of the pool doing some breaching whale exercise trying to throw my body out of the water, when the whistle blew three times signaling the end.
I was in the deep end of the pool, but only 2m (6 feet) from the edge, and back home I would regularly swim 3km three times per week for exercise. Yet I was drowning only 2m from the edge, I had nothing left and I couldn't make it there. I sank to the bottom of the pool and with burst of survival I pushed off the bottom towards the edge. I scrapped and clawed my way out, using everything elbows, knees, fingers clawing at anything solid.
I clawed my way out of the pool, sliding on my guts, lungs on fire, I threw up into my mouth then half swallowed it again so I could breath as I couldn't lift my head properly to clear my mouth. There was a tiny pool of water under my face that was going to drown me, I had to breath and survive, I moved my face and breathed and breathed and breathed and breathed and ....there was no yelling. There is always yelling. I tiped my face over and looked down the pool. The whole of 12 Platoon was shattered and flopping in puddles like me. Nobody was standing up except the PTI who just stood there and watched us as we tried to make our limbs work, all covered in our own spit and spew.
Then the PTI spoke "Good work 12, now go have a shower"