Yet even more takes place as the beast of many hearts and minds moves along. To anyone whose sole experience with masses of people is the jostled and harried crowds found at every corner of eastern city streets or sporting events, it is difficult to appreciate how a daily drill that packs soldiers into a dense moving horde of sweating humanity can be a positive and enjoyable experience. Yet even those who view the morning run as a necessary evil cannot escape the sense of being part of an organization that has a common goal, a single purpose. Though each soldier is an individual, as individualistic as the Army permits, the morning run serves to renew their allegiance to their comrades and their unit. It provides an opportunity to forget about everything that exists out there, beyond the confines of the formation and surrender one’s self to a group, a unit, a collective force. In a society fractured by racial, political, social, and economic diversity, this sensation of being part of something bigger than themselves is a unique experience that few will ever enjoy again once their time with the colors is over. For unlike the very nation they are expected to defend, everyone present knows exactly what he or she is doing and exactly where they are going, something that many of their counterparts in “The Real World” will never be able to claim.

Not every soul has the privilege of losing himself in the teeming masses plowing forward with the determination of a swarm of locusts. Like a hundred other young company commanders, Captain Andrew King stood out in front of his command. His only companion was a tight lipped guidon bearer who carried the light blue, swallow tail flag bearing crossed model 1842 muskets that was the emblem of the infantry.

Like his guidon, King’s isolated position was symbolic. At twenty-six he was the “old man” or commander. On this run, as on all runs, he was expected to set the pace and to guide the unit. This role, of course, did not end when the morning’s PT was over and the great beast melted away into ten thousand tiny pieces. While he could not lead every activity that the soldiers of his company engaged in during the balance of the day, he was still expected to be the guiding force for the young men and women who comprised Company A, 3rd Battalion of the 517th Airborne Infantry Regiment.