Two days of maximum effort tests months of training

The story of the U.S. Edelweiss Raid Team — Part 2

EDITOR’S NOTE: This is Part 2 of an article written by Major Brad Patnaude, a full-time member of the Vermont Army National Guard and incoming chief operations officer for the Army Mountain Warfare School in Jericho. He and his family live in Williston. Part 1 of this story was published in last week’s Observer.

BY BRAD PATNAUDE Special to the Observer

After months of strenuous training in preparation for the Edelweiss Raid, we finally arrived at the Austrian mountain base, Lizum-Walchen Training Area, in late February.

After about 20 minutes of driving, the road leveled out. Through cracks in the canvas cover, we could see lights glowing.

“Welcome to Camp Lizum,” someone said out of the darkness in the back of the truck. The vehicles slowed and stopped, then the tailgate dropped with a clang. We stepped out into about a foot of fresh snow and the cold air of high altitude.

Around us were the two-story stone buildings of Camp Lizum, a cluster of structures nestled at the bottom of a glacial cirque of towering stone and snow. Though tired, the team popped into action, unloading bags, dragging them into our quarters and drawing additional gear from the Austrian quartermaster. After about an hour, we had managed to shove ourselves and all of our gear into two rooms that were probably designed for half of what we had in it.

The next day, the U.S. team pulled together gear for our final uninterrupted day of training prior to the competition start. The Polish, Bulgarians and Romanians were all there, along with three teams from the People’s Liberation Army (PLA) of China. The PLA regarded us cooly, not saying much, nodding occasionally in the hallway. It was the first time they had contact this closely with American soldiers, as this was also the first occurrence any of us could find about American military training this close to the PLA.

Outside, there was about 16 inches of new snow in the parade field. We set first tracks up toward the end of the valley where the race would start in a couple of days, intent on using the new snow for avalanche beacon searches. Austrian rescue helicopters and a large UH-1 “Huey” buzzed in and out, ferrying mountain guides to the high peaks to throw explosive charges out into loaded avalanche paths. The race was ramping up, and we could all feel the excitement building.

At 8 a.m. the next morning, our two teams were standing outside the barracks, ready to head up to the start line. The leading mountain warfare teams from throughout Europe were assembled in Lizum, ready to showcase their capabilities on the international stage. As we filtered up to the starting line, teams from Austria, Germany, Switzerland, Bulgaria, Romania, the Czech Republic, Poland and China all mixed, laughed and snapped selfies with each other.

The sky was still clear and the sunlight bright, with high pressure sitting over the re- gion for at least the next few days. Ahead of us, the first climb of the race loomed up from the valley floor – a 2,600-foot climb to the peak of Lizumer Reckner.

At 9 a.m. sharp, the start gun popped and the starting lines erupted. We surged forward toward the initial avalanche beacon search area, pulling yards ahead of the competitors. Both U.S. teams quickly found our two avalanche beacons, stowed shovels and then joined the line of teams jockeying for position on the skin track up to Lizumer Reckner.

We settled into a moderate uphill pace and within minutes, the order settled out with our lead team in the top five. We worked uphill to a stunning ridgeline vista, descended to a rappel, and then roped up for the terrifying roped skiing event. As we worked deliberately downhill with the eight of us attached to a 40-meter rope, we called speed commands from the back and kept the pace deliberate and slow. Our method soon showed its wisdom, as we watched a mem- ber of the Czech team somersault into the snow and emerge with a broken arm.

Even before the end of the first day, one team was already out. We learned later that a Chinese team had also dropped due to a broken leg.

The remainder of the day passed uneventfully. After the roped skiing event, we finished several other skills events and made a sunset descent through evergreen glades before linking up with our supply sled near dark.

We dragged our heavy sled several kilometers uphill to our bivouac site and immediately started reconsolidation efforts in preparation for another grueling day of competition. We pulled up our tents and piled in for the night. Soon, stoves were hissing as we boiled water for drinks and dehydrated meals. After only a few hours of low-quality sleep in a cold tent, we slipped out of our bags, pulled down the tents, repacked and threw our supply bags into the back of Austrian utility trucks.

The start gun for day two popped as the sun’s first rays peaked over an eastern ridgeline and painted the valley in orange and red. The second day of the race was longer, with more horizontal movement and more challenging technical tasks. With everyone tired from the previous day, the start was more muted — teams trickled rather than surged forward and settled into a similar order as the day prior.

As the sun climbed higher in the sky, we summitted our first peak, then loaded a team member into a rescue sled and “evacuated” him down the slope as part of our first technical skill test for the day. This brought us to the rifle range, where teams were required to fire at inflated balloons from a 200-yard range.

Our teams showcased our marksmanship skills by shooting all the balloons one-byone in quick succession. After packing up, we prepared for our last long ascent and a technical ridgeline traverse on boots — the last significant challenge before the end of the race.

A bright overhead sun slowly dropped into the western horizon as the team traversed the ridgeline with skis strapped to our see EDELWEISS page 7