Inside Furman is published quarterly by the Furman University Department of Marketing and Public Relations. For story ideas, e-mail John Roberts, editor.
A call to duty
Based in Fort Benning , Georgia , the Army Rangers are a super-elite specials operations unit. Within a military culture that cherishes mental and physical toughness, rigid discipline and fearless leadership, the Rangers are superheroes. To use military slang, they are the “bad asses.”
Health and Exercise Sciences professor Matt Feigenbaum was one of them. To earn the title he survived a brutal 65-day rite of passage known as Ranger School . More than a thousand had applied for the 100 coveted slots open annually to graduates of ROTC programs. Without political connections or an affiliation with a military college, Feigenbaum, a native of Florida , had been among the last to be accepted.
The 20-year-old entered the course weighing a sculpted 206 pounds. Limited to one meal and four hours of sleep a day, he endured the rigorous physical training and had melted away to 163 pounds two months later.
During the final desert phase of the training, Feigenbaum and his classmates were allowed only four hours of sleep for the week. Through endless hours of patrol and combat simulations, he walked the edge where sanity meets insanity, where steely determination meets physical collapse.
Roughly two-thirds of Feigenbaum's class did not pass the test. Most surrendered to the physical rigors, others were injured. One broke his back.
But Feigenbaum did more than survive. He finished in the top 10 percent of his Ranger Class of 1987. He was one of the elitest of the elite.
Was.
On a spring afternoon after receiving his treasured Ranger badge, Feigenbaum and three friends had decided to kill some time on Glassy Mountain , rock climbing and rappelling. The foursome — all military — were brash, fearless and cocky. Standard rappelling would not do. On that day the group would be practicing “Australian-style,” a risky form of head-first dive rappelling.
With a youthful whoop, Feigenbaum leaped off the North Carolina mountain like a cliff diver. But he and and his balayman miscalculated. Feigenbaum free-fell 90 feet (the height of the bell tower) and struck the rock-hard ground in a push-up position.
Miraculously, he never even lost consciousness. But his left elbow and left leg were broken. His left wrist, which absorbed the bulk of the impact, was shattered. Sitting up and shaking off the cobwebs, the soldier examined the mesh of crushed flesh and bone dangling limply from his forearm.
“Hey Lieutenant, don't worry, it's probably just a severe jam,” quipped his Sergeant, causing the group erupt in laughter.
Six months and several wrist surgeries later, Feigenbaum met with an orthopedic specialist at Fort Jackson in Columbia for an evaluation. Most of his injuries had healed nicely. But according to army specifications, he lacked the necessary wrist flexibility to serve on active duty.
“You can't perform a standard military push-up,” the examining physician said.
Panicked, Feigenbaum dropped to the floor and began pumping out push-ups. Soldiering had been his lifelong dream. But the examiner showed no sympathy. It was the end of the Cold War, and the military was downsizing and looking for reasons to discharge soldiers.
Feigenbaum, who grew up watching John Wayne movies, was inconsolable as he left the base. He fell into a deep depression and cried for days.
His future wife, Kathy Pownall, was his Florence Nightingale. A fellow member of the Furman class of 1988, Pownall was teaching at Chapman High School . She convinced Feigenbaum to move to Greenville and begin work on his master's degree in health and exercise science at Furman.
His energies focused on school, Feigenbaum slowly emerged from his funk. The couple married and later moved to Daytona Beach, Fla., where Matt coached high school sports and taught physical education. In 1997, he would earn a doctorate in medical physiology from the University of Florida.
All inactive military personnel are placed on a reserve call list. If their skills are needed, they may be asked to return to active duty during times of military conflict or national emergencies. With Operation Dessert Storm raging in the early 1990s, Feigenbaum got a letter from the Army. With the sting of rejection still fresh, Feigenbaum, now the father of two infants, declined the Army's request.
Ten years later, Feigenbaum, now a professor at Furman and the father of four, including newborn twins, received the call again. His anger had abated some, but still his answer was no. He had family responsibilities, he was happily settled into the Furman community, and he felt that he was fulfilling his civic responsibilities as a reserve deputy with the Greenville County Sheriff's Office Directed Patrol Unit.
But things changed last September. Feigenbaum was horrified when Chechen rebels, who have been affiliated with the Arab al Qaeda network, took over a school in Beslan, Russia. The siege ended when the rebels exploded a bomb that killed 323 hostages, including 156 children.
Feigenbaum printed out a news article that detailed the horrific events. It sat on his desk for weeks.
Then the call came again.
The military, engaged in conflicts in Iraq and Afghanistan, was falling short of its recruiting goals. It needed medical personnel who could operate in a combat environment. Feigenbaum and his wife agreed. His answer would be different this time.
“We have four kids. I don't want them blown up on a school bus. We are fighting the terrorists over there so they don't come over here. They're getting closer,” says Feigenbaum, referencing 9-11 and this summer's subway explosions in London.
“It's like a hornet's nest. You want to kill as many hornets in the nest as possible or keep them around the nest. I'd rather be fighting in Iraq or Afghanistan than standing guard as a deputy outside Hillcrest High School.”
Feigenbaum, a tenured professor of HES, says his decision to return to military service was a family one. “We're going to do our part. We're going to help.”
With support from his family and HES colleagues, Feigenbaum reported to Fort Sam Houston this summer for three months of training as a combat medical operations officer. He finished in the top five percent of his 400-member class and returned to Furman as fall classes began.
He expects the call to come soon. “It's not a matter of if, it's a matter of when, is what the Army keeps telling me,” he says.
Depending on whether he's stationed in Iraq or Afghanistan, Feigenbaum says he will be deployed for six months to a year. It's a call to duty that he is looking forward to completing and then getting back home as quickly as possible.
“I want to do my part, but as soon as possible I want to come home. I want to come back to my family, get my life back to normal,” he says, then smiles. “I'll miss my Harley, too.”