Mothers clambered up rope ladders and rolled through mud pits as their husbands pushed babies in strollers. Soldier fathers coaxed their children to rappel down the Victory Wall. And, for several hours, the battalion commander answered to "honey" or "Dad."

More than 250 spouses and children took part in the 165th Wayne Day on Saturday, in an outing designed to show -- as Staff Sgt. Hoan Nguyen put it to the group he led through the day's events -- "what Mom and Dad do every day" if they want to be fit and confident Soldiers in the United States Army.

After a safety briefing by Brigade Commander Col. Bryan Hernandez that featured a flying rubber snake and a slide of a "compliance officer" who looked suspiciously like Bigfoot, the day included negotiating the over and under obstacles of the Fit to Win course, shooting at mechanized pop-up silhouettes on the rifle range and -- with varying degrees of finesse -- rappelling 40 feet down the Victory Tower to the cheers of family members.

At the end of every event, dirt- and sweat-stained participants swigged electric blue or ruby red Victory Punch so cold it made your teeth hurt.

First Sgt. Leonard Taylor explained to families eager to tackle the obstacle course what purpose the rigors of such training achieved.

"What they get out of it is a sense of pride in their unit, a sense of camaraderie and teamwork," Taylor said.

What the families got out of the day, though, was fun, bragging rights and nightmare loads of laundry.

DOWN AND DIRTY

Angie Rosario seemed game for it all as she and her three girls leapt over short walls, scuttled through tunnels and wriggled on their backs under barbed wire. As she and the girls toiled, Angie's husband, Sgt. 1st Class Jose Rosario, shepherded the couple's son, Javier, through the easier parts of the course -- the ones a 4-year-old could manage.

At the end of the day, only Jose and Javier were some version of clean. Somehow, they had missed all the puddles. Mom and the girls, however, were coated head to toe with sand and mud.

Even so, Angie Rosario delicately avoided the makeshift ponds the night's rain had left on the post's gravel paths, skipping around and not through them.

"I don't know why I'm so scared to walk in the puddles," she said, realizing the pointlessness of her actions. "My shoes are soaked with mud."

HITTING THE TARGET

Mathew Carter put his manhood on the line at the shooting range. Would the 14-year-old be able to hit more targets than his sister, Mackenzie, 15?

"He's had more experience," said Mathew's father, Sgt. 1st Class Derek Carter. But Mackenzie "tends to listen a little better."

First Mathew and then Mackenzie lay prone on a camo-colored poncho, peering through the rifle sight, waiting for a small red dot to point out the kill zone on a series of targets that popped up from red clay berms 50 and 75 meters away. Each had one magazine to prove his or her mettle. Single shots only. No bursts.

As the crack of each shot rent the air, the rifle bucked in the shooter's hands. The sharp scent of gunpowder followed. Neither Mathew nor Mackenzie lost concentration.

When Mathew had finished shooting and Mackenzie was becoming more and more comfortable snuggled against the sandbags, Carter good-naturedly razzed his son.

"You're scared, aren't you?" he goaded.

To Mathew's chagrin, Carter had predicted correctly: Mackenzie scored 15 ("sharpshooter") to Mathew's 10 ("marksman"), an achievement officially recorded on the paper

marksmanship "badges," attached to their muddy tees with bright yellow tape.

BUILDING CONFIDENCE

Grunting and shrieking all the way, 13-year-old Megan Allen bounced and glided down the 40-foot rappelling wall at Victory Tower.

"Oh, my God! My legs are numb," she exclaimed as she was unharnessed at the base of the wall. "I was like, 'I'm going to die. I'm going to die.' "

Apparently, the near-death experience was to her liking. Twice more, she mounted the steel stairs to the top to rappel down again.

Her 10-year-old brother, Patrick, was a little less confident. He had tried the Victory Tower last year, making it only halfway up the metal stairs before "I was bawling my eyes out because I couldn't do it."

This time, with his father, Lt. Col. James Allen, rappelling alongside him, Patrick slowly descended, his shoes skidding repeatedly on the tower wall. Though earning no points for style, he did earn his mother's approval.

"You did it!" crowed Manu Allen. "Patrick, he needed some talking (from his father) up there, but he did it.

"I am so proud."