by Unknown
She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as the barber turned her chair, and whisked the sheet away. The result was not as bad as it had felt when the scissors were munching away, but it was radically different from the face that she was used to. Minerva hoped that by the time they graduated, it would look good enough for Mark to still be attracted to her.
After the barber came the issuing of their clothing. It was a buffet-style line in which each person on the other end of a counter tossed an item at the kids. When Minerva;s turn came, she found it a challenge to keep up with the pacing of it. The first marine threw a large, green canvas duffle bag at her. She scarcely had time to take hold of it, and open the top before the next marine was shoving an armful of olive-drab shirts into it. Shuffling along, she watched brown t-shirts, underwear, socks, and other items that she did not
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even have a chance to identify follow in. The bag was getting pretty heavy by the time she reached the end of the line.
“How do they know what sizes to put in?” She wondered aloud to Ecu, who was behind her.
“You guys are laser-scanned as you come through the door,” the nearest marine answered her from behind the counter. He cast a weary glance toward Sergeant Bri, who was standing near the entrance. “Don’t get caught talking, girls, just pay attention.”
“Okay, thanks,” Minerva whispered, moving along as the line continued to move.
The last station was a tall shelf full of black combat boots.
“Remove your shoe, and stand on this gauge,” the marine told the kids as they came.
Minerva did so when it was her turn. The guy looked at the numbers alongside her foot, and reached under the counter. Instead of a pair of boots, though, he placed a set of black tennis shoes on the top layer of her full bag.
“Fold the top of your duffle closed, latch it with the buckle, and proceed outside,” the marine told her.
Carrying it by then required both hands. She stepped out a back door, and took her place in formation, gratefully setting the duffle down at her feet. A corporal was out there to ensure that they did not speak to one another, but otherwise did not seem to care whether or not they were standing at attention.
Again, another wait in the sun while the rest of the group trickled out. Thirst was becoming a real issue, and the need to pee not far behind it. Minerva was not the only one suffering. Ecu was nearly prancing in-place, her fur frizzed out, ears twitching.
“Better cork your innards,” the corporal warned her.
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Later, much later it seemed, the last of the remaining kids finally emerged, with Bri hot on his heels. The Attayan had a gift of being able to dress-down someone’s nerves with choice curses. It was difficult not to laugh.
Sergeant Bri assumed his usual pose in front of them.
“Boys and girls, you are now properly equipped to begin recruit training! As of this moment, the ninety-nine of you comprise Company Nineteen! There would have been one hundred, but one of your mates was killed while in-transit!” His eyes moved over them from beneath the brim of his hat, seeing all. Allowing his words to sink in.
“Training has not even begun, and one of you has already bought the farm,” he went on. “I guarantee you that she will not be the last! Before you graduate, I expect at least one more to earn a telegram! You turds always seem to find a way to get yourselves killed! It’s always because of stupidity! An instant of panic! I can’t stress enough the importance of paying attention to detail!”
He paused again, and the silence hung heavy.
“We’ll begin with the basics! Rule number one, is that you will never address an instructor unless responding to an order! You turds have not earned the right to speak freely! You will begin, and end every response with ‘Sir!” Understood?”
“Sir, yes, Sir!”
Bri was incensed. “What the holy hell was that supposed to be? Sound off like you mean it, turds!”
“Sir, yes, sir!”
“Better,” he relented. “Still on the sorry side, but I guess that will have to do for now!”
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Bri came to attention, and spun on a heel. He turned his face over one shoulder at them, “In two columns, prepare to march!”
The corporal that had been baby-sitting them darted about, getting the kids organized into a pair of lines. One of them was noticeably short by one person. That struck a chord with Minerva. Sasha had been kind to her. Only seventeen, and already gone. Only because she had been frightened, and allowed herself to lose her self-control.
She vowed to herself at that moment that she would not allow that to happen to her. She was going to pay attention, to think things through, and do whatever it took to survive training.
“March!”
Bri began walking, not even looking back while the young corporal rushed back and forth, sharply reminding people to stay in-step.
Minerva struggled, not used to lugging the weight of the bag while keeping in-step. She finally figured out that it would be easier to carry it over her shoulder by using the strap. It was still quite the load, but far better manageable. Quite a few others took her cue, and did the same.
As they made their way across the parking lot, they passed another company, this one already dressed-out in sweat-soaked fatigues. Those kids were marching smartly, with an almost fluid motion. As they went, their D.I. was singing some twangy cadence that had a mesmerizing quality to it. Minerva noticed that it coincided precisely with every step of the right foot. She admired how squared-away that company looked, compared with the sloppiness of her own group.
There were rows of apartment-like buildings beyond the induction center, but Bri veered away from that direction, heading
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off instead toward a neighborhood of long, domed Quonset huts. Beyond the parking lot, and blacktopped road, the path changed to packed gravel. It was not unlike a wide neighborhood street back home. Each hut had its own little patch of grass in front, with concrete sidewalks despite the signs that stated vehicular traffic was prohibited there. The road was lined by tall, mature trees that provided a glorious amount of shade from the scorching sun. The area appeared deserted, presumably because all of the companies were out on the training field.
Bri turned, and took a stance next to the steps before one of the huts.
“Pack ‘em in!”
Kids rushed up the stairs, and inside. Upon entering, Minerva took in the surroundings as quickly as she was able, considering that they were being rushed in just about everything they did.
“Two duffles to a rack!” The corporal was yelling, having come in through a rear door. “Drop ‘em, and stand at attention!”
The building was mostly bare, save for rows of bunk beds lined up on either side of the open space, which was much longer than it was wide. Fifty bunks to a side, with some sort of rooms further down. Narrow windows up high, near the curve of the roof. The floor was laminate tile, immaculate, and shining. If there was any sort of air conditioning, it hadn’t been turned on yet. It was an oven in there.
Minerva ended up about halfway down the left side, bunked with Ecu. The young corporal continued hurrying the others along, trying to get some semblance of order as quickly as he could. When at last everyone seemed situated, he flicked a loose salute at Bri, and left the way he had come.
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Sergeant Bri strode slowly along the center aisle, hands clasped behind his back.
“You turds remember where you’re standing! This is where you will rack from here on!”
He stopped partway, and gave a great sigh.
“I imagine you’re about ready to spoil your pretty, little pants by now. You have five minutes to relieve yourselves, and be back ‘on-the-line.’ Hit it!”
There was a mad rush in the direction he was pointing, toward the rear of the room. Minerva joined the stampede, her bladder on the verge of letting loose. Mercifully, there were fifty urinals, and fifty toilets, which gave eve
ryone a place to go. Like the Navy ship, there were no partitions for privacy, but right then, it simply held no significance. The pure pleasure of answering nature’s call negated all else.
A giggle escaped her when Minerva spotted the Attayans, both boy and girl, perching atop the toilet seats instead of sitting on them. It was yet another cultural difference that would take some getting used to.
A quick rinse of the hands without time to dry them preceded running like hell to get back out on the line. Despite it seeming to happen pretty quickly, it was still not fast enough to please Bri.
“Drop!” He ordered once everyone was out.
Everyone assumed the push-up position.
“Not fast enough! On your feet!”
Back up again.
“Drop!”
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Back down again. This was repeated several times before Bri decided to let them begin their punishment. The push-ups were not done at one’s leisure, either. Bri set the pace for them, which turned out to be tortuous.
“Up!”
Down came after a pause. Every three repetitions equaled only one full count. He also liked to add some pain to it.
“Half-way up!”
That was by far the worst position. Minerva’s arms burned as if on fire, and began to quake. It took all of her effort to remain like that.
“Up!”
Kids began to fail before reaching the ten-count, which was really thirty. Bri lost his mind, screaming and yelling at all who gave up. Minerva was about to fall to the floor herself when he decided they’d suffered enough.
“On your feet!”
Pouring sweat, she felt sick to her stomach. Her arm and chest muscles burned. It was hard to breath. She consoled herself in knowing that she was not going through it all alone.
“Take five to get a drink from the water fountains! Go!”
Another wild rush. A wait that was interminable. Water that was never so cold and sweet. Minerva couldn’t swallow it fast enough. A few gulps, and the kid in line was trying to push her aside. Back to the line.
There was a school clock mounted above the front door, and she was surprised to see that it was already pushing five in the evening. Her thirst somewhat quenched, but by no means satisfied,
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her stomach began to protest. They had gone without food since breakfast, which had been no more than dry toast and juice, in preparation for the drop through atmosphere to minimize vomiting. Hunger was now a powerful force, and many stomachs were growling.
“Company One-Nine! This is your barracks! You will keep this squad bay clean enough for Jesus Himself to walk through it! The appearance of this bay is a direct representation of yourselves, and of me! It will shine at all times! Clear?”
“Sir, yes, Sir!”
Bri made a face of disgust at the sounds of growling stomachs around him.
“Fall out! Form up in the company area outside!”
“Halt!”
Kids froze where they stood, partway toward the door.
“Enough of this wild shit of running like crazed antelope!” Bri pointed at the right side of the bay. “The fifty turds on this side make First Platoon! The forty-nine over here make Second Platoon! From here on, you will fall out in order!”
Silence.
“Fall out!”
And, so, they learned to move with some order. The kids formed up just outside the barracks. It was confusing, but already, they were catching on to the little things, at least. Sergeant Bri came out, gave them a once-over, and began walking.
“March!”
He kept to one side, watching how they walked, barking here
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and there to keep them in-step. They marched as far as the fringes of a building marked as the chow hall, and were told to halt. Minerva’s company was forced to stand by while senior companies passed them, having first-dibs. The sight was impressive on many levels.
Minerva watched as they went by, taking note of as many things as she could. Some companies wore fatigues, and tennis shoes. They marched past, following cadence. There were flag-bearers in front. One with a United Earth flag, another with the flag of Attaya. A third with a company flag, and a forth with the regimental one. Upon reaching the staging area before the steps leading inside, those companies would be called to march in-place. The cadence ceased, to be replaced with rhythmic stomping until the D.I. ordered a halt.
Other companies further along in training had earned their boots. Their movements were far more polished, cadences more catchy, expressions of discipline and confidence glowing. They also bore additional flags that had been earned from achievements on the confidence course.
Some of the latter companies to stomp past were wearing that heavy-looking plated armor. Minerva was impressed beyond words. It was hard to imagine that at some point, she and her gaggle of new arrivals would look and perform in such a way.
Forever later, Company One-Nine was allowed to march the rest of the way in. They tried admirably, Minerva thought, to imitate what they had seen from the companies before them, but Bri was none too impressed at all.
“Knock that crap off!” He snarled. “You turds are fresh from the cradle! No one expects anything out of you, yet!”
The aromas wafting from inside were too overwhelming to ignore. Minerva was salivating, as were many others. From beside
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her, Ecu risked muttering a soft curse under her breath. At that moment, the general consensus was likely unanimous. Being the new kids on the block sucked.
Bri kept looking inside while they waited, checking with the mess sergeant, Minerva guessed. The hall was big, but not enough to handle all of the companies at once. Still more newly formed units were approaching from behind. She wondered how many recruits were being pushed through training at one time.
The sun was casting long shadows by the time Bri received the go-ahead, and turned to face them.
“Company One-Nine! You will have fifteen minutes, and fifteen minutes only to enjoy your fine, fine government chow! This is not social time! There will be no talking! Eat your food, deposit your try in the scullery, and form up out back! Ooo-Rah?”
There was a heartbeat of hesitation. No one knew what Ooo-Rah meant, or how to respond to it. Minerva could not believe that they had not been paying attention to all of the companies before them. Their D.I.’s would spout the same things. She made a snap decision for all of her fellow recruits.
“One-Nine! One-Nine! Oooh-Rah!” She shouted as loudly as she could.
There were some looks of surprise. Sergeant Bri’s eyebrows went up, lifting the front of his hat. When it became clear that no one was going to chime in, he spoke out.
“Well?” He bellowed. “Is Recruit Carreno the only turd here who knows how to answer me?”
“One-Nine! One-Nine! Oooh-Rah!” They all repeated in unison.
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Bri nodded, “Pitiful, but enough to earn your chow! File in, let’s go!”
As Minerva filed past, Bri did not give her any indication of approval, not so much as a nod. She did notice, though, that he was openly watching her. That might have been good or bad, either way. At the moment, it didn’t matter to her. It was time to eat.
The serving line was identical to the one on the Belleau Wood, with one minor exception. There was no time to choose anything. The servers simply piled everything there was onto their trays. At the end of the line, a galley sergeant directed them to which table they were to sit, which was all the way in the back.
“Drink dispensers are over there,” he pointed.
There was a full selection of either water, milk, juices, and several sodas. Minerva went straight for the Pepsi. She had always had a weakness for the stuff, and a taste of home would be a welcome boost. Back at the table, she shoveled food into her mouth at a rate that would have sent her mother into conniptions. There was no conversation, only the noise of forks and spoons clattering on plastic trays. The sounds of loud ch
ewing, gulping, and belching reverberated through the entire galley.
“Shove it down!” A sergeant shouted as he strolled along the tables. “This ain’t your momma’s country club!”
The man scrutinized a few random trays as they were carried past him. “Eat the last of that bread roll! The Corps can’t afford for you to be wasting good food!”
The kid shoved the last bite in while simultaneously dropping his empty tray onto the scullery line, and rushing out the rear exit. He was followed by others who were rapidly polishing off any remaining morsels to avoid getting yelled at too.
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Minerva and Ecu finished at about the same time, and traded silent looks. No sense in putting off the inevitable. They rose, and went out the same way, trying not to cower under the galley sergeant’s glowering stare.
Outside, they found other companies gradually filling back in as recruits came out. Sergeant Bri appeared just moments before the last few of One-Nine’s members arrived, and took the opportunity to hold it against them. Another round of push-ups was dished out with a strange reverence.
Once it became clear that there was nothing left to glean from their worn, out-of-shape arms, Bri ordered them to their feet, and marched the company back to their barracks. Back inside, the kids were relieved to find that the air conditioning had been turned on in their absence. It was far from completely comfortable, but at least tolerable.
“Have a seat on the deck in front of your racks,” Bri offered, closing the door behind him.
The floor had never felt so lovely.
Bri motioned toward the door, “That is your company area outside, all along where the Quonset huts are. You turds do not leave that area. There is a commissary at the end of the street, where you can buy whatever crap you feel you need. After training hours, you will have the opportunity to visit it, write your letters, read your mail, or study for exams.”
The sergeant moved to the center of the squad bay, and slowly turned as he spoke, making eye contact with every person as he spoke.