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He had been a Marine for thirty years, twenty-seven of those married. During those twenty-seven years he had never strayed from the marriage bed. Not for him the phrase "I'm not divorced, just TDY." He never thought less of the other NCOs, or officers, who took advantage of deployments to pick up some action; as long as it did not affect their performance he could care less. But he had made a wedding vow to "cleave unto no other" and he believed in keeping a promise. It was the same as " 'til death do us part." Now, however, he had a twenty-year-old's body, and drives, and was married to a fifty-something wife. He was experiencing some difficulties with the situation. Fortunately or unfortunately, the pace of training the recalls and then using the recalls to train the new enlistees was so fierce he had not been able to get back to San Diego. The rejuv program was eventually supposed to be distributed to dependents of the military but he would believe it when he saw it. There were already rumors that the rejuv materials were ru
Heaping insult on injury, since the most senior NCOs, like himself, were recalled first, there was currently a glut of E-8s and E-9s, the two most senior enlisted ranks. In the Navy they were referring to it as "too many Chiefs." In addition, because the emphasis was on training, most of the senior NCOs and officers were being assigned to basic and advanced training facilities. Therefore, instead of being assigned as the senior NCO in a company, he was assigned a mere platoon of recruits.
Thus he was not in the best of moods when he greeted the group of forty-five young men he was to make into Marines (or Strike troopers or soldiers or hoplites or whatever the FUCK you wanted to call them). Characteristically this made him smile at them. The less perceptive, seeing that the drill sergeant was not the sadistic cretin they had been warned of but a kindly smiling fellow, tentatively smiled back. The more perceptive suspected, correctly, that they were in serious trouble.
"Good morning, ladies," he said in a low, friendly tone. "My name is Gu
"To begin learning that thing called military courtesy you will refer to me as if I were an officer. You will call me `sir' and salute when greeting me. Is that clear?"
"Yeah." "Okay." "No problem." "Yes, sir!"
"Oh, I am sorry. I didn't hear that. The correct response is `Clear, sir.' "
"Clear, sir."
He inserted a finger in one ear and dug around. "Sorry. I'm a bit hard of hearing. All the screams of dying recruits. A bit louder if you please."
"Clear, sir!" they yelled.
"I am apparently not making myself clear," he said very slowly and distinctly. "Front leaning rest position, move. For those cretins, meaning all of you of course that are unfamiliar with the term, that command means turn slightly to the right and assume the pushup position." A few of the recruits quickly dropped, some began, hesitantly, to follow the quietly given order but most continued to stand uncomprehending.
"Get down! On your face! Move it! Move it!" he boomed, much louder and more forcefully than the corporal, louder than their whole group. "Bend your elbows! You! Off the ground! Get yer butts down you pansies! Hold that! Look directly forward, heads up, eyes focused in the distance. Now, when I give an instruction that you understand the response is `Clear, sir.' I expect it to be readily audible on Mars! Clear?"
"Clear, sir!"
"Now, I have found this position to be remarkably centering of attention. But, I can see that at least one of you is a body builder." He walked over to this unfortunate, a hulking youth with a build like Hercules and lank black hair and squatted down so that he could look him in the eye. "I suspect that this is little strain for you, big boy. Is it?"
"No, sir!"
"Ah, truth, very good." Sergeant Pappas stood up and then stepped carefully on the recruit's back, centered on the shoulder blades. The burly youth grunted when the two hundred fifty pound drill instructor stepped on, but he held. "In the next sixteen weeks, Get yer head up asshole! it will be my duty to turn you pussies into Strike troopers. Get yer butts down, faggots! Strike units will be deployed from their home bases as formed units Get yer butts up! You pussies! If this asshole can hold me up, you can stay up yourselves! as formed units to engage the Posleen whenever and wherever they are badly needed. That means that while Guard and Line units may see combat, You! I said get up off your belly, cocksucker! Corporal Adams!"
"Yessir!"
"That fat cocksucker in the second row! See how far he can run before he throws up and passes out!"
"Yessir! On yer feet, asshole! Move it!" The drill corporal yanked the unfortunate recruit to his feet and trotted him off into the distance.
"Where was I, oh yes . . . While Guard units may see combat, you will see combat. My mission is to make you pussies hard enough and fast enough that some of you may survive." He stepped off the recruit. "On your feet! I am about to fall you out into the barracks. There is no bunk assignment or shakedown. Inside the barracks there are two red boxes. If you have any contraband, drugs, personal weapons, knives, anything you suspect you shouldn't have, put them in the box. If you keep them I will find them. Then I will send you to a place that makes boot camp seem friendly and homelike. Everybody but this asshole," he indicated his erstwhile soapbox, "Fallout!"
As the recruits grabbed their gear and pounded into the barracks he looked the remaining recruit up and down, noting the high wide cheekbones.
"What's yer name, asshole?"
"Private Michael Ampele, sir!"
"Hawaiian?"
"Yes, sir!"
"Daddy a marine, howlee?"
The recruit blanched at that insult, where the expected "asshole" had little effect. "Sir, yes, sir!"
"Think that's go
"Sir, no, sir!"
"Why not?"
"Sir, the strongest steel comes from the hottest fire, sir!"
"Horse shit. The strongest steel comes from a precise combination of temperature, materials and conditions including a nitrogen fuckin' atmosphere. I'm go
"Yes, sir!"
"Okay, yer the platoon guide," he decided. "You know what that means."
"Yes, sir," said the private, his face slightly green. "They fuck up, I get my ass kicked, sir."
"Yerright," said Pappas with a smile. He puffed his lips out and gri
"Si, sir," agreed the private
"I'll take it on faith, howlee. I think you're full of shit. Fall out."
Pappas shook his head in resignation as the private followed the others into the barracks. They kept dropping the training time, pushing the pipeline to deliver the recruits no matter what. Well, he would train them, as well as anyone could expect in the time allowed. But he was glad he was not going to war with them. It was too chancy a business.