“Welcome to Earth gentleman.” Says a short, barrel-chested man,clad in a khaki shirt, green pants, and a 360 degree billed hat. “This will be your home for the thirteen weeks.” Continues the man, I had arrived late last night with several other men, many of us drifted off on the way here. Only to be woken by a loud voice ordering us off the bus and onto yellow colored outlines of feet. I had awoken roughly five minutes ago, on the cold hard ground inside a small tent. I barely have a clear memory of how I ended up here. As far as the eye can see are grassy, flat plains. “Presently, you are located in the mid-west region of the continent North-America.” The man speaks again, I still have many questions for the moment though.
“My name is Gunnery Sergeant Wartik, of the USC Marine Corps.” He proceeded to inform us that the first and last words out of our mouths from now on would be sir. He also informed of every other rule in this so-called camp, that he supposedly owned. He also told us that if we ever broke one of the rules he would, how should I phrase this...plant his size twelve in our posteriors. Most of us are taller than Wartik from what I've seen, it doesn't make a difference though. He could be 8ft tall or only 3ft and he would still give us the same level of intimidation.
There is roughly 200 of us, Wartik has informed us that by the end of thirteen weeks, there should only be twenty-five of us. We had all seen the recruitment posters and holo-vids. I didn't know there would be such an enormous attrition rate. But, I guess there has to be if they want the best of the best.
Gazing into the sky above I can see the distant outline of the Torus. And I wonder if my ancestors had ever predicted the construction of such a massive facility. From what my family tells me, my ancestors never had time to think or predict. My bloodline had established itself in the 15th century by participating in the Hundred Years' War, on the side of the English. It has since grown to be synonymous with humble courage, and such dedication that it bordered on radicalism. I have quite a reputation to live up to. I hope Wartik doesn't recognize the name.
We Were Young...Once: Chapter 1
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hns194
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- Joined: Sun, 7. Feb 10, 06:54
Ten mile run to start us off. Weapons in the morning. CQC in the afternoon. Xenobiology in the evening. And another ten mile run to end the day. I'm told that after about six weeks we actually start learning how to be Marines. For now we're just getting conditioned and being caught up to speed on technology and the various races of the universe.
Nobody has claimed responsibility yet for the bombing in Aladna Hill. Although the Split are suspect. Life here is...dreary and boring, interspersed with periods of insane adrenaline rushes. Like the other night when a Kopesh's stabilizers blew out. It crashed and dug a trench straight through the “street” between our pup tents.
I guess this is my home for the next thirteen weeks. I hope my lie holds up. Although I do wonder what they would do to me, if they found out I'm only fifteen. I think Wartik knows, but he hasn't said or done anything to make me think he'll boot me out of here.
I've started to become a bit homesick as of late. I miss my home, my friends, those late saturday nights spent around a bonfire with good buddies. I miss riding through the country in the back of Dakota's old pickup truck. I got a letter from my parents last night. I never told them I enlisted. I guess Shel must've told them. They're not upset about me enlisting, they're upset because I didn't tell them I did. Either way they agreed to tell the school that I'm being homeschooled now. My friends miss me, I get a package of letters every mail-call. Usually they're of the weekend escapades I used to take part in. They tell me the football team is really hurtin' without their star center. Hopefully i'll make it back, to my little part of the universe.
I hail from the small township of Dallas on the Planet of Oregon. Its a small town. Where you know how someone is going to act based on their last name. Where everybody pays respect to the man upstairs. Where every Saturday afternoon you can find old and young men washin' and fixin' their cars for some Saturday night antics, and a hot date, or two. Where everybody owns atleast one gun, and has their tractor safety permit. Where the FFA Members are just as popular as the football stars. That's my little slice of the world.
Nobody has claimed responsibility yet for the bombing in Aladna Hill. Although the Split are suspect. Life here is...dreary and boring, interspersed with periods of insane adrenaline rushes. Like the other night when a Kopesh's stabilizers blew out. It crashed and dug a trench straight through the “street” between our pup tents.
I guess this is my home for the next thirteen weeks. I hope my lie holds up. Although I do wonder what they would do to me, if they found out I'm only fifteen. I think Wartik knows, but he hasn't said or done anything to make me think he'll boot me out of here.
I've started to become a bit homesick as of late. I miss my home, my friends, those late saturday nights spent around a bonfire with good buddies. I miss riding through the country in the back of Dakota's old pickup truck. I got a letter from my parents last night. I never told them I enlisted. I guess Shel must've told them. They're not upset about me enlisting, they're upset because I didn't tell them I did. Either way they agreed to tell the school that I'm being homeschooled now. My friends miss me, I get a package of letters every mail-call. Usually they're of the weekend escapades I used to take part in. They tell me the football team is really hurtin' without their star center. Hopefully i'll make it back, to my little part of the universe.
I hail from the small township of Dallas on the Planet of Oregon. Its a small town. Where you know how someone is going to act based on their last name. Where everybody pays respect to the man upstairs. Where every Saturday afternoon you can find old and young men washin' and fixin' their cars for some Saturday night antics, and a hot date, or two. Where everybody owns atleast one gun, and has their tractor safety permit. Where the FFA Members are just as popular as the football stars. That's my little slice of the world.
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cj-spartacus
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hns194
- Posts: 83
- Joined: Sun, 7. Feb 10, 06:54
Well, it's the last day. As of today I am officially a Marine in the United Space Command's Armed Forces. As we sit in the barracks receiving our assignments, Wartik gives us one last speech.
“It's come down to it. This is it boys, no you're not boys anymore...you're Marines! You all know the legacy you've inherited. First American to orbit the Earth?” He ends with a question.
“Marine!” Rackowitz replies eagerly.
“Correct. What branch was the explorer vessel that re-discovered Aldrin crewed by?”
“Marines!” Vackter yells.
“Correct. What military specialty did Henry the Fifth create?”
“Marines!” I respond.
“Correct. You all were once a bunch of sorry piss-ants I wouldn't give the time of day to...but now...now you're Marines. I am proud to call all of you brother. Now what I am 'bout to quote was said by an unknown drill sergeant in the late twentieth century. Marines die, that's what we're here for. But the Marine Corps lives forever. And that means YOU live forever. Am I understood Marines!?” He barked at us.
“Sir, Yes Sir” W replied in unison.
“Now most of you are heading out to the fleet. You look out for the man next to you, and he'll look out for you. I don't care if he's black, red, yellow, white, or any other color in god's fu**ing coloring book. There is only one color in the Marine Corps. And what color is that Marines?!”
“Marine Green! Sir!” We all reply in unison again.
I didn't expect my family to be there. I was about to bout-face and get my gear packed, when a felt a dainty tap on my left shoulder. A quick turn later and I was staring into those deep blue eyes I'd been dreaming of since leaving Dallas. Only in my dreams tears weren't welling up in them. In my peripheral I could see my mom and dad gazing at us. After a few hugs and kisses, I told them to wait with all the other parents while I got my stuff. I was the last one to left in the barracks everybody else had pre-packed. While I was stowing it all, Wartik's voice slithered it's way into my eardrum.
“Gallinson!” It scared the bejebus out of me.
“Yes Sir!” I snapped up at attention.
“Remember, according to the USC Marine Corp's logbooks. You are eighteen years old.”
“Um...yes Sir!” My face was flushed, he'd known the whole time.
“You'll be a fine Marine. I've had you assigned to USCMC-Belleau Wood, she's a Roger Young class troop carrier, a few centuries old. She still does her job pretty well. She leaves drydock on July 19th. That gives you four weeks leave. Use it well son...and stay frosty.”
“Aye Sir.” Wartik about-faced and left, I never saw him again. He shipped out with the 7th Marines after graduation. The 7th and her fleet of transports was never heard from again after they received orders to seize and hold a kha'ak planet past the outer rim. In no-man's land. Rumors abound about their fate. Many say they still fight on in battles across the known universe. Many have said to be engaged in a ground battle with no hope of winning, when out of the skies appear angels with a blazing 7 on their shoulder pads. But those are tales for another time.
“It's come down to it. This is it boys, no you're not boys anymore...you're Marines! You all know the legacy you've inherited. First American to orbit the Earth?” He ends with a question.
“Marine!” Rackowitz replies eagerly.
“Correct. What branch was the explorer vessel that re-discovered Aldrin crewed by?”
“Marines!” Vackter yells.
“Correct. What military specialty did Henry the Fifth create?”
“Marines!” I respond.
“Correct. You all were once a bunch of sorry piss-ants I wouldn't give the time of day to...but now...now you're Marines. I am proud to call all of you brother. Now what I am 'bout to quote was said by an unknown drill sergeant in the late twentieth century. Marines die, that's what we're here for. But the Marine Corps lives forever. And that means YOU live forever. Am I understood Marines!?” He barked at us.
“Sir, Yes Sir” W replied in unison.
“Now most of you are heading out to the fleet. You look out for the man next to you, and he'll look out for you. I don't care if he's black, red, yellow, white, or any other color in god's fu**ing coloring book. There is only one color in the Marine Corps. And what color is that Marines?!”
“Marine Green! Sir!” We all reply in unison again.
I didn't expect my family to be there. I was about to bout-face and get my gear packed, when a felt a dainty tap on my left shoulder. A quick turn later and I was staring into those deep blue eyes I'd been dreaming of since leaving Dallas. Only in my dreams tears weren't welling up in them. In my peripheral I could see my mom and dad gazing at us. After a few hugs and kisses, I told them to wait with all the other parents while I got my stuff. I was the last one to left in the barracks everybody else had pre-packed. While I was stowing it all, Wartik's voice slithered it's way into my eardrum.
“Gallinson!” It scared the bejebus out of me.
“Yes Sir!” I snapped up at attention.
“Remember, according to the USC Marine Corp's logbooks. You are eighteen years old.”
“Um...yes Sir!” My face was flushed, he'd known the whole time.
“You'll be a fine Marine. I've had you assigned to USCMC-Belleau Wood, she's a Roger Young class troop carrier, a few centuries old. She still does her job pretty well. She leaves drydock on July 19th. That gives you four weeks leave. Use it well son...and stay frosty.”
“Aye Sir.” Wartik about-faced and left, I never saw him again. He shipped out with the 7th Marines after graduation. The 7th and her fleet of transports was never heard from again after they received orders to seize and hold a kha'ak planet past the outer rim. In no-man's land. Rumors abound about their fate. Many say they still fight on in battles across the known universe. Many have said to be engaged in a ground battle with no hope of winning, when out of the skies appear angels with a blazing 7 on their shoulder pads. But those are tales for another time.
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hns194
- Posts: 83
- Joined: Sun, 7. Feb 10, 06:54