Marine Summer: Year 2041 (2 page)

Even though I was freezing, hungry, and scared, I guess my mind wandered and I drifted off to sleep. I was frightened awake by the sounds of horns blowing and the sergeant from the conductor’s office screaming. I had one of those bewildering moments when your eyes open but you don’t know where you are.

“Get your faggoty asses on my yellow line! Do not step on my black line or my blue line or I’ll beat you black and blue till you understand—you—only—belong—on—my—yellow—line!”

I scrambled out of my nesting spot like a deer on ice. As soon as I finally found my footing, the sergeant kicked my feet out from underneath me. I fell hard against the wooden platform. My head bounced off it even harder, causing my vision to blacken. The shadows around the outsides of my eyes started closing in on me.

“Holy shit Sally, are you going to be last in line?” he barked at me.

I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs. I found it hard to focus as he rang my bell pretty good. I clawed my way back up to my knees. It felt like I was carrying another person on my shoulders.

“Move it—Move it—Move it!” he kept screaming, chasing me till I found my place in line.

Every guy in that line was crunched together; any space left between two bodies was a reason for more screaming. I watched as he yanked some guys forward, pushed some backwards. I really didn’t believe he knew where he wanted us.

“Nuts to butts, ladies, nuts to butts! They’re all yours, Staff Sergeant Buckley!”

We watched in horror as two behemoths stepped up onto the platform. They looked like giants. Their campaign covers (hats) were pulled down low on their brows; you could only see noses and mouths, and those mouths weren’t smiling. The one he referred to as Buckley was in the lead, his shoulders as broad as a rack of antlers on a moose. His biceps bulged underneath rolled-up sleeves, tattoos covering every inch of his arms. I didn’t even know he had eyes till he was standing practically on top of me.

“Go to the front of that other yellow line to your right, recruit,” he said calmly.

That was a little more like it. He was nicer than the other sergeant. He split us into two groups. I went from the back of the line to the front without getting shoved or hit. I was liking this guy; he seemed to have it all together.

“I am Staff Sergeant Buckley, and I will be your first sergeant! This other gentleman is Sergeant Keller,” he said, referring to the man casually leaning against the conductor’s office with crossed arms and an evil grin showing from beneath his cover as the after-storm moonlight un-shadowed his face.

“Your senior drill instructor, Gunnery Sergeant John Edward Adams, is back at M.C.R.D. (Marine Corps Recruit Depot) Fort Rice, North-fucking-Dakota. And he is awaiting your arrival into his outstanding platoon. All of you new recruits are now called privates. You will address the drill instructors as sirs, starting and ending every sentence with ‘sir’! You will refer to yourself as ‘the private’ and then state your last name if required! I’m only going to tell you this once, so if you’re daydreaming and not paying attention, you will pay the piper from this point on!”

Some guy in another row, third one back, raised his hand as if he had a question. Right then things went from bad to worse in less than a second. Both D.I.s went ballistic. It didn’t matter what the guy’s question was—they obviously didn’t want to hear it. They were dragging guys out of line, shoving them to the ground and ordering push-ups. Ripping suitcases from everyone’s hands and throwing them on the train tracks.

“You think this is a fucking summer camp?” Buckley screamed at the guy standing to my left.

I stood there in fear as I watched him grab the kid by the throat, choking the life out of him. If his knees buckled, he screamed louder, “Don’t you fall down on me you little pussy!” I didn’t know what to do but be thankful I was too poor to own luggage. All I had was garbage bag with only a change of clothes that I instantly dropped to my right and kicked away.

“Only thing you little turds need to say right now is, Oh Lord, if I die tonight, let me die like a fucking Marine!” Keller shouted as he paced back and forth next to us.

I had known boot camp was going to be tough—my father warned me—but I had no idea it would be this intense.

“Listen up!” Buckley barked. He was standing on my right, his voice exploding in my ear, making me flinch with every single word he bellowed out. “Those in this line,” he pointed at me, “You are on the bus to your right. Those on the other line are on the bus to the left!”

Petrified, I shook nervously as he walked about ten feet out to stand directly in front of us, turning and staring back down through the middle of the lines.

“I feel your eyeballs on me! Don’t you eye fuck me! When you board my bus you will sit two per seat, you will place both feet firmly on the deck sitting straight up placing both your hands palm down on top of your knees! You will not look left, you will not look right, up, or down! If your tiny pecker itches, don’t you fucking scratch that pathetic little excuse for a cock! Eyes forward, and don’t you eye fuck me while you’re on that bus. Don’t you ever eye fuck me again, or I’ll poke out your eyes and skull—fuck—you, I’ll make you dread the day you fell out of your momma’s twat!”

This guy isn’t as nice as I thought he was. For fuck’s sake, I’m a bad judge of character
.

“Company—Atten—Hut!”

What are we supposed to do?
I thought to myself. I was too afraid to move.

“Holy sheep shit, you cocksuckers can’t even stand at attention!” He yelled, jumping toward me. With a quick jab he punched me square in the gut, doubling me over. His right hand catching me under the chin, he stood me straight back up as his left hand pushed my lower back straight out.

“Like this, maggots!” Buckley said, instructing them all to imitate me. He grabbed my hands and yanked them down till my arms were straightened out, making me position my thumbs on the seams of my hand-me-down jeans. When I looked down, his fist hammered my chin back up so that I was looking down my nose. His thumbs dug into my shoulders as he wrapped his fingers around them, pushing them backwards as my chest thrust outwards.

“Now freeze in that position, private! Company, this is standing at fucking attention! The rest of you sorry excuses for human flesh better get your tired carcasses in that same exact position before I count to three!”

I felt awkward, out of place, standing there like a spectacle on display, my teeth still rattling from his rock like fist that jacked my jaw.

“Now Company—At—Ease!” Buckley ordered.

I don’t know what the others were doing behind me, but I stood at attention. Again, I didn’t know what his command meant.

“Jesus—H—Christ,” Keller howled from the back of the lines, “Relax, dummies!”

I was hesitant, and for good reason. As soon as I relaxed, Buckley barked at us again.

“Company—Atten—Hut!”

I tried my damndest to get back into the position he had placed me in, but he caught me trying to find my seam with my left hand.

Buckley charged me again, his fingers pointing in my face, his thumb tucked neatly into his palm. He wagged those fingers in my face as his campaign cover poked my forehead. His breath was atrocious; it smelled of tobacco and what I believed to be rotten fish. It was vile.

“Get your ass to attention, private,” he said. Seeing that I was looking at him, he smacked me across the face, rattling my brain once more, “Don’t eye fuck me boy, I’ve done warned you. Get your ass to attention before I lose my patience!”

“Sir, yes sir!” I shouted.

“Well…would you looky here, that’s the first fucking thing you’ve done right, recruit!” Buckley backhanded me in the chest as an award—an award that caused me to wince in pain. I had only said the words because I was scared. It was purely coincidental that they came out right.

“Company, on my orders you will run to my bus and take a seat. Company—March!”

I took off as fast as I could go. I could hear Keller behind me yelling at the others, “Run dummies, run!” Buckley was in tune with him: “Double-time, double-time, double-time!”

What the fuck is double-time
?

Some guys were quicker than me and beat me to the bus. I thought if I could get a window seat I’d be out of arms reach, but I wasn’t so lucky. With all of the jockeying to grab seats, Buckley took it upon himself to seat the stragglers. I tried to look straight ahead like he told me too, but the sight of him tossing grown men around was fascinating to me. It made me wonder if after training, I’d have strength like that.

“All right, ladies! We’ve got a long ride south of here to take you Girl Scouts to your new home. I’d better not here a peep out of any of you! It had better be so quiet I can hear a church mouse fart!”

Buckley smacked the driver on the shoulder, signaling him to drive. As soon as the bus started to creep forward, the unthinkable happened, I sneezed.

“Holy mother of God, who the fuck just blew snot on my bus!”

Buckley first, then Keller moved toward me. We hadn’t driven ten feet and both D.I.s were ripping me a new asshole. They sounded like two hoarse rabid dogs trying to get at the mailman. Both towering over me, both so loud I couldn’t hear what the other was saying. It had to be the most brutal ten minutes of my life till they finally sat back down. I knew this was going to be one long bus ride.

I was struggling to stay awake. The constant rocking of the bus down this long winding road was putting me to sleep. My eyelids felt like they had ten-pound weights attached to them. There was no reason to turn our heads since the bus windows were permanently blacked out, so we had no choice but to look straight ahead.

Sergeant Keller stood at the front of the bus facing us. He told of our history, of what had changed and what was to be expected. I wanted to listen, but as the rain started pinging off the roof of the bus, it made me even groggier, it reminded me of the tin roof on our house back in Indiana. I imagined I was back home, sitting in a recliner, looking out the window as the clouds rolled over the fields.

Daydreaming again, I was shocked back to life by the screech of the wet brakes as they pulled up to the main gate, an immediate rush that sent us all lunging toward the front of the bus, everyone fighting to stay in our seats per the sergeant’s orders.

The base was completely dark, except for a few street lamps that led us to a humongous parking lot. The bus pulled up behind two other buses until they were almost touching. Its brake lights shone back in our direction, the red glow almost blinding us.

Buckley stood at the entrance of the bus and adjusted his hat before he said, “Welcome to my hell, ladies. You have thirty seconds to get off my bus and find a set of footprints out there to stand on! And five of those seconds are already gone! Move it!”

It was a mad dash to hit the door, guys falling over each other, pushing and shoving. I was pretty sure one guy took a swing at me as he pushed me aside.

“You don’t want to be the last fuck-tard off my bus—move it!” Buckley screeched as I tried to pass by.

As I passed Buckley, he offered his assistance by pushing me through the door, lifting me off my feet and making me miss the last two steps, I reached for the door handle to catch myself, but my hand slipped off the rain-soaked rail. I found myself landing on the unforgiving concrete, my right side bouncing off the hardened surface.

“Get your ass off my grinder!” he said reaching for my arm, tugging me back to my feet.

“Sorry,” I muttered.

“What did you say? What’s your malfunction, recruit? Get your sissy ass on my footprints!”

He shoved me away, causing me to teeter again, but this time I was able to catch my balance and sprinted toward the others. I found an empty set of yellow spray-painted footprints on the ground and claimed them.

There were three groups of men processing in. We stood in complete silence, and not a word was heard from any recruit as the D.I.s arranged everyone who still didn’t have a place. We were standing at attention, the cold rain beating down on us, when, as if God himself had just appeared, the rain stopped and the clouds parted.

Headlights from a nearby jeep flashed on, and a dark shadowy figure appeared before them, his arms behind his back and his elbows pointed outward.

“Attention—on—Deck!” Keller said, his voice echoing across the barren concrete desert.

“Thank you Sergeant Keller, I’ll take it from here,” the shadow said.

The shadow stood up straight, his arms fell down to his side, and he began to march toward us, his steps even paced, his movements swift and accurate. As he came into the light, it became evident who he was. His uniform was immaculate, not a wrinkle showing in any garment. The rack of ribbons on his chest was 10 fingers deep. His jaw was square, his nose stubbed and broad. He waved his hands to the other D.I.s, dismissing them from the ranks, motioning for them to step aside. I think everyone standing there noticed the same thing I did: He was missing his pinky and ring fingers, on both hands.

“Ladies!” he said, his voice as loud as the thunder at the train station. “I am your senior drill instructor, Gunnery Sergeant John Edwards Adams! I’ve spent over thirty years in our beloved corps! Things have changed due to our present conflict, and they’ve only given me eight weeks to make you pussies—Marines!”

I couldn’t stop staring at his hands, hands that were now clasped again behind his back as he walked between the two closest platoons.

“Not only have they only given me eight weeks, but I will be the senior drill instructor for all three platoons! Some of you,” he stopped to look at the platoon across from us, “have already met your drill instructors! The rest…you will meet yours, when you process in. They will be waiting on you!”

Whew, I’m not getting Buckley and Keller. That’s a relief
, I thought.

He snapped around immediately to face my platoon. “You girls will process in, in the building behind you, building ‘C’ and,” he spun again to address the other platoon, “you little sweethearts, will process in building ‘B’, which leaves you other little darlings in the last building. Now if I have to tell you the letter, I don’t need your illiterate ass in my Marine Corps! If I have to tell you, we’ll just shoot you here and drag your body outside the gate so your families can pick up your worthless shit-bag of a corpse!”

Holy shit, they’re gonna shoot us?

“Sergeant Buckley!” Adams roared out.

“Yes Gunny!”

“Process these maggots in!”

“Aye-aye Gunny!”

At that point, hell broke loose once more, it looked like a boulder had landed in a pond and the people running in every direction were the ripples. I ran in the direction of my assigned building only to realize that my worst nightmare was coming true: Buckley and Keller were following us.

Oh no, I got these two guys for D.I.s
, I thought to myself, the fear building up inside me.