Recruit Page 6

  Moreau started to fall back.

  “Grab my ruck,” Ryck told him, hoping against hope that Moreau wouldn’t hear the offer or wouldn’t take it.

  The sudden pull against him threw that hope out the window. He sighed and leaned into the run, pulling No Initial along. It was only 300 meters, then 200, then 100. The platoon started to slow down, over 75 pairs of feet preparing to come to a halt at the gate. Drill Instructor Despiri watch them approach, then motioned his arm around, pointing back out along the trail.

  “Not together,” he said in his usual clipped manner. “Again.”

  The moans were not suppressed as Drill Instructor Lorenz swung the platoon around and back on the trail to The Lost Lady.

  “Do it right the first time, ladies, and we won’t have to go at it again,” he told them.

  Ryck wasn’t sure how 75 men could make the run and stay in formation. There were others besides No Initial who were struggling, some straggling behind. As far as Ryck was concerned, let those guys run another loop. Let the ones who kept up stop and rest. At least No Initial had let go of him as they had approached the gate.

  He tried to adjust the ruck on his back to a more comfortable position, but that was hopeless. Three more kilometers, and they’d better all be in formation when they got back or someone might be facing a blanket party.

  Chapter 5

  Ryck slid into the seat, grateful to be off his feet. This was their first history class, and one of the few training events in which there were no DIs. Drill Instructor Lorenz, looking refreshed and as if he hadn’t just been with them on the nine kilometer ruck run, had marched the platoon to the classroom, then left after each rank had filed in.

  The platoon already had a number of classes in subjects such as rank structure, military etiquette, Marine Corps organization, and the

  UCMJ. Some of the other platoons had already started history classes, but with only one instructor, classes had to be juggled. They were scheduled for 20 hours in the classroom before graduation. Ryck wasn’t sure just why recruits needed that much time, but any time without the DIs was welcome.

  Dr. Berber stood at the front of the classroom, watching each file of recruits march in and take a seat. When the last recruit sat down, he started right in.

  “When was the first Marine Corps formed?” he asked without any attempt at an introduction.

  Not that an introduction was really needed. Everyone knew about Dr. Berber. He’d been a Marine, but he was a fixture at Camp Charles and had been teaching there for over 40 years. He was a lean, almost skeletal figure, and he spoke with a sharp staccato.

  Several hand shot up. Ryck kept his face neutral, hiding the distaste he had for the springbutts. Recruit training was not a place to put yourself in the limelight where you could draw attention to yourself.

  “You,” Dr. Berber said, pointing a long arm at Doggie Jenkins.

  “Doggie” was an appropriate name for a guy who kept seeking approval. Ryck could almost imagine a tail under his trou, wagging in excitement.

  “The Infantería de Marina, established on February 27, 1537, by Charles the First, for whom this camp was named,” Doggie recited.

  “Wrong!” shouted Dr. Berber.

  That caught Ryck’s attention. Doggie was not any sort of history buff. What he’d just said was right out of our Marine Corps Handbook, the printed book that recruits were required to carry at all times. The book was filled with all sorts of Marine Corps knowledge, not the least being the origins of the Corps.

  “The Infantería de Marina was the oldest extant Marine Corps when the Federation Marine Corps was formed. But there were many different naval infantry, or marine units formed before that. During the Chinese Warring States of 481-221 BC, soldiers armed with dagger-halbreds were put on ships to ward off boarders. The ancient Greeks used hoplites as naval infantry. Mighty Imperial Rome, though, in the year 68 AD, might have been the first government to form specific marine units, the First and Second Adiutrix. The point I am making is two-fold. The first is listen to the question, not just in history, but in life. I asked one thing, and our volunteer there, Mr. Jenkins,” he said after peering at Doggie’s nametag, “answered what he thought I asked instead of what I asked. Doing that in combat could have drastic consequences. The second point is that from the time of navies, there had to be soldiers to protect them. These soldiers of the seas are your direct forebears. We didn’t need Chuck the First to suddenly come up with the idea. All he did was put into a decree what was already a proven need. That need has not changed from the time of war galleys to our newest Prion Class carrier today.

  “I hope you will take the advantage of not only listening, but also learning from this class. Yes, I know that you miss your drill instructors,” he said to the laughter breaking out in the classroom, “and you need them to tell you how to fart,” as even louder laughter broke out. “But this is your heritage. This is what makes you what you are. I’m not going to be ratting out any of you if you fall asleep, but I hope you have the pride and discipline to listen and learn.”

  The “falling asleep” comment hit home. Ryck had it in the back of his mind to do just that if he could get away with it. But Dr. Berber’s comment and appeal to their own sense of discipline instilled something more in him. He was going to be a Marine, and he should know its history, what would soon be his history.

  “Settle back and relax. I will let you know,” Dr. Berber said, stomping his foot in an exaggerated manner, “what you will have to know for the test. What you think the Corps doesn’t test everything here at Camp Charles?” he said to the groans that had come at the word “test.” “The Corps tests everything, so get used to it. Anyway, I’ll let you know what will be tested,” he said, once again making the exaggerated stomp. “But what I want you to absorb is the makings of the Marines and how our own culture has been developed. We work closely with the Navy, but we are different animals.

  “Over our twenty classes together, we will examine the birth of dedicated naval infantry units, of the proliferation and periodic demise of marine units, of the 43 national and three planetary Marine Corps that were combined to form the Federation Marines, and of our own Federation Marine Corps history, our greatest battles and heroes. Much of this will directly affect you, from why we celebrate both February 27 and November 10 as our Marine Corps birthday, why NCOs wear the red stripe on their blues, and why a drummer in the Marine band wears a leopard skin over his uniform.

  “Today, we will go over the foundation of how naval infantry was developed.”

  A vid of some sort of war gallery appeared over his arena.

  “I won’t be foot-stomping anything during this class. There won’t be anything on the test from today, so just listen and let it sink in.

  “The first recorded naval battle was the Battle of the Delta, between the Egyptians under Ramses III and a group known as the Sea Peoples. In this battle, which took place around 1175 BC, the ships were used as platforms from which archers could fire towards shore-based troops, so in a way, the naval infantry preceded the use of a navy ship as a weapon in and of itself. Ships continued to be more of floating transports, and it wasn’t until the rise of the Greeks and Phoenicians around 1000 BC that the war galley was developed. This is what is called a triaconter, or ‘thirty-oared ship.’ Not only could it transport troops, but also it could attack and destroy other ships, quite often through ramming” he said, pointing to the image above his desk arena. Another image of a galley appeared, and the first one turned to face it before oars started it forward towards the new ship.

  Ryck leaned forward in his seat. He had a feeling that the 20 hours he was scheduled to be in class with the good doctor were going to be interesting.

  Chapter 6

  Recruit Squad Leader Ryck Lysander took a few steps to his left and yelled “Hodges, get your grubbing team up in position!”

  This was the first training evolution in his new recruit billet, and he was bound and determined
to keep it all the way through graduation. He didn’t need Hodges to get him fired before he’d even had a chance to show the DIs what he was capable of.

  They were outside the camp walls, in TA103, “Training Area 103,” a good-sized expanse of open ground. It wasn’t as clear as a parade deck, but it was as close to being clear as any other training area. There were a few gentles rises and one gully, but a DI could pretty much view the entire area. Ryck couldn’t afford to focus on any of the other squads in sight, though. He had to watch his four fire teams as they walked through the various formations they’d just learned.

  As he’d wondered before, he wasn’t sure why they were walking around, their M99s in hand, but nothing else. No comms, no armor, nothing. Ryck knew they’d never be without their comms, and trying to control four fire teams by shouting was not the most efficient way of getting the job done. Why not just give them a club and animal skins, and let them grunt out their commands?

  Not that the M99s they carried were anything more than clubs, and not very effective cubs at that. Ryck had been thrilled when he’d been issued his, but that thrill faded when he realized the weapon was a liability to a recruit. Not only did it have the bright pink safety tie that kept the chamber from closing, showing the world that he wasn’t trusted yet to have a live weapon, but also even dropping it, much less getting separated from it, resulted in a punishment that was better blocked out of the mind. One recruit

  DOR’d right in the middle of his pushups he’d been assigned for dropping his. The DIs had been in his face, screaming, and the guy just stopped. Leaving his weapon on the deck, he’d just stood up, then walked back toward the barracks.

  “Are you DOR’ing?” the top hat had screamed.

  “Yep,” had been the reply.

  As if a switch had been thrown, the DIs quit their tirade. Drill Instructor Lorenz picked up the recruit’s M99 and slung it on his back as the other DIs turned their attention back to the rest of the platoon.

  Ryck had already forgotten the recruit’s name. He was only one of six recruits who were gone.

  “Damn it Hodges, get your team up!” he shouted again, running a few steps toward him until he stumbled over a rock and almost went to his knees.

  He risked a glance back to the bleachers where they had been given their lesson. Not only were his DIs there watching, but also the series commander and senior were there as well, all observing the training. Ryck hoped no one had noticed him stumbling.

  Recruit Hodges slowly moved his fire team up in position. The DI field instructor had told them that formations like this had been the mainstay of military operations since warfare began, but Ryck thought that had no bearing on modern warfare. Marines were not going to be trudging into battle in nice little squad V’s, Wedges, or Echelons. Even the most ill-equipped enemy would be able to hold off a company of Marines if this was all they did. They might just as well line up in three ranks and conduct volley fire at the enemy.

  They finally made it to the yellow flag that indicated they had to shift to the next formation. This changing formations was called “Battle Drill.” Ryck looked down at his instruction sheet.

  “OK, listen up! We’re going to a Squad V,” he shouted, holding up both arms at an angle above his head.

  At least the fire teams didn’t have to change formations at the same time, something for which Ryck was grateful. That would be a royal clusterfuck. He shifted to his own position as he watched the fire teams slowly make the change.

  “Hodges! Where are you supposed to be in a Squad V? To the right of the formation! No, to your other right! You see Fourth Fire Team there? You think you both are going to march together?” Ryck shouted as he sprinted towards his wayward team.

  Observers be damned, Ryck was going to grab that grubbing idiot by the collar and drag him into position if he had to.

  Chapter 7

  Ryck strapped on his armor. Not the body armor they would be issued at the end of Phase 2, but plastic armor, gloves, and a helmet that looked like some old-time football gear. This was pugil stick training, what some said was the highlight of Phase 1.

  Ryck wouldn’t call it the highlight, himself. What was next? Jousting? Sword fighting? He thought in that in today’s Marine Corps, the weapons were just slightly more advanced than smacking each other with padded sticks. It didn’t matter what Ryck thought, though. For the Drill Instructors, this was life and death. Competition between squads, platoons, and companies was the very lifeblood of the DIs. Each unit had to do better than the rest, and the DIs held their recruits’ victories over each other. The pugil stick tournament was the first major competition within the company, and the all the DIs were anxious for an early victory.

  They’d been introduced to the sticks in the morning session. There was actually some technique involved, but from what was the undercurrent being discussed, the actual bouts were more like two recruits simply trying to bash out each other’s brains.

  Now, after chow and after a class on first aid, which Ryck thought was appropriate just prior to the tourney, it was time to have at it. It was First Squad against Second, Third against Fourth. The final platoon winners would go up against the other platoon champ in a death match at the end of Phase 1.

  Ryck figured he would be matched against Raj Simperson, the Third Squad leader, but the DIs chose No Initial as his first opponent. Ryck’s first reaction was why me? No Initial was huge, but then as he thought about it, Ryck figured this would be a way for him to shine. Ryck already knew that No Initial didn’t have stamina and that he was slow. All Ryck would have to do would be to dance around, darting in and out, landing what blows he could until the big guy from Craxion 4 tired.

  With his gear on and checked by Drill Instructor Lorenz, Ryck joined the rest of the squad around the huge sawdust-filled circle just to the east of the obstacle course. The circle was only used for pugil stick training. A recruit would think this was sacred ground. Woe and behold any recruit who happened to try and walk across it. That had happened to Hodges when he was told to go back to the start of the obstacle course back on T4, or “Training Day 4,” and what happened to him was something Ryck never wanted to see again. He thought Hodges was going to DOR right there, but somehow, the guy had stuck through his “motivational training.”

  First Squad and Second were going at it. Some bouts were quick, some took time. Du Boc, a smaller recruit from Harmony, and Graeme Styles, a heavy-worlder from Rio Tinto, had an epic battle, with all the recruits and drill instructors cheering. Du was quicker than the stockier Graeme, and he kept up a tremendous flurry of blows that the heavy-worlder absorbed as he tracked down his lighter opponent. Heavy-worlder or not, though, Du was getting through, staggering Graeme twice. Finally, as Du darted in for another shot, Graeme connected, almost sending Du down. Somehow, Du stayed up as Graeme waded in. Several blows hit Du from each side, yet he would just not give up. His helmet was knocked askew, blinding him. Graeme lunged forward to take advantage of it, but Du lashed out with a wild roundhouse swing, going yard. Somehow, he connected against Graeme’s head, and the Rio Tinto recruit almost went down.

  The rest of the recruits, even those in Third and Fourth Squads, were going crazy. Just to his right, the Second Squad “coach,” Drill Instructor Mendez, was in full apoplectic fit mode, screaming as it looked that Du might pull it out.

  The recruits wore big, bulky gloves while fighting, and these gloves fit through the padding on the sticks to allow a combatant to get a firm grip. It was considered a coward’s loss to drop a pugil stick, akin to a Spartan coming home without his shield, so the gloves and handhold made it easier to hang on, almost locking the hand in place. This didn’t make the gloves very useful for anything else though, and when Du removed one hand to try and twist his helmet back so he could see again, he couldn’t get a good grasp on it.

  When Graeme’s next blow hit him, it smashed through Du’s hand and lifted the taller, but lighter recruit up right off his feet to crash down in the sawd
ust. Lying flat on his back, Du weakly lifted his left hand, which had somehow still retained its grip on his pugil stick. This was no coward’s loss.

  Graeme strode forward, and for a moment, Ryck thought the guy was still in attack mode. When the bloodlust was up, anything could happen, and more than once, DIs had to wade in to separate fighters. Graeme was a heavy-worlder, too, and while Ryck had never really known one, he knew their reputation as undisciplined brawlers. He was surprised, then, when Graeme merely bent over to help Du to his feet. Graeme even held up Du’s arm in the victor pose. The senior moved into the ring and held up both of their arms. Winning was drilled into each recruit’s head, but it seemed that even in losing, Du had gained the DIs’respect.

  Despite himself, Ryck could feel his own competitive blood boil. This might be antiquated, it might be useless, but Ryck was getting psyched. He wondered what his chances were to emerge as the platoon champ. He was already a squad leader, but that was assigned to him. Platoon pugil stick champ would be earned.

  When First and Second completed the first round, the winners were all taken to the side where they would await the winners between Third and Fourth. Due to drops, the squads were not even, so two recruits from First had joined Third for their first bout. If they won though, it would still be a First Squad win.

  Drill Instructor Lorenz gathered them all around before they started their bouts.

  “I can give you an ‘oorah’ speech, but frankly, if it isn’t in you, then I’m not going implant it into your heart with a 30-second speech. This, recruits, is up to you. No one else. Yeah, I want you to win, because I’d love to stick it in Drill Instructor Temperance,” he said, holding one hand up as if it were in back of the neck of someone, then taking his right and driving it up as if thrusting a knife, then twisting it back and forth. “If you lose, you’re going to wish you hadn’t, I promise you. But that’s not why you want to win. You should need to win because you’re the baddest, meanest motherfuckers around, and you want the world to know it.”