Recruit, Jonathan Brazee [which ebook reader .txt] 📗
- Author: Jonathan Brazee
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Tradition had it that there had been a “Mount Motherfucker” since the early Marines on Earth, something the brass liked so much that on the Federated Marines’ first base on New Beginnings, they had searched for one there. This was going to be the United States Marines’ contribution to the final week. When they had again moved to Tarawa, this current mountain was chosen to carry on the tradition. It had seemed more uplifting when they had first heard of the tradition. Humping up it, Ryck probably joined thousands and thousands of Marine recruits who had wished that this was one tradition that would have died before they got to boot camp.
At about 200 meters up, Duc quietly slipped out of the makeshift stretcher being carried by No Initial and Petir Borisovitch, letting John Emerson get on. John’s feet were mangled with huge blisters, but at the last stop, he’d just jammed his bloody feet back into his boots, refusing to let the corpsman see them. The DIs had to have noticed the switch, but not one took issue with it.
Ryck was vaguely aware of another platoon marching up the mountain on an adjoining trail, but he was focused on his own mission. He had to will one foot being put in front of the other. When he bumped into the recruit in front of him, it took him a moment to realize that he wasn’t moving.
Hodges was in front of him, bent over at the waist, hands on his knees. His weapon dangled, the butt in the dirt, but the sling still in his hands.
Ryck straightened up, catching his breath. They were moving up the trail in a column of twos, all pretense at tactical dispersion gone. To his right, Seth MacPruit was doggedly marching. A hand was attached to Seth’s ruck—the recruit was pulling Ham Ceres, the very guy who had arranged for Seth’s beasting in the showers not so long ago. Seth was still an asshole, but he had come around. If he could do that, then so could Ryck.
“Come on, Terry,” he told Hodges. “Just a little more. Grab my ruck and let me pull you.”
He moved past the recruit and felt the tug as Hodges grabbed the “dead man’s strap” on the side of Ryck’s ruck.
Ten more steps. That’s all. Just ten more steps.
Then suddenly it really was only ten more steps. They crested a ridge, and there, lining the dirt path, were the company’s DIs and officers. Behind them were a number of the TDIs. Ryck was confused for a moment, but as he passed Captain Petrov, the officer slapped him on the back with a “Good job, Marine.”
It took a moment for that to sink in. “Marine?”
It wasn’t a mistake, though. Each Marine on the top of the mountain greeted them, saying the same thing. They had made it. They were Marines!
Several corpsmen were up there as well, and they quickly took those who needed help from the arms of those who had carried them up the hill. 1043 was already there, along with 1039 from the lead platoon. Most of them were on their butts with their rucks off, but they shouted out their greetings. 1044 was not the first to finish, but it wasn’t the last, either.
“Keep your heads up!” Ryck told the others as they moved to their staging area.
He wanted nothing more than to flop down on the ground, but he was going to keep it strong until the end. They reached the small 1044 sign that indicated their staging area, and Ryck managed to keep on his feet until each recruit—each Marine, that was, sat down. He checked them for water before he eased down himself. He didn’t think he would ever get up again.
When 1045 marched up, he surprised himself, though. Led by their platoon guide, Joshua Hope-is-Life, he couldn’t help himself. He jumped up and ran to embrace his friend.
“Hey, Marine,” Ryck said, “you grubbing son-of-a-bitch. We made it!”
Chapter 15
Ryck held his eyes high as the colonel gave his speech. He’d never even seen the man before. He didn’t really give him much thought. Boot camp consisted of his fellow recruits, the DIs, the TDIs, even some of the officers. Out of the corner of his eyes, he could just make out the colonel, up on the podium in his dress blues.
In front of him, though, was the contingent from Eltsworld. Not many family members had come to graduation, but at least fifty Eltsworlders had made the trip in a private ship, and they made quite an impression in their minton-robes and head coverings, the colors changing with each movement or shift of the breeze. They comprised the extended family of Dhakwan Nagi, “Duckman,” from 1045. Since their arrival the day before, rumors had started swirling about Duckman, that he was some sort royal prince, out to prove his courage as a warrior before going back to take over the government.
Ryck would have loved for Lysa to come, but with a new baby, and more importantly, with the cost of a ticket, it just didn’t make much sense. It didn’t matter, though. What mattered was that he had made it. In two more days, he was shipping off to his first duty station, The Third Marine Division at Camp Kolesnikov on Alexander. He would have to attend the 12-week IUT, Initial Unit Training, there before getting to his unit, but it would be as a Marine, not as a recruit.
“. . . and so I am proud to be sending you to where your Marine Corps career will take you. I know you will make me proud, you will make the Corps proud, but more importantly, you will make yourself proud. From our forefathers, Per Terra et Mare, Per Mare, Per Terram, Qua Patet Orbis, and Semper Fidelis. And from the here and now, Audaces Fortuna Iuvat, Marines.
“Captain Petrov, you may dismiss your Marines,” the colonel told the company commander.
The company commander saluted, did an about-face, then called forward the first sergeant and turned over the company to him. He took a step back, did an about-face, and marched off, the other officers following him as the seniors replaced them.
Ryck could feel the excitement build in him. He waited eagerly for the seniors to get the command. Staff Sergeant Despiri received the order, did an about-face, and stared at the new Marines for a moment.
“Platoon 1044, dismissed!” he barked out.
“Aye-aye!” they yelled out in chorus, taking one step back before performing an about-face.
The band kicked in as the platoon erupted into cheers. Ryck pounded the back of Shaymall, who as the platoon guide, sported the single stripe of a Private First Class on his sleeve.
“We did it!” he shouted as he was pulled off Shaymall and bear-hugged by No Initial. The next few minutes were a scrum of hugs, arm punches, and back-pounding. These were his brothers, the men with whom he’d accomplished the toughest challenge of this life. He couldn’t have made it without them, and he knew they had needed him. Hodges, No Initial, Duc, Wagons, Ham, Mac, even MacPruit, they were all family. They were all going their separate ways, but this was a watershed moment that none would forget.
The platoons started breaking up, a few Marines going into the stands to greet family, others seeking friends in other platoons. Ryck started to wander over to 1045, but Joshua met him halfway. They gripped arms, Roman style, before pulling each other in for another bear hug.
“Congratulations, Marine,” they said in unison.
“Well, you glad we went Marines instead of the Legion?” Ryck asked.
“Damn right, I am. You?”
“Nothing but the best, and fuck the rest,” Ryck responded with a laugh. “When you taking off?”
“Tonight, 2200,” Joshua told him.
“Wish I could go,” Ryck said.
Joshua’s parents had sent a ticket for him to go back home for graduation leave. Joshua would be spending two uncharged weeks back there before reporting to First Marine Division right back here on Tarawa. Ryck could have taken the same leave, but he really didn’t have the money to spend on the ticket, and even if he went back to Prophesy, he didn’t have a home there. He could stay with Lysa and her family, but with little Kylee there now, he didn’t want to intrude.
“I’ll be stopping by and seeing your sis and niece, bro. Tell them all what a bad-ass you are.”
“Me a bad-ass? What about you?” Ryck asked, pointing at the PFC stripes Joshua had earned as the 1045 guide.
“Ah, I jus’ fooled them but good. Act like you know what you be doing, and they all believe it. ‘Sides, we all know what you did up there on the Wong.”
“Well, yeah, I guess.”
They both stood there for a moment, not knowing what to say.
“Hey, Ryck! You coming?” Ham shouted. Most of the platoon was going to go out in town to sample the infamous nightlife and probably get stinking drunk, and the new Marines were drifting back to the squad bay.
“Yeah, give me a sec, OK?”
“Well, I’ll be seeing you. Keep in touch, brother,” he told Joshua.
“Yeah, you too. Fair winds and following seas and all of that.”
They shook hands, then turned to join their
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