This is my first fic so please be kind in your reviews. The story is mine, the charters mine, and everything else that is an original thought MINE. I do not own the names of the bases or the United States Marine Corps or any other armed service. So here it is, hope you like it.
The Corps
Part I – Peace and War
A pint of sweat saves a gallon of blood.
George S. Patton
Chapter 1 – Officer Candidates School
Mark and twenty other men climbed aboard an ancient white school bus. Wire mesh covered the windows and four black words ran along its sides: UNITED STATES MARINE CORPS.
Mark and the others spread out and sat alone with their bags. Some sipped coffee from paper cups, and a few started to read the newspapers they had brought along. Mark found a seat near the rear as the bus roared to life and a cloud of black smoke blew through the open windows.
A second lieutenant, looking crisp in his khaki uniform, sat in the front. He had just graduated from OCS, and would escort them on the drive to the Marine Corps base in Quantico, Virginia. After they pulled away from the recruiting office, the lieutenant stood in the aisle and turned to speak to them.
"Honor, courage, and commitment are the Marines' core values," he shouted over the engine. "If you can't be honest at OCS, how can the Corps trust you to lead men in combat?"
Mark glanced around the bus, surprised to see people reading or sleeping. Not one person answered the lieutenant's question. He was Mark's age, but he looked different. Shorter hair, of course, and broader should. It was more than that. He had an edge, something that made Mark self-conscious.
He turned toward the window to avoid the lieutenant's gaze. Families drove next to them, on their way to the lake or the beach. Kids wearing headphones gawked, surely wondering what losers were riding a school bus in the summertime. A girl in an open Jeep stood and started to raise her shirt before being pulled back down by laughing friends. Mark started to think of his friends, spending their summer vacations in New York and San Francisco, working in air-conditioned office towers and partying at night. Staring through the wire mesh at the bright day, he thought this must be what it's like on the ride to Sing Sing.
The Marine Corps base in Quantico straddles Interstate 95, sprawling across thousands of acres of pine forest and swamp thirty miles south of Washington. Mark's bus rumbled through the gate, and drove past rows of peeling warehouses and brick building identified only by numbered signs.
"Christ, man, where're the ovens? This place looks like Dachau." Only a few forced laughs met the quip from someone near the back of the bus.
They drove farther onto the base – along the edge of a swamp, through miles of trees, far enough to make Mark feel as if they could kill him and no one would ever know. That, of course, was the desired effect. When the air brakes finally kissed and the door swung open, they piled of the bus and sat in the middle of a blacktop parade deck the size of three football fields. Mark saw a sign at the edge blacktop's edge – United States Marine Corps Officer Candidates School – Ductus Exemplo.
"Leadership by Example," he muttered to himself recognizing the Latin phrase.
A fresh faced Marine with a clipboard took roll by Social Security number and then handed a pencil to each of them, saying they had a lot of paperwork to fill out.
For two days, Mark and the other Candidates shuffled from line to line for haircuts, gear issue, and a battery of physical tests. The schedule was designed minimize the number of candidates who flunked out for high blood pressure. On the third day, the hammer would fall and fall hard.
Mark lay sprawled out on his bunk in the squad bay, running his fingers though what had been his hair.
"So far so good, all I have to do is survive the next twelve weeks and I'll be golden," he thought to himself.
A fellow candidate pulled up his footlocker and set it next to Mark's.
"This bunk taken?"
"No."
"Mind if I bunk with you then?"
"No, go right ahead."
The man slid his footlocker under the bed and sat down next to Mark and extended his hand.
"The name's Andrew Taggart."
"Mark Rollins," he said taking Andrew's hand. "So what do you think?"
"I think we're in for a shitty summer," Andrew said smiling. "But what's that saying? 'Pain is temporary pride is forever.'"
"I saw a bumper sticker in the parking lot that said 'Nobody ever drowned in sweat.'"
"Well," Andrew said standing up, "I'm gonna hit the sack. Tomorrow is gonna be hell and I want as much sleep as I can possible get."
"And how do you know this," Mark asked as Andrew climbed into the top bunk.
"Cause this is my second time through the program. Last time I failed the final PT test; so here I am trying a second time."
"Think you'll make it this time?"
"Don't know, all I can do is try my best and hope I pass. That's all anyone can do here."
"Sounds like I'm in for the time of my life," Mark thought to himself as he lay down.
His life as a civilian was now over.