Face's Story

I climbed up the rope ladder, my head throbbing and every muscle burning. My broken wrist smarted with every move I made with it, and the hundred degree-plus weather didn't help at all.

If your commanding officer says you can do it, you can do it.

I hit the ground, then started to run over to the mud pit. I stumbled and fell to the dirt.

"GET UP AND MOVE, PRIVATE!" My burly CO yelled as I lingered on the ground.

Or he's trying to kill you.

With a groan, I pulled my de-hydrated, sweat soaked body off the ground. I couldn't even see straight, and I wasn't sure if I could finish the course, but I started running anyway. If I didn't finish the course in six minutes, he'd make me do it again. If I did finish the course in six minutes, maybe he'd let me get a drink of water, and then make me do it again.

He was trying to break me. He hated me because I wasn't a guy who'd let someone else make my decisions for me, he hated me because I could think for myself.

My drill Sarge tried, but even he couldn't. Except, my drill Sarge allowed me bodily necessities. This guy didn't.

I swung across the ropes, then jumped onto some wooden beams and started to run across them. I stumbled off, crashing to the ground, but got up before he could reprimand me. I ran over to him, then halted at attention.

"Seven minutes and two seconds," said my CO. "What were you trying to pull? My grandma could've done that faster! Now get back there and show me how a ranger does it!"

"Yes, sir. Sir, may I have some water first, sir?" I asked.

"NO! I just gave you an order!" Said my CO, grabbing my shirt and punching my already-sore stomach.

I gulped as my stomach seemed to light on fire. "Yes, Sir."

"GET BACK THERE AND RUN THAT COURSE!" My CO said. "NOW!"

"Yes, Sir!" I said, saluting, then turned and ran to the beginning to the course. I felt like I was going to pass out, but if I did, then my CO would beat me 'till I was black and blue. If anybody asked, he would say that I had, "fallen when I was on the course". Everybody believed him.

It happened before, it could happen again.

C'mon, gotta go. You can to this, Temp-

Then I screeched to a halt in front of a grey-haired man who was smoking a cigar. After a quick glance at his stripes, I realize that he was a Lieutenant- Colonel.

The smell of the cigar pushed me over the edge, and just before I passed out, I threw up on the Colonel's combat boots.

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Last I recall, when I passed out, I was flat on my face.

So, why am I laying on my back? Why does someone have their hand supporting my neck?

And why does my mouth taste like bile?

Something pressed up to my lips, and I turned away.

"Kid, relax. Just drink."

The next time someone pressed something against my lips, I opened them and allowed him to pour it it. Water! It was water!

I guzzled it down, trying to get more into my mouth and down my throat. It tasted so good, so refreshing. It was pure heaven.

"Slow down, Private," the man said. "You're going to get sick again."

I slowly opened my eyes, which was no small feat. They felt like they were glued together, and I wasn't sure why.

I looked around. I was still on the course. And the man holding me up was the grey-haired Lieutenant- Colonel.

The situation flooded my head, and I knew I was in trouble. Lieutenant

"I'm sorry, sir," I croaked, trying to sit up.

He shook his head, giving me a kind smile. "It's not your fault, Kid. When was the last time you had any fluids?"

"Last night, sir," I said quietly.

He looked at his watch. "It's two-thirty in the afternoon. Why didn't you drink something at lunch?"

My CO stood behind the kneeling Colonel, and he was glaring at me, commanding me not to say anything.

I gulped down some saliva, turning my gaze from my CO to the Colonel. "I don't know."

The Colonel raised an eyebrow. "I want the truth, kid."

I sighed. "I didn't have lunch, sir."

"What about breakfast?"

"Didn't have that either, sir."

"Why on earth not?" He asked.

"He wasn't hungry, sir," my CO cut in.

"I was asking the Private," the Colonel said gruffly. He turned back to me. "Why haven't you eaten or drank anything? And I want the truth."

I gulped, then said quietly, "I wasn't permitted to, sir."

"A little louder, Private."

"I wasn't permitted to, sir," I said louder.

"What happened to your wrist?" He asked, taking it and prodding it with his fingers.

"I broke it on the obstacle course yesterday, sir," I said.

"Why didn't you go to the infirmary?" He asked. "Weren't you permitted to?"

"No, sir," I said.

The Colonel turned to my CO and gave him a disapproving glare, then turned back to me. "Son, you suffered heat stroke. You're going to need to go to the infirmary, and your CO is going to the brig. Your CO maltreated you, and that was against the law."

The Colonel stood up, then offered me his hand. I took it and stood up.

"What's your name, private?"

"Templeton Peck, sir," I said, astounded that he would want to know my name.

"My name is Hannibal Smith," He said, offering his hand. "Since you're not going to see your current CO for a while, do you want to be in my unit?"

"Yes, sir," I said, shaking his hand. "Thank you, sir."

He nodded. "Now, let's get you to the infirmary."

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How'd you like it? Does anybody want one about Murdock?

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-InsaneRedneck007