Master Sergeant McAllister is ordering our entire unit to write reports about everything we do. I don't know why but it's the Sarge's orders. I don't think its suppose to be a diary or a journal or a log... which ever it is, I'm doubting that this will get anywhere. This war is keeping us all busy, does the Sarge think we'll have time to sit down and write a year worth of "diary entries"? I hope not and if he does, he's got to be crazy. I have hardly enough time to play a round of cars rather much write senseless crap in a journal.
That's another thing, this is a real journal. Paper and spiral, and I'm writing with a real, ink pen. Low tech, if you ask me. This is the year 2552... we should have hover cars by now.
But we don't.
Instead, we got a war. There isn't much I can say about it, it's suicidal, all of it. We're against all odds and waging an impossible war. But of course, my voice ain't gonna be heard. I'm just a grunt; Private First Class River Lockwood. There are few opinions heard now-a-days. Sarge is a blabber mouth, so his voice is heard although it may not be wanted. Wait, what if he reads these? Oh well, I'll probably be dead by the time he does. He runs his mouth, telling every soul who has an ear that he's got the best unit on Reach. Yeah... Let's see how long he keeps up that shit.
We're not a bad, unit, but we're not God's gift to man-kind either. The Spartans are, I heard. If I were the Sarge, I'd be a bit more modest.
But, like I said, I'm a grunt. No one is gonna listen to what I have to say.
Now for the "report" part of this diary... we're getting new recruits in today. There are only three newbies showing up and there are five units in New Alexandria. one of the four newbies are coming to our unit.
Lucky us.
I can't say I'm excited and I don't think the rest of my unit is that hipped up about it either.
I flipped the matte, grey spiral journal closed and studied its cover. The words: Lockwood, River was etched in jet-black lettering at the bottom. I stuffed it into my pack as the door to the barracks swung open. I turned and looming in the doorway was a beefy, heavily-built marine whose nickname was the only think I knew about him. I didn't know his first name or last name, though his rank didn't seem to be coming to my mind at the moment... only his nickname stood out in my mind:
Bull-balls.
I'm not too sure on how the Sarge "bestowed" Bull-balls with a nickname like that. He probably did something heroic because a nickname like his seems like someone who would have steel balls.
He's the Sarge's dog. He's as loyal and as annoying as a dog, too. Where ever Sarge was, that's where Bull-balls was and he yaps and barks like one too, repeating everything Sarge says. He's the equivalent of a teacher's pet or someone's shadow. He has the intelligent level of a dog as well. Bull-balls'll get himself killed one day because he would be playing a game of fetch with his "master" but instead of a ball, it'll be a grenade.
Bull-balls had a plump face but mature features. He had powerful muscles and reached a towering six foot seven inches height to my six foot one. His head was shaven bald and he could probably lift twice his own weight. I envied him but I didn't want to be him either.
"Newbie's are here, Luckster," He said with a rather unnecessarily loud voice.
I flinched slightly and replied with false enthusiasm, "Yippee,"
Luckster. Yeah, that was my nickname all right. The Sarge gave it to me because he thinks I'm lucky. My unit agrees with him – naturally – and so the name just stuck. I don't think I'm so lucky. One of the reasons why Sarge thinks I'm lucky is because I'm the only marine that's survived in Sarge's unit the longest, which came out to about a year. Since the war hadn't reached Reach yet – as funny as it sounded – I've only seen two men die. I hadn't been in any firearms engagements recently and the majority of the men I've been stationed with we've lost were transferred to different units.
I followed Bull-balls down the hallway, hoping he knew where he was going but I didn't know. I guessed the hangar bay. Bull-balls and I rarely talked so I decided to be friendly.
"So, you excited?" I asked.
"I always am. You have to be more specific," Bull-balls answered, glancing down at me subtly.
"About the newbies,"
He shook his head, "No. Why should I be? They'll either be dead or gone by next week,"
I nodded, silently agreeing with him. He was right, they wouldn't be here long; gone, not dead.
Bull-balls peeked down at me, as if I were crazy and hadn't agreed with him, "Are you?" He returned.
"No, no..." I shook my head.
Maybe I was slightly excited but not enough to be completely convinced. It was a batch of new people, no big deal.
We arrived in the base's hangar, like I had suspected. Marines and Engineers scattered the bay, working and browsing different equipment or vehicles. The large mouth of the bay's doors at the opposite end of where we had entered, gushed in the cool, oceanic air, altering the temperature to humid and moderate. This base's location was a scenic vista near the shore.
A Pelican dropship dominated the bay. It had a bulky, olive-green hull and it looked brand new... or precisely cleaned and preserved.
Sarge McAllister was pacing back and forth on the Pelican's ramp, his poker face on. The Sarge was in his late forties and had a weathered skin tone. Scars sprawled across his cheeks and if given the time, he would tell you the heroic story behind every scar. I reckoned he would have forgotten by now but he didn't. Sarge also had an enlarged ego and it was as tough as steel. I don't think he once ever had his ego get behind him. It was always ahead of him. Not to mention that his reputation meant a lot to him as well. Another thing was that he reminded you of things you didn't want remembrance of. For me, it was my first drill with live rounds during my advanced training. The Sarge had been strolling around and decided to watch. I managed to take down all of my targets without firing a single round. It wasn't some ballet act, though. That's what got me into his unit. He had a good laugh as I nearly got my ass shot up with live rounds. This was another reason Sarge said I was lucky.
That was all you needed to know about Sarge. And he was the best damn shot I've ever seen, that too.
Three men descended from the shadow of the Pelican's bay and down the ramp. Sarge pointed at the two who looked almost identical and then to our sister unit's Sarge, who I recognized. They joined him and Sarge McAllister's gaze rested onto the lone recruit remaining.
Bull-balls and I made our way to the Sarge and as we came within hearing distance, we heard, "... Alexandria, recruit, on the magnificent colony of Reach. This place isn't like your petty civilian life you once knew – hopefully you've all ready realized this... From this point on, you are under my command and I can do anything I wanna do. So... as long as you don't prove to be a shithead, you'll stay in this unit until you die. And if you do prove to be a shithead..." He just shook his head, "I don't wanna explain what happens after that... Ah, here's my star-student," Sarge threw a strong arm around Bull-balls's shoulders. "This is Corporal Bullum, or Bull-balls, or whatever comes out, like dickhead or fucktard," He laughed. Bull-balls didn't.
"And that," Sarge threw a finger at me, "is Private Lockwood. He's a good kid and a lucky son of a bitch. Luckster's a name you could call him or Dandelion. Now, if you have any questions, ask the private,"
Great...
"And he'll take to you the barracks. I need to speak with the Corporal alone, dismissed,"
The recruit trudged past the Sarge as he pulled Bull-balls to the side. I wondered what it was the Sarge what to say. Probably wanted him to represent him somehow... or play fetch.
The recruit trailed along side me as I led him to the barracks. We walked in silence before he broke it with, "The Sarge likes his nicknames," The recruit reckoned. This was when I got a good look at him. He was about my height, had scraggly, dirty blonde hair and predominant cheekbones. And he had the brightest, damn, green eyes I'd ever seen.
"Yeah... he does," I replied softly, "he normally gives a nickname to everyone within a couple of day,"
"Really?" The recruit truly sounded interested. That's a first, I thought.
"Yeah,"
"What's yours?"
"Luckster,"
The recruit laughed, "Why? 'Cause you're lucky? Just a wild guess,"
I nodded, grinning a bit, "Sarge says. I don't think so though,"
"How come?" I was starting to like this guy. I didn't know his name but I could have a decent conversation with him and it had some type of flowage to it. I felt some sort of a connection with him. I couldn't be sure what it meant yet but maybe in time I'd figure it out. Eventually.
"Dunno, just don't believe in superstitions," I told him simply with a slight shrug.
We entered the barracks and I advised him to stay away from one bunk in particular; Tarzan and Bull-balls's bunk. Corporal Andy "Tarzan" Finch was one of Bull-balls's close friends. They were practically brothers and did almost everything together. They spent most of their time in the work-out gyms showing off, picking fights, and hitting on the women.
There was a free cot above mine and below Private First Class Hai "Dimples" Chen, a marine of heavy Asian heritage and a pretty good friend of mine. He was the only one of the unit I could talk to casually with. He actually listened.
The recruit wanted the one above mine and as he was hefting his pack onto his new cot, I made a point to ask, "What's your name, again?"
"Lance Corporal Kent Calwell," The recruit answered proudly with a grin, "And you're Private Lockwood, right?"
"River 'Luckster' Lockwood. You can call me Luckster. Everyone calls me that," I insisted.
Kent nodded in affirmation and I suggested we go to the Mess Hall for dinner.
Maybe having a new member to the unit ain't gonna be so bad after all.
