For those of you who don't know, a klick is equal to a kilometer. I've decided to switch to metric system for my non-American viewers, as America is one of the only ones who still use measurements such as inches and feet.

The bus was surprisingly crowded. I ended up sitting next to a young, dark skinned man, roughly a year older than me. He doesn't have much muscle on him and he looks like he'd be better off in the city as an accountant. We don't say anything on the way to boot camp. I'm used to silence, having worked on a farm all my life, but this type is just unbearable.

It's the silence of fear, of men who are starting to rethink their choices, of children about to grow up too fast. It suffocates me, its hands wrapping around my throat, making me a part of the silence.

Finally I can't take it anymore. I turn to the man sitting beside me, "Hey, the name's David. You?"

He looks shocked to see me talking to him, and a little scared. I can feel dozens of eyes on me as my fellow recruits look up to see who has broken the horrible silence. I ignore them and wait for his answer.

"Um, you can call me Roger, Roger Harum." He says in a slightly higher pitched voice than my own.

"Nice to meet you, Roger. Where are you from?" I ask him, extending my hand to him.

He grasps my hand and smiles as he shakes it. "Small town a couple of klicks from here. My dad was a banker there. You're a farmer right?"

"Yep."

"What made you want to join the Marines?"

"Well somebody's gotta kill the Covies, might as well be me. What about you?"

"I joined to protect Reach. Eventually they'll find this place and we'll need every man possible to defend it."

"Bull shit! There's no way they will ever get to Reach!" A big teenager sitting behind us says, leaning over our seat to look at us. There are murmurs of agreement on the bus. "And even if they do, our military here will tear 'em to pieces!" he continues.

A man who looks roughly twenty one leans over his seat to look back at the teen. "You're kidding right? They'll find Reach. It's inevitable. And when they do more of us will die."

"Man they can't take Reach! It's too heavily defended. Why'd you even join if you think it's pointless?"

"Because I might as well try to stop them before I die. And besides what does Reach have that the other colonies didn't?"

They continue to argue, sparking a conversation throughout the bus. I smile to myself; at least I got them to start talking.

We talk so much that we don't even realize when the bus stops until the bus driver opens the door. We immediately fall silent. There's a thunk, thunk, thunk, as a Drill Instructor walks up the metal steps.

He has the signature Smoky Bear on his head. His Sergeant rank is sewn onto his BDU. He looks at us for 5 seconds before he starts yelling. It all happens in a blur, him yelling us off the bus, putting our personal items in safe keeping, them roughly shaving our heads, meeting the Senior Drill Instructor, then meeting our DI.

We receive our uniforms, and our bunks. The next 13 weeks are a living hell. I get placed in the same platoon as Roger, the teen, whose name turned out to be Mitchell Ogada, and the depressing man in front of us, Tink Carter. He was the verbal punching bag for the DIs, with nicknames like Fairy and Tinker Bell. How the hell they remembered a cartoon from 500 years ago is beyond me, but they did it.

The four of us were in a squad together. Tink, as much as the DIs made fun of him, was actually made squad leader. He was definitely somebody you'd want next to you in a firefight. For all that depressing stuff he said, he wasn't joking about trying to stop the Covenant. He gained expert on his marksmanship scores with a battle rifle.

Mitchell was bigger than me but clumsier. He had very basic hand-to-hand combat skills and was very poor at accuracy. The only reason he didn't get booted was because of his strength. He was actually strong enough to tear a machine gun turret from its stand and carry it around with him. This, while it may not seem like much to an ODST or Spartan, for a Marine recruit that was a pretty damn big deal.

Roger was fast. I mean really fast. He could do the six mile runs without a problem. He had amazing speed and stamina for a son of a banker. The only thing that surpassed his speed was his accuracy with a rifle. Even the DIs were impressed with his marksmanship scores. At the end of training they told him he could easily make Marine sniper if he tried for it.

Compared to these three I was nothing special. I scored average with the battle rifle; I struggled along the six mile run with everyone else, I just barely survived the gas chamber. I was as average a marine as you could get. My only strength was in close range combat. My years on the farm had built up my muscle enough so that if I landed a punch, it was gonna hurt.

We were all so proud of our selves when we became actual Marines. We were no longer Recruits for the DIs to pick on; we were marines to be respected by our peers and feared by the Covenant. When we graduated, Roger and I got sent to the same ship above Reach. Mitchell stayed on a base on Reach. Tink, well, I didn't know it back then, but Tink was sent Hat Yai, an outer colony glassed by the Covenant sometime between 2528 to 2529. I never saw him again.

Roger and I had it good on our assigned ship, the UNSC Firefight, a UNSC Frigate. We stayed in orbit above Reach for three months, living peacefully while we waited for the Firefight to finally see combat. We kept wishing for that day. . . until the Covenant came to Reach.