Waking up at five in the morning wasn't difficult. They had mastered that in basic.
Managing to be semi-groomed, in PT clothes, out in the early morning sun, with enough energy to not complain, was also something they all did automatically.
They simply weren't prepared for what they saw.
First, there seemed to be a bare patch of dirt, for a sprint maybe. That gave away to a stretch of wooden poles sticking out of the ground, they started at an inch, but slowly grew until they were nearly ten feet. The last few poles ended in a diagonal rope slide, but there didn't seem to be a grip. After the rope, it looked like another bare stretch, then a barbed wire crawl. Then a rope wall, then a rope climb that was about twenty feet high. A few small hills for maybe two hundred feet finished it off.
But their attention wasn't on that. It was on the Drill Sergeant who had them lined up in front of it. He seemed to be glaring at Hammer Head the most. However, Priest was the first he addressed. "This isn't a combat zone in Africa."
Then Beachhead turned to Hammer Head, "This isn't a swimming pool."
He barely looked at Weaver. "This isn't an air force cubical."
He crossed his arms, "This is the G. training course. All of the soldiers on this base can pass this course in three minutes or less."
Hammer Head and Weaver had both run a course similar to this in their ROTC classes, but their times had been nowhere close to three minutes, and the course was nowhere near as long or complex as this.
"Our normal PT usually takes about two hours." Beachhead continued, "Today, you three will be out here for three, at the least."
Weaver cursed under her breath. After basic had finished, the longest PT she had ever done was two and a half hours. And she had almost puked that day.
Beach Head turned to Hammer Head, "Now, you. Get those shitty sunglasses off your face, and let the sun blind you like a real fucking man."
Hammer Head dropped his sunglasses.
Beach Head turned to Weaver, bending down so they were eye to eye. With her being five foot two inches, it was a considerable slump. "You. Air Force. I don't like slackers."
Weaver glared right back, a facial expression that had made her Drill Sergeant in basic take a step away from her. "Then you won't have any problems with me."
He grunted, straightened, and crossed his arms. "Then you won't mind running it first? MOVE YOUR ASS!"
Weaver rushed like a bolt past the start, the sprint taking nothing out of her. She stepped cautiously on the first wooden pole, then the next, then the next.
"PICK IT UP MAGGOT!"
Weaver was on a six foot pole, trying not to look down as the wind started blowing. She just kept stepping, slowly, trying not to fall. She managed to get to an eight foot pole, wobbling.
"Bend your knees!" Priest yelled out.
Weaver bent her knees, and managed to get to the nine foot pole. When she tried for the ten foot, the breeze picked up, and it was all she could do to fall far enough to grab the rope with her hands, then swing her knees up to shimmy down it.
Beach Head didn't like that. "IF YOU PULL THAT SHIT IN THE FIELD, YOU DIE! PAPPER PUSHER!"
She hit the ground running, but before she was halfway across the bare stretch, she went under. Hammer Head blinked a few times, "What the hell?"
Weaver suddenly came back into view, practically swimming through a very deep patch of mud they hadn't seen.
Beach Head roared, "IF YOU CAN'T TOUCH THE BOTTOM, TRY USING THAT EMPTY HEAD OF YOURS TO FLOAT TO THE OTHER SIDE!"
Priest grimaced, looking down at the green crew neck shirt and camouflaged cargo pants that they had been issued. "Looks like today is laundry day."
Hammer head started laughing, "OH my god… she can't touch the bottom!"
Weaver proved to be a stronger swimmer than Beach Head expected, managing to make it to solid ground and wipe the mud out of her eyes. She flopped down, crawling under the barbed wire. In basic, girls got their buns and pony tails caught in the wires all the time, which is why she had opted for a crew cut right before basic. While it kept her from getting tangled, it confused enough people that she would get yelled at if she headed into the female bathroom.
The rope wall was something she had done a lot, so she knew to stick close to the edge, so it wouldn't sway back and forth as much. After she half climbed/half fell down the other side, she paused at the single rope dangling in front of her, glaring in disgust as she tried to jump as high as she could. The minute she had a grip, she wrapped her ankles in the end, and started inching her way up.
"I COULD GET A FUCKING WORM TO CLIMB THAT FASTER THAN YOU."
"Don't… Kill… The… Ranger…" Weaver grunted as she struggled up to the top, slapped the wood, and slipped down, nearly breaking her ass when she hit the ground. She took off into the small hills, and briefly wondered why they would be part of the course… until she felt a sting on her forearm.
Blue paint dripped down her wrist.
"SHIT!" She ran faster, opting for a zig zag pattern as she heard more paint balls whizzing by. "I HATE SNIPERS!"
"That's not offensive." Priest mumbled.
Hammer Head laughed, "Calling you a sniper is like calling her average height, it just doesn't add up."
Beach Head finally turned around, "SMART ASS, YOU CAN TAKE THE COURSE NEXT!"
Hammer Head nodded.
Weaver managed to dash through the rest of the hills, getting back to the start, before collapsing, gasping for breath. Beach Head looked her over, "Just one hit?"
She nodded, holding up her arm to show him, as Hammer Head took the course.
He stepped slowly over the poles, slide down the rope like it was nothing, and slid across the surface of the mud patched, managing to not go completely under.
Weaver growled, "I hate him. I hate him so much."
Priest snorted, "You're gonna really hate me."
Hammer Head managed to get through the rest without much effort, until he got to the hills. The Snipers had stepped up their game, and Hammer Head had to jump, duck, weave, and even slide to the finish line. He jumped up, showing only one paint splatter, on his knee.
Beach Head got up in his face, "WIPE THAT SMILE OFF YOU FACE! YOU CALL GETTING SHOT IN THE ANKLE A WIN?!"
Beach Head turned around to Priest, "Let's see what you've got, preacher."
Priest rolled his eyes, and then he was off like lightning. As Beach Head was making Hammer Head and Weaver do pushups on their knuckles, Priest had managed to weave his way around the mud, finding places to step that only got his boots dirty. He flew through the rest, not a single sniper hit him. Weaver just groaned, cursing into the dirt as Beach Head demanded another fifty.
Priest joined them, pumping them out without having to be told.
After the pushups, there was a four mile run. Then more push ups.
Then Beach Head made them pick him up and carry him half a mile. Weaver had the carrying the easiest, as her arms were much shorter than the boys, and all she had to do was hold her arms up to look like she was actually doing something. Hammer Head must have caught on, because he started stepping on her boots until she finally stood on tip toe to help.
The entire time Beach Head was snarling and spitting, yelling about their performance. They could see a few figured off by the base, walking them PT. Priest figured they were sizing up the new comers, seeing if they'd enjoy working with any of them.
When Beach Head finally let them set him down, he ordered them back to the obstacle course, to run it together as a team.
Priest nudged Hammer Head, nodding to the small crowd. Hammer Head grunted, "If they want a show, I can give them a show."
Weaver glanced back as well, and nodded slowly. "I'm not into being judged from afar. Let's fuck this obstacle course up."
They posed up at the starting line, and took off once Beach Head yelled to go. Priest ran behind Hammer Head and Weaver, steadying them easily on the pole if they ever swayed. Hammer Head took off down the rope first, then grabbed Weaver when she fell. They both reached up to catch Priest as he fell.
Priest set the pace for the mud pit, keeping them from falling under.
Weaver was the first done with the rope wall, halfway up the rope climb before Hammer Head and Priest were waiting. She dropped down, Priest catching her as Hammer Head shot up the rope, hand over hand. When he dropped, Priest and Weaver caught him, then Priest was up and down before they could blink. They hit the hills, scattering each and every way, Weaver started flipping around to gain attention if Hammer Head or Priest had to slow down. Halfway through, a sniper managed to shoot Priest in the back. Hammer Head and Weaver each grabbed one of his arms, dragging him as fast as they could to the finish line.
Beach Head stared at them as Weaver looked up at him, gasping out, "What was… our time?"
Beach Head cut out the words, sweet and short. "Two minutes, twenty-seven seconds. Injured team mate adds thirty seconds on, so you passed by three seconds."
Hammer Head pulled Weaver into a head lock, "Ya hear that chair force? First try!"
Beach Head yelled, "ATTENTION!"
All three of them snapped up. "Dismissed."
They turned, walking off towards the base. Hammer Head pcked his glasses up off the ground, grumbling about the glass getting dirty.
Weaver sighed, "That was three hours?"
Priest shook his head, "That was three hours an twenty three minutes."
Hammer Head raised an eyebrow, "Yeah, and you seemed a bit off your game, Weaver."
"I don't know what you mean."
"You usually run a lot faster than you did today."
She shrugged, "I run faster when Kitty is with me. Motivation always helps."
Priest put a hand on her shoulder as they headed off towards the chow hall. "The cargo shipment will be here within five days."
Weaver just nodded.
