September 9, 2005
A haze of sounds bounced between Meghan's eardrums like the droning flatline static of a dead TV broadcast. Varying pitches and inflections accented the bevy of voices talking at the lineup of uniformed people. They stood, motionless, listening to speakers congratulate their efforts so far, and layer on the reality that there is much still to come.
Meghan swore that she'd make the best effort to pay full attention, but she was never one for pointless ceremony. Much like graduation from junior high school, this served to annoy Meghan by its existence, and for no other reason.
I got through the entry exam, yay. Give me my assignment so the real work can start.
Meghan forced herself to refocus, making a conscious effort not to move in the meanwhile. This wasn't some nothing accomplishment, she kept reminding herself, this was the first test in the commitment to a completely new way of life.
One of the first lessons she'd learned through a torrent of shouted words and close-range spit of a drill instructor was that her rebellious nature would get her forcefully dry docked in a hurry.
Being a part of the United States armed forces meant being a part of something greater than one's self, a sacrifice beyond leaving home to obey orders of someone they'd never met. Being an effective contributor required the casting aside of one's lesser qualities, so that they may better serve the collective that strove to keep the country and its interests safe, and if that meant that Meghan had to can her contempt for perceived extravagance to avoid being torpedoed on the front lines, so be it.
A video flickered to life in the auditorium, spitting snapshots in time from the earliest moments of the new inductees' time at the facility. Getting measured, stowing of personal effects, getting her hair cut, the first days in the classroom for orientation, shots and medical assessments… calling home…
A numbing feeling punched its way into Meghan's gut – that was a particularly awkward conversation. At the time she wasn't convinced she wouldn't be immediately hung up on, but on reflection she almost wished she had been. Speaking with her mother nearly deep sixed her entire plan – she hated hearing McKenzie cry. After a few terse sentences, Meghan was told that her father was "out with his friends," but she knew better. Sean wouldn't want anything to do with her after the past six months.
She was on her own now.
The video switched to the training exercises they had endured. Fire safety, with the stuffy uniforms and hoses. Chemical suits and gas masks, with somehow even less breathability, ironically. The water-based exercises – Meghan puffed herself up as it showed her leading the pack in the diving and raft drills. The firing range, that damned shotgun. Meghan found herself grinding her teeth, and clenched a fist to calm herself.
The image Rear Admiral Danvers flashed on screen, talking to the audience, thanking the graduates for their leap into service, and particularly their families for the sacrifice, for allowing their loved one to be a part of "the greatest Navy in the world."
The irony was not lost on her.
Further bands played their songs, further flag bearers paraded around the room. Meghan held her ground, trying to bask in what was a celebration of her, among others. One by one the state flag holders lowered their patterned fabric, cheers of varying intensity following each utterance. Much to her non-surprise, Texas and New York received the most raucous reception.
The far doors opened as the announcer introduced the staff of the base, and row by row Meghan watched as those that molded her most hastily strolled down the lined floor. These people, despite whatever initial thoughts she may have held for them upon arriving, were already among those she respected most. Their influence, she had decided, was akin to that of a hurricane – over the course of a short time, they affected her life in ways that would change her forever, though not in gentle fashion. Whether she liked it or not, they burned her new way of life into her skull, and set the tone for who she would eventually strive to be.
That was their cue, and the divisions of the newly graduated class marched into the auditorium. The booming voice introduced them as a sportscaster would, cheers and applause filling the room with echoing reverberation. As they'd done so many times already, they followed instruction as the ceremony proceeded. Moving as part of a cohesive whole, she eventually stood with her unit at the center of the room. The crisp voice of the male coordinator never failed to test her composure; she'd always found it laughable how they were able to make one syllable words last for five seconds at a time, baritone notes dragging every last letter through the halls.
A female lieutenant cut the following silence, her trained speaking voice commanding the attention of the room. She introduced herself as a training command officer, and gave a brief overview of the time that the nearly eight hundred recruits has spent in her care. One by one she acknowledged the leaders of the divisions, giving the petty officers their rightful moment of recognition. Meghan watched as her division officers stepped forward and saluted the crowd, unable to keep herself from imagining her name being called in such a fashion.
One day.
More songs and prayers came after a few high ranking individuals did their thing at the front of the groups. Again Meghan found herself tuning it out, she was rapidly approaching the point of no attention. For a second time, however, her focus snapped to the sudden yelling from the division leaders as they signaled "farewell" to the training camp. She barked out the sailor's creed in unison with her new family, and fell back into silence as the fanfare started again.
Gun twirling and instrument playing, while very pretty and impressive, did nothing for her at this point. Hell, it may have even started to worsen the whole experience, were she the drama-loving sort.
Finally, the commanding officer of recruit training command said his piece, before he handed the floor to the announcer for the doling out of division awards.
Meghan, alongside a few other notable recruits, stood in formation front of the guest officers of the ceremony, waiting for the announcer to get through the long-winded distinction descriptions. As the recruit in front of her turned and marched off, she took the initiative.
She stopped, snapping to a salute, "Good morning, Captain! Seaman Castellano reporting!"
The man smiled and returned the gesture, "Hooyah."
The overhead speaker crackled to life once more, "Seaman Meghan Castellano, Division 105, from Oceanside, Calfornia, is the recipient of the Military Order of the World Wars Award of Merit. This award is presented for meritorious performance during recruit training. Seaman Castellano is presented with a commemorative plaque from the Military Order of World Wars. Well done, Sailor!"
During the announcement, the Captain spoke with her. "Congratulations, Castellano, you really did it. I had my doubts, but you proved us all wrong."
Meghan didn't try to conceal the smirk. "Respectfully, sir, I'm just getting started."
"I believe it. I know you'll go on to do great things."
Her lips tugged ever upwards as she rolled her shoulders. "I appreciate that, sir. I'll do my best to make you proud."
"Sailor, with much confidence, I can say that you already have. I'm looking forward to reading all about just how far you can take your military career."
She allowed herself a single, measured laugh. "Thank you, sir."
Thunderous applause erupted around them, and she side stepped to greet the next person, the visiting congressman. They shook hands as he handed her the aforementioned plaque.
"Good morning sir."
"Good morning. Congratulations on your accomplishments, and keep up the good work."
"Thank you, sir."
She didn't know the guy, and had a feeling he was only here because he drew a short straw, but mustered the same level of humility regardless.
Another sidestep, this time coming face to face with a much higher ranking official.
"Good morning, Admiral." Another salute.
"Good morning." He extended his hand and shook, "Congratulations, well done."
"Thank you sir."
Short and sweet, I like it.
Meghan resumed her march, reuniting with those recognized in her division. The adjutant spoke briefly before handing the podium to the congressman. He spoke of his efforts in the House of Representatives to highlight the need for expanded naval presence worldwide, which meant functioning bases and shipyards as well as sailors. The man orated with a practiced speech, all mannerisms carefully ironed out in ways only befitting to politics. Despite that, his message resonated with Meghan, sheerly from his tone. At the end of it he added that he, too, was once a sailor, and the previously unqualified nature of why she appreciated his character was made clear.
Maybe not just because he drew a short straw.
He and the commander did their final march past the division leads, saluting each time they met in line. Once they were free of the room, the section leaders lead the fall out.
Just like that, it was over. Cheering and clapping once again filled her ears, as the divisions broke formation to converse among themselves and the people from the rapidly emptying stands. Meghan watched as her fellow sailors met with their families and guests, making her situation feel even more lonely.
A hand laid itself on Meghan's shoulder, and she turned to see who on earth-
Her face lit up. "Coach Jackson!" She threw her arms around him. "What are you doing here? How did you know I—"
"Slow down there, killer." He chuckled, rubbing his chin stubble after he pulled back.
Meghan waited, albeit with waning restraint.
"Your mom told me, and gave me her ticket. Wouldn't miss this for the world, Meg."
The mention of her mother stung, although she wasn't surprised. McKenzie always knew that Kyle was Meghan's lighthouse in the raging sea.
"I— I'm sorry I didn't invite you, I had no idea that you…" She trailed off, looking away from him.
Jackson put a hand on her shoulder once more, giving a light shake. "It's OK, Meghan. No harm done, I'm just glad I got to see you in your biggest moment yet."
She drew a shuddering breath. "You're not… disappointed?"
Jackson took a step back. "Disappointed? God, no! Meg, that night in the hospital, I told you to find something else to take refuge in, some other activity to base your life around. 'He who has a why to live can bear almost any how.'"
He gave her a warm smile, pulling her in for another hug. "This is as good as I could have ever hoped! I know you're gonna do great."
Meghan looked into his eyes again, trying to match the raw determination he was exuding. For now, she would take him at his word.
She nodded. "How about, after I get free, we catch up. I'll give you the details behind, well, all of this." She opened her arms at the room. "I'll call you?"
He flashed a grin. "I'd like nothing more."