Chapter 2
"I will break you!"
The sergeant's words rang in my ears. I stood up straight, meeting his eye contact, my eyebrows narrowing, my breath short and sharp.
"I will break you, you hear me, Lawless? I will break you, and there's no way you can resist! I will 'ave you climbing miles to chase your dignity! I will 'ave it so that you will be sweating your blood and guts and lapping them up for breakfast every morning! I will 'ave it, so that you will be down on your knees, licking the dirt off my boots as and when I command it!"
I swallowed. Sergeant Spark's - yes, that was his real name - was less than an inch from my own. I could see every pore on his red, heaving brow. I broke eye contact and stared straight ahead, waiting for him to deliver my punishment. There would be a damn good beasting tonight, I was sure of that.
Sparks let out a sharp breath, and removed his scowling face from my own. He stood in front of me, head cocked to one side, allowing himself a slight grin. "Oh yes," he said softy. "I'll 'ave you broken before dawn. You wait there one minute. I've got just the same for arrogant young bloods like you."
Sparks turned on his heel, leaving me and the rest of my platoon cowering. The captain watched me with interest, wondering how I was to react. I stood tall and said nothing. I was aware of the sorts of methods some of the non-commissioned officers here employed to get their reluctant cadets to comply. Anything to get you out of your own, proud self, and into the command of another. I'd been at the Royal Military Academy of Sandhurst for just three weeks now, and it was well known to all officers and cadets alike that the first few months was no picnic. They treated you like dogs, and you were expected to act like one.
I could hear footsteps behind me. The captain was moving on, leaving Sparks to carry out his duties. As he passed me, he nodded sincerely at me.
"Chin up, Lawless," he said encouragingly, and left.
Sparks returned, a large rifle in hand, larger than my own.
"Recognise this?" he asked, smirking at me.
"An LSW, sergeant," I said, looking straight ahead.
"A what, boy?" he replied. "I didn't ask for an alphabet lesson!"
"A light support weapon, sergeant!"
Sparks licked his lips. "Very good, boy. And d'know what you're gonna do with this little beauty?"
"Shoot myself with it?" I replied. With any luck, I would be correct, and I'd get myself out of this hell hole.
"Ah, no, you don't have that luxury," grinned Sparks. "Nah, I've got something better planned for you, boy. You're gonna keep her safe for me tonight."
"Yes…sergeant," I replied, unsure where this was going.
"My baby here," he said, thrusting the rifle at me, "might look all big and scary, but really, she can't do nothink to protect herself."
I grasped the huge, heavy rifle, feeling the cold, black metal adding several kilos to my weight.
"Unlike you, of course," Sparks continued. "You can protect yourself, can't you? You toffs think you could protect the whole world if you wanted it. I know your sort. I see them come in here all the time, and they're always the same. Posh voices, toffee nosed, think they're smart cos they can count to twenty generations on their family tree. Always getting what they want. Always used to a life of luxury."
He leaned in towards me, brushing his calloused hand through my hair, and wiping it again on my shirt.
"I will reverse that," he whispered. "I will show you who's in command here. I always do."
He grasped hold of my shirt and pulled me out of the platoon formation, standing me in front of the group. I tripped on a small rock beneath me feet. We were in the middle of a field, alone in the moonlit Bracknell forest countryside. Sparks drew himself up in front of me.
"Git yer hands up in the air," he spat.
I swallowed, and did so.
"With yer rifle in them!" he ordered.
Ah. So this was his plan. Reluctantly, I took the rifle in my hands and lifted it high above my head. Several kilos of cold, heavy metal bearing down on me.
The sergeant span me round. He pointed to a small but steep hill, some fifty yards away.
"See that hill up there?" he said. "You dignity's up there. Go and get it. And keep my gun out above your head, out of trouble!"
And so I ran. Ran to the hill, my arms high above my head, clutched the heavy weapon. I reached the edge of the hill. I legged it up the hill. I reached the top. I looked back, knowing there was more to come. The sergeant was watched me with glee.
"You can come back now!" he shouted. "Keep those hands up, though!"
I ran down the hill, almost tripping over myself, propelled downwards by the dead weight above me. Seconds later, I reached the sergeant, already short of breath.
"Don't stop now!" he bellowed, with all the unfocused enthusiasm he possessed. "Night's just getting started!"
And so I ran back. And up. And down. And up again. And down again. On and on, I went, gasping, spitting, cursing. My lungs were bursting, my vision blurred through my teary eyes. My own rifle bounced against my hipbone, unsupported. My mess tins in my webbing clattered about noisily. My hair flapped in front of my face and saliva dribbled down my chin, but with my arms above my head, I couldn't do anything about it. After three laps, the sergeant abandoned the rest of the platoon to the corporals and came to join me. He ran effortlessly beside me, wallowing in my torture.
After ten laps, I threw up. I collapsed to my knees, dropping the weapon beside me, heaving into the dirt. The sergeant dropped beside me, sneering.
"What the heck is that, son?" he yelled.
"Vomit…sergeant!" I gasped.
"Vomit?" he laughed. "That is never vomit!" He took my hand and pressed it into the vile liquid. "That's not vomit, Flawless Lawless. That's just weakness. Weakness leaving the body. You should be proud of yourself. Every step, every gasping little breath, shows weakness being replaced by strength. And your arrogance, being replaced by humility."
He yanked me to my feet, and snorted.
"Now get up, and carry on."
After forty laps, the sergeant decided I was broken, and led me back to the others.