Hello once again.
The rewrite continues.
So far, I honestly think that we are making good headway. The quality is much better, characters are more fleshed out, and overall I think it flows much better.
Many of you who have read this story front to back will realize that I have combined the main elements of chapters two and three into one chapter. I think this works better as I feel Chapter two was too small to be on its own.
Hope you are all enjoying the rewrite and again, please remember to Follow, Favorite, and/or leave a review if you like this. Rewriting chapters takes a lot of time, so the more support, the better.
Right, onwards to the story.
Wednesday, May 3rd, 2024
1800 Hours
Ca-Chunk
The sound of another pothole resonated through the entire back of the transport; ringing loud and clear off every corner, before slowly being consumed once again by the massive diesel engines of the M35 we rode in.
There was probably about fifty of us crammed into the back of the Deuce. Each one with his or her own set of baggage, be it physical or mental in nature.
Rifles and combat gear were also loaded into the trucks, along with some spare ammunition crates, a couple DX3 launchers, and one or two BRM machine guns, albeit those were more to satisfy the be prepared mentality that had been beaten into us since boy scouts, but still.
Needless to say, with all that extra baggage and gear, there really wasn't much room left over for any real movement, let alone enough space for anyone to get comfortable.
The large canvas dust cover they had over top of us didn't help much either, seemingly serving only to block out the view of our surroundings and the sunlight, leaving us stuck in partial darkness the entire trip.
Now, normally I am not one to complain about something as petty as travel conditions, what with a massive global war currently being waged and all that. However, after twelve hours of this bullshit, even my patience was starting to wear thin.
That's right, you heard me correct. Twelve fucking hours of sitting around in the back of a truck, doing jack all except count the number of potholes we hit, and trying not to choke on the dust that was slowly beginning to fill the packed space.
If there is a hell, I am almost positive there will be a level designed purely off of our current predicament.
Slowly, I took a good hard look at the rest of the trainees, no, soldiers, that were trapped in here with me.
All of them held very similar expressions to the one I was no doubt sporting. The look of ruin. Of complete and utter mental defeat. Of sleep deprivation, and yes, of total and absolute boredom.
Dear gods above was it boring. After this trip was over I would happily take any and all punishments doled out, as long as it didn't mean I would have to experience this anguish ever again. Make me run until my legs give out, or push ups until I puke, but for the love of god do not put me in the back of this truck ever again.
I chuckled a little at that realization, my laughter steadily growing louder and louder as more and more mental images of the sheer confusion that would have painted the Sergeant's face at my sudden love of being driven into the ground again and again, appeared before me.
My laughs soon echoed off the fabric walls that covered us, filling the entire cabin, until everyone was looking at me with looks of confusion and bewilderment.
The guy sitting right beside me was the first to speak. "Ummmm, Drew? You OK, mate?"
I had to stifle my laughter quite a bit to respond, and even then my speech was broken up by chuckles and whiffs of laughter.
"Yah man, I was just thinking," I snickered quietly. "'Bout how we all went through god knows how many months of hellish training, trying to become the toughest soldiers we possibly could, both mentally and physically."
I smirked again. "How we were all pushed to the absolute brink of madness, multiple times, but not once did any of us ever give up or break down."
The men and women around me, though all still thoroughly confused, bobbed their heads in agreement, encouraging me to go on.
Still stifling my laughter, I continued my train of thought. "All that training, all that pain and suffering at the hands of our instructors. Not once giving even an inch to them, only to finally be beaten into submission by twelve hours of doing jack shit!"
Multiple palms met faces, snickers of laughter joining in with my own boisterous laughter, as the realization sank in.
Soon enough, the cab was filled with a chorus of giggles, snickers and smiles.
Smiles, which I was happy to see, continued pretty well until the end of the trip, stopping only after our favorite drill instructor, Sergeant Bruner, opened the back hatch of our transport.
He eyed us all as if we were a pack of wild animals, obviously not expecting to be met with a bunch of grins and stifled laughter after that long stretch of travel.
"And what might I ask, what in the Sam hell, is so goddamn funny?" His crisp, clear voice piercing our laughter with practiced ease, making the simple question seem more like an order.
"Sir, permission to answer, sir?" Came a loud response from the guy sitting beside me.
Nodding his head slowly, our commander issued his order. "Permission granted."
Permission now given, and sporting a wide grin, he cleared his throat and spoke as clear and loud as possible. "Sir, what we find so funny, sir, is the realization that if our enemy was only able to be beaten by sitting around and doing nothing for days on end, we would be in a lot of trouble. Sir."
True to his nature, the Sergeant betrayed nothing but a few blinks and a raised eyebrow, as he listened intently to the cheeky response being given. Waiting patiently until the explanation was finished before finally responding in kind.
"Well then it's a good thing that a heavy dose of hot lead is our best current solution to that problem." A tiny slip of a smile playing across his usually stern face as he spoke.
For the briefest of moments his mask had finally lifted.
Gone was the intense, remorseless, monster of a man that had spent the last few months ensuring that we all went to bed as sore and exhausted as possible.
Instead, there now stood a man like all of us. Human, down to the very core. Complete with a sense of humor, and a smile that was filled with hope.
Hope that we would be the ones to make a difference in this fight.
Hope that we would be the ones to survive this ordeal.
Hope that he wouldn't have to carve any of our names into the hall of remembrance.
Then, just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. His posture straightened, his scowl re-fixed itself on his face and his voice rang out with its usual commanding tone.
"Right! Now I want all of you to be disembarked and ready for orders in two minutes! Anyone, even a second late, will be doing pushups until they puke! Got that?!"
A round of formal nods, and "Sir yes sir!" following suit.
"Right! Dismissed!"
A flurry of activity followed his final words, as everyone quickly began clamoring to finally get out of the cramped insides of the truck by spending only a second or two, gathering up his or her equipment and belongings, before quickly exiting the deuce as quickly as possible.
Once outside the truck, our favorite five foot tall Sergeant Charline quickly took over, pointing us in the direction of our new barracks. A large red brick building some four hundred meters away, that looked almost identical to the one we had previously been staying in.
"Right! Now I want all of you to take your gear, and store it in the barracks just down the way!" Her voice cutting through the air with incredible ease as she explained the situation to us. "You are to consider that building to be your staging area. So do not get comfortable! There is a very high probability that you will be moving to different barracks almost immediately! It all depends on which squad you are assigned into."
Another round of nods and "Yes ma'am's" followed suit.
"After your gear has been stored, make your way to the mess hall. The Deployment ceremony will be held there. Now double-time it down to the base trainees!" She finished, walking off to the side of us all.
"Dismissed!"
Ten minutes, three wrong buildings, and one stop for directions later, we arrived safely at the mess hall.
Unsurprisingly, we were not the first ones there.
Hundreds of trainees who I did not recognize filled the large hall. Each one, dressed impeccably in the same uniform we wore, and standing in full formation facing towards the back wall of the hall.
A small, but regal stage and podium could be seen standing unoccupied at the very back of the hall. No doubt having been erected just for this ceremony, it lacked some of the dramatic flair that we had seen during the initiation ceremony. Whether that was due to age or use though, I was unsure.
Excitement and tension permeated the air as we made our way into the hall. Expressions and emotions were evident on everyone's faces, smiles, whispers and murmurs coursed rapidly through the group as the minutes ticked past one by one, slowly bringing us closer and close to the announcement time.
A large space near the front of the crowd catching my eye, making it clear where we were supposed to form up, and fall in. Shoulder to shoulder with the other trainees, equal with them through and through.
It seemed they may have been waiting for us, because mere seconds after we had finished arranging ourselves, the call for attention was issued.
Or maybe we just have good timing. Who really knows.
Hundreds of boots stamped immediately to the ground, as the flag-bearers began to their slow march forwards.
Both bearers in full dress, the light shimmering off their well-polished medals and meticulously maintained uniform as they marched in perfect unison forwards, towards the front stage. The ease of their strides making it clear this was not their first time doing this.
Upon arrival at the stage, they stopped, and in quick efficient motions, mounted the two flags to either side of the stage, before quickly standing back in line, saluting, and marching off to their respective sides.
No anthems or music was played, nor was a single word spoken as was customary these days. Instead, in marched six drill Sergeants. Each one dressed in much the same manner as when we first met them all those years ago. The very images of power and authority we had come to respect, standing before us for what may be the last time.
Our group's Sergeant was the first to step up to and speak. His voice booming out over the entire area, as he addressed us.
"Welcome Ladies and Gentlemen, to the deployment ceremony for trainee regiments one-o-eight, one-thirteen, and one-fourteen," he began. "We all know why we are here, so I say that we skip the formal crap and get right to the nitty gritty."
"Today, as you know, you are all going to be assigned to ride and shadow a squad who has some actual combat experience. You have all completed the training needed to perform in the field, it's simply experience and knowledge that you lack now. This is, and will be, the final stage of your initiation into the resistance; as such you are expected to show your squamate's and new commanders the same level of commitment and respect you have shown us. Nothing less than that will do."
He allowed a belief pause before continuing with his speech.
"All that aside, congratulations are in order for each and every one of you. It has not been an easy ride to get to this point. I know that because it's our job to make sure it's not. We want only the best to stand where you are, and from what you have all shown me, you're all well and truly worthy of that title. You should all feel incredibly proud of what you have accomplished, and know that no matter what happens from this point on, you are deserving of your status as defenders of earth."
"As of today you are officially soldiers of the Global Resistance. As of today you officially will be entering the fight!"
A chorus of cheers and oh-rah's followed the closing statements of our Sergeants speech. Echoing and continuing well after he dismounted the stage, and only quieting when the Sergeant of one of the other groups stepped up to take his place.
"Right, now let's begin the assignments." Her voice cut through the noise and silenced any and all people still cheering or yelling.
She held up a booklet of papers in her hand as she spoke again. "As all of you should know by now, you men and women have been strictly combat trained. Because of this, you will each be sorted into squads that specialize in the areas of combat we think you would be best suited for. The decision of which area you're best suited for was, and has been made by us. It is based strictly on your training results and test performance records."
Murmurs and nods accompanied her explanation as she spoke.
"I know it may not seem fair, but honestly, one, I don't care, and two, welcome to war. This is life and death we are talking about ladies, not college sports or TV shows. What you specialize in may very well not be what you wanted to do, but remember this. It is what we have seen is your best performance area, and is the area where you are most likely to find success and survival."
More nods and murmurs followed.
"This squad will be your new family for however long you live. There is no reassignment without extenuating circumstances either. So you had best hope you like them."
A few scattered chuckles followed her comment.
"When you hear your name called, come up front. We will give you the information regarding the squad, your patch, and the place you need to go to meet up with them. You will then leave this area, grab your gear and go meet up with your new commander. Are we clear?"
A chorus of "Yes, ma'am," followed short after.
"Alright, first up, Adrian Smith, Squad Buckshot."
"Artesian Michael's, Squad Casper"
I let my mind slowly zone out as the names continued to flow, the sounds quickly turning into nothing more than dull background noise, as my thoughts ran ramped.
Where on earth would they put me? What could I possibly be specializing in? Would I be a demo specialist? I know I did fairly well in explosives training, but then, so did pretty much everyone. Turns out it's not hard to cause damage with high-powered explosives.
Maybe an assault squad then? After all I did get compliments on my static rifle scores. But then I also sucked on the run and gun course. I mean, sure I had the speed, but my aim was definitely lacking compared to many others. Plus there was always the question of if my legs would be able to handle...
"Drew Crawford, Squad..."
I looked up at her as she paused on the last part. Patiently waiting for her to announce my squad, and put an end to my mental ramblings.
However, nothing ever came. Instead complete and total silence slowly filled the room. No answer, no statement, no excuses for the stop. Nothing but the awkward shuffle of the people around me as they waited eagerly for their turn.
Ever so slowly, I began to make my way towards the front, unsure of what to really do or say when I finally got there.
Hell, the woman on stage didn't even look up as I approached her, choosing instead to keep her head bowed. Her eyes fixated upon the papers she grasped, holding onto them as if they might disappear at any second.
"Ma'am?" I asked quietly as I stood in front of her, nervously awaiting a response or some sort of signal of what to do.
Finally, after a few more seconds of tension she spoke. "Report to the main building. Your squad commander is waiting for you there. Suit and tie, can't miss her." She spoke in soft tones, no commanding edge this time. It was more of a request than order.
I found myself unable to do anything other than stand there in total confusion at her actions. What was this? Was I going to be dismissed from the army? Was I deemed not good enough to continue? What the heck was going on?
Finally after what felt like an eternity I found my voice again.
"Yes Ma'am." I stammered out, hating the way my voice cracked and weavered. "If I may ask though. What call sign do I now answer to?"
Looking up at me once more, she opened her mouth to respond, but never got the chance to speak.
Never needed to either.
I got my answer from a voice almost right behind me.
It was a familiar female voice. Calm, cool and collected. It would have sounded almost delicate if not for the staggering amounts of power and force with which it delivered her message.
In one simple sentence it became very clear that this was not your everyday Sergeant who was addressing me. No, this was the voice of complete authority. Pure and utter respect was demanded from that voice, and nothing less would do.
A small shiver of fear and admiration ran through my body as the words she spoke finally sank in. Not only because of what they meant, but because of who they were delivered by.
"Drew Crawford, Squad Lockdown."
