Chapter 2-Breaking and Making

July 21st, 2162

Fort Osprey, Arizona

Fort Osprey is hell. Absolute, complete, hell. That was my impression the first 45 minutes that I was there. I got off the bus with about fifty other recruits and waited ten minutes before a drill sergeant came out and assigned us cabins. All this was done while in formation in 100 degree temperatures. Yeah, it sucked. Then we did the most horrible thing in the entire galaxy; PT. Physical Training. Lovingly referred to by the drill sergeants as "Play Time". Other synonyms included uber-suck time, hell, and call-your-drill-sergeant-obscene-names-time. After PT, the head instructor of Fort Osprey surveyed us.

"You men are worthless. All the morals that your mom n' pop taught ya are shit. Forget them now if you know what's good for ya. Here at Fort Osprey, we make men. Before we came make them, we must break them. The breaking stage starts now." He looked at us. "Now triple time it around the perimeter 5 times."

Someone in the back complained, "Five times? That's like seven miles!"

The head instructor sighed. "Make it ten and make it snappy."

With that, he walked away.

Shit. I can't breathe. I can't freaking breathe! What is wrong with me? Why can't I breathe? Everything feels so fuzzy. I looked down at my feet. They were moving very slowly. Very, very, slowly. The dirt track under my feet was moving, but the finish didn't seem to be getting any closer. We had all finished in good time, so the instructor made us run it again. And again. And again. This was probably the fourth time through, and most of the people had already passed out on the track. I knew it was only a matter of time before I passed out too. I forced my legs into a sprint, running faster than I would have ever thought possible in my state. I slowed to a trot when I saw the instructor.

"I'm done, sir."

He raised an eyebrow and opened his mouth to speak.

Before he could, I blacked out.

I tasted cotton. My eyes shot open and I sat up and promptly banged my head on the bunk above mine.

"Could you tone it down a little?" a disgruntled voice said.

He leaned over his bunk and looked at me.

"Sorry. I just blacked out at the finish line."

"Finish line? Yeah right. That's the fourth time I've heard it tonight." His deep brown eyes surveyed my face.

"You don't have to believe me," I said as I lay back down, "But I'm pretty sure I saw you lying face-first in the trail about halfway through."

He scowled and hissed, "Shut up. I tripped."

The bunk room was filled with a loud banging noise as the lights flicked on.

"Rise and shine, ladies! It's time to triple time it to the mess for some delicious, nutritious slop, courtesy of our wonderful chefs!"

Sergeant Koke was banging on a trash can lid with a wooden spoon. What a loser. We all groaned and rolled off our bunks. Then we filed into the mess hall and sat at our bunk tables. I sat across from the kid in the bunk above me.

"So why'd you enlist?" he asked.

"It's just in the family, I guess. My dad's a Navy corpsman, and my ancestors fought in pretty much every conflict ever. Why did you enlist?"

"I don't know. It seemed like a good idea at the time." He cracked a smile.

"Tell me about it. I'm Jace Stryker, by the way."

"Cole Simmons."

The next few months fell into a rigorous routine. PT in the morning from four to six, then breakfast, then a five mile run, then weapons class, tactics, and protocol 101. After that we practiced shooting and then stood in formation before dinner. Yeah, that's right, no lunch for us. Then we got seven hours of sleep, then we repeat. Day after day this went on, and I slowly found that the PT sessions were getting easier, and my shooting was improving drastically. Cole said I might be able to become a squad sniper. That would be fun. Shoot people's faces off with a sabot round, repeat. Sweet. Cole says he's more of an up close kind of guy. I said I knew why he was a CQB guy and he looked at me questioningly.

"Because as soon as the enemy sees your face, they'll drop dead."

Yeah, I piss him off a lot. Most of the time it's in a good way.

Finally, the day came. We would finally become Marines. The head instructor looked at us in formation.

"Well, it seems like we have some men here today." He turned to look at the drill instructors. "Good work. When these boys first showed up, I saw my self looking at a bunch of daisy pushing pansies. Now I see men. Honest, free, men. I am very proud of each and every one of you. Just know that today, you are all Marines."

Someone shouted, "Hell yeah!" and we all laughed.

The sergeant spoke again. "I have your deployment orders here. You all are now part of the 1st Naval Regiment, 3rd Marine Battalion. You will all be transferred to the UN Peewee where you will get your division orders. Good luck."