Chapter 5

This is my Boomstick.

-"We had sticks! Two sticks and a rock for a whole platoon - and we had to share the rock!"- Sergeant Major A. Johnson.

I couldn't help but chuckle at Yamada's expression. It was the same as my mom's when I told her about my first few months. The rest of her crew had equal expressions of either surprise, disgust, or shock. Eh not everyone can survive what Mars will throw at you.

Yamada broke the silence when she cleared her throat. "Well, I can see why that's different then my brother's training."

Max scoffed. "Different?! That's insane!" He exclaimed. "No wonder so many of them killed themselves..." He mumbled after. He gulped when Yamada glared at him.

She punched his arm. Hard if his wince was anything to go by. "Don't say something like that idiot! He-"

I interrupted her before she could start her rant. "Actually, he is partially right. Many of the suicides reported between 2553 and 2567 were, in part, because of the training. But not because of the brutality. When it came down to it, they killed themselves because the training was too successful. They couldn't switch back after the war was done. Many had no reason to quit and just kept fighting until everything they experienced caught up to them. Hell, Al nearly lost it himself. If it wasn't for him being a crappy knot tier he would have killed over a long time ago..." I looked at him. letting my eyes linger on his.

He bowed his head and turned away. "I'm sorry." he mumbled.

I nodded. "Good. Now where were we?" I asked. Ah, now I remember.

ODST training facility. Camp Kalte

Mars. Sol System

November 8th, 2547

I couldn't hold my excitement and smiled when Fulbright pulled out the object in the crate. Remember when I said my dad was in the military? Well he was able to keep his issued rifle. He taught me and my brothers how to handle, load and fire it. Add that to twelve years scouting that I did during grade school. I'm probably one of the few recruits who knows their stuff. Well me and Macintosh for sure. But if you know what the URNA is like it's not much of a shocker that most if not the vast majority of the people born there have a solid understanding of military hardware and the skill that goes with it. But anyone else here... If they had any training, skill or talent besides the few dozen former soldiers and marines they didn't show it. But those who didn't know what they were shown they were not as giddy as the rest of us. I pitty them.

Fulbright smiled when she noticed the few that didn't smile like it was their 21's birthday. She held it out for us to see. "This is the MA5B-2 Individual combat system. It holds 60 rounds and is capable of hitting a target at ranges that make the new BR55 seem like an outdated hunk of junk. But unfortunately it is missing a very important piece." At that I rose my eyebrow "What? Ya' think yer ready t' handle a live weapon? Yer' not. If it were up to me ya' would still be playing' in the dirt." She looked at our ranks before pointing at someone a few rows down. "Callahan! Front an' center."

Callahan jogged up to her before snapping at attention. "Yes sir, Drill Sergeant?" He yelled out.

"Tak' ma' gun."

"Sir?" He asked her.

"Ah' said tak' ma' gun! A simple command ya' twit!" She spat at him. She held it across from him like a gift.

He waited a few seconds before reaching our for the gun as fast as he could. When she didn't try anything he smiled. She narrowed her eyes with a smirk of her own. Without warning she twisted her body around bring him toppling forward. At the same time she twisted the rifle making it slip from his grasp. Immediately after she brought the butt of it down on his back making him collapsed on the ground. I could tell she held back due to the lack of withering pain. Still it'll leave a nasty bruise.

She reached down and picked him up. "Now, back in formation." Wait... no insult? She looked at the rest of us her usual glare replaced with... was that pride? "As fer' the rest of you." she reached in one of the crates and pulled out another rifle. She tossed it at me. Not expecting to be thrown a gun I fumbled when I caught it. "Yer' firearm training officially begins."

I looked at the rifle. It felt off. I looked up at Fulbright. She was reaching into the same crate pulling out more rifles. "Sir?'

When she turned around with the rifles in hand she paused giving me a raised eyebrow. "What is it Young?" She snapped at me. So she did know my name. For some reason I felt like that wasn't a good thing.

"Sir, Are these Rifles different than the ones used by the marines? I asked. She continued to look at me. Her eyes taking every detail of my face. To be honest it made me little self conscious.

She smiled. Not a 'I'm going to rip out your anus' smile but a genuine 'you done made me proud son.' smile. "And t' think ah' just thought ye' were stupid. Yes, these weapons are the newer versions made to replace the current model. Or that is what ah' heard. Their only difference from the ones now is that these ones are lighter by a few pounds. Some new metal or some there BS like that. Ye' my duckies are the only ones to be issued these as of right now. Some field test to see how well they handle. Hell if it were up to me ah'd just give ya' the hoses. let ya' play with those." She and some members of the staff handed the last of the rifles out to those who didn't have any.

I looked at my rifle to find out what she took off. Not surprisingly it was the most obvious part of it. The bolt. I looked in between my rifle and Fulbright.

She grinned when she saw me. "Congratulations Young. Yer' the first to find the missing piece. Now some of ye' are probably wonderin' what it is missin' from yer' gun. Well ah'll just tell ya' so you don't hurt yer' selves. It's the Bolt. Now before' you start cryin' let me tell ye' somethin'. Yer' not in trainin' to become any helljumpers. Yer' trainin' to become the best Helljumpers." She looked at me again before stepping closer. "Yer' in the Hellfire battalion. Not the 2nd, 18th, and certainly not the 19th!" She turned and walked down the line." Ye' will learn how not only to shoot, but to also how to hold it, how to clean it..." She turned around and started heading back to the other side. " And most of all ye' will learn the proper meaning of assault and battery! Do ah' make mah' self clear!

I brought my rifle to my chest. "Sir, Yes sir!" We shouted back.

"Good! Now, we have work to do." Fulbright quickly gave us a rundown of how to march with a rifle and how to handle it before she yelled, "Left face!" As one we turned to the left. Fulbright, her own rifle slung over her shoulder, stepped to the right of us. I stole a glance at the Captain. He had his arms folded, his cold eyes sizing us up. For a supposed hard ass he had avoided us for the most part. From what I heard from the other platoons though he was on them constantly. Makes you wonder. Though I do remember hearing from some of the other members of his staff that he saves his abuse until the very last push. Something about constant drills, training exercises and other things like that. Joy.

With a shout we started past the Captain and jogged into the weapon training portion of camp.

For a training facility that was used to create the most formidable human badasses known to humankind, the shooting range, armory, vehicle depot and other facilities were extremely low tech. Half of it looked like it was made by the lowest bidder. The other half looked in disrepair.

As we weaved our way through the maze of paths to our destination, something, like always we had no clue what it was. Al turned to me and whispered, "Hey Young."

"Yeah" I answered back. My eyes focusing on Fulbright for any twitch that meant she had heard us.

"Are you trying to get on her bad side?" He said as he glanced at Fulbright. "I know you try and be unnoticeable but asking questions goes against that rule."

I smirked. "So says the smart ass loud mouth."

"Hey I'm a smart ass because I want to live. And everyone knows smart asses live longer."

"Where did ya' hear that?" Macintosh whispered from the other side of him.

"Didn't you read the "A Soldier's Tale?" Al asked.

"Yeah... what about it?" he asked.

"A lot of the members of his company were assholes and they lived."

I turned my head and gave Mac a nod. Together we both smacked Al on the back of the head.

"What the hell was that for?" he hissed as he grabbed his head with his hand.

"For being you." Ellie whispered from behind us. The two men next to her chuckled.

I smiled at his look of mock hurt. I glanced to the front at Fulbright. She just kept jogging, possibly ignoring us though I couldn't be too sure. Looking back at the months we were here I couldn't help but feel good about myself. Not only was I nearly twice as strong as I was when I started, I had managed to beat a hundred other recruits to this level. We were as a unit stronger, faster, more resilient, and smarter... well the last one is still to be determined but you get the point. Best of all though? Most of us can go toe to toe with Fulbright and not get rekt. We still lose, sometimes horribly so. But at least we're able to actually land a few hits in now. So that's something. I was pushed out of my thoughts when we jogged up to a building with a sign that read Armory in uneven lettering.

Fulbright stopped at the door before she rapped her knuckles against the metal.

A few seconds passed before I heard a voice call out through the door. "What's the password?" I glanced to Mac. He just shrugged and I went back to staring at the door.

Fulbright sighed before leaning up to the door and whispering something. It sounded something along the lines of dashford. A moment later the door swished opened. revealing a slightly pudgy man. How the hell does someone get pudgy while being a helljumper?

He looked at Fulbright before gazing over us. "I guess you're here for their gear?"

"How'd guess?" she asked sarcastically.

"Oh you know, usually when you want to talk or need something you just kick the door down. But when you're with your toys you tend to play nicer. Must be a bitch thing..." he said back. Damn. And I thought Al was a stupid fucker. I could feel the hatred radiate from her. And apparently so could he. He gave her a weak smile.

"These pansies are on a tight schedule. Just get them their gear before I make you take their place. " she growled as she poked him with her finger.

"Hey, Just because I take shit from Sarge, doesn't mean I take it from you," She growled again. "But since you asked nicely their new shit is all packed and ready for pick up. It's around back with Dick and Franklin. Might want to hurry before he messes with it."

She nodded before ordering us to head to the back. There we given another gift, the first part of our combat gear. The iconic Armored Combat boots as well as the armored thigh guards and a marine combat helmet. Out of the three pieces of protection, the boots were the part that everyone hated. After we got everything sorted she ordered us to march to the parade grounds away from the firing range.

When we arrived Fulbright began to teach us the "ways of the rifle" as she called it. To us it was a series of repetitive orders and commands that had us do the same thing over and over cleaning, maintenance, and proper handling. The same thing as the other four. But while the other four platoons were busy learning how to shoot. as well as the repetitive weapon management we were with Fulbright at the parade grounds watching her demonstrate her anger managment technique on various watermelons. After watching her mutilate fruit for an hour it was our turn. After a few hours we became pretty good at following in her footsteps. From then we were taught CQC techniques and methods. You would be surprised how amazing it felt to use bayonets on a target. Especially when you are a part of a larger lunge.

But unfortunately the chances of using these age old tactics were mathematically impossible. Aside from our physical and sociological training we were shown combat footage of the Covenant combat strengths and weaknesses. Most of the footage showed small stubby creatures with backpacks rushing UNSC positions with birdlike creatures provided shield and sniper support. While not tactically smart nor effective, the result was always the same. We would retreat after killing off thousands of them. Most of the time just because we couldn't kill them fast enough. The message was clear. We would be sent upon an unstoppable force with the intent to halt them. Fulbright didn't sugar coat the facts. If we found ourselves in a fight against them, most of us would die by the time the call for retreat sounded. A bleak outlook if I say so myself.

By end of the second week we were allowed to join our fellow recruits at the firing range. Ellie was our designated marksmen, scoring a score that made even Staff Sergeant Sarge do a double take, and as such was given the newest BR55. Damn thing made her look like a kid. Al Received Shara, the name he chose for his M7 SMG, for his efforts. And Schaffer... well, the big guy got the M247H heavy Machine gun. Don't ask why, I don't even know. Damn thing seems like it wouldn't be useful in a urban firefight. Everyone else got a mix of M7s MA5Cs and DMRs. Me and Mac however stayed with the MA5B's We both liked the feel and the raw power of 60 rounds. Following our primary and secondary weapons training we were allowed to play with the big toys. That, Was fun.

In the following months we were tested using both firearm and CQC techniques. Another 20 were cut due to low scores. Apparently, due to the extra training Fulbright made us go through, everyone in our platoon managed to excel in CQC testing. Me? I was designed as a riflemen. But not because I was bad. Oh hell no, I nearly broke a record with my MA5. Fulbright nearly complimented me I was that good. But that gave me the secondary role of a Marksman as well.

Now... Now here I am training with the SRS99C-S2 with Mac as my spotter in a competition against four other sniper teams. Not as fun as it sounds. The goal was to take out more targets than the other teams all without a hunter squad finding you. To do this we had to hide. As simple the objective, it wasn't easy. Me and Mac spent the whole morning preparing our hide away. From the outside it looked like a tree. On the inside it was cramped, hot, and uncomfortable.

"Thirty meters to the west... next to the tree. 300 meters..." I hear Mac say. I adjust my scope. "Wait... footsteps to our right hold on target. Don't move." We both waited for the hunter squad to pass us.

In my scope I saw the target explode in a blue mist. Damn, another group stole it. Must be Ellie. "Damn it Ellie..." I muttr under my breath. When the group passed us I whispered over to him"Mac... new target fast."

"Got it... Near a boulder. 400 meters north of the previous target. Range... 450 meters... wait... crosswinds. Southeast to Northwest 12 kmp. Compensate." He told me. writing down the numbers for my adjustment.

I adjust my rifle. "Got it."

"Take the shot." I squeeze the trigger and felt the kick as the rifle bucked back. There is a certain feeling of power you get when you fire a gun like this. The moment you squeeze the trigger to the moment you see the wisp of white as the round travels at supersonic speeds at your target. Obliterating it in a show that isaac newton only knows how to put on. Next to me I hear Mac whisper, "Target down," before he paused. "Hold on, new orders coming in." A few moments passed before he looked back through the spotter. Following by answering whoever was on the line, "Yes sir, acknowledged." He turned to me. "That was the last one. Good work. Seven targets are better than three."

"Yeah, but compared to Al And Ellie... how can someone as annoying as Al work with someone like Ellie get more then everyone put together?" I ask. "Seriously they argue constantly. It's like they can't shut up."

"Well... Ellie is the best Marksman in the company. And Al dose have a good reaction time and vision." He stated.

"Why do I always forget that?" I ask jokingly.

"Don't ask me, sides yer' just jealous 'that you can't seem to talk to anyone besides me," He said sarcastically.

I give him a shove' "Hey, your the same way."

"Yeah but- wait... alright yes sir." he looked at me. "Time to make ourselves known." With that both me and Mac stood up from our hideaway.

A few feet away I heard an annoyed groan. "I told you that tree looked funny."

"Shut it Dolono." Another member of the search party told him.

Macintosh picked up his gear and started back down the hill to the path that would lead us to the firing range. I glanced over to the opposite hill where 40 blue spatters dotted the wooden area.

A few minutes later we walked into the sniper range lean to. The other four teams were already standing at attention as Fulbright looked over the scores. She looked up at us before moving her head to the line. We formed up next to Ellie and Al. They both had smirks. I bumped Al with my but of my rifle. His smirk grew into a full smile. Fulbright turned to us. "Congratulations Team Alpha. Ya' win again with fifteen. Team Bravo ye' had a four hit increase giving ya' second. Good work." She proceeded to inform the rest of the teams their scores. Can you guess who was alpha and who was bravo?

It was funny. Even though in the first few weeks we never fired a gun as a unit. When we did, we quickly surpassed the other four platoons with our skill. Because we were so good, this exercise would be the last test for our firearm training. Now we were officially allowed to start with the more advanced sections of the "helljumper path". Combat training, war games and other courses such as the EVA course. But we were ready for whatever came at us.

One week later.

"...Ow..."

Apparently I was wrong about being able to hand anything. Oh so wrong. Being on your ass with your combat gear locked up by paint generally proves that. Hey at least I still have a view. Now I can watch the rest of the company get raped by the Captain and his Sergeants. You'ed think that one hundred and fifty recruits would be able to handle six well trained and hardened troopers. Nope. It was a massacre. It was funny really. The way we were trained in the past few months made us cocky, ignorant, and gave us a big ego. Now... Now everyone who was still up were all panicking and trying to figure out what to do, while being pinned down by gunfire that seemed to come from everywhere.

It was a simple mission, win. Either by elimination or by capturing the flag. It started out like a well oiled machine. Then Fulbright came. I let myself smile at the way she took out Al. He'll be a tenor for a week. Well that's combat training for you. I just don't know what went wrong... Oh yeah. Now I remember.

authors note.

No more excuses. I hit a block and had to fight through it. I was also lazy. For that, I am sorry. For all those reviewers thank you for them. Your feedback and support gives my ego strength to continue... even if it's at a snail's pace. For those who read and not review thank you as well.

I am truly sorry for the shoot chapter. My goal is to get a large chapter out for you but there is so much you can do with training. Though I did enjoy writing the sniper test, even if it was short. Hopefully during the next portion of training I'll get a decent 10,000 word chapter out for you.

If you enjoyed the small chapter Review. If not... Review. I can fix what I don't know...

And like always Good Hunting!