The Next Warrior

Disembarkation - Part 15

When Nathaniel felt his armored troop carrier's transition from the choppy rhythmic percussions of ocean waves to the tug of the vehicle's tires on sand, his heart stopped beating. Rather, it hung silently somewhere between his throat and his stomach. In a moment of profound realization, he comprehended that they had reached the beach. At that instant, he was alert again – every sound, every sight, every whisper hung at the forefront of his attention. He was done sleeping, and would no longer have time to be reminiscing, nor lost in the thought of what battle would be like. Battle was here.

He listened intently for the signs of the fighting he was sure must have existed out there. All those explosions must have been for something.

Yet, outside there was nothing. Somehow, that seemed worse.

Absent the sound of bullet fire ricocheting off the outer hull of the vessel, he exhaled a sigh of deep relief. His unit had been told to expect something like this during many of the safety briefings. He, however, took the few seconds of serenity beyond the engine's hum to mean that, for a few minutes more at least, he was safe.

Some of the older members of his squad laughed when they noticed his lack of military bearing. It was the older Corporals mostly, his fire team leaders and other more senior members of the squad. He was still a "boot" after all, "green", and not yet experienced in the ways of war. He wasn't "salty", the colloquial euphemism they gave to those that had endured the hardships already, who had been through their fair share of rough days and earned the respect of those newer Marines beneath them, regardless of the rank they wore on their collar. No, Romero wasn't salty, not quite yet. That wouldn't happen until the vehicle came to a stop... in about forty-five more yards.

Of course, none of them had experienced battle either. They wore their rank as a matter of time in grade and time in service, along with a properly calculated combination of rifle marksmanship scoring and pull-ups. For any to declare themselves salty needed only to be reminded of the great battles: Belleau Wood, Iwo Jima, Fallujah. By comparison, to consider any among them any more truly seasoned was comical at best. The NCOs had their experience from training. This was true. Many of their platoon's Sergeants were extremely capable and together with their troops, they still could be counted among the most lethal and ablest of warfighters on Earth, but to call themselves fully realized warriors, it was still a bit too soon for that.

This moment was what they had trained for, what they had lived and worked towards for years. They all then confronted the ultimate question of how they would react when the moment arrived for them. Some did so through what would appear to be a barbarous and bizarre ritual of grunting and hitting themselves. Others masked their apprehension through the impudent exchanging of jokes to disassociate themselves from the reality of their situation, while yet others simply went away. One could never know if they were simply rehearsing maneuvers, replaying intelligence footage, recalling the lyrics to a favored song or their last kiss. Perhaps they were on the verge of a nervous fit. The silent ones you could never really predict. Romero was a silent one. Once the treads of the amphibious vehicle hit the beach, though, all were silent... just like him. The time for challenging had come.

Seasoned, they were not. Truly tested they were not. No one in that craft had earned that mark of "salty" just yet, save for one. None of them knew what kind of warrior they would be when that hatch opened in the next few minutes. In truth, they were all just as deeply relieved to have reached shore without sinking to the bottom as was LCpl Romero. They all looked back at that hatch with just as much anticipation and fear as he did. As Non Commissioned Officers of the United States Marine Corps, they just hid the fear better. Romero may have been the one to show it, but each and every one of them were glad to slip out of the water to the sound of nothing but the engines' hum.

Marines hide their fear well.