My Name is Ranel [Short Story] ✅

Part 2

"This may be a life-time choice, boy," Commander Chauser tells me seriously, his thick eyebrows drawn in as he studies me carefully. "Be grateful that I have empathy. Apart from that, we're looking at your physique and aptitude. Call yourself lucky that you have those as well."

"Thank you, sir,"

"And anyway," he adds, flicking a page from the folder with his forefinger, "Sergeant Jackson needs new recruits for Squad Four. So I'm appointing you in. Any objections?"

"No, sir,"

"Then we begin tomorrow."

Suddenly, I'm standing at an assembly point with the rest of Squad Four. The glare of the sun is beating down on our necks, its piercing heat trying to scorch our skins. I can tell that the rest of the troop are suppressing laughter as I stand before Lieutenant Squire, who has to squint in order to look up at me while barking his throat off. This is only my first week, and this is his fourth time hauling me over the coals. I feel guilt crawling all over my skin; I've been the centre of attention ever since I got here, and now Lieutenant Squire is at the verge of losing his voice because of the amounts of hollers he has been directing at me for the past week.

Not that I blame him for being a whole lot austere than Sergeant Jackson. It isn't a wonder as to why Sergeant Jackson had appointed him as the leader of Squad Four even though he is the smallest of all of us.

"Fifty push-ups!" he barks.

"C'mon, Squire, you can do better than that!" someone says behind me, followed by a snort.

Lieutenant Squire glares past my shoulder. "Yours will be doubled if you keep doing that, Kennedy."

Now I'm frantically searching for the two-paged unfinished letter I had written for Savannah. The rest of the troop falls quiet as I enter the dormitory in a fairly frenzied state. Going over my bunk, I rummage into the drawer at the side. I swear everyone's eyes are on me, burning pairs of holes into my back.

Then I hear, "'I will see you soon. I love you, Savannah.'," being read aloud at the other end of the dormitory. Bursts of sniggers break out from amongst the men huddling together. "Who's Savannah? Long-time girlfriend? Is she not happy you dropped out of university?"

I storm in their direction, trying to keep a neutral expression. "She's not my girlfriend," I say through clenched teeth as I snatch the letter away from Nolan Ramsey's hands and leave them before hell breaks loose. They start making catcalls as I leave the dormitory.

Soon enough, I'm standing at the age of the woods – alone this time. The rest have gone inside to have their lunch in the mess hall. I just want to avoid further discomfiting event, like having porridge being 'spilled' all over my seat before I sit down, or having words being scrawled all over my rifle in white marker. Sometimes I think the barracks looks more like a school than a military base. Lieutenant Squire is kind enough to let me out during lunch hour after he saw some words being scrawled all over my rifle. Flimsy, I remember it says. He even brings extra food.

"You can talk to Sergeant Jackson about this, you know," he says not unkindly, but enough to express his empathy. "Those blokes are thick-headed dimbos. No wives. You're young and fresh out of school – not really. But if you connect the dots, you'll see why they're picking at you."

"You're not really great with reassuring words, are you?" I murmur.

"Pardon?"