Making a Soldier

chapter one

"GET YOUR BAG UP PRIVATE GET IT UP DO YOU EVEN KNOW HOW TO HOLD A BAG? ARE YOU SO STUPID AND WEAK YOU CAN'T EVEN DO THAT?!" Shark attack had officially begun. And we were all sitting bait. As the drill sergeants were circling around us, looking for somebody to scream st, we all held our bags put in front of us. In my mind I hoped that they would forget about me, but I know that didn't happen. I was going to get smoked no matter what, and honestly? I was terrified.

I didn't dare move. I didn't dare look at the girl next to me as she was getting smoked, I didn't dare drop my bag a single inch, even though my arms were screaming at me to. Every ounce of my body was protesting against me, but I didn't give it a break. My recruiter had told me better. He told me to look forward, don't move, answer with yes drill sergeant or no drill sergeant and to not take anything they said personally.

As the drill sergeant moved on from the next girl, he slowly looked at me. I could feel his eyes search me up and down from every angle trying to find something wrong. Finally he stopped in front of me. "Private?" he said quietly. "Can you tell me what you're doing wrong right now?" My heart started beating at 100 mph and I began to sweat despite the cool wind that day. "No drill sergeant." I responded as I ran through a mental checklist of the things I should have done. Pt shirt tucked in? Yup. Socks pulled up? Yup. Shoes tied? Yup. Hair in a bun- oh shit. I concentrated on the hair behind my head that was supposed to be in a tight bun and felt that it had come undone. I silently cursed myself and realized that while I had been thinking about my hair, my arms had dropped significantly.

I was screwed.

The drill sergeant looked at me with amusement as he saw the realization come to my face. "Are you sure, private? His hunt had began, and I braced myself as he started screaming at me.