It’s my first day being shown around base camp. It’s dustier than I imagined, and I imagined a lot of dust. Also hotter. I didn’t account for the heat.
My name is Andre Simple and I’m a brand new recruit to the 282nd infantry division,and to the Army in general, and I’m being shown around base camp.
I’m being shown around by a CO named Colonel Skipper. She’s a pretty, brunette haired soldier with a toned build. She almost reminds me of my sister back home in Wyoming.
“And this here is the kitchen. It’s probably where you’re going to be spending a lot of time.” Colonel Skipper said. She had a high, chipper voice. The kind of voice you associate with a soccer mom, or one of those white girls you hear in a bar who exclusively drink tequila shots.
Next, she shows me to the barracks where there’s a few people hanging out. Two guys and a girl. None of them seem to even notice us.
She gestures to the man on the far left, who has disassembled his rifle to clean it, but seemed to be spending more time chatting with the man in the middle and defending himself from an onslaught of fruit bits.
He had bright blue eyes with a hint of mischief in them. His close cropped brown hair was sticking to his forehead because of the heat. He had a chiseled jawline and high cheekbones. He was hot. The kind of man I would have gone after back home.
“This is Corporal Evan Gallagher. He has a.. Erm… temper problem. I wouldn’t get on his bad side.” Col. Skipper continued.
Next she gestures to the man sitting in the middle. He was a Mexican man with a round face, short black hair, and brown eyes that lit up when he smiled, which seemed to be a lot.
He was cross legged on his cot, which was messy and not yet made, and you could see the corner of what seemed to be an “Adult” magazine peeking out from underneath his mattress. He too was defending himself from an aerial assault of fruit.
“Corporal Ryan Alvaro. The self-proclaimed rap god of base camp. I would watch your back for the first few weeks or so. He has a habit of pranking the new recruits.” She explained.
That brought us to the last person, a woman with red hair who was sitting on a folding chair propped against a corner with her feet up on a nearby ammo box. She seemed to be the cause of the fruit flicking, cutting out pieces with her knife then flinging it at the two men while chuckling.
She was slim but it was clear she had muscle. Her red, flowing hair complimented her green eyes that squinted when she laughed.
“And this fine lady here is Sergeant Cheryl Romano. You should be fine around her. Just don’t bring up Regis Philbin.”
I gave her an inquiring look, and she responded with one that said don’t ask.
Col. Skipper put a hand on my shoulder and lightly said “Welcome to base camp Private.”
