Third Person - Complete

Inprocessing Part Two

The alarm on the little brass windup clock woke Roberts up. He groaned and half-rolled over, hoping to ignore it for a few minutes. The digital clock wasn't used for alarms, so there wasn't any snooze on that brass clock. Roberts sat up, throwing back the blanket, and was shocked to see Patch standing by the dresser. He was standing in the dim light of the night-light, already dressed in his uniform.

"Training day, Roberts," Patch growled. "Get up."

Roberts got up, frowning. Patch was still on bed rest if he remembered right, but there he was standing there with his leg brace, eye patch, and staring as Roberts got up.

"Toddler Time is over," Patch growled. "You fuck up again, you try to throw someone under the bus for your own fuckup again, Roberts, and it won't be some bullshit that Chief Henley thinks up. You understand?"

Roberts nodded, flushing. Roberts grabbed his clothing out of his locker as Patch put on his gear and left.

Roberts was glad for that. He still wanted out of the room, and after that "Toddler Time" bullshit, he wanted out of the squad too.

Roberts went in, showered, grateful he didn't have someone telling him how to shower and then inspecting him to make sure he showered. He brushed his teeth, put his kit away, and got dressed in his uniform.

He'd just sat down when Patch came back into the room.

"Full kit, Roberts," Patch grunted, moving into the room. He opened the fridge, pulled out a bottle of whiskey, and took a long pull off of it. He staggered over to the wall lockers and unlocked his gear locker. He'd take a pull off the bottle, strap on gear, until he was in his full gear.

That was something Roberts hated and frowned on. It was a duty day and Patch was drinking straight from the bottle. It seemed like everyone was an alcoholic in this place.

"Hurry up, be in the Ready Room in ten minutes to draw the rest of your kit," Patch said, heading for the door. He'd left the bottle in the wall locker that he'd pulled his gear out of, locking it before he headed for the door.

Roberts pulled his body armor on, then grabbed his mask and strapped it to his left thigh. He knew his gear, those two women had been making him put it on and inspect it over and over. After the mask he put on his LBE over his body armor, then grabbed his helmet and his rucksack and helmet.

The two Marines were walking down the hallway toward Roberts, heading for the other hallway and the stairwell that led down to the Ready Room.

"Know what we're doing?" The Marine that had qualified on the sniper rifle asked. Roberts was still pissed he hadn't been given the chance to try to qualify on the sniper rifle.

"Don't know. Stillwater came by, said to load it all up, head to the Ready Room," The other Marine said, shrugging. "Thought he wasn't supposed to be up and running around."

"He's not," Roberts said, shaking his head. "He's supposed to be on bed rest." Roberts pushed through the double doors, heading down the next hallway. Other men were leaving their rooms, some in full gear, others just in normal duty uniform.

"'Sup, Jar-head?" One of the men, a big burly man grinned.

"Training, grease-monkey," one of the Marines said, socking the big man on the shoulder. "Gonna do more than just play with sockets."

"You guys heading for your site?" Another guy asked.

"Stillwater said pull our full gear and head to the Ready Room," The other Marine said.

"Wait, Stillwater's up and running around with that leg of his?" Another guy asked.

"Yeah," Roberts said, shaking his head.