There Are No Words

Chapter 7B

Walker

"Do you have a problem?" Drill Sergeant McGuire yells at me.

"Do you have a problem?" Senior Drill Sergeant Calous screams in my ear.

"DO YOU HAVE A PROBLEM?" Drill Instructor Yi gesticulates at me at the top of his lungs. He's throwing his hands in my face like he wants to rip it off. All three of them circle me like vultures waiting to dissect carrion. They hound me non-stop as I try to tie the laces of my boots.

Their spittle hits my cheek, my eyes, my hair. Their screaming pierces my head, daggers of sound jarring my senses. Their hands pound air around my head.

"What's the matter with you? Why aren't you done already?" this one asks.

"Can't you speak? What's taking you so long?" Another one demands.

"DO-YOU-HEAR-ME-SON? Get your shit together!" the last one commands.

"Stand up straight, kneel down, do 10 push-ups, stand up, jog in place." "GET THOSE KNEES UP!" "MOVE MOVE MOVE you piece of shit! Move your ass!"

I'm under attack. Drill Sergeant McGuire is in my face again. "What's the matter with you, Walker? Go! Go! Go! You ain't no Walker anymore, son, you're a Marine. You're a runner now. Hurry up! MOVE FASTER! Hustle! Hustle! Hustle! Go! Go! Go!"

It never stops. They never let up.

"Yes, Sir! No, Sir! Aye Aye, Drill Sergeant! No problem, Sir." I can't react fast enough. Their shouts come at me in rapid fire. I do my best to keep up with the intensity of their commands.

One wrong move. One slight slip up; I'm in hell on earth.

We're on the move. We're running full throttle up the hill. Our battle gear is on our backs. Our boots are on our feet. Our helmets are on our head. It's the middle of winter, but I'm sweating like a pig. I can feel it pour down my back and pool at the base of my spine. The smell of our own stench is rancid and permeates the men around me.

No one cares.

Blisters, long ago broken open on my heals and palms, have since callused over.

I can't think. I don't think. I'm a machine. That's what they tell us. That's what they drill into our brains. We are fresh meat. We don't have room for our own thoughts; they tell us what we're allowed to think. My instructor commands and I respond. The fear of doing otherwise drives my body beyond its breaking point.

I'm exhausted. I want nothing more than to fall on my face and die.

12 hours.

For 12 hours we've been running up into the hills. We've been racing down through the brush. We've crashed through the circuit course, tackling obstacle after obstacle. I will never look at a set of monkey bars the same way again.

Fuck, my hands are on fire.

I hear the singing begin and join in.

"Ooh rah, move it out.

Ooh rah, move it out.

Boot camp is a-lot of fun,

Boot camp is a-lot of fun,

March, dive, roll-now run as one.

March dive, roll-now run as one."

Toledo, the son of a bitch. My eyes forward, I can just make out his figure at the head of the line. If I didn't feel so bad for him, I'd pound his ass myself. During line-up this morning he made the mistake of coming in first at the end of our PT routine. Which would have been fine, if he didn't get cocky about it.

What was he thinking starring down the Drill Instructor in the eye like that?

I'll never know. It's not like we didn't all see what happened to Jaceen earlier this month. Poor bastard. Calous chewed his ass a new one. Then he turned on us all. Smoked our asses good. Now here we are again, suffering over another ego-trip infraction. Everyone knows you never look your Drill Instructor in the eye, let alone grill on his ugly mug when you're pissed off.

But, that's the point, isn't it? The action of one person in your platoon affects everyone. One person thinks for himself, gets a big head on his shoulders, and we all suffer the consequences.

"Recruiter smiled, said son where you been?

Recruiter smiled, said son where you been?

Said sign here now, I'll swear you in.

Said sign here now, I'll swear you in.

Those dress blues gonna look-a migh-ty fine,

Those dress blues gonna look-a migh-ty fine,

Now grab those camos. Quick! Get in line!

Now grab those camos. Quick! Get in line!"

Keeping my head forward as I run, I steal a thought for Jenny. What's she doing? Is her speech coming back? Does she miss me? It's torture not hearing from her, but I know she can't write.

I miss her. I miss our quiet time at the lake. I miss daybreak over the water, with her head on my shoulder as the sun crests the hillsides.

There's no quiet here.

I look over at my cousin, Tadhg and can see his mind is elsewhere as well; he's probably thinking about Caoilainn. I sympathize, Tadhg, I think to myself.

Looking forward again, I pick up my pace. Falling behind is not an option. Jaceen and I echo our Senior Drill Sergeant as he runs past;

"Now I got my rifle, I got my knife,

Now I got my rifle, I got my knife,

Marine Corps is my way of life.

Marine Corps is my way of life.

A 5.56 mm shot,

A 5.56 mm shot,

Gonna leave that corpse layin' dead to rot

Gonna leave that corpse layin' dead to rot.

The few, the proud, until I die,

The few, the proud, until I die,

Marine Corps is the reason why.

Marine Corps is the reason why."

Will she wait for me? Will she be there when I return? I wonder as we finally circle back.

By the time we hit our racks later that night, my muscles are screaming, and I don't care. I couldn't care less, in fact. Oh, freaking well. Let them burst for all I care. I just wanna fall asleep and not get back up for 10 more days. If I'm lucky, I'll dream of Jenny before waking up to another day of the torture I'm currently living through.
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Photography Copyright 2018 A. E. F.

First and foremost, Thank You again to those serving in the U.S. Armed Services! Those words can't be said enough.

Second, if you are in the service and you notice anything amiss with this chapter, or a future service-related chapter, will you kindly offer some constructive criticism about it? I want to portray accurate work but I myself am not a member of the Marines. What I am writing is coming from my own studies on it. Realizing I may not be correct in my presentation, I'm asking for your help. Please let me know if you see something here that you know can be better. I'll do my best to humbly accept your advice and incorporate changes into my book.

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