"And the hapless soldiers sigh runs in blood down palace walls ...."
Company A-1-2 had proved itself the best company that day in the record range and would not be outdone in marching either. One troop (or soldier) would've settled for being in a slack company because he was finding out what it was like to be Number One. He had two misfitted combat boots with blisters on his big toes. "Hut, two, three, four ..." echoed from one hill to the next, and "alpha" drowned out every company as they double-timed it past all the "girlie" companies. "Left, left, your military left!"
Company A-1-2 had proved itself the best company that day in the record range and would not be outdone in marching either. One troop (or soldier) would've settled for being in a slack company because he was finding out what it was like to be Number One. He had two misfitted combat boots with blisters on his big toes. "Hut, two, three, four ..." echoed from one hill to the next, and "alpha" drowned out every company as they double-timed it past all the "girlie" companies. "Left, left, your military left!"
Even the truck driver could hear as well as feel the cadence of the marching formation and it was beautiful to see so many troops in unison singing: we belong in Hollywood." As other companies sang "Gee I [G.I.] ranger, live a life of guts and danger!" One soldier had been caught not yelling and was running around the whole company as they marched. All those that couldn't keep up had fallen out and were riding behind in a truck, but would pull KP [kitchen police] for ten days. It was hard to keep up with the sergeants who didn't wear backpacks.
The temperature was only twenty above that day but was warm compared to twenty below at the Reception Station. Only the hands would get cold and several troops didn't have gloves. They could've bribed someone to go to the PX [post exchange] for them if they didn't have a pass like the smarter ones outsmarted the system. They were all slightly overdressed or overexerted (one or the other--it was hard to tell). There was really no need for galoshes but the uniform of the day was made up the day before when there was snow. All the troops suspected that the CO [commanding officer] just liked to see them shine galoshes.
"Company. Halt!" the senior sergeant yelled like a stentor.
Two heavy foot-stomps were accompanied by "one, two." The sarg had ordered them to take off their field jackets and tie them around their wastes. "Attention, forward-haaaarch!" The liturgy of counting cadence resumed and it was obvious how good they were programmed to count it. "Hut" (there was a pause and the rest said as loud as possible "Two, three, four," pausing "two, three, four.")
The troops got sore voices that would become louder before the end of training, but the sergeants were ready with reserve lung power at any time for special effect. It would've been nice to put on earplugs, which were always tied to the lapel, in order to get some peace of mind.
The sergeant was paying special heed to the troops nearest him and the guy at the head of the squad got a little out of step it was magnified by the middle of the formation where one troop, trying to average the step of the guy in front with the guy behind, started to trip from the even gait. They marched only thirty inches apart; the whole squad was bobbing heads up and down so unevenly that the sergeant's uniform-oriented eye caught it. They should've known all the intricacies of marching by now (how to skip back into step delay-less in a martial manner), but the slow learners always had to learn everything the hard way.
"Company, halt!"
The troops yelled at the top of their lungs to impress hoping it would help. It was about time for the "hero" of the day, who was some meathead that got them in trouble.
""At-ease!
"Platoon Three was out of step.
"Platoon Three, do me ten!"
Actually, it was only the squad that was out of step; collective punishment was the order of the day: This was non-judicial extra training and it was good the whole company didn't do push-ups.
"Push-up number one, Senior-Drill-Sergeant!
"Push-up number two, Senior-Drill-Sergeant!"
Ten push-ups were harder than it looked and they all had to be in unison, of course. As they got down to the prone position one soldier had forgotten decorum for his M-16 and put it on the ground. He was too nervous to see what all the others did and was on sick call the first day when they learned about their "best friend in the Army."
"What are you doing to your weapon, troop?"
"I laid it on the ground, Senior Drill Sergeant."
"Fall out, troop!"
"Order-arms .... Port arms! .... Display-arms! .... Inspect-arms!
"There's too much lubrication in the chamber. Your bolt carriage sight adjuster and muzzle are dirty, TROOP!"
The training officer stuck his finger in the grease and put it in the soldier's mouth. The soldier just didn't have the patriotic deference due to military ordnance.
"How does that taste, TROOP?"
The soldier almost regurgitated but was the lesson in drills and ceremonies for the day.
"Where does the weapon go TROOP?"
"It never leaves my arms and hands, Senior Drill Sergeant."
"Company, at ease! Take a smoke break," the CO interjected.
"This troop still loves his mother more than his weapon!"
Everyone resounded with a salvo of laughs knowing the alternative to a sense of humor around this NCO.
"Should I introduce him to his new love?"
"Yes, Senior Drill Sergeant!" the company concurred,
"You best make your apology soon, trooper!"
"I'm sorry, Senior Drill Sergeant."
The temperature was only twenty above that day but was warm compared to twenty below at the Reception Station. Only the hands would get cold and several troops didn't have gloves. They could've bribed someone to go to the PX [post exchange] for them if they didn't have a pass like the smarter ones outsmarted the system. They were all slightly overdressed or overexerted (one or the other--it was hard to tell). There was really no need for galoshes but the uniform of the day was made up the day before when there was snow. All the troops suspected that the CO [commanding officer] just liked to see them shine galoshes.
"Company. Halt!" the senior sergeant yelled like a stentor.
Two heavy foot-stomps were accompanied by "one, two." The sarg had ordered them to take off their field jackets and tie them around their wastes. "Attention, forward-haaaarch!" The liturgy of counting cadence resumed and it was obvious how good they were programmed to count it. "Hut" (there was a pause and the rest said as loud as possible "Two, three, four," pausing "two, three, four.")
The troops got sore voices that would become louder before the end of training, but the sergeants were ready with reserve lung power at any time for special effect. It would've been nice to put on earplugs, which were always tied to the lapel, in order to get some peace of mind.
The sergeant was paying special heed to the troops nearest him and the guy at the head of the squad got a little out of step it was magnified by the middle of the formation where one troop, trying to average the step of the guy in front with the guy behind, started to trip from the even gait. They marched only thirty inches apart; the whole squad was bobbing heads up and down so unevenly that the sergeant's uniform-oriented eye caught it. They should've known all the intricacies of marching by now (how to skip back into step delay-less in a martial manner), but the slow learners always had to learn everything the hard way.
"Company, halt!"
The troops yelled at the top of their lungs to impress hoping it would help. It was about time for the "hero" of the day, who was some meathead that got them in trouble.
""At-ease!
"Platoon Three was out of step.
"Platoon Three, do me ten!"
Actually, it was only the squad that was out of step; collective punishment was the order of the day: This was non-judicial extra training and it was good the whole company didn't do push-ups.
"Push-up number one, Senior-Drill-Sergeant!
"Push-up number two, Senior-Drill-Sergeant!"
Ten push-ups were harder than it looked and they all had to be in unison, of course. As they got down to the prone position one soldier had forgotten decorum for his M-16 and put it on the ground. He was too nervous to see what all the others did and was on sick call the first day when they learned about their "best friend in the Army."
"What are you doing to your weapon, troop?"
"I laid it on the ground, Senior Drill Sergeant."
"Fall out, troop!"
"Order-arms .... Port arms! .... Display-arms! .... Inspect-arms!
"There's too much lubrication in the chamber. Your bolt carriage sight adjuster and muzzle are dirty, TROOP!"
The training officer stuck his finger in the grease and put it in the soldier's mouth. The soldier just didn't have the patriotic deference due to military ordnance.
"How does that taste, TROOP?"
The soldier almost regurgitated but was the lesson in drills and ceremonies for the day.
"Where does the weapon go TROOP?"
"It never leaves my arms and hands, Senior Drill Sergeant."
"Company, at ease! Take a smoke break," the CO interjected.
"This troop still loves his mother more than his weapon!"
Everyone resounded with a salvo of laughs knowing the alternative to a sense of humor around this NCO.
"Should I introduce him to his new love?"
"Yes, Senior Drill Sergeant!" the company concurred,
"You best make your apology soon, trooper!"
"I'm sorry, Senior Drill Sergeant."
No comments:
Post a Comment