Cadence Calls for Monsters

"Listen close, you pieces of human garbage! You're in the beginning stages of joining this beloved platoon! Organized by yours truly! Our 50th Commander in Chief! And you will not become warriors in my elite company until you pass my training grounds impeccably! Do I make myself clear!?"

"Aye, Sir!"

"I will not have any failures in my platoons!"

"Aye, Sir!"

"You have 20 seconds to prove me right, starting 18 seconds ago!"

"Aye, Sir!!"

"Any of you caught moving like pond water! We will all take turns stomping the bad habits out of you!"

"Aye, Sir!"

"Do I make myself clear!?"

"Aye, Sir!"

The sounds of our synchronized marching almost drowns into the noise of our bodies and gears rustling in tight precise formation. We're stomping through the asphalt and decaying grass when I catch a glimpse of my twin sister, Mary. She catches my gaze and subtly smirks but quickly turns it back into a solemn nonchalant expression. She clings from the monkey bars as the muscles on her forearms bulge and she swings almost effortlessly before disappearing with the other recruits. I was never as strong or faster as she was growing up. She was always the athlete in the family and I enjoyed burying my face in comics and video games instead. We're in it together now though, if only I could keep up.

"Well, Private Tweedledum! Are you done ogling your fellow recruits?!" 

"Aye, Sir!"

"I just asked you a Goddamn question, Private Tweedledum!"

"Aye, Sir!"

"Yes you're done ogling?!"

"Yes, Sir!"

"You will understand, we don't allow gawking in my platoon!" 

"Aye, Sir!"

"Do I make myself clear?!"

"Aye, Sir!"

"Put some bass in your voice!"

"Aye, Sir!!" 

"You will live in my coordinates here on out, Private!"

"Aye, Sir!"

"Get your ugly face out of sight!"

"Aye, Sir!"

I immediately climbed over to the bars and it felt like the muscles in my arms were ripping from my flesh, but it's all in my head. I staggered a bit. I must be strong and keep going. This isn't for you any longer. You're doing it for your country. Time to persevere and kill some slugs.

Then there's a fifteen foot wall with a rusty thick rope dangling from above like a pendulum on an old grandfather clock. Another PV1 had already slipped down with friction burns on his hands while two drill sergeants had quickly gathered to take turns scorching the stupid out of him. Bad mistake to let gravity get the best of you. 

I use this time to try and climb, but I struggled bad. Nobody notices, but the third try I barely manage to climb it over. Then I meet the rest of my platoon already toeing the line. Their faces looked unease and hesitant. We all stare at the grime of moistened gunk on the floor. It's a tar-black looking gel that smells like decaying meat. Some egghead must have replicated it from samples they gathered from the slugs in the other planet. It bubbles on the ground and we all dread the thought of jumping in. 

Our Drill Sergeant quickly motivated us. "Bite the bullet, recruits!"

"Aye, Sir!", the scattered few of us scream trying to muster something confident. 

We all surrender to the inevitable, crawling into the stickiness of the monster's secretion. The texture feels like a sticky mud but, it quickly starts to burns the way I imagined it would. I'm dragging myself on the floor moving hastily, the burning sensation on my skin starts to get worse but, we can't stop. If we don't move fast enough, it constricts and hardens, then that's the last of our troubles. After facing first-degree burns, the Drill Sergeants would run a train on us for what feels like an eternity. So, I crawl and I crawl fast enough, fighting through the pain, really questioning my physical limitations.  

"My leg! I'm injured! Help! My leg!" Someone yells out a few feet.

"Private Tweedledum, are you about to let your fellow recruit bleed out in this enemy soil!" 

"Aye, Sir!"

I position her on my back and drag the extra 160 pounds of her under barb wire and continue dragging my face through the gunk trying best not to pass out. I'm squinting my eyes through it all as its already hard enough to see with debris irritating them. I could feel the hardened pieces breaking off my skin. Some parts of me daydream during the harshest obstacles and I'm somewhere in school with my friends acting like the class clown that I was. The other parts of me are in the moment, its already burning my skin, but the adrenaline numbs the pain. 

Then I catch the sounds of screeches blaring through the speakers. 

This course has the simulated growling from the attacks from the war up above. The battle cries from the neighboring beasts are coming at high volume through the speakers in the foreground. I almost keep flinching because it's unlike anything I've heard before, like being tortured with sleep deprivation tactics. You can't relax hearing it, almost induces an anxiety in your system you can't seem to shake off. I continue dragging me and my simulated injured recruit through it all, she's holding her ears shut.

"It's easier if you put that crap in your ears" she whispers.

"But it-"

"The burning is less painful, than this godforsaken sound"

I shove the gunk on the outside of my ear and the burning begins. I pretend this whole ordeal is easier than it feels to avoid my Drill Sergeant's attention. 

Finally, I manage to get through it all and we commence a long 5-mile run, followed by 15 minutes for chow-time. Despite the layers of clothes and gear on my back soaked in my sweat and fluids, I can still somehow feel the chill trembling through my skin slithering through the openings of my sleeves. Even the weather is unfathomable here, a perfect alignment to the brutality of the days training course.

I finally make it to the best part of the day and join my platoon sitting on the soil crouched in a circle. This felt like the only time, besides the 4 hours of sleep we get to finally catch our breaths. Someone squeezes my shoulder and sits besides me. I could barely make out her face, it's covered in dirt and her face looks like a Jackson Pollock painting of scraped skin and blood and tar. I'm lucky to have these few minutes to eat with her. The group is all quiet and staring at their food paying no mind to each other for the first few minutes of eating.

Today's first meal is unsavory 4000 calories of C-RAT including chicken chunks and electrolytes. For dessert a ration of dry apple-cinnamon crackers.

"You guys wanna know a secret to make this chicken last?" said Guerrero from Texas smiling and looking down at his half-ripped accessory pack. He rips open the barbecue packet and squeezes it onto the juice remains of the chicken. He pours some water from his canteen onto it and starts to slurp it. "Better soup than my mama makes".

"Shit, Guerrero. You don't have to tell me twice, pardner" says South Dakota. "Remind me to visit that sweet mama of yours for some soup."

"Hey, it gets the job done".

"I'm already thinkin' of chow hall next week...". 

"You mean, Mess-hall?"

"As long as they serve better food, I don't care what they call it."

Another recruit chimes in. "It's mess-hall, cowboy. We're in the space marines, get the jargon right or you'll get chewed out by the next Sergeant. They'll make you lick the parking lot clean".  

Guerrero wipes the barbecue sauce from his lips. "You gotta' stop daydreaming of next week, South Dakota. You'll let this place eat you alive"

My sister had been eye-balling South Dakota for a good duration and smiling. "Hey, Cowboy. So uh, a few of us heard a little scuttle-butt the other day about your side-hustle."

South Dakota smiled slyly. "Aye, you guys hankerin' for a little buzz from the infantries only reputable bartender?"

Mary opened South Dakota's jacket and pulls out a modified food packet sealed up top with a rubber band. "Daaaamn straight."

"C'mon, Tomboy. You ain't hitting this? Just a swig?", She nudged me the packet.

I took a small gulp of the siphoned alcohol. It's like drinking lava, I gag when it goes down my throat and almost regurgitate back out. It's stronger than I thought and it taste exactly like how it smells, like pure 100% hand sanitizer. Mary is far more entertained than I was. She slapped me in the back and laughed, the recruits around all join in on the fun. 

South Dakota snatched the bag from my hands and passed it to Mary. "Your turn, Captain America. Let's see if you can handle it".

"Don't need to tell me twice". She took two long gulps and her face flushes. "Awww yeah! Grade-A Hooch. They don't teach you this shit in Oregon. True redneck shit".

South Dakota offers it to the other recruits but most of them turn it down. Mary finishes her chicken chunks and passes me her dessert. Funny thing is I've grown closer to my sister than I ever have been our entire childhood. It took our planet getting invaded for both of us to become closer siblings. We both wanted to serve and represent our country in the great War, it was only natural. She was the first to join, she inspired me to follow in her footsteps".

When the fifteen minutes were over, I started to feel a little woozy jogging at one point, felt like I was walking on clouds. It felt good for the moment when the buzz kicked in. Then we headed to the last obstacle for the day, Fight club.

At this point my joints had almost given up. I could feel something pop in my knees but I was okay to keep moving. The group of recruits all had gathered around the fighting grounds, the Drill Sergeants had given us boxing gloves eagerly awaiting to watch us beat the living snot out of each other.

Oo-rah!

My sister's having a blast pounding on the arms and chests of our fellow recruits, she doesn't hold back. South Dakota had some fight in him after all, he took down one of our recruit mates six inches bigger than him by using his own weight against him.

Loser had to face punishment in the back before giving it another go.

Winner had to wait for the next round.

Then I went up. Looking at the short guy from South Carolina, a true patriot, tough and one resilient sonuva bitch, based on the beating he gave me.

I took a few bouts aiming straight to his shoulders. He swung a good one directly into my gut. I watched the chicken chunk barbeque soup project down from my mouth to my grimey fatigues.

My Sergeant starts yelling at me in his frog-voice. It almost comes out as croaking sound. "Private Tweedledum, you have disappointed the Space Marine corps, do you understand me?!

"Aye, Sir!"

"What is our motto here in this beloved company?!"

"Aye, Sir! No Better Comrade! No Worse Beast! No Space Mission Too Difficult! No time for Defeat! No Sacrifice Too Great! Duty First! Not for Self, but Country! For Sacred Mother Earth! Always Courageous! Peace Through Strength!"

"Music to my ears, Private!"

"Aye, Sir!"

"Now give me 100 for making me smell that disgusting puke"

"Aye, Sir!"

I give the push-ups I owed but struggle a bit, but my stomach is now clear from the toxins of that disgusting drink I consumed. I feel a little lighter, but my sister's nowhere in sight, she's won every fight through and through and should be back in line. I find her in the corner puking her lungs out. I can't go to her but she quickly manages to keep pushing through and loses the last bout of the day. We welcome the cadence songs, marching over towards the sleeping quarters on a sunset. Mary is way farther in the back of the group struggling.

"Who's that Space Man in the white beret!"

(Who's that Space Man in the white beret!)"

"Killin' is how he earns his pay!"

"(Killin' is how he earns his pay!)"

"Yes, that's just the life for me!"

(Yes, that's just the life for me!)

"U.S. Space Force Infantry!"

"(U.S. Space Force Infantry!)"

One last run is enough to kick her ass through the hangover. She lands nasty slipping from a hill running towards headquarters passed out. I don't find out until later on when I can't find her. South Dakota says she had badly injured herself and is sent to medical. She was supposed to be the first in the family to leave the planet and fight the great interplanetary War. Instead I'll be going at it alone, surprised that a runt like me actually made it.

During my graduation she looked broken mentally and physically with a cast around her legs and crutches. But, she's smart. I find a moment when our parents are away and have a one on one.

"Mary, remember what you'd tell me when I was feeling like giving up the first week of boot camp? You'd tell me to get my ass up because I don't have the luxury of giving up anymore. I'd be letting myself down, my parents, my platoon, everyone who ever gave a damn."

"Yep..."

"You told me once there's something out there bigger than you are. So I'm telling you now, little sister. You look pathetic feeling sorry for yourself. You're not going to change a damn thing doing nothing".

Mary looks up at me and finally cracks a smile. "Thanks Tommy, you're right."

"Be strong for me, Ok?"

"I will. I'll find a way to heal this leg. I'll pass that training course."

I salute her one last time before heading back to roll call.

In a few weeks I'll get shipped and prepped for the next chapter of my life as a soldier, a warrior. I'll join the brave men and women and give those monsters a taste of their own medicine. She'll meet me soon too, I have a good feeling about it.