Authors: Crystal Rose
“Oh boy, that’s so how I want to spend a day. Snot bubbles and blinded,” Patrick stated.
“FALL IN!”
Everyone rushed into formation and waited.
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“Today Privates, you're heading to your own personal hell. It is called The Gas Chamber,” King announced and Ryan could swear the man had a wicked gleam in his eyes.
“You'll treat my gas chamber as if it was my fuckin' bedroom, understood? There will be no puking, snotting or crying in my bedroom. Got it?”
Ryan was getting worried. He heard a very unmanly scream coming from the other side of the building.
“Drill Sergeant Grabowski, anything you'd like to say?” King called.
“One thing. Just make sure you fucks take a deep breath. I will be in the room with you and you will make me happy or we're going to be in there a long fucking time.”
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“GAS, GAS, GAS!” shouted Drill Sergeant Connelly. Everyone dove for their gas masks.
With that said, they were placed in lines to enter the chamber. The closer they got to the building, the more the gas was affecting them. Ryan could feel his skin prickling. It seemed the sweat that was beading on him was capturing every molecule of gas and trapping it against his skin. “Dude, this sucks” he whispered to Patrick. Though he had to admit that all of them standing around with Military Issue gas masks on their faces
was
pretty damn funny. They all looked like they could be stand-ins for the next “Star Wars.”
Patrick's eyes squinted sharply. “And fucking Brendon is bouncing around like a pinball.”
“It's gonna get worse,” Kenneth said glumly. “We could always kill him and say it was an accident.” He glared at Brendon, who still hadn't calmed down.
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The four of them, plus Brody and Weatherly, all entered together. Ryan didn't think it was that bad until the gas clung to his uniform, burrowing deep into his skin. Damn, that was rather uncomfortable. He flinched when the door slammed and something was pressed against it.
“Crack the seal, Privates!” He looked up and damned if Grabowski wasn't walking around the room like he was breathing fresh air. Everyone took their masks off.
He went down the line slowly. Ryan cursed the fact that he was the last fucking man in the room. He could hear them all choking and spitting. He vaguely wondered if King could see that they did, in fact, spit in his room. Patrick was having a hard time opening his eyes. Kenneth couldn't get ‘Roslin’ out to save his life. Fucking Brendon just zipped through the bitch. Brody was actually crying and Ryan was sure his death was on the cards.
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The gas seemed to freeze right in front of his eyes only to burst right under his fucking nose. He hacked, bending over and hoping he wouldn't puke. Spitting in King's house was bad enough. He didn't want to know what happened if you puked.
“Alright hero, open your eyes and take a deep breath. DOB, Social, full name!” Phillip barked. He sounded like he was outside, that the gas wasn't even touching him. That shit wasn't fair. Ryan cracked his eyes opened and wanted to curse. The bastard didn't even have so much as a grimace on his face.
“Come on Freckles, we're waiting on you. You don't want your buddies to suffer any more, do you?” he asked, a smirk planted firmly on his face.
Fucker.
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Ryan struggled to do it. “01 March 1982” He coughed out. He choked on a lump of spit that seemed to gather in the middle of his throat. He repeated his social. After another round of hacking and coughing he finally got his whole name out.
When he was finally finished Grabowski went to the rear door and pounded on it.
The door burst open and everyone was nearly running to get out.
“Fucking walk!” Grabowski ordered. So instead of a slow run they did a fast walk until the air hit them.
“Holy fucking shit! This fucking sucks!” Patrick barked as he tried to keep the snot from hitting his mouth. His face was tracked with tears and other substances that were best for them to ignore. He flapped his arms out wide like they were told to do earlier that morning.
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Kenneth ran over the top of Brody, sending the other guy straight to the ground while he stumbled and tried to rub his eyes. That was a big mistake. A split second later, Kenneth's howls filled the small clearing.
“Don't fucking rub your eyes, numb nuts!” barked Connelly. “Stupid fucking private!”
Connelly grabbed Kenneth with one hand and his canteen with another. He began to pour the cool water over the other man's eyes.
Ryan came out and blindly walked straight ahead or as straight as it seemed to him. He was thankful for his ugly BCGs at that moment, mainly because tears were streaming down his face. Spit came foaming out of his mouth like he was a rabid dog. He just prayed that no one would shoot him.
He heard Brendon cursing and then a quick thump.
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“GAWD DAMNIT! FURRY YOU FUCKING RAN INTO COMMAND
SERGEANT MAJOR OAK!” King shouted, as he tried to pick Brendon up off of the ground in front of a huge oak tree.
Brendon was stuttering and muttering. Ryan resisted the urge to rub his eyes. He was thinking it might be worth the pain just to see what the hell Brendon was bitching about.
“APOLOGIZE TO THE COMMAND SERGEANT MAJOR RIGHT THE
FUCK NOW, FURRY!”
Brendon mumbled a quick apology to the Command Sergeant Major.
King then turned on a dime. “Furry, you fucking moron, that's a fucking tree!”
Brendon's vision seemed to clear because he turned and stared at the tree. “It's a tree,” he repeated dumbly.
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“No shit, hero. It's a fucking tree.” With that said King left Brendon alone to attend a fresh batch of newly-inducted recruits barreling out of the chamber.
“Gracin, flap your arms like a bird, come on. Fucking flap them!” Connelly shouted from his place beside Kenneth, who was still whimpering.
Ryan wasn't sure what the hell for but he raised his arms and started flapping. Instantly he felt like the world’s biggest ass.
Afterwards they were all sitting in the shade.
“Holy hell, that fucking sucked,” Brendon muttered.
“At least you didn't rub your eyes. That really fucking hurt,” Kenneth groused.
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“You didn't run into Command Sergeant Major Oak either, Kenneth.” Brendon sighed.
“And how did Grabowski stay in that place so long? When he came out he looked bored as hell.”
“They live to make us look like asses,” Ryan muttered. He looked over at Patrick and laughed. “What's wrong?”
Patrick had a funny look on his face. “Dude, I puked in King's house,” he said, making everyone laugh again.
***
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That night after mail call Drill Sergeant Connelly stuck around and bullshitted with them. Ryan had to give the guy credit. He was funny as hell. He was telling them stories from his first tour in Iraq.
It was personal. It made every single one of them feel like they were not just recruits.
They were finally soldiers.
Ryan laughed when Connelly started talking shit about ‘Scouts.’
“Fucking crunchies, they think they are cool as shit,” Connelly said, using the term
'crunchies' as a derogatory name for the ‘Scouts.’
There was a snort from the doorway and all eyes turned to Phillip Grabowski.
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“We are cool as shit.” He grinned. “So fucking cool that when you take a tanker out of his tank and into a Humvee, they cower behind the big boys and pray we don't leave their asses behind.”
“Oh now, see you gotta dis a man's wheels,” Connelly said sadly.
“That's it? That's all you could come up with?” Phillip asked, his grin widening to its most maddening brilliance.
That fucking smile sent Ryan back in his own mind. That mouth should be illegal.
“NO!” came a roar from his left that brought him back to the present. He looked at Brendon who was staring wide-eyed at a letter in his hand. The paper fluttered from the blond's fingers. He rushed out of the room, barreling into Grabowski without even noticing it.
Both Drills looked startled but Grabowski recovered first. He took off after Brendon.
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Ryan rose.
“Sit down, pretty boy. Big Daddy will take care of your girlfriend,” Connelly ordered.
Ryan didn't want to follow that order but he did. He sat back down and picked up the letter. He opened it while Connelly began another story.
Dear Brendon,
I know this is a horrible way to do this but I don't have any other choice. I fell in love with
someone else. I know I promised that I wouldn't do this but I couldn't help it. He's here and you’re not. I
need someone here, Brendon. Not someone hundreds of miles away. I hope you understand.
Sophia
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Ryan bit off a curse and looked at Patrick.
'Broke up?'
Patrick mouthed.
Ryan confirmed it with a short nod of his head. Patrick frowned and nodded to Kenneth. They all wanted out of the room so they could check on their friend.
Connelly sighed and grabbed Ryan's attention. He thumbed his head toward the door.
Ryan stood up and walked out of the door.
He slowed his gait and stood outside of the room. He was surprised to hear Grabowski talking.
“Murray, this happens all the time. When we were deployed to Iraq several guys had wives file for divorce. I can't tell you how many guys had girls breaking up with them during the middle of the tour claiming it was too hard to deal with.” Grabowski said. His voice was so soft 116
and soothing. Ryan couldn’t believe he was the same man who barked orders at them all the time.
“But why now? Why couldn't she wait?” Brendon asked. Ryan could hear tears in his voice.
“It's better now, Murray. Trust me. You don't want to be out in the sandbox and get that sort of letter.” There was something tingeing Grabowski's voice that told Ryan that Phillip had lived through that.
Ryan scooted closer to the door, just in time to have a face full of Grabowski.
“Freckles,” he greeted him, a small smile on his lips.
It was the closest Ryan had been to the Drill since 'the kiss'.
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“Drill Sergeant Grabowski,” Ryan said. He knew he should be in there with Brendon, and right after he memorized the brunette’s smell he would be.
The Drill left without another word. Ryan walked in and looked at Brendon.
“Hey buddy,” he said softly. “Sorry about your girl.”
“I don't care,” Brendon said, the sound muffled by the pillow he was holding over his head.
“It sucks but after you get all buffed up she'll be crying because she can't have you, dude,”
Ryan said. He really sucked at comforting anyone.
Patrick and Kenneth came into the room a few minutes later.
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Kenneth pushed Ryan aside and sat down. “Know what? Fuck 'em. Girls like that chick are a dime a dozen. Brendon, we're gonna go out after basic and fuck the first girl we see. Then we're gonna toast to that bitch of an ex of yours,” he said, bitterly.
Ryan nodded his head.
Kenneth snorted at Ryan. “We'll find you a guy.”
Ryan flipped him off.
Patrick just laughed. “She's not worth it.”
Brendon took the pillow off of his face. “Guys, not right now, okay? Just… not now.”
All three sighed and nodded. Quietly they all got ready for bed.
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It had taken Brendon a few days to get himself back to so-called normal. The Drills didn't let up until the only thing Brendon could think of was getting squared the fuck away to get the Drills off his back. Ryan felt sorry for the boy but hey, the Drills seemed to know the right thing to say and do. By the second day Brendon didn't even mention Sophia again.
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That morning Patrick and he pulled KP duty. To Ryan's way of thinking it was great.
They got up and dressed. Once in the Chow Hall they noticed who was in charge. It was none other than Drill Sergeant Grabowski.
“Aww, fuck. I was hoping for someone else,” Ryan said low under his breath.
“Hell, I just want people to see how fucking crazy he is so they don't think I'm insane when I tell them,” Patrick said, watching the others as they looked at the reputedly crazy Drill.
“Bet they have no clue how insane he is,” Ryan said back.
“Fall in!” Grabowski shouted.
All of the soldiers reporting for KP duty fell into formation and awaited instructions.
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“My name is Drill Sergeant Grabowski. I know most of you like KP duty because it's so much fucking fun. Well I am here to change your mind. Today I expect this place to run smoothly. Is this understood?”
“Yes, Drill Sergeant!”
Quickly they were all assigned to different duties. Ryan was working with a guy from Delta Company. It was all he could do not to roll his eyes at the bastard. He was a fucking moron.
“So, dude, what's that guy like?”
“He's a Drill Sergeant,” Ryan said tiredly. He was going to kill someone. The guy hadn't shut up since they began to peel potatoes. Patrick came in carrying a pan of scrambled eggs. He snickered when Ryan made eye contact.
“No, I heard he killed a guy!” Matt or Mark said.
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“I think that's a rumor,” Ryan muttered. He really wasn't sure if it was a rumor or not but it kinda pissed him off that another soldier from a completely different fucking unit was saying shit about HIS fucking Drill.
“They say he's a real bastard. We got lucky and got Drill Sergeant Davis. He's cool as fuck.”
Ryan bit his lip to keep from defending the guy who had made his life a living hell so far.
“I'd hate to be stuck with a crazy fucker like Grabowski.”
“Dude!” Ryan said, staring at the guy. “You don't fucking know him.” Not that Ryan did either but still. “So shut your fucking mouth.”
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“Not enough work, Privates?”
Just fucking great. Ryan sighed. They both snapped their mouths shut.
“Private...What the fuck? Private, you'll answer by No-Name because that is the world's most fucked-up name.” Grabowski said, looking at the soldier that Ryan was talking to. “Y'all want to tell me what you were talking about.”