Page 28 of Falling for Ezra Thomas
“Thomas! Masterson! Olson!” Sargeant Sanderson shouting my name yanks me back to reality. Masterson is behind me while Olson is in front, but none of us want to do this. Since we don’t have a choice, we step forward and get into position to be OC sprayed.
Olson nudges me and dips his head. “We got this. Ain’t nothin’ but a little pain.”
Terrible burning pain, but I guess he’s right.
I shake out my arms and try to prepare myself for the next part of our training. Olson encourages Masterson, and I notice no one else is doing this. No one else seems to care if their friendsare ready for this deliberate onslaught of pain, so I wonder if we’re doing something wrong. Should we be supporting one another, or paying attention to ourselves?
It doesn’t matter. It’s too late to consider it further. We’re ordered into a line that faces another soldier, and he blasts us all directly in the face with the spray. For some reason, I shift to the right and almost trip, but catch myself. Immediately, I regret every decision I’ve ever made in my entire life, including joining the Army. Why did I think I was a big boy ready to march and fire a weapon? Nope, I can’t even take a little burning to the face like a man.
“Oh, dear heavens,” I grumble and bend over so the copious snot pouring from my nose has somewhere to go besides down my blouse. There’s a lot of coughing, but I can’t see Olson or Masterson through the tears draining from my eyes.
“Go to the eyewash stations,” we’re ordered, but darned if I even know where they are at this point.
An arm links with mine and I realize Olson is powering through it, seemingly without behaving like a child. Blinking only makes it worse, but I manage to feel my way to the water station where someone dribbles soap in my hand. I hope its soap.
Vigorous scrubbing and rinsing eventually clears the spray from my eyes and nose, but the burn lingers. When I can finally see, Olson is laughing and nudges Masterson. The two act like it’s just another day hanging out.
“What the—how is your skin not on fire?” I ask.
“Dude, you got the brunt of it. You legit moved in front of us just as they sprayed it. We only got a dab,” Masterson says.
“Way to look out,” Olson adds.
“I’m pretty sure all I did was trip, but you’re welcome.” I continue scrubbing my face, thinking about that moment. I shifted to my right…toward my wingman…right where Beckalways was on the ice, having my back. Only this time, the scenario was reversed. Rather than them having my back, I literally took the hit. Instinct, or maybe just a good hockey coach, has me so set in my movements I have literally gotten myself sprayed in the face with lava for my friends.
Who knows if that will get me into trouble or not. Maybe no one noticed, and I can get by without our drill instructor chewing me out for getting in the way.
“Thomas!” Drill instructor shouts. Ah, shoot. I’m in trouble. “Olson! Masterson!”
Well, maybe not in too much trouble if he wants all three of us.
We dry our faces, ignore the burn, and jog over to where our Drill Instructor stands in the shade of a perfectly pitched tent, upwind of the spray.
“Yes, sir,” we shout and stand at attention.
“At ease. That was good teamwork out there. Thomas, why did you step in front of your comrades?”
“Sir, I don’t know, sir,” I admit. I’m not entirely sure. Ithinkit’s because I’m used to Beck’s presence right there, but I have a feeling explaining that to a man who’s been shot at and laughed will not go over well.
“Olson, Masterson, I like to see men step up and aid their…shall we sayfallencomrades. You have the remainder of the day for liberty. Keep it up. Dismissed.”
Without further explanation, we’re sent on our way. Halfway across the field, Olson stops. “Wait, did he just give us the rest of the day off? In basic training?”
Masterson shrugs. “I think so. I’m not complaining. I need a nap.”
“What you need to do is share those cookies you’ve been hiding.” Olson glares at him, but Masterson only shrugs.
Meanwhile, I glance over my shoulder and find Sargeant Sanderson still watching us, conversing with two other men. Idon’t know what it means, so I avert my gaze and pay attention to what’s in front of us. I feel as if we missed something, like we’re the brunt of some joke we didn’t even hear, but I can’t piece together why that is. Instead of trying, I follow the guys into our tent and fall onto my cot. I’m exhausted, my skin hurts, and I need more sleep.
Masterson rummages under his bunk and pulls out his hidden cookie stash. “Don’t tell anyone where I hid them, or I won’t give you any more.”
Olson is all too willing to comply and snatches two cookies from the tin. He offers me one but I wave him off. The cookies are good, don’t get me wrong, but consuming baked goods only makes me miss home.
“What do you think that weird thing with Sarge was about?” I ask.
Olson shrugs. “Life experience tells me we’ll find out soon enough, but I can’t figure out if that’s good or not. The military ain’t as easy to read as regular people.”
Masterson gives him a questioning glance and finally asks what we’ve all wanted to. “What’s your story? How’d you end up here?”
