Page 13 of Brighter Shades of Light
At that, I laughed so hard I nearly peed myself.
***
Wednesday was uniform day. The whole unit of midshipmen was required to wear their uniforms all day while on campus. It was also my busiest day of the week. Physical training in the morning, followed by three classes, a small break, then drill lab that afternoon.
At 0500 hours my alarm went off, and I sluggishly got out of bed. You’d think I’d be used to waking up at the ass crack of dawn, but it was fucking hard. Still half-asleep, I rubbed my eyes and walked to my closet, pulling out my PT uniform—a green shirt, dark green shorts, and running shoes. Pretty basic.
In the winter, we could wear a gray sweatshirt over the shirt if we wanted, but no matter how cold it was, the PT sessions made you forget about the weather after a while.
Once I was dressed, I left my room and went into the kitchen to get a glass of juice. I didn’t like to eat before training, because I was prone to puking it up, but a glass of juice managed to hold me over until I could get a real breakfast.
“Morning!” Tristen walked down the hall with a smile on his face, his blond hair perfect.
Tristen was the golden boy of the battalion, waking up bright and early in the morning and being his chipper self. He also excelled in all the drills, got the best marks on the exams, and was friendly with everyone. A true leader and team player.
“I don’t see how you can be so alive this early,” I grumbled before gulping the rest of my OJ.
“You’ll wake up once you get your blood flowing,” he said, grabbing the carton of juice from the fridge to pour a glass, too. “Since we focused on bodyweight exercises Monday, I have a feeling today will be geared toward running and sprints.”
“Probably.”
I actually loved to run. I wasn’t sure why, but it was freeing for me. Over the years, I had reached a point where I didn’t tire easily, and it was the one activity that I was better at than Tristen. I could run for miles. The farther the better. As a teenager, I ran a lot, mostly after school. Rain, snow, or shine; I had been out there.
Back then, I’d been running from something, though. Running from the shit in my head and wishing I had a different life. If I ran far enough, I could escape my fate.
“Hey.” Tristen nudged my arm. “You okay?”
I blinked and focused on him. “Yeah. Why?”
A crease formed in his brow. “You just had a weird look in your eyes for a second.”
“Just tired.”
Tristen and I walked across campus to O’Brien Hall, the center for NROTC participants named after a fallen Marine who’d gone through the program years before. Mark O’Brien was a war hero. Honor, courage, and commitment; a Marine through and through.
Going into the building, we were met by guys and girls, all wearing matching uniforms and waiting further instruction. Other than when attending drill lab, PT was the only time the whole unit was together. We joined them, saying hi to some of our other friends, before falling silent as the Marine Officer Instructor—MOI—walked out. He was the commanding officer attached to the NROTC unit and oversaw all the Marine midshipmen.
“Listen up,” Captain Franklin barked. He was dressed in his officer’s uniform, not a wrinkle in sight, and his high and tight haircut made his square face appear even more intimidating. “Time for accountability.”
Before becoming the MOI, Captain Franklin served for over twenty years in the Marine Corps, enlisting when he was nineteen and working his way up from there. He was tough but fair. The purpose for training us wasn’t to degrade us or beat us down, but rather to build us up to be the best we could be. Or something like that. A lot different than how I heard it was in boot camp, where the drill instructors called all the recruits shit stains and tortured them for fun.
Once all members were present, we were told to stretch and warm up. Everything was done as a group, which gave us a better understanding of the cohesiveness of the military. You trusted your fellow Marines. You bled and sweat with them.
“Alright,” Captain Franklin called out, once everyone had stretched. “Give me three miles on the green. I don’t want to see any slacking from any of you.”
The PT session was just as Tristen had speculated. A long-distance run followed by calisthenics. We went outside to run in a designated training area calledthe green. The sun was already beating down on us, making the warm morning even hotter.
By the end of it, Tristen’s face was as red as a strawberry and his blond hair was drenched in sweat. His shirt stuck to him, too.
“Jesus,” he wheezed, putting his hands on his hips as he fought to catch his breath, “How are you not dying right now? A long distance run in this summer heat is brutal.”
“Ah, you’ll live, golden boy,” I said, wiping the sweat from my forehead.
Every PT session ended with a cool down, so we joined the others on the track to do some stretches. I felt sorry for the people who had a class at eight. That gave them very little time to shower, eat, change into their uniform, and get to class.
I had slacked off on Monday after physical training, taking my sweet ass time going back to the dorm and showering. Then, I had lounged around my room and picked out what to wear, and just as I was debating on what I wanted for breakfast, I had realized class was about to start. I had hightailed it over to the math and science building and had made it to thermodynamics with a minute to spare.
Won’t make that mistake again.
