Reporting For Duty

The exhale of pressure releasing and the sound of squealing brakes filled my ears as the bus slowed to a stop. The smell of diesel and fear in the air nearly choked me. What was I doing back here? 

I stood with the other soldiers and slung my duffel. I felt like a sardine as we began to pack nut to butt into the aisle. There was little time to breathe before the doors ripped open and the screaming began.

I sighed. Here we go again.

I charged with the line out the doors and into the blinding sun on packed snow. An endless sea of wide brimmed hats surrounded us as I tried to keep my eyes down and not draw attention to myself like the first time I did a run through this gauntlet as a scared little bird.

“Go, go, go! Hurry the fuck up!”

Was that his command voice? I’ve heard scarier park rangers screaming at teenagers. What a joke.

We got shoved along and I didn’t even know where we were going. We never do. I just followed the person in front of me and kept my head down. We filed into an open structure with tall ceilings and massive doors slid open on both ends. Most of these guys barely knew how to file into a formation. Fortunately, I did. Unfortunately, I was in the first row. You never want to be in the first row.

“Get on the ground!” A male voice cut across the din. The air whooshed out of me as I dropped to the floor and assumed a push up position. I knew it was coming.

“Front leaning rest position, move!” A female. “ Up! Down! Up! Down! Half way down!”

My elbows barked as they protested against the sixty extra pounds on my back. I hated halfway down. I’d spent four years avoiding this exact position, and here I was, thirty years old and playing ‘I’m a little teapot’ in the frigid Missouri winter. I had been training for months, but I couldn’t train for snow in California. The cold bit into me and froze up my muscles until they were tacky and stiff.

“On your feet!” The woman screamed. The sound of shuffling could be heard as we all scrambled to stand and not knock each other over. “Drop your bags! Outside!”

I threw down my bag and tried not to roll my eyes. Running was incoming. I hated running. What was I doing back here again?

A tall, lanky drill sergeant began the ritual of screaming us out the door in a messy line as soldiers tripped over bags and their own feet in a mad attempt to comply. We ran around and around the building until I thought I would vomit, but I refused to do so on my first day. I wasn’t even nervous, I had no reason to be. When we got back inside, our bags were gone. I was surprised they were still doing the same training techniques.

It was a cooperation exercise. They take all the bags, throw them out into the snow, and order us to find ours and get back into formation. The catch? You only have a minute or two before they call everyone back in and smoke the hell out of you. After a few rotations, it finally dawns on someone to start helping each other locate the right pack. Thus, we learn to work as a team.

I knew the drill. Did I keep my mouth shut and let the little birds figure it out? Or do I save us some grief and kick us off? I decided to give it one rotation before I started calling out numbers.

We all ran out and the frenzy began. Soldiers threw bags aside, frantically checking for their identification and moving onto the next. A few lucky ones found theirs pretty quick. Tick tock.

“Inside! Let’s go! Get the fuck inside!”

In we went. No time for formations. We just had to find a place and get on the ground. Up. Down. Up. Down. Sweat was pouring down my neck already; I was definitely warm now.

We ran back out and I was ready to get this ball rolling. I snatched the first tag and sucked in a breath, projecting out over the crowd.

“457!” I screamed. “457!” A tall, blonde male came running at me and snatched his bag.

“Thank you,” he said, and darted off. Onto the next.

“482!” I shouted again, looking around. A medium build brunette female came over. She took her bag with a nod and went inside.

They caught on quickly, and soon the sounds of numbers rang out across the field. I continued to call out numbers while listening intently for my own. When I heard it, I ran over to snatch up my duffel and move inside. Upon entering the structure again, I was relieved to find that I would no longer be in the front row. I slid into formation safely a few rows back and took a moment to gulp down a few deep breaths and try to enjoy a brief respite. After several more minutes, everyone had successfully found their bag and was back in formation.

“Welcome to your first day in hell.” A heady male voice rumbled over our the group. I kept my eyes fixed on the head in front of me and waited for their introductory speeches to drone on and on before they continued to break us down. One of the female drill sergeants crossed to the male that had spoken. In my peripheral vision, I saw her lean in and say something to him, then point at the formation.

“595!” He barked.

Fuck.

I snapped to attention, my muscle memory taking over without hesitation. I shoved through the formation, the eyes of a whole company of terrified kids on my back. I stopped in front of him and turned into a stone statue, eyes burned into the dirt at his feet.

“We have a volunteer to demonstrate her superior knowledge and experience in the ranks!”

His voice didn’t just carry, it boomed. A physical force that hit me in the chest. He stepped into my space—close enough that the brim of his hat was a shadow over my vision. I could feel the radiator heat coming off him, cutting through the February chill. His breath jutted out in a cloud of steam and the scent of coffee danced within it.

“Former military?”

“Yes, Drill Sergeant.” My voice was steady, but my heart thrummed in my chest.

“Army?”

“Yes, Drill Sergeant.”

“Welcome back.”

The words were pure venom, whispered low enough that only I could hear. Goosebumps rippled across my skin, and it definitely wasn't from the cold. My downcast eyes now rested on his name patch: Leatherford. I chanced a glance up, just a fraction of an inch.

Holy. Shit. He was hot. No... He wasn’t just hot. He was the kind of sexy that made your brain short-circuit. A vein pulsed under his neck flushed with cold or heat or adrenaline, I didn’t know. I immediately shot my gaze back down before I jumped his bones in front of almost a hundred soldiers.

Oh you're going to be a problem. I thought.

“Back in formation!” He screamed, startling me for the first time since I arrived.

I scampered back to the ranks and squeezed my way back to where I had been standing. I focused on the rise and fall of my chest and tried not to think about sucking Drill Sergeant Leatherford’s bottom lip into my mouth.