Jethro: First to Fight (54 page)

“Good,” Riley said as he bolted the
motor home and then wired it into the new wiring harness. “One down, one to go
on the other side, then the other leg. Getting there!”

“Yeah.”

“Don't sound so thrilled,” Riley said,
using short hand. “At least this one has good teeth. Three of the legs have
broken teeth. That's going to be a pain in the ass to fix.” He sat on a stool.
“What's on your mind?”

“We're keeping what, two dozen suits
right? What about the eleven we can't or won't rebuild? What about them?”

“The museum pieces?” Riley asked. “What
about them? Most are ready for the scrap heap. Unless we use them for training
aides.”

“That's an idea.”

“I meant target practice,” Riley said.

“Not what I had in mind. I know we do a
lot of rebuild, recycle, and reuse, but what about using them to teach our
people about them? Or put them on display in the visitor center?”

“Well, that's better than wasting a suit
there, not that the Major would.”

“We... we could make replica parts! Even
replica suits! Use them in the engineering classes, stick them in the museum,
you know!”

“Plastic?” Riley asked. The Tauren
nodded. “Could work. Write it up.”

“I will,” the Tauren said, getting a
faraway look. He felt a hand tap him and then grab his right horn.

“After you're done here,” the armorer
said.

“Yeah,” the Tauren said with a sign. He
attached the flexible hose to the motor then to the rigid line embedded in the
thigh.

“Make sure you use copper washers on
either side to prevent leaks,” Riley said. “And the screw for the caliper
points up.”

“Yup, got it,” Ox replied patiently.

Gunny Schultz took on Jethro, Letanga,
Clive Bret, Asazi, and other Marines serving as junior drill instructors for
the new class of boots. Valenko took on duties in boot administration since his
squad was split up temporarily to either fill in for other borrowed DI's or on
detached duty like Ox in the armory.

Each of the junior instructors were
given a week to refresh on the basics of instructing raw recruits. They
received their felt campaign hats and uniforms half way through the week. The
Neo campaign hats looked a great deal like female issue hats, due to their
ears.

“There is something to be said about the
importance of making a good first impression. We want to look like gods to the
recruits, to not only scare the piss out of them, but to make them aspire to be
like us,” Gunny explained. “So it is important to keep fit and looking good at
all times. That means no slacking off in the gym, and don't get too attached to
the desks. And keep the damn power trips to a minimum. Remember, it's not
personal, so don't
make
it personal.” He stared at them for a long
moment.

“There aren't any good or bad recruits.
Remember that, we're here to guide them, to get them to their full potential.
Don't fall into the trap of being buddy buddy with them, but don't go all hard
ass sadistic either. Find some middle ground and stick to it. Remember the
program, first two weeks is the clue stick, we need to throw them off balance
and toughen them up. We are breaking them down in order to build them back up.
Superior training equals superior personnel. Remember that. Then we slowly ease
off when they start coming around. Slowly work in the carrot after the fourth
week. Small doses. Let them see a light at the end of the tunnel when they do
things the right way. It's called conditioning.”

“Don't be buddy buddy, you're not
expected to take showers with them. But don't go all sadistic either. I'm
serious on this shit, I don't
need
any power trips. That's why I'm
repeating it. Go there and you'll be the one being sorry and sore by the end of
the day. Keep your hands off unless it's serious, and you've got the regs and
training to know when it is serious. Don't frack up with gender and sexual
situations or by goddess I will land on you like a ton of bricks and you
will
face a mast,” he growled. “That is if I let you live.” You could hear a pin
drop after that expression. The Doberman stared at them for a long moment
before continuing.

“This is all important. We need to get
this going, get it going right. Which means keep to the drill. There will be
mistakes, I know that, you know that. Keep it to a minimum. Remember your
training. Remember how it all plays out on the minds of the trainees.”

“Some of the recruits, those that we
brought with us from Pyrax, have had implants and sleep teaching. It's one
thing to know something, another to experience it. By now you all know that.
They are going to be clumsy, learning their bodies. They are also going to be
strong. We're going to do an override, cutting their enhanced strength back for
the first three weeks. That will let them get dialed in and used to their
bodies, then we'll revisit the issue. Watch out for fights, a punch can be
lethal, we all know that right?” he asked.

They nodded. Already a few fights had
broken out in the barracks. Marines involved had been sent to the infirmary
with sometimes broken bones. A single punch could easily snap a skull if the
fighters weren't careful. Recruits weren't known for being careful.

They had four thousand recruits to run
through boot, along with another four hundred and fifty natives. The stasis
pods had all been transported down to Parris and were warehoused in the base
hospital district. Four hundred recruits at a time were processed for training,
given the agreed upon medical treatments, sleep teaching, and implants before
they were woken up. They were given a week to assimilate to their changed
bodies before they were assigned to a platoon of one hundred and twenty odd
other recruits.

The four hundred and fifty natives were
given basic information implants and classes on how to use them. Twenty dropped
out the first week, they didn't receive their sign on bonuses, instead they
left with their implants retuned to civilian grade.

There were four platoons, three of
common species, and one of heavies. This go around they had a bit of a change
in the platoon naming, going back to standard Marine corps nomenclature. Alpha
remained the same, but Beta became Bravo, Gamma became Charlie, Delta remained
the same, but F became Foxtrot.

Jethro had Charlie company with Asazi
and two noobs he had yet to meet. He felt a little out of his element, he'd
thought he'd start out as a junior DI, but Gunny seemed to have faith in him.
Enough that he was starting as the senior DI of Charlie at least.

They were starting small, with only the
four platoons to get things rolling. There were one hundred twenty recruits in
each platoon, give or take one or two warm bodies. The bean counters figured a
fifteen to twenty percent casualty or dropout rate. Hopefully it wouldn't run
that high, but they knew the training could be dangerous.

Once they had a handle on training they
would expand the training class by a platoon each class until they maxed out at
eight platoons, or ran out of recruits to train.

Some of their training was also split
up, they were doing less book work since the baseline was higher. Each of the
recruits would start with basic information implants and downloads, so they had
to be taught to access the information, then given a chance to use them.
Advanced schooling was being set up, once the first class graduated some of the
DI's would go on to teach in the advanced schools. The noncom school was still
under construction so it might be a while before it was used, Jethro thought.
The recon school was in a tent or in the field where it should be. The raiders
were still on paper only. So was the Jump master school. He was a bit happy
about that last, he'd been informed they would have to do drops sometime, but
with the schedules all in flux it would be a while before they could get it
sorted out. He was all for that, the longer they took the better.

Then there was the advanced weapon
schools, the grenadiers school, Survival school, Vacuum training, the Drill
Instructor school, Vehicle school, Artillery, Logistics, Quartermaster, Fire,
Police... the list went on and on.

There was the Armor school which had two
branches, one for armored vehicles and one for Armored infantry, and even a
Marine Band school. According to the plan, in phase 3 they would open up branch
bases in other climates on the planet. There Marines would learn to survive in
other climates.

“Now, all the boots we brought from
Pyrax have gone through most of the first week already. The doc's are waking
the first batch of them up now. They will be given a couple days to sort out
themselves, get as squared away as they can at this point, then we'll shuttle
them over to the Recruit Depot and start the second phase of in processing.
Phase one is all about breaking them down and getting them oriented. We are
going to be doing this at night, yes it is to keep them off balance and to
scare the piss out of them.”

Jethro snorted softly. He could see
where being a Neo could be handy here. The Doberman looked his way then away.
“I'll do the introduction speech for each busload,” the Doberman said.
“Something along the lines of welcome to hell,” he said.

Jethro, Asazi, and a few of the other
DI's who had experienced the Gunny's brand of training at one point or another
chuckled.

“Hair cuts as usual, we're trying to
strip them of their individuality and inject some discipline. Heaven knows they
need it.”

“As I said, the doctors have all given
them physicals and crap, so that end is covered. We're skipping them to the
MPFAT then into barracks upkeep and drill. Don't let them off until they damn
well get it right in their sleep. And they better be dead on their feet by the
time they do.”

“Each of the boots have implants, so
they have the UCMJ, Hymn, creeds, Naval terminology, rank structure, weapons
safety, standing sentry, and a thousand and one other shit they oughta know in
their heads. Part of week one is getting them to see and access that. Which
means we've got to keep an eye on use and abuse of implants.”

“The end of week zero will be personal
time. Time to get their shit squared away and time to reflect.”

“Wow,” Asazi murmured.

“Week one will be a pain in the ass.”

“Joy.”

“Remember, address boots as Private or
by their last name. They damn well better learn to reply loudly,
enthusiastically and with Drill Instructor before and after a statement. If
anyone says they are sorry or thank you, you have my permission to make their
lives a temporary living hell.”

“Heh.” Jethro snorted.

“One of the things different here over
on Anvil are insects. If an insect bothers a recruit and they swat at it, chew
their ass and then hold a mock funeral. Marines shouldn't be bothered by
insects. They should have the self discipline to hold still when needed. Make
sure they get that lesson, drill it home.”

The junior DI's nodded. Jethro grimaced,
he hated bugs now that he was on planet. He seriously didn't want fleas on him.
He'd have to remember to load up on bug repellant. He made a note with his
implants. Hopefully the other DI's were taking notes or recording this lecture
for later.

“As I said, the IST, the initial
Strength Test has been completed. They ran on a treadmill though, so they never
learned about breaking in boots or how to run on varied terrain. We'll fix
that.”

“If a boot requires additional
motivation and discipline, we use Incentive Training. IT or Incentive Torture
by the boots. They will learn to do the job. Don't go overboard with the IT.
Each of you have the Recruit Pocket Training Guide in your implants. Keep it in
mind. Set a timer on your hardware. Don't go overboard.”

“For the most part of phase one we will
be marching a lot. Marching with gear, which will teach them discipline, team
spirit, and how to move as a unit. Each day we will increase the weight of
their ruck until they get to the standard weight for their species. Don't go beyond
it.”

“Week two is the start of unarmed combat
training, first aide, maps, obstacle courses like the Victory tower, and more
marching.”

“Week three starts with marching, but
then we get into fun stuff like handling a knife or bayonet, the gas chamber,
and the basics of suit training. If we have spare time, we'll run them through
some obstacle courses and then start on their basic marksmanship.”

“Remember, the last day of the week,
Sunday is off time. They get to catch up on demerits, heal up, and have
personal time. Encourage them to work on their implants, and read the history
of the corps then if they are 'bored.' I don't honestly know of any boot who
would be stupid enough to admit it, but you never know.”

“Week four starts with Pugil sticks,
throws and falls, leadership courses, and then we get into more marksmanship,
inspections, and drills.”

“Gotta love the inspections,” Asazi
murmured softly. The Doberman's ears twitched. He looked at Asazi. She
straightened. His eyes bore into hers but she didn't blink.

“Week five,” the Doberman finally said,
not taking his eyes off the human. “Starts us in phase two. That starts with
swim week, where we train on water survival and more weapons marksmanship.
Later that week we have martial arts proficiency testing and a ten kilometer
march. Week six is Grass week, where we come into our own with weapons
marksmanship, field meetings, groupings, and the endurance course.”

Finally the Doberman looked away. “Week
seven is the Firing week. Distance firing, weapons quals, the confidence
course, a twelve kilometer march, and small unit training. The final week of
phase 2 is the Team week, where we put them through team training exercises.
Obstacle courses followed by the 20 kilometer conditioning march.”

Oh boy, shin splints, Jethro thought.

“Watch for footwear and fatigue issues.
Keep them hydrated. Keep on the squad leaders and platoon leaders to keep an
eye on their people, keep their morale up, and don't let them sit or lean. If
they do they'll stiffen up.”

“Phase three is where we start getting
serious. More weapons training, and night training. We've got the final quals
for the gas chamber, the first zero gee training, by the way, bring plenty of
barf bags, and the basic field training. To top that we've got more endurance
courses. Week one zero is rappelling, mortar fire, sim exercises, a field trip
to one of Agnosta's moons, and the company Commander's inspection.”

“Week one one is or, was, supposed to be
the crucible. Hell with that. We've moved that to week one two. Week one one
will be more sims. A shit load of them. Throw everything at them except a
drop.”

Jethro and Asazi shivered. They both
remembered that. “I want assessment reports on each of the boots, problem
children and who's not living up to the mustard. If they can't hack it they get
recycled back to day one. We'll keep doing it until they either quit or pass,
or someone higher steps in.”