Jethro: First to Fight (58 page)

“Just playing hooky with the boss,”
Ris'ha texted back. “I didn't know you were here. I thought you were in San
Diego?”

“I passed the advanced class,” Deja
replied. “Accelerated program since I was a civilian pilot before joining up.”
He'd aced the shuttle training program in record time. Flying a shuttle was
incredibly easy for someone who had a three dimensional inner ear, lived in
water, and had been trained to fly a starship. Hurranna had some issues when he
had left, but she was getting a handle on them.

“Ah.”

“I had almost gotten stuck on milk runs
to the orbital forts, but the brass changed their minds.”

“Cool. Glad they did.”

“Besides, they needed someone for the
water training,” Deja added.

“I see. Never did say the brass got it
wrong all the time. Still, cool. Beers sometime?”

“Name the time and the bar,” Deja
replied. He was a little reluctant, the sea called to him more and more while
he was on the planet. He missed the salt water, the ebb and surge of the tide,
the occasional drifting piece of sea weed.

“I'm off shift in two hours. Today?”

“I'm on shift in two,” the Selkie
replied with a sigh. He watched a pair of surfers. Surfing was fun, he had to
admit, but so was swimming. He had to be careful though, maintain his
situational awareness. The water had sharks in it. He wasn't sure why humans
had brought sharks to so many worlds, something about keeping the food chain
functional. He didn't care, he just didn't want to get eaten.

“Sucks,” Ris'ha replied. “I gotta go,
I'll send you an e-mail.”

“Cool,” Deja said. He waved again as the
jeep moved, making a three point turn and then left in a slight cloud of dust.
The Selkie shook his head and then returned to swimming. He'd better enjoy it
while he had the chance.

He turned to the barge moored off shore.
That was a fun thing, not only was it a ball to dive off of, sea life liked to
shelter under its bulk. Kelp was starting to form a forest nearby. He hoped the
thing would remain there for a while, but a work crew had been out yesterday to
service her. He knew it was only a matter of time before it was gone. “Better
have fun with it while we have the chance,” he said, waving to a couple of
Gashg swimmers. “Race you!” he said, pointing to the barge. They immediately
started in, kicking fast. He snorted and eeled forward.

...*...*...*...*...

“Who's not ready?” Jethro asked simply,
staring at the recruits in formation. He stood at parade rest, eyes scanning
the recruits for any hint of indecision, doubt, or fear. The recruits had
realized straight off, DI's smelled fear, they homed in on it and would rip you
up, making you sorry, sore and more afraid of them than the task you were
scared of. Yes, they'd learned. They hadn't conquered their fear, only a fool
thought they had, but they had learned to channel it and not let it stop them.

He and Asazi had just had them do warm
up exercises. Each boots was in full kit, ready for war. Over the past eleven
weeks he'd tried to slip in tidbits he'd picked up over the past two years.
He'd have to wait and see if it was worth it. He wondered briefly if the Gunny
had gone through this, this anxiety before their crucible. He shook the thought
off and stuck to the prepared script.

“The crucible is the final test of boot,
it is the best we can do at full combat without anyone actually dying. Of
course accidents can and do happen, so don't screw up. Keep your head on
straight, keep it down, and don't pop up in the same place twice. Remember your
training,” Jethro said. After a moment he began to move, pacing the platoon.
Platoon Alpha and Bravo had started their crucible rotations a few moments ago.
Alpha was in space, starting that leg of the exercise program. Bravo was doing
the simulated mortar attack, he could hear the crump and occasional explosion
in the distance with his enhanced hearing. He knew the recruits heard it too,
they knew what to expect. He'd damn well made sure, he'd run them through it.

Now it was Charlie's turn. Soon it would
be Delta's. “Future potential for promotions might be a factor here, it is by
far not the only criteria, so don't get your head so far up your ass worrying
about that. Keep to the program. Keep your head in the here and now. Watch your
six, watch your buddies six, and don't lose focus. Get it done. Get it done or
men die. Are you ready?” he snarled, turning to face them.

“Hoorah drill Sergeant!”

“Semper Fi!”

...*...*...*...*...

The first Crucible started at dawn.
Recon was tapped as one of the op forces. The Crucible was different than F
platoon's, most of it was ground oriented. The platoons were rotated between
exercises, with short breathers in between to reset for the new exercise. Op
squads that had thought it would be a duck shoot found out differently. They
also found that going up against platoon after platoon was exhausting for them
as well.

Jethro and the DI's were out of it,
tasked to monitor their people for safety. The Gunny had brought in independent
Marines to act as referees and inspectors.

Charlie platoon did well in the shuttle
drop exercises, but hit the middle of the field when it came to the space ops.
The platoon had only a week of skinsuit time so it really wasn't fair. They did
better in boarding ops, and of course excelled in marksmanship.

Jethro noted his people had also done
well in the leadership, his squad leaders had settled down to the sims right
off, after all, he'd run them through them all at least once before. Of course
not all at once, nor simulation after another, with little chance to rest.

Two of Charlie platoon had been injured
in the simulated mortar attack, another had been downed by a concussion. The
cliff assault had been a bruiser, exhausting his people, but they had pulled
through it and had soldiered on.

Now they were on the last part, tired,
some swaying in the breeze, damn near out of it. Two Marines had drifted off
standing upright, their buddies propped them up. They were standing in their
barracks as inspectors went through their kits with a fine toothed comb, making
notes of errors.

Jethro hated the GI detail and
inspections, but knew it was necessary. OCD it might seem, make work it might
be, but attention to detail was a matter of life or death in the corps. All too
many forgot that, they slacked off and let the job slip. Hopefully this new
group wouldn't pick up those bad habits too soon.

They'd made it though, he flicked his
ears and nodded in approval to the sagging faces of the platoon leader and
squad leaders. Tired blood shot eyes stared back at him. They didn't know it
yet, but they had made it. This, this was chickenshit. Necessary to some, but
not to him right now. His people had survived, survived and thrived. It was a
good day to be a Marine. He about faced and walked smartly out, head held high.

...*...*...*...*...

Before the graduation, janitorial crews
were assembled to clean the newly constructed parade grounds and ready them for
the graduation ceremony. Crews clipped the growing bushes and grass, chatting
as they worked. Most treated it as make work until the Major let slip that the
entire proceedings would be broadcast planet, and later sector wide. That got
some noncoms onto their people to get it right the first time. Security crews
checked everything over carefully. They knew the threat of sabotage or an
attack was remote, but they also knew the danger of letting their guard down.
Besides, it was great training.

The recruits had three days of calm,
time to rest and recover from the crucible while also getting their paperwork
and uniforms squared away. On the third day they drilled, intensely boring
drills and hurry up and wait, but necessary so they didn't make an ass of
themselves in front of the cameras.

...*...*...*...*...

Sunday dawned bright and clear. Marines
went about their business, some stretching, some doing PT, others shining gear
and getting ready for the assembly. Only those on duty would be excused for
this, if you weren't sick or working, the order was to be there. Heaven help
anyone who wasn't ship shape.

Graduation of the recruits went well,
they passed in review one platoon at a time in front of the grandstands. As
they passed the VIP grandstand they saluted Major Forth. The Major returned the
salute. Captain Pendeckle, Second Lieutenant Valenko, Lieutenant Myers, the
other officers, along with Captain Mayweather and the Agnostan dignitaries
watched from the front row behind the Major in the VIP stands. Marines and
civilians filled the assembly.

Captain Mayweather attended in her white
uniform, with some of her officers and even one or two enlisted. The entire
proceedings was recorded with sensor balls and film crews, both for propaganda
purposes, to show the families back home, but also to inspire and entertain the
natives. A radio booth had been set up with a tower for a local radio station
to broadcast.

The first group to be honored were the
honor recruits, those who had garnered the highest points through boot. Some
were given medals and certificates for achievements. The number one ranking
boots was a heavyworlder female named Chase, she received an automatic rank of
Corporal. The top four below her, most of them squad or platoon leaders
received Lance Corporal stripes. The four below them received PFC rank. The
four under them received second Private rank, also known as Private or P2. The
rest of the rank and file would start out as Private third class.

They ran through the decorations and
commendations quickly. Each boots was called up by name, given their new Marine
corps badge, any decorations they had earned, and then saluted the Major. It
took nearly an hour to cycle through all three hundred and eighty seven
recruits. Most of Charlie platoon received high marks in marksmanship and weapons
training.

“They say...” The Major looked out,
pausing as his voice echoed over the parade grounds and base. “They say Marines
are stupid. That we only know how to kill, to break things and blow stuff up.
They are half right,” he said smiling ever so coldly. “We are good at that. We
do kill, we do break things, we do blow things up. Destruction comes easy to us
all, it's the easy way out. But here, here and now we did something different,
we built something.”

“We built this base from the ground up. From
destruction comes rebirth. Rebirth of the commitment to duty, honor, sacrifice.
The rebirth of the Federation, the rebuilding of a once great galactic
civilization. They say that the past was the golden years. I don't buy that. I
believe that our golden years are yet to come.”

He paused, surveying the crowd for a
long moment, letting those words sink in.

“Today, you, ladies and gentlemen are
making history. No you aren't the first boots, and you certainly
won't
be the last, but you are the first to graduate here on Agnosta. Be proud of
that. I am. You've done your families proud. Your new Marine family is proud of
you as well,” the Major said.

“You're building something here,
something new, a new future. Brick by brick, step by step we will build a new and
better tomorrow for ourselves, and for our children, and our children's
children,” he roared. The civilians clapped in a spattering of applause and
cheers. A few Marines joined in until it was a torrent. After a moment they
settled down to see what else he had to say.

He looked out over the assembly of
recruits standing at parade attention. They were in their duty uniforms, green
BDU's with a hex pattern. They looked good, they looked ready.

“You will go on to defend our homes, our
families,
your
families from danger. Whether it is in space, on the
ground, on a ship, or wherever, it doesn't matter. Marines are
survivors
,
we'll kick ass anywhere, anytime.”

“You'll be seen by millions of people
soon, you are to be held to the highest esteems of honor, duty, commitment, and
sacrifice. Remember, you aren't alone. You're a Marine. Keep our creed in your
heart.”

“Remember also, we're building a new
future. We may stumble, we may make mistakes, but we damn well will keep moving
forward. We won't give up. Don't ever forget that,” he thundered, eyes blazing.

He looked out then over to the assembled
Marines. “Some would tell you the easiest day was yesterday, tomorrow just gets
harder. In some ways they're right, and some wrong. All of you are slated to go
on from here to attend advanced training courses as well as new duty
assignments. Remember to never give up on learning, there's always something
new to learn.”

He frowned. “I've gone a bit off script,
but who cares, it's good to be the boss.” That earned the Major a chuckle.
“I've been trying to impart these nuggets of wisdom to you. Tomorrow you may be
here, on this side of the podium, and the responsibility of the future will be
yours.”

“But,” he smiled to the Captain. “Not
today. Today, you get to celebrate. Enjoy. You've
earned
it.”

He came to attention and saluted. The
company came to attention with a slap of boots and hands and returned the
salute.

“Semper Fi Marines!”