Diagnóstico de Requisitos

P.T.

I had laughed again. I fucking laughed at the D.I. and he heard me. Goddammit. “Who the fuck was that?”

In four seconds, SSG Wright was smiling in my face with his chin tipped forward just so I could his see his eyes under the shadow of his hat.

“I should have known. Recruit Happy. You always laughing huh, son? You are just so thrilled to be here.” He jabbed his stiff finger about an inch away from my forehead. “Well. Let’s hear you laugh while you eat sand, recruit. Do not stop until I say so.”

“One sir.” The heels of my hands dug out a hollow in the sand. “Two sir.” “I don’t see you chewing, recruit. Get you a mouthful.”

I bit a mouthful of grit as I went down.

“Chew it up. Swallow it! Now everyone better laugh. Laugh maggots. Jesus Christ, you green weenies, you're all so fucked up that your mommas didn't give birth to you normal; you're all asshole babies."

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I swallowed the sand to the strange cadence of forced laughter. The sand scratched down my throat, and I coughed. SSG Wright put his boot on my back and dug his heel between my shoulder blades.

“How does that sand taste, Happy?” I buried my face in the sand and scooped up a huge mouthful. ”Delicious, sir.” Sand oozed out of my nose, and I choked. I could taste blood coming from my gums.

“Does it taste as good as Sanders’ pussy?”

I weighed my options. “Sir no sir, Sanders’ pussy tastes like strawberry ice cream.” The laughter of the squad burst into a guffaw.

SSG Wright’s boot lifted off my back. “Seems like Recruit Happy here really likes looking at Sander’s taint. Who else likes looking at taint?” He sprinted to the front of the line where Sanders stood, probably thinking about being the best Marine for his Marine dad. Asshole.

Next thing I knew we were all in push-up line. Staring at each other’s asses with mud- caked boots gripping the sides of our heads. Sanders was at the front. He never had to look at anyone else’s ass. Fucker.

The Gas Chamber

I finally decided on Gas Chamber Day. I had to kill Sanders. I had caught him crying in the head and trying to jerk off before PT. He was just sitting on the toilet. The whites of his eyes were threaded through with pink, and he was gasping through the thick, ropy snot. He clutched his limp dick in his hand and sort of tugged at it halfheartedly while his head lolled sideways. I walked in anyway and sat down to pee. He pressed the heels of his hands to his eyeballs and started whistling weakly to cover up his boohoos.

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“What’s up, college boy? Missing all that sweet tail back home?” I made a fist and worked it up and down on an invisible shaft while I sat on the black seat. He stood up and flushed while he rubbed his right eye. He might have grinned, I don’t really remember. I followed him out and crawled back into my rack where I listened to Graham gibber in his sleep above me in. He giggled and moaned and made soft sucking sounds. It was Gas Chamber Day.

***

They broke up our squad and ushered us into groups of a dozen or so men. We all stood around outside a small, modular building and flicked the straps on our gas masks. I spotted Sanders six men ahead of me. He stood at the front of the line gripping the lenses of his gas mask and shifting from foot to foot. We would be stuck in there together. I would have to look at him and remember his sobbing, and his limp prick, and his shit, and his sixteen minute runs. He would see me with snot and puke dribbling out of my mouth and remember how I fell out for the first three runs, and he had to come and pick me up while I whined about my side or foot or whatever the fuck.

Our turn finally came, and they ushered us into the chamber. The Drill Instructor

motioned for us to shake our heads like dogs to check the seals on our masks. I dipped my head whipped my head back and forth to feel the mask suck to my temples. Another C.O. dropped a tablet into what looked like a little cast-iron skillet in the center of the room. We bobbed, and nodded, and did push-ups, and ran in place, and then we broke the seal of the mask. I could feel the warm tears streaming down under my jaws. Snot ran from my nose and down my throat, and the skin around my mouth burned. They ordered us to put the mask back on and breathe out. The rubber around the mask pulled at my skin. The Drill Instructor looked at us and readjusted his mask.

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We all hauled off our masks in one unified yank. Oh my god. The gas filled my lungs and mouth. My eyes clenched shut, and mucus streamed from my nostrils. My chest hitched, and it was all I could do to keep from bolting for the door. The gas blinded me in a burning cloud. The guy beside me retched and heaved until the smell of his vomit reached me and a wave of my puke splashed the ground in front of me. I could see the Drill Instructor punching Sanders in the stomach through the haze. Sanders clung to him like a child and dribbled spit on his shoulder. I pushed against the sea of green and slid down into the froth of fluids while men around me writhed in disgust. We gagged and dragged on each other’s uniforms.

“Backs flat against the wall. Open those goddamned eyes! Alright. Get out of my gas chamber, fucking pussies.”

We ran out in to the bright Carolina sun with glistening ribbons slinging from our faces. “Wave your arms like a bunch of pretty little blue jays.” We ran and flapped and hurled and breathed. Sanders looked like he was about to cry. Fucking squad leader boo-hooing. I wanted to fuck him up right there. I wanted to rip his head off, and stick my arm into his belly, and pump bullet after bullet in his heart. Weak. His weakness leaking all over our beloved Corps.

Drill

The beautiful organization of it all. Click click click. This is what I needed to be doing.

Dreaming in perfect unison with the others. My rifle was warm only on the places where I held it, where it rested against my arm, where I gripped the stock. Perfectly predictable. Ears? Open. One two three four. Eyeballs? Click. My cadence was divine. I was a gear. I was a cog. Port Arms!

There were only two colors in the Corps: light and dark green, but we were all green. Sanders was not green. He was no color.

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