Starcross

Chapter Seven - Part l

Marine Corps Training Base

Parris Island, South Carolina

            If it wasn’t for the bugs Parris Island would be a nice place to be. Well, bugs, humidity, and heat. Located on a rather large island that the Navy acquired from the government in South Carolina along the coast the Marine Corps Eastern Training Base was the second largest, now the largest since San Diego was little more than broken concrete and ash, in the United States. Sure, they had a base in Hawaii but it wasn’t a training base which meant that he would be swatting mosquitos instead of surfing the waves.

            Sometime after what was now called the Battle of China Lake, his unit was promoted across the board and sent out here for extra training; in the old military fashion of preparing for the war you just fought. The sergeants were taken away and made drill instructors for new recruits which was sad because he missed his big NCO, Staff Sargent Jared Blithe, who was wounded by a stray plasma round. The molten gases had burned into his leg pretty badly giving him a permanent limp but the real reason he wasn’t here was that he was now drilling would-be Marines somewhere on this very island.

            Alas, to see his old friend was not the reason he was here.

            Captain Edward Spinnaker was told to report to Parris Island to give a series of lectures on the combat styles of the Druidth by none other than the Commandant of the Marine Corps himself, it was phrased as a question but Spinnaker knew all too well that when someone like that asks for something you deliver. Unfortunately the twice promoted Marine couldn’t tell him that he kept his head down for most of the battle and only saw bits a pieces, the only reason he was here went back to the old tradition that officers always knew more than the enlisted men; the way the papers made it sound like he was standing tall on a hill giving orders throughout the whole engagement instead of wishing he could climb inside the earth.

            But he was here with his speech in hand, perhaps he would see his old friend today and they could catch up. He sighed, somewhere along the line the men of the 1st Marine Division, 2nd Battalion, D Company had become the most experienced men when it came to the Druidth, rivaling that of Secretary of the Interior Burbank; even though they had only had one brief engagement three months ago.

            Tilting his arm he looked at the brown patch with the crimson number one on it representing his unit with ‘Guadalcanal’ embroidered beneath where his unit cut their teeth back in the ‘40’s. He smiled sadly as he remembered that there was less than hundred Marines left from the 1st Division; most were at San Diego or Twenty-Nine Palms for training when the ships attacked and there’s not much left of either of them.

            “Captain Spinnaker?” A young corporal assigned to the administration of Parris Island broke his thoughts. “They’re ready for you in A hall.”

            “Thank You,” He replied and followed the uniformed soldier down the stairs from the officers lounge and out the door.

            Where he thought the heat, bugs, and humidity were bad inside, outside was almost unbearable. Almost instantly he was set upon by swarms of the blood sucking insects, that some jokingly called the state bird, as sweat beaded and trickled down his forehead, neck, back, and chest. How they were able to train in this was way beyond him.

            A gravel path cut through fields of green grass, both expertly manicured, with single story buildings made of wood and steel lining the way. Signs indicating which class they were stood before them like stoic sentries who watched on throughout the decades. A beautiful blue sky sat above with fluffy white clouds lazily drifting by and Spinnaker couldn’t help but let his mind wander to better days.

            “In here, Sir,” The Corporal said as he held the door open.

            Spinnaker walked in and was relieved as the cold air chilled the sweat on his skin. He felt it was a little strange for the Corps to waste money on air conditioning but if he had to train out here and didn’t get air conditioning every now and then he thought that he would purposely break something just to get out.

            Within the building a platoon sat waiting and much to his surprise Blithe stood off to the side, hand wrapped around a standard wooden cane. Approaching the podium he took out his speech and tapped the papers to straighten them. “Good Morning, Marines. Today I’m here to talk to you about the combat style of the Druidth Infantry.”