The Ghost of Him |WWII Frerard AU|

-7-

Five AM comes around much quicker than I would've preferred, especially when Sergeant Gioia practically kicks the door down and marches into the barracks with the largest bullhorn I've seen in my life.

"RISE AND SHINE, MOTHERFUCKERS!"  he screams; the next thing I know I'm on the hard floor, tangled in my sheets and my heart in my throat.  "Get your asses up!  It's time for a jog!"

I feel like I've been hit by a truck.  It's too early for this.  Who needs an alarm clock when you have an even louder Sergeant Gioia, am I right?  I don't think my heart has ever raced faster in my life.

"Get up!  Get dressed!  If your tired asses aren't outside in two minutes, I'll make it four miles!  Let's go!  Move, move, move!"

I also don't think I've ever thrown my clothes on faster in my life.

Patrick crashes to the floor as he frantically tries to get dressed.  Dallon stubs his toe on the corner of his nightstand, and I think his brain stops functioning for a moment.  Brendon just swears profusely, and quite loudly.  Everyone is in a panicked frenzy, struggling to throw their clothes on before Sergeant Gioia adds two whole extra miles to our light jog.  I won't even be able to run for two.  I'll pass out and choke on my own tears and vomit if we have to run for four, and it's far too early into basic training to go through that.  I at least have to make it through the first week before passing out.  That's my new goal.

Pete practically scrambles outside on his hands and feet, and the rest of us follow suit, shirts on backwards and pants inside out.  We're a group of disorganized misfits.  I'm sure we look like dumbasses, because the pissed off look Sergeant Gioia flashes us as we rush to attention will forever be burned into the back of my skull.

The sun hasn't even risen yet.  A few lone stars still twinkle in the inky sky above.  It's way too early for this.  I feel like my insides have turned to mush already, and the cool breeze of the morning chills me to the bone.  Can't we eat first?  I'm starving.

"Look alive, sunshine,"  Sergeant Gioia says with a grin.  His eyes gleam with mischief.  "There's no turning back now.  Keep up or there won't be any breakfast left by the time you get back.  Now, let's move!"

Then he takes off for the hills, and we have no choice but to follow him.

*  *  *  *  *

That run was, by far, the worst thing I've ever experienced in my entire life.

By the time we ran twenty yards up the hill, I was already winded.  Patrick was wheezing.  I think Jon stopped to dry heave into a bush at one point.  Ryan was in tears after half a mile, and Brendon mostly just screamed.  It was absolute torture, and Sergeant Gioia screeching in our faces the entire time didn't help in the slightest.  Sometimes I wonder about the brutal psychological factor behind this basic training garbage.  We're all losing our minds, and it's only day one.  That can't be good.

Somehow, though, we managed to survive the godawful two mile run.  We were broken down and wheezing our lungs out, but we still survived, and we earned ourselves breakfast.  Also known as slop on a plate.  Very nutritious.

No one speaks as we get our plates of food and search for any empty tables.  I think we're all spent, and it's not even seven in the morning.  I overheard Sergeant Gioia saying--more like yelling--something about strength training and other endurance activities after we eat, though, and the thought of that alone makes me lose my appetite.  I'm not an active person.  I don't exercise.  Going from no physical activity to all the running and jumping and training in the world is driving me insane, and making my body feel like it's been dipped in acid.  I don't know how I'm going to last until lights out tonight.