The Thing He Carried

Bootcamp

What stories can do, I guess, is make things present.

Soon after passing, he called and set up a time to meet at the Military Entrance Processing Station (MEPS). Two days from this date they told him over the phone. They told him to wear basic clothes, no piercings, and his glasses or contacts if he had them (he didn't have them). They told him to bring the GED results, his birth certificate, and social security card. Once the day came, Jess arrived. More instructions were waiting for his ears and eyes. There was (another) multiple choice test akin to the GED. After the never-ending test, which Jess could only hope he passed, came the general physical exam. The last couple hours where he had his hear and vision tested; flexibility and strength challenged; blood drawn and urine sampled; and general stats (BP, weight, height) seemed like the easiest portion of the day.

Exhausted from the mental and physical excursions, Jess grabbed a tray from the lunch line. He had a half of an hour before another meeting. Staring at the burger, fries, broccoli with cheese, plastic-wrapped brownie square, apple, and milk carton he couldn't believe how much this felt like school. He also couldn't believe how many tests it took to get into basic training. It was a whirlwind of activity. Part of him was excited. Part of him was nervous. Either way, he felt like he was on a roller coaster where the floor dropped away so he was free falling.

The half-hour was over. Getting up, he dumped all the trash into the trash can, excluding the brownie and apple. Neither got eaten so he slipped them into his pocket and headed to the next stop. Somehow he managed to pass everything and take the oath of enlistment.

Standing before Sergeant Tristan Dugray, Jess recited the oath. It went in part, "I, Jess Mariano, do solemnly swear that I will support and defend...." Jess echoed the words that Sergeant Dugray said in a level and quiet tone. At times he wasn't sure they came out clear enough, but apparently Tristan didn't mind. It was good enough.

"Come on, Junior. You'll be bunking here tonight and then ship off to boot camp at O seven hundred. Breakfast is at O six hundred. I suggest getting there early unless you want left with the dregs," Tristan said, walking forward with his hands behind his back.

"Got it."

Tristan whirled on his feet to face Jess. A stern glare crossed his features. Brown was furrowed. Lips were pursed. "What did you said, Junior?" he snapped.

"Got it, sir. Yes, sir."

"Remember this. No disrespecting anyone at any time of your service. Your ass will be thrown in KP so fast that you won't have time to blink. Ever peel a thousand potatoes in a day, Junior?"

"No sir."

"Do you want to find out?"

"Not really, sir."

"Good. Here are the showers. Across the way is your bunch. Choose whichever bed you want, as long as no one's sleeping in it. See you tomorrow. Rest up."

"Yes, sir."

"You're catching on real quick," Tristan said with a grin and a wink. Turning around, Sergeant Dugray headed back in the same direction, leaving Jess alone in the hallway. For a moment, everything was quiet. It was the first quiet in days and it was unsettling. The eerie moment passed when soldiers barreled from their bunkrooms and charged the bathroom.

Jess didn't enter with the other men. Instead, he went to where they were – one of the bunkrooms. There were about twenty or twenty-one bunks in this industrial space. Wandering the aisles of bunk beds he searched for a place to toss his bag (and then sleep) before showering up. At the very back, there was a bed with nothing on it. The sheets and blanket were pristine. This would be his place for the night. Allowing the bag to hit the mattress with certain heaviness, Jess dug into it and grabbed his flannel draw-string pants and a t-shirt as well as his toothbrush and toothpaste. Peering into his sack of stuff he realized he forgot to pack shampoo. Maybe there'll be a leftover bottle in the shower.