Chapter 7
The first time you enter a military base is a pretty surreal experience. Oftentimes they have some sort of large statue, a memorial display, a vehicle or aircraft displayed on a stick, or some other reminder of what the base does or the important people who were there. But because this was the entry point into the Air Force, they went for the full monty as far as impact.
Passing through the gate, the road passed around a massive memorial fountain standing at least 15 feet, complete with a garden surrounding it covered by a large assortment of blue and white flowers. It depicted someone holding a flag in his left hand, and saluting with his right hand. Above him was mounted on a pole two different aircraft, to his right was a thin, long, arrow looking aircraft. It was sleek black, with little thin spikes poking off its wings at random intervals. On his left was some sort of helicopter?
I remember reading about an old aircraft called the Osprey. It was a technical marvel at the time, a helicopter that could fly as fast as a plane, yet land like a helicopter. It was plagued by issues, and was retired in the year 2038 when it was replaced by a 4-rotor variant called the Quad Tiltrotor. This new version is still in service, replacing most helicopters, and was loosely based off drone technology. This thing was a version of a quad tiltrotor, except it had several guns mounted to the bottom of it.
Below the memorial there was a large plaque. I couldn’t quite read it, being on the right side of the bus, but over the bus speakers Specialist Hugos voice started speaking.
“Welcome to Lackland Air Force Base. This is the entry point that all Airmen come through since 1947. The Air Force was created in 1946 after splitting the air components from the United States Army. It was found that air power was a deciding factor of World War II, and so it was separated as its own branch of service. As we drive through the base on your way to reception, I’ll be highlighting some of the things you will be seeing on your way.
To the left of the bus you can see our World War III memorial depicting Master Sergeant Phillip K. Waters. Master Sergeant Waters was a member of an elite specialist unit of dedicated Crew Chiefs, which are tasked with deploying and servicing aircraft around the globe. While this job is now obsolete in our military, at that time it was a critical role. On the day the War ended, Master Sergeant Waters was forward deployed with his VH-44 Peregrine, a quad tiltrotor, in the Phillipines.
His small team was tasked to infiltrate North Korea. Their goal was simple: enter North Korea, execute an on the ground recon mission to verify the location of Koreas president, and allow for a bombing run to kill the president. Long story short, the mission was a success, but in the process the entire team was wiped out. Not much is known about what happened, but what we do known is that Master Sergeant Waters managed to get back to his Tiltrotor and send a short transmission before he was killed.”
Hugo paused, reaching behind her to the dashboard of the e-bus. She punched a small code into the holo screen there, and suddenly a small holo screen lowered from the ceiling, and a video began to play.
It showed a disheveled looking man, with high tapered cut brown hair, and dark green eyes. His face showed at least a weeks worth of stubble, and he looked like he had been crawling through a mud pit. His gaze darted left and right, as he frantically was punching at something to the left of the screen that we couldn’t see.
“Hello, hello?” He spoke, his voice sounding like he had smoked nico-vapes for decades, the phlegmy, almost broken pattern he spoke. He cleared his throat quickly, repeating.
“Hello, if this is getting out, this is Master Sergeant Phillip Waters. I’m part of operation…” there were some garbled words “... and everyone is dead. We landed in the designated zone, Alpha 38.911, Bravo 125.92. They were here waiting… they let us land, and once the guys… oh god… Charles, Mike… they didn’t stand a chance. Our pilot took a hit directly. We are lucky we didn’t crash. I got away… somehow… but I can confirm, she is here. I repeat. She is here. Please, don’t make this for nothing. Please…”
He began to sob, ugly, deep sobs. “Please… I hope this gets out.”
He looked around, and there was shouting. His eyes got extremely wide and fearful. “Shit, they're here. Fuck, I need to break this.” He disappeared off screen, and suddenly there was a loud pop and crack, as the screen went black.
Hugo solemnly nodded, punching something into the dash again, as the screen disappeared. “There are many stories like this,” she spoke softly into the microphone. “And we are excited to see where your story takes you.”
We were long past the memorial at this point, but the video was a somber reminder of the brutality humanity was capable of. “Thank god its not like that anymore…” I heard from a few seats in front of me.
Tom had a grim look on his face, his normally smiling face showing a deep determination. “We do this, so others may live.”
Before I could say anything, Specialist Hugo began speaking again. “I know that was serious, and you should all take it seriously! Thankfully, we are far beyond what your predecessors had to face. The things they saw, the challenges they faced. It was all to make the world a better, safer place.
Next up, on your right you can see the dining facility. While in basic training, you will be assigned to specific hab units, where you will conduct your day to day training. However, meals will be conducted in the dining facility, allowing you to share experiences with other units. We encourage sharing experiences, networking, and making friends. A united front is a strong front, after all!” Hugo smiled.
The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
The dining facility looked small in comparison to the sprawling hab complexes i could see in the distance. It was a squat, wide building, with a set of doors in the center of the two sides we could see. It looked like everyone entered through one side, and people were exiting from the other side. You could see MTI’s pointing and talking to people.
As Hugo continued speaking, I just continued looking around outside. We had entered the complex where the hab units were, finally. They were huge buildings, giant concrete rectangles standing 30 feet tall. Between the units were small grass areas with benches and what looked like shaded overhangs. From what I could see, it looked like smoking or break areas, as there were people in grey fatigues congregating with vapes in hand.
Suddenly the bus came to a slow stop, and I refocused on Hugo at the front. The doors opened and she began speaking to someone who was standing at the foot of the steps. She nodded, and spoke into the microphone. “It has been a pleasure to guide you today, and I wish you the best of luck! I’m going to hand this microphone off to your Military Training Instructor, Staff Sergeant Charlotte Mayberry, whom will be your mentor for the next 8 weeks. Goodbye!”
As she handed the microphone to the unseen person, she and Rodriguez disembarked quickly. They were replaced in short order by… well, my best guess, would be an ogre. I don’t mean that in a… mean way. Sergeant Mayberry was the type that hit every branch on her way down the ugly tree.
She had to be, at my best guess, 5’ 5” tall. Her curly brown hair was kept short, but it was like a matted frizz underneath her wide brimmed hat. She had wide features, her face and nose a bit too wide for someone who was so petite, with red blotches on her pale skin, looking almost like birth marks. Her eyes were a dark, dark brown, and… mean. Almost like a bull dog that had taken on human form.
Her eyes slowly scanned over everyone in the bus, everyone sitting so silent you could hear a pin drop, just waiting on her to say something. It remained this way for maybe a minute, when someone's hand shot up somewhere toward the front.
“Ma’am, I need to pee,” I heard from a male with a very soft voice, even though Sergeant Mayberry hadn’t told him to speak up.
A barking, gruff laugh came from Sergeant Mayberry. It was the type of laugh someone let out when they knew, without a doubt, that they had caught you fucking up without a doubt. As the laugh died, she raised the microphone to her mouth, which seemed set way too low on her face. “Pee?” she said, in a voice that was entirely at odds with her looks. It was sweet, soft, almost musical.
“Sure, you can go pee, after you do fourty push ups. You do not have permission to speak unless I allow you, shit head. Am I clear?” Her suddenly musical voice took on a hard, almost biting edge.
“Uh… you… you can’t do that! I’ve really got to go!” the voice said again.
Suddenly the microphone was flying from Mayberrys hand, and everyone on the bus let out a shriek as it thudded loudly into the speaker's head. The bus speakers let out a screeching noise and a dull thud, as I assume it hit the ground.
Sergeant Mayberry raised her voice, I had never heard such command in anyone's tone before. She was clearly in charge, she knew it, and she would make sure we knew it.
“Listen up!” she barked, starting to walk slowly down the aisle. Her eyes bore into each one of us, one at a time, like she was looking into our souls. “I will be your Military Training Instructor for the next two months, or eight weeks, however you choose to look at it. You will listen to me. You will not disobey me. Whatever I say, you will do, and do without question. If you question me, I will make it hurt.”
She wheeled around, pointing at the young man I could now finally see as he was standing and rubbing his head. He was a mousey guy, extremely thin, with short blonde hair and blue eyes. There was a red mark on his forehead where Sergeant Mayberry had nailed him dead in the center.
“That display is the least of what I am capable, and allowed, to do. You, shithead, what is your name?”
The man blushed as all the eyes on the bus were on him suddenly. “Me, uh… Bryce Middleton. Ma’am. Is that what I call you?”
Her pointing hand moved quickly, and Bryce flinched in response. She was pointing toward the door now, “Trainee Shithead Middleton, get off my bus and get your ass to pushing. Capiche?”
“Uh… ye… yes ma’am!” Bryce said hurriedly, squeezing past the person he was next to in the aisle and getting off the bus. I could see him get off, another Military Training Leader was there to greet him. It looked like he was getting yelled at again, and getting to a small grassy patch, commenced doing what I assume his “version” of push ups were.
Sergeant Mayberry continued her monologue, slowly inching ever closer to where Thomas and I sat. “You are now members of the 322nd Training Unit, the Vipers. When you strike, you strike hard, and you strike fast, like a Viper! Do you understand?”
There was a somewhat cohesive “yes ma’am” echoed across the bus as she continued. “Good. You will address me by my full rank and name, I am Staff Sergeant Mayberry. Whenever you respond to me, it will be with my rank or ma’am, am I understood?”
Again, the confirmation echoed, all eyes upon the bull dog of a woman. As she neared us, her eyes trained on Tom, her eyes narrowing. Her hand came up, that accusing index finger extending once again toward my poor counterpart.
“You, what's your name?” She demanded.
Thomas smiled that toothy smile again, “Thomas Gilian, ma’am.”
“Trainee Gilian, you look strong. Am I right?”
He nodded, “I believe so, ma… I mean, Staff Sergeant Mayberry. I was a lumberjack.”
Her eye opened a bit in surprise, and then she got a grin, like she was suddenly inspired. “Good, your strong, so lets see how swift you are. You will get off this bus and run four laps around our hab unit.” She pointed outside the bus to her left, the enormous unit towering over the small figure of Bryce doing “push ups” still. It looked like he had gassed out, laying star fished on the grass as another MTI continued yelling at him.
Tom’s eyes got large, then he nodded. “Yes Staff Sergeant Mayberry.”
Tom got up, squeezing past her small form, and off the bus. Just like Bryce, another MTI greeted Tom as he got off, and he started a slow plod disappearing around the side of the building.
As Staff Sergeant Mayberry turned around, facing the front of the bus, she barked out. “The rest of you, get off the bus and assemble on the pad in front of the hab, right now!”