Jethro: First to Fight

by Hechtl, Chris

  Each of the junior instructors were given a week to refresh on the basics of instructing raw recruits. They received their felt campaign hats and uniforms half way through the week. The Neo campaign hats looked a great deal like female issue hats, due to their ears.

  “There is something to be said about the importance of making a good first impression. We want to look like gods to the recruits, to not only scare the piss out of them, but to make them aspire to be like us,” Gunny explained. “So it is important to keep fit and looking good at all times. That means no slacking off in the gym, and don't get too attached to the desks. And keep the damn power trips to a minimum. Remember, it's not personal, so don't make it personal.” He stared at them for a long moment.

  “There aren't any good or bad recruits. Remember that, we're here to guide them, to get them to their full potential. Don't fall into the trap of being buddy buddy with them, but don't go all hard ass sadistic either. Find some middle ground and stick to it. Remember the program, first two weeks is the clue stick, we need to throw them off balance and toughen them up. We are breaking them down in order to build them back up. Superior training equals superior personnel. Remember that. Then we slowly ease off when they start coming around. Slowly work in the carrot after the fourth week. Small doses. Let them see a light at the end of the tunnel when they do things the right way. It's called conditioning.”

  “Don't be buddy buddy, you're not expected to take showers with them. But don't go all sadistic either. I'm serious on this shit, I don't need any power trips. That's why I'm repeating it. Go there and you'll be the one being sorry and sore by the end of the day. Keep your hands off unless it's serious, and you've got the regs and training to know when it is serious. Don't frack up with gender and sexual situations or by goddess I will land on you like a ton of bricks and you will face a mast,” he growled. “That is if I let you live.” You could hear a pin drop after that expression. The Doberman stared at them for a long moment before continuing.

  “This is all important. We need to get this going, get it going right. Which means keep to the drill. There will be mistakes, I know that, you know that. Keep it to a minimum. Remember your training. Remember how it all plays out on the minds of the trainees.”

  “Some of the recruits, those that we brought with us from Pyrax, have had implants and sleep teaching. It's one thing to know something, another to experience it. By now you all know that. They are going to be clumsy, learning their bodies. They are also going to be strong. We're going to do an override, cutting their enhanced strength back for the first three weeks. That will let them get dialed in and used to their bodies, then we'll revisit the issue. Watch out for fights, a punch can be lethal, we all know that right?” he asked.

  They nodded. Already a few fights had broken out in the barracks. Marines involved had been sent to the infirmary with sometimes broken bones. A single punch could easily snap a skull if the fighters weren't careful. Recruits weren't known for being careful.

  They had four thousand recruits to run through boot, along with another four hundred and fifty natives. The stasis pods had all been transported down to Parris and were warehoused in the base hospital district. Four hundred recruits at a time were processed for training, given the agreed upon medical treatments, sleep teaching, and implants before they were woken up. They were given a week to assimilate to their changed bodies before they were assigned to a platoon of one hundred and twenty odd other recruits.

  The four hundred and fifty natives were given basic information implants and classes on how to use them. Twenty dropped out the first week, they didn't receive their sign on bonuses, instead they left with their implants retuned to civilian grade.

  There were four platoons, three of common species, and one of heavies. This go around they had a bit of a change in the platoon naming, going back to standard Marine corps nomenclature. Alpha remained the same, but Beta became Bravo, Gamma became Charlie, Delta remained the same, but F became Foxtrot.

  Jethro had Charlie company with Asazi and two noobs he had yet to meet. He felt a little out of his element, he'd thought he'd start out as a junior DI, but Gunny seemed to have faith in him. Enough that he was starting as the senior DI of Charlie at least.

  They were starting small, with only the four platoons to get things rolling. There were one hundred twenty recruits in each platoon, give or take one or two warm bodies. The bean counters figured a fifteen to twenty percent casualty or dropout rate. Hopefully it wouldn't run that high, but they knew the training could be dangerous.

  Once they had a handle on training they would expand the training class by a platoon each class until they maxed out at eight platoons, or ran out of recruits to train.

  Some of their training was also split up, they were doing less book work since the baseline was higher. Each of the recruits would start with basic information implants and downloads, so they had to be taught to access the information, then given a chance to use them. Advanced schooling was being set up, once the first class graduated some of the DI's would go on to teach in the advanced schools. The noncom school was still under construction so it might be a while before it was used, Jethro thought. The recon school was in a tent or in the field where it should be. The raiders were still on paper only. So was the Jump master school. He was a bit happy about that last, he'd been informed they would have to do drops sometime, but with the schedules all in flux it would be a while before they could get it sorted out. He was all for that, the longer they took the better.

  Then there was the advanced weapon schools, the grenadiers school, Survival school, Vacuum training, the Drill Instructor school, Vehicle school, Artillery, Logistics, Quartermaster, Fire, Police... the list went on and on.

  There was the Armor school which had two branches, one for armored vehicles and one for Armored infantry, and even a Marine Band school. According to the plan, in phase 3 they would open up branch bases in other climates on the planet. There Marines would learn to survive in other climates.

  “Now, all the boots we brought from Pyrax have gone through most of the first week already. The doc's are waking the first batch of them up now. They will be given a couple days to sort out themselves, get as squared away as they can at this point, then we'll shuttle them over to the Recruit Depot and start the second phase of in processing. Phase one is all about breaking them down and getting them oriented. We are going to be doing this at night, yes it is to keep them off balance and to scare the piss out of them.”

  Jethro snorted softly. He could see where being a Neo could be handy here. The Doberman looked his way then away. “I'll do the introduction speech for each busload,” the Doberman said. “Something along the lines of welcome to hell,” he said.

  Jethro, Asazi, and a few of the other DI's who had experienced the Gunny's brand of training at one point or another chuckled.

  “Hair cuts as usual, we're trying to strip them of their individuality and inject some discipline. Heaven knows they need it.”

  “As I said, the doctors have all given them physicals and crap, so that end is covered. We're skipping them to the MPFAT then into barracks upkeep and drill. Don't let them off until they damn well get it right in their sleep. And they better be dead on their feet by the time they do.”

  “Each of the boots have implants, so they have the UCMJ, Hymn, creeds, Naval terminology, rank structure, weapons safety, standing sentry, and a thousand and one other shit they oughta know in their heads. Part of week one is getting them to see and access that. Which means we've got to keep an eye on use and abuse of implants.”

  “The end of week zero will be personal time. Time to get their shit squared away and time to reflect.”

  “Wow,” Asazi murmured.

  “Week one will be a pain in the ass.”

  “Joy.”

  “Remember, address boots as Private or by their last name. They damn well better learn to reply loudly, enthusiastically and with Drill Instructor before and after a statement. If
anyone says they are sorry or thank you, you have my permission to make their lives a temporary living hell.”

  “Heh.” Jethro snorted.

  “One of the things different here over on Anvil are insects. If an insect bothers a recruit and they swat at it, chew their ass and then hold a mock funeral. Marines shouldn't be bothered by insects. They should have the self discipline to hold still when needed. Make sure they get that lesson, drill it home.”

  The junior DI's nodded. Jethro grimaced, he hated bugs now that he was on planet. He seriously didn't want fleas on him. He'd have to remember to load up on bug repellant. He made a note with his implants. Hopefully the other DI's were taking notes or recording this lecture for later.

  “As I said, the IST, the initial Strength Test has been completed. They ran on a treadmill though, so they never learned about breaking in boots or how to run on varied terrain. We'll fix that.”

  “If a boot requires additional motivation and discipline, we use Incentive Training. IT or Incentive Torture by the boots. They will learn to do the job. Don't go overboard with the IT. Each of you have the Recruit Pocket Training Guide in your implants. Keep it in mind. Set a timer on your hardware. Don't go overboard.”

  “For the most part of phase one we will be marching a lot. Marching with gear, which will teach them discipline, team spirit, and how to move as a unit. Each day we will increase the weight of their ruck until they get to the standard weight for their species. Don't go beyond it.”

  “Week two is the start of unarmed combat training, first aide, maps, obstacle courses like the Victory tower, and more marching.”

  “Week three starts with marching, but then we get into fun stuff like handling a knife or bayonet, the gas chamber, and the basics of suit training. If we have spare time, we'll run them through some obstacle courses and then start on their basic marksmanship.”

  “Remember, the last day of the week, Sunday is off time. They get to catch up on demerits, heal up, and have personal time. Encourage them to work on their implants, and read the history of the corps then if they are 'bored.' I don't honestly know of any boot who would be stupid enough to admit it, but you never know.”

  “Week four starts with Pugil sticks, throws and falls, leadership courses, and then we get into more marksmanship, inspections, and drills.”

  “Gotta love the inspections,” Asazi murmured softly. The Doberman's ears twitched. He looked at Asazi. She straightened. His eyes bore into hers but she didn't blink.

  “Week five,” the Doberman finally said, not taking his eyes off the human. “Starts us in phase two. That starts with swim week, where we train on water survival and more weapons marksmanship. Later that week we have martial arts proficiency testing and a ten kilometer march. Week six is Grass week, where we come into our own with weapons marksmanship, field meetings, groupings, and the endurance course.”

  Finally the Doberman looked away. “Week seven is the Firing week. Distance firing, weapons quals, the confidence course, a twelve kilometer march, and small unit training. The final week of phase 2 is the Team week, where we put them through team training exercises. Obstacle courses followed by the 20 kilometer conditioning march.”

  Oh boy, shin splints, Jethro thought.

  “Watch for footwear and fatigue issues. Keep them hydrated. Keep on the squad leaders and platoon leaders to keep an eye on their people, keep their morale up, and don't let them sit or lean. If they do they'll stiffen up.”

  “Phase three is where we start getting serious. More weapons training, and night training. We've got the final quals for the gas chamber, the first zero gee training, by the way, bring plenty of barf bags, and the basic field training. To top that we've got more endurance courses. Week one zero is rappelling, mortar fire, sim exercises, a field trip to one of Agnosta's moons, and the company Commander's inspection.”

  “Week one one is or, was, supposed to be the crucible. Hell with that. We've moved that to week one two. Week one one will be more sims. A shit load of them. Throw everything at them except a drop.”

  Jethro and Asazi shivered. They both remembered that. “I want assessment reports on each of the boots, problem children and who's not living up to the mustard. If they can't hack it they get recycled back to day one. We'll keep doing it until they either quit or pass, or someone higher steps in.”

  “There is a lot more for now but for the moment, questions? Comments?”

  There was a shuffling as the DI's looked at each other and gathered their thoughts. The Doberman took the opportunity to get a drink of water.

  Jethro found the experience to be different than when he went through boot. This time he was on the

  outside looking in. The good thing was that they were using Gunny's method of training. The bad news was it kept the DI's busy almost as much as the boots. Fortunately the Gunny had tempered his methods with weekends off to rest, recover, and get squared away with chores and demerits before the week started again. “You all have the schedule. It's eleven weeks of hell for some, you and I both know the real hell starts on the first day of week twelve,” the Gunny said. “Which is another thing, some of us will have to work on preping for that next month. We're going to tap an outside platoon to act as the op force.”

  “A day, sometimes two days a week off? Going soft in your old age Gunny?” Letanga teased.

  “They need the downtime. I've been advised that the downtime is critical to let them rest and recover. You know the reasoning. But yes,” the Gunny said. “I suppose it is a way of spoiling them. Them and you, since you get some of that time off as well.”

  Letanga chuckled.

  “At least those of you who aren't babysitting the recruits during that time period. Which, since you just volunteered, you can go first,” the Doberman said sweetly.

  Letanga sobered instantly. The Doberman flicked his ears and then nodded. “Right moving on...”

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Jethro, Letanga, Kovu, and the sniper teams built shoot houses with the other junior DI's and engineers. They used a mix of prefabs, concrete, and wood structures. The buildings were crude, just walls, no doors, windows, or in some cases, roofs. On a few of the buildings a catwalk was constructed above to allow observers to watch and critique the exercise. Some of the buildings were made by recruits, others by the Di's or a local contractor and his team.

  They didn't limit themselves to ground buildings either. A half dozen buildings were dressed as ship or station interiors, with knee knockers, hatches, and other things.

  Each of the shoot houses also had surprises built into them. Instructors who set an exercise up could program a computer to shut off or turn on lights, activate pop up targets, or set off small explosive flash bangs to disorient shooters.

  ...*...*...*...*...

  Training with the other DI's was a new experience. Jethro got a better feel for what they could only train for in VR before. They hadn't had a lot of long sight line areas on the station to train in. Training in atmo was definitely different then training for space too, not only did you have to adjust for wind, but also temperature and other variables. Sniping in space seemed to have its own set of rules, and on the ground as well.

  He'd known all those things in theory, known them when he'd been on Agnosta before, but his implants had adjusted for him. Now they had to learn the basics before they let the implants take the lead.

  One of the little things that cropped up was sniper protocols. A sniper shot from a building had to be trained to shoot from the back of the room, use a prop to steady the barrel, and cover the lens to keep it from reflecting. The reason to shoot from back of the room was to avoid giving yourself away visually and from sound from the report of the rifle. Communicating that to his fellow DI's as well as to his trainees was going to be fun he realized.

  Jethro found new experiences in training. Being on the trainers side alone was a new experience, as well as a new set of headaches and things to learn. He had realized a long time ago t
hat there was always something new to learn. He never ever wanted to become complacent and think that he knew everything... after all, then someone like Gunny would come around and pin his ears back to prove how wrong he was! He snorted at that thought.

  There was so much in his implants to go along with the college classes he had taken in Pyrax. But more as well, such as recognizing when a trainee was done in and needed a break. Seeing the different between physical exhaustion and mental in all the different species was tough. Some like Veraxins didn't sweat or pant, they just teetered, walked around as if they were drunk, their speech became slurred, and then they collapsed. Two Veraxins had to be hauled to the infirmary. Collapse in the anthropods was a serious thing, too much stress on some could cause their hearts to shut down for good.

  Recognizing issues with genders and social roles was another fun thing to keep in the back of his mind. They trained in mixed companies, no split between the genders. The Federation Marines believed in equality of opportunity, not necessarily of outcome, meaning you could step up, but if you couldn't handle it no one was going to throw a stress card and give you a time out. You either learned to cope and do the mission or you fell out.

  Marine officers were run through boot as well, so they knew what and where they stood with the enlisted. There was some scuttlebutt that the Major was going to do away with the ROTC tract, or at least change it to better reflect Marine tradition. Troops needed to know that their officers could hang with them when it got tough, that they weren't a PX store or desk jockey.

  Jethro marched through the quad on the path, turned smartly past the row of plaques and then paused at the list of KIA. His eyes lingered on Miles and Chirby's names for a brief moment. Other names were there, each listed their date of birth, date of death and serial number. There were quite a few names, many from training. Many he recognized from his own boot cycle.