Free Recruit by Jonathan P. Brazee Page A

squads in sight, though.  He had to watch his four fire teams as they walked through the various formations they’d just learned. 
    As he’d wondered before, he wasn’t sure why they were walking around, their M99s in hand, but nothing else.  No comm s, no armor, nothing.  Ryck knew they’d never be without their comms, and trying to control four fire teams by shouting was not the most efficient way of getting the job done.  Why not just give them a club and animal skins, and let them grunt out their commands?
    Not that the M99s they carried were anything more than clubs, and not very effective cubs at that.  Ryck had been thrilled when he’d been issued his, but that thrill faded when he realized the weapon was a liability to a recruit.  Not only did it have the bright pink safety tie that kept the chamber from closing, showing the world that he wasn’t trusted yet to have a live weapon, but also even dropping it, much less getting separated from it, resulted in a punishment that was better blocked out of the mind.  One recruit DOR’d right in the middle of his pushups he’d been assigned for dropping his.  The DIs had been in his face, screaming, and the guy just stopped.  Leaving his weapon on the deck, he’d just stood up, then walked back toward the barracks. 
    “Are you DOR’ing?” the top hat had screamed.
    “Yep,” had been the reply.
    As if a switch had been thrown, the DIs quit their tirade.  Drill Instructor Lorenz picked up the recruit’s M99 and slung it on his back as the other DIs turned their attention back to the rest of the platoon.
    Ryck had already forgotten the recruit’s name.  He was only one of six recruits who were gone.
    “Damn it Hodges, get your team up!” he shouted again, running a few steps toward him until he stumbled over a rock and almost went to his knees. 
    He risked a glance back to the bleachers where they had been given their lesson.  Not only were his DIs there watching, but also the series commander and senior were there as well, all observing the training.  Ryck hoped no one had noticed him stumbling.
    Recruit Hodges slowly moved his fire team up in position.  The DI field instructor had told them that formations like this had been the mainstay of military operations since warfare began, but Ryck thought that had no bearing on modern warfare.  Marines were not going to be trudging into battle in nice little squad V’s, Wedges, or Echelons.  Even the most ill-equipped enemy would be able to hold off a company of Marines if this was all they did.  They might just as well line up in three ranks and conduct volley fire at the enemy.
    They finally made it to the yellow flag that indicated they had to shift to the next formation.  This changing formations was called “Battle Drill.”  Ryck looked down at his instruction sheet. 
    “OK, listen up!  We’re going to a Squad V,” he shouted, holding up both arms at an angle above his head.
    At least the fire teams didn’t have to change formations at the same time, something for which Ryck was grateful.  That would be a royal clusterfuck. He shifted to his own position as he watched the fire teams slowly make the change.
    “Hodges!  Where are you supposed to be in a Squad V ?  To the right of the formation!  No, to your other right!  You see Fourth Fire Team there?  You think you both are going to march together?” Ryck shouted as he sprinted towards his wayward team.
    Observers be damned, Ryck was going to grab that grubbing idiot by the collar and drag him into position if he had to.

Chapter 7
     
     
    Ryck strapped on his armor.  Not the body armor they would be issued at the end of Phase 2, but plastic armor, gloves, and a helmet that looked like some old-time football gear.  This was pugil stick training, what some said was the highlight of Phase 1. 
    Ryck wouldn’t call it the highlight, himself.  What was next?  Jousting?  Sword fighting?  He thought in that in today’s