Free Marines by Jay Allan Page A

confrontation.  In the gangs, a dispute over a nutrition bar could get loud and ugly, and likely violent as well.  General Strummer spoke softly and politely enough to be sitting at a dinner party.  Yet I had no doubt he'd sign an order sending a lazy recruit back to the gas chamber without a second thought.
    "Ok, I think I've made my point.  I hope you enjoyed my dress blues, because it's the last free show of respect you're going to get.  From now on you earn everything.  Do your best, listen to your instructors, and one day I will see you again on the graduation field."
    He turned, and walked off the stage, the sound of his boots on the floor echoing loudly in the otherwise silent room.   As soon as he'd cleared the stage a captain came out and gave us instructions on getting our billet assignments and meeting with our provisional platoon leaders.  Then we were dismissed.
    I made my way through the line to get my bunk assignment, but I was lost in thought the entire time.  The general had made quite an impression on me.  I'd never encountered anyone like him before.  I loved my father, but he had been a gentle sort of man, and I'd seen what the world did to people like him.
    When I was with the gang I'd seen the other side of humanity too, the vicious, animalistic, malicious side.  I'd lived that as well, and in my years with the gang I did some terrible things.  But I never really felt like one of them.  I never understood the needless brutality, the wasteful violence that went beyond the opportunistic. 
    The authority figures I'd met were mostly corrupt, vindictive bullies.  Certainly none of them commanded any respect.  The closest they came to respect was fear, and that they extracted with threats and force.
    But Strummer was different.  He left me wanting to know more, to understand his way of things.  I had no doubt he could act just as summarily, just as harshly, but I somehow felt his actions would be fair, or as close to that as things got.  I didn't realize it at the time, never having really experienced it before, but these thoughts and feelings were the beginnings of respect for another human being. 
    Training was an unbelievable experience, and I learned more things than I could have imagined.  We started with the medical review.  They had all our test results from exams we'd been given on induction, but they still did a lot more checking.  Apparently the Corps likes its marines healthy, and we were going to meet that standard no matter what it took.
    I didn't have too many problems.  As a child my family had a relatively low health care priority rating, but I'd still seen a doctor three or four times.  Of course, once we left the Protected Zone there was no real access to medical care.  I was generally very healthy, so I finished the battery of treatments in less than ten days, while some of my classmates were in the infirmary for three weeks or longer.
    I'd broken my ankle while I was with the gang, and it never healed quite right, so they re-broke it surgically and fused it perfectly.  Other than that, they addressed a few minor deficiencies caused by years of poor diet and malnutrition, and they corrected a few small genetic abnormalities.
    The improvements were far more noticeable.  The retinal enhancements not only increased my vision over long distances, but I found I could see in very dim light as well.  My hearing was more acute, and I felt much more active and energetic.  Certainly my reflexes were the best they'd ever been, and I could run faster and jump higher than before.  A couple weeks later, when I cut myself during basic training exercises, I realized that I also healed faster.  Actually, about twice as quickly as before.
    Speaking of basic training, the general wasn't kidding when he said it would be the hardest physical exertion we'd ever experienced.  It was about getting us into great shape, certainly, but it was also about testing us, pushing us to the