Drill Sergeant Lloyd

Deep in the Mojave Desert in California, there exists a camp made a for a special purpose as yet unknown to it's trainees. It is here that the United States Army is training troops for what they deemed to be an inevitability, the entry of the United States into the war. Even though it was July, they were almost certain that either the Japanese or the Germans were going to make the first move on the United States. New training camps were established as quickly as they could build them, most often they were threadbare facilities with the bear necessities and nothing else.

The new facility they built had almost everything they needed to ensure the training of a new and different batch of recruits. Different from previous companies and regiments, this wholly new force would set the standard for the rest of the military, if it were successful that is.

They layout for this military training facility which they would go on to call Camp Young, was nonstandard at best. It certainly was not cookie cutter shape like the rest of the facilities the military had established. It had all the standard facilities like a barracks, mess hall, and a motor pool for vehicles for starters. Yet it had some very unconventional facilities, like classrooms, strange obstacle courses, and other buildings.

Of course, the camp had just been constructed a few months prior. It had the classic markings of an experiment approved by command for one, and funding by congress for another. The barracks and the mess hall were located on opposite corners of the camp, in fact the mess hall was located right next to the classrooms. Next to the barracks were the showers and the motor pool. In the middle of the camp was the parade ground and off to the side of that were the offices where the Commanding Officer or CO and his Executive Officer or XO and their staff worked through incoming and outgoing reports as well as keep a general eye on the state of things in the camp.

Being that it's only ten to four in the morning, not a single soul stirred inside the camp, except for one. Over at the three barracks in the right most barrack on a bunk in the corner at the back of the barrack a man writhed in his sleep. He was a typical man of the time, aside from his shaved head, he was of a somewhat tall stature, not tall enough to be a basketball star of course, but just tall enough to be considered above average. He had a sharp nose that gave his face a hawkish look, not that that was considered a bad thing. If his eyes were open you would see a sharp piercing green, like that of emerald staring right at you.

No sound could be heard from this man despite the writhing, and his chest did not rise. He was in a near death state and his body was twitching as if whatever dream he was having was slowly killing him. Then his body started jerking for a second before slowly coming to a stop. Now his chest was rising slowly, in rhythm with his slow beating heart. Although all of this took a short time to describe, it really took over half an hour to happen. It was now a few minutes to four. Slowly the man's eyes opened, then widened in shock.

Thomas Conlin reflexively shot his hand toward the back of his head, there was no damage despite the last thing he remembered being that voice that spoke to him before feeling something sharp hit him in the head from behind. In fact, he felt a dull headache that wouldn't go away despite the fact that there was no wound. He got up off his bunk and the first step he took he ended up being flat on his face, the dull thump of him hitting the floor didn't seem to disturb anyone.

He got up slower and once he was sure of his footing, tottered himself over to his bed. He wasn't used to feeling so weak. In fact, he had no idea why he felt this way in the first place. His eyes wouldn't adjust to the darkened room he was in either, but judging from the snoring sounds, he wasn't alone here. Suddenly a single light bulb hanging from the ceiling on a wire turned on and illuminated the room, throwing the entire thing into focus for Thomas.

"RISE AND SHINE LADIES! TODAY IS A BRAND NEW DAY!' A tall and strong, muscular man in uniform kicked open the door with the force of a hurricane and shouted. Thomas shot to his feet and stood at attention on reflex, despite feeling so weak while everyone else was slowly getting up.

"LOOK AT YOU, IF THIS WERE AN ATTACK, WITH EXCEPTION OF RECRUIT CONLIN HERE, THE REST OF YOU WOULD BE DEAD!" The drill sergeant berated the men, the angriest scowl etched on his face. He looked about in his mid-thirties, but his body was chiseled as if he was still a twenty-year-old. "FASTER, MOVE IT, MOVE IT, MOVE IT!"

The recruits were now scrambling to their feet, they were tired no longer as adrenaline coursed through their veins. They stood in an imperfect line on either side of the barracks just in front of their beds. The drill sergeant walked up and down, yelling at the recruits and positioning them just right before turning around and heading to the doorway.

"Let me tell you something," he began as he paced up and down the room, looking a recruit in the eyes every so often, "you're all lower than maggots. Look at you, fresh off the books and straight into Boot. YOU'RE NOTHING! HEAR ME? NOTHING, BUT..." he paused for dramatic effect. "When I'm through with you, you're gonna be the best of the best. YOU'RE GONNA KICK THE GERMANS RIGHT BACK INTO GERMANY AND OUT OF EVERY FOXHOLE THEY'RE HIDING IN, RECRUITS FALL IN, YOU'VE GOT THIRTY SECONDS TO STASH YOUR GEAR AND DRESS IN PT! I EXPECT TO SEE YOU OUTSIDE IN THIRTY-FIVE! DISMISSED!"

As the drill sergeant walked out the door everyone scrambled to quickly dress into their PT uniforms. Thomas made his bed and dressed in his PT within the first fifteen seconds before heading outside to stand at attention before the drill sergeant. Within the next twenty seconds, most of the recruits were outside and at attention. With the exception of two people who came five seconds late. One was a tall lanky kid with glasses who looked fresh out of high school, just like everyone he was bald, but his most striking feature was his long arms. The second was a short muscular man who looked like he could hold his own in a fight, and if the crooked nose was anything to go by, he pretty much did.

"YOU TWO FRONT AND CENTER!" Shouted the drill sergeant, "HOW IN THE FUCKWIT ARE YOU TWO SO SLOW! WE'RE GOING TO FIX THAT RIGHT NOW, RUN TEN LAPS AROUND THE BARRACKS, YOU'VE GOT TWENTY MINUTES, SLUGS!!!" The two recruits scrambled out of the formation and took off running around all three barracks, they made a loop and Thomas saw sweat and exhaustion on their faces as they sluggishly ran past the formation out of the corner of his eye. He didn't dare turn around, he definitely didn't want to gain the attention of the drill sergeant.

"FASTER YOU SLOTHS, I BET YOUR MOTHER GETS UP FASTER THAN YOU!!!!" The drill sergeant shouted after them before fixing his gaze on the formation. "As for you, I'm Drill Sergeant and for the next couple of months, I'm going to be your worst fucking nightmare."

Then he smiled with the most wolfish grin Thomas had ever seen.