Under the embrace of sunlight interwoven with the scent of the sea, a panorama unfolded before him: azure sky, emerald shades of trees, and the crystalline ocean. The expansive and grand world stretched out beneath his feet, as if his entire outlook had broadened. Such scenes were almost unheard of in New York or London. At this very moment, San Diego on the west coast of North America opened its arms warmly, welcoming Renly.
Today was Friday, the official gathering of the cast for the first time. Over the past week, Renly had spent all his time in the library, repeatedly consulting various books on the Pacific War of World War II. He had also rented DVDs of the classic series "Band of Brothers", watching it again to prepare for the upcoming shoot.
Shutting the door of the taxi and tapping its roof, Renly turned around to take in the bustling scene before him—people coming and going, fervor in the air. His initial reaction was that he might have ended up in the wrong place. Shouldn't the first meeting of the cast be held in a conference room for introductions and getting to know each other? Yet, what he saw before him seemed more like a campsite, with tents being set up in his line of sight.
Several management personnel were scattered near the entrance. They held clipboards and were surrounded by a few individuals each. With his deep gray backpack slung over his shoulder, Renly walked forward and joined a queue at random. Only three people were ahead of him, and it was soon his turn. "Excuse me, is this the set of "The Pacific"? I was told..."
"Name?"
Renly's words were abruptly cut off. He was about to respond, but before he knew it, the person impatiently urged, "Name." The swift and efficient manner reminded him of a military figure, a thought that flickered in his mind but didn't halt his speech. He answered directly, "Hall."
The person pointed to another individual at their side, "Those with names starting with "H", report to him." How many people were here? They were arranged alphabetically by last name?
Renly moved aside again, standing in line. This time, before the other person could ask, Renly immediately spoke, "Hall." He then observed the person quickly scan their clipboard, "Hall, actor, report to Barracks Three."
Indeed, this was the boot camp.
Before rookies officially entered the battlefield, to prevent them from committing foolish mistakes and getting themselves and their comrades killed, they had to undergo training in boot camp. The series "Band of Brothers" had replicated this model during its filming, providing actors not only a taste of what it felt like to be a real soldier but also ensuring their professionalism during the acting process. Now, "The Pacific" was following the same tradition.
Truly an intriguing twist, wasn't it? As an actor, he'd secured his first job only to find himself entering a boot camp—a place of training—before even getting to acting. If not for becoming an actor, such a scenario would have been nearly impossible in life.
Barracks Three was prominently placed, on the left side of the main road. The drab gray cement walls were unremarkable, but their towering stature easily set them apart.
After registering at the entrance, Renly entered Barracks Three. However, what greeted him wasn't the future fellow actors, but an abundance of clothes! Twelve sets of clothing racks divided the spacious barrack into twelve aisles, each lined with a myriad of garments. These ranged from soldier uniforms to retro attire from the 1940s, encompassing everything from luxury to commoner wear. The scene resembled a warehouse clearance sale.
Voices emerged from behind the clothing racks. Walking along the aisle, Renly turned a corner, and suddenly, the space opened up before him. In the center was a wide expanse with neat rows of a dozen boxes filled with boots. The entire wall behind them was adorned with uniforms of different naval ranks. Freshly laundered uniforms exuding a fragrance of fabric softener were meticulously arranged, creating a visually striking spectacle.
As a previous actor finished obtaining his attire, Renly approached, seizing the opportunity. "Renly Hall, portraying Eugene Sledge."
The staffer checked their list, muttering, "Oh, Third Battalion, K Company, Private First Class." They turned around and skillfully located a uniform, passing it over. Observing their actions, Renly extended his hands, accepting the entire uniform. "Shoe size?"
"Size seven and a half." Yet, as soon as the words were spoken, Renly quickly corrected himself, "Size eight and a half." The person's eyebrows furrowed slightly, apparently dissatisfied that Renly had forgotten his own shoe size.
In reality, size seven and a half was based on British measurements, while eight and a half was based on American sizing. Renly's response had been a reflex. However, sensing the impatience of the staffer, Renly didn't offer an explanation. This was a military camp, and evidently, everything adhered to the regulations of the armed forces, starting from the entrance. Although this might be a bit cumbersome for the average person, it was an essential path for an actor to step into character.
Bending over, the staffer fetched a pair of boots and two pairs of socks, placing them atop the uniform. "After today's training ends, there will still be people here from 6 to 9 PM. You need to come back here to collect your other costumes. Before entering the camp, you have two scenes to shoot."
"No problem." Renly's reply was resolute and straightforward. He turned to leave, and this minor detail seemed to satisfy the staffer. They spoke up again, "Friendly reminder, it's better to answer 'Yes, sir' in the future."
"Yes, sir!" Renly went with the flow, his voice robust and powerful. A faint smile tugged at the corner of the staffer's mouth—a reaction that Renly's response seemed to have triggered. "Your accommodation is Barracks Eight. Go there to change into your clothes." After saying this, the staffer paid no more attention to Renly, immediately turning to the next person. "Name, role?"
Turning his head around, Renly only had time to exchange a glance with the person before he hastened to leave Barracks Three. Although he wasn't certain what would unfold in the boot camp, he wouldn't forget the harsh and unrefined training depicted in the film "Full Metal Jacket". Being well-prepared was the wisest course.
Upon entering Barracks Eight, a small group of people congregated at the entrance, smoking with tendrils of smoke swirling around. A few others sat scattered on bare wooden beds, engrossed in their own activities. Renly's arrival prompted only a cursory glance from everyone, after which each person retracted their gaze.
Without offering any greetings, Renly strode directly to the communal bathroom located in the center-right. He changed into a fresh set of clothing, including underwear and socks. When he emerged again, everyone's attention instantly shifted towards him. Within the entire barrack, only two people had changed clothes. The other seven or eight still wore their civilian attire.
Observing Renly's earnest demeanor, it was evident that someone stifled a low chuckle. One voice, unrestrained, even boldly exclaimed, "Who's this country bumpkin? He just does whatever he's told without a second thought. Bet if the officer tells him to present his ass, he'll unfasten his belt without a word..." The coarse and vulgar words ignited laughter from the others.
Renly, however, walked to an empty spot with a calm expression, stuffing his backpack beneath the bed, paying no attention to their intentions. He wasn't so kind-hearted as to give them a warning. Once the actual training began, they would be the ones suffering. He only needed to watch from the sidelines. After all, who was the fool here?
"Renly! Renly!" Amid the laughter, a voice called out excitedly. The person entering the door was none other than Rami Malek. He was already twenty-eight, yet his baby face seemed younger than Renly's. A delighted smile adorned his face as he dashed over, calling out breathlessly, "You're here too! I was just thinking I couldn't find anyone I knew and started to get a bit scared! I knew you'd definitely make it, and, and... I made it too!"
Rami's exuberant words gushed forth like a stream, leaving Renly chuckling softly. He glanced at the group of seasoned individuals behind Rami, who were once again mocking him. Renly stood up and, dragging Rami along, headed towards the communal bathroom. However, that voice resounded again amidst the bustling crowd, "It's broad daylight, and he can't resist going for a homer!" The taunting voice spurred laughter from the others.
Richard Cawthorne was quite pleased with the effect of his joke, but he hadn't anticipated that Renly would retort without hesitation, "If you're jealous, my daddy wouldn't mind adding you too." Renly's words made Richard choke on his own breath, his face reddening. However, Renly paid him no further attention, heading straight into the communal bathroom.
Laughter echoed behind him, but Renly ignored it. "Rami, hurry up and change into your uniform. The training could start anytime."
Rami had just arrived at the camp and was a bit unsure of the situation. However, compared to Renly, who was relatively new to Hollywood, he had rolled in the industry for years and was well-versed. "Don't mind those guys..." He intended to offer Renly some comfort. Individuals like Richard were present in almost every production crew, especially in the television circle. They delighted in bullying newcomers, even exploiting their earnings. If the newcomers resisted, they had numerous ways to subtly undermine them without affecting work, leaving the newcomers suffering in silence.
However, Renly simply didn't care. Patting Rami's shoulder, he gestured, "Quick, change your clothes." As the words left his mouth, Renly realized there might be some ambiguity in his statement. He was about to make a joke, but to his surprise, Rami hadn't taken note of it. He flung the bag he was holding onto the ground and began changing his clothes right away.
Renly couldn't help but chuckle at this.
Rami moved swiftly. The two of them soon exited the communal bathroom. At that moment, a stern rebuke resounded at the door, "You shameless bunch of trash, still spouting nonsense here? Are you waiting for someone to wipe your 'flower' for you? Quick, get out!" Turning toward the voice, a senior military officer clad in Marine Corps uniform came into view. Because of the backlighting, it was difficult to discern whether he was a lieutenant or a captain.
The barracks that had been filled with mirth fell silent instantly, as if time itself had frozen for a brief moment. This displeased the officer, who snorted coldly, "A bunch of useless garbage. You've got ninety seconds. Assemble outside. If anyone's not present by then, they'll run four miles round trip on the mountain road!" With that, he didn't wait for a response, turning and leaving without delay.