The bus groaned to a halt, its air brakes hissing followed by the quietening of the engine.
Noon.
The sun beat down on the asphalt, radiating heat that made the air adjacent to the tarmac "visible". Neville and Jarvis, along with the other recruits from their bus, filed out, blinking and shifting in the sudden heat and both Neville and Jarvis regretting their black outfit choice.
They were herded towards a massive, hangar-like building, a huge space was inside and benches were arranged into rows and columns. They also found others already sat.
Each recruit carried their duffel bag. As they located a place to sit.
Neville and Jarvis naturally walked together. They found two empty seats near the back, dropping their bags on their feet before taking seats.
The other recruits from their bus clustered nearby, sharing stories. And approached Neville's batch's women.
Aftrr some time, some were already deep in conversation, exchanging names and home areas.
Others, like Neville would have been if not for Jarvis, sat silently, observing the scene.
Recruits from other buses continued to pour in, each group adding to the growing mass. The space filled rapidly, and by 1:45 pm, the hall was packed, an estimated 1250 recruits sat in the space.
Neville glanced around, taking in the sheer number of people. If this was just one training station in one state, he wondered, how many were being recruited across the entire country?
The scale of it was staggering. It still worried him why the army was recruiting at such a big scale, but he wasn't bothered much by it.
Precisely at 2:00 pm, the doors at the far end of the hall swung open, and a group of officers marched in, their footsteps echoing with authority.
They were a mix of sergeants, staff sergeants, and higher-ranking officers, their uniforms crisp and their gait simply impeccable.
The noise in the hall died down almost immediately, as people paid attention to the new addition while others quietened just cause it suddenly got quiet as they hadn't seen the officers entering.
A tall, broad-shouldered staff sergeant stepped forward, his voice booming across the hall. "Attention!" The recruits instinctively straightened, some more successfully than others.
"At ease!" The staff sergeant's gaze swept across the crowd.
"Welcome to Fort Benning. You are now entering the next phase of your journey to becoming United States Soldiers."
He introduced himself as Staff Sergeant Thompson, one of the many drill sergeants responsible for their training. He then introduced the other drill sergeants, each one equally imposing, each one radiating an aura of discipline and professionalism.
They outlined their roles and what would be expected of the recruits.
Discipline, teamwork, absolute obedience, and peak performance were the cornerstones of their training.
They made it clear that any acts of theft, bullying, or insubordination would not be tolerated and that punishments would be swift and proportionate to the offense.
Following the drill sergeants, a higher-ranking officer, a captain, stepped forward. He introduced himself as Captain Steiner, the officer in charge of the training station.
His voice was firm. He explained the chain of command and emphasized that if any recruit had a complaint or witnessed any wrongdoing on the part of a drill sergeant or staff member, they had the right to report it to him directly. He stressed the importance of fairness and accountability.
The drill sergeants then stepped forward again, each one raising their right hand. In unison, they recited a short oath, swearing to uphold their duties with integrity, to train the recruits to the best of their ability, and to mentor them as they transitioned into soldiers.
Staff Sergeant Thompson then addressed the recruits again, his voice regaining its earlier intensity. "Now that the formalities are out of the way, let's talk about what you can expect here. For the next ten weeks, you will be pushed to your physical limits. You will be physically exhausted, mentally drained, and emotionally challenged. You will learn to operate on minimal sleep, to endure extreme conditions, and to function as part of a team. You will learn the basics of soldiering: marksmanship, close quarters combat, land navigation, first aid, and much more."
He paused, his gaze sweeping across the recruits. "I'm here to tell you that you are all capable of completing this training. We will give you the tools and impart skills you need to succeed. All we ask in return is your commitment and obedience."
Next, they were directed to an amnesty room. This was a crucial step, and no one was exempt. It was also their final chamce to hand in any contraband without punishment.
The room was simply empty, with tables set up for the recruits to lay out any contraband they might have brought with them. Potential weapons, gambling devices like cards or dice, anything pornographic – all had to be surrendered. Personal items like portraits of family or significant others were allowed and this made Jarvis relieved, but books other than a Bible were not.
Drill sergeants barked orders, their voices cutting through the air as they called out names, assigning recruits to their platoons. "Smith! Johnson! Rodriguez! Platoon One, fall in over here!" The recruits scrambled to find their designated areas, forming uneven lines that the drill sergeants quickly straightened with sharp commands.
Neville and the other recruits from their bus found themselves clustered together, a small group amidst the larger crowd. A particularly imposing staff sergeant with a neatly trimmed moustache approached them. "You lot! You're Platoon Four! Fall in! Now!"
They quickly formed a ragged line, their duffel bags bumping against each other. The staff sergeant, who introduced himself as Staff Sergeant Reyes, eyed them in evaluation his gaze judgemental. "You look like a herd of confused shits!" he barked. "Straighten those lines! Shoulders back! Heads up!"
With a few more sharp commands and demonstrations, Staff Sergeant Reyes quickly whipped them into a more presentable formation. He hit the backs of those who weren't in correct posture and Jarvis experienced those pats of love.
They were then marched out of the main hall and into a smaller, more confined space – their new 'home' for the next few weeks: the barracks.
The barracks was a long, rectangular building, with rows of bunk beds lining the walls. It smelled of fresh paint and disinfectant. Staff Sergeant Reyes led them to their assigned bay, a section of the barracks that would house their platoon.
"This is your dorm now," he announced, his voice echoing in the relatively empty space. "Keep it clean. Keep it organized. Your bunk, your footlocker, your wall locker... everything will be inspected. And I expect it to be spotless."
After the orientation they knew the rules and expectations, they were also handed small booklets with the said rules. From there they had a basic idea of what these stuff was.
[ Footlocker: This is primarily used for storing larger items like boots, uniforms, and personal belongings that you don't need daily access to.
Wall Locker: This is used for storing smaller items like toiletries, writing utensils, and personal hygiene products that you need daily access to.]
The initial processing began immediately. They were issued bedding, towels, and a basic cleaning kit.
Then came the uniform and gear issue. This was a chaotic process, with recruits lining up at different stations to receive their uniforms, boots, belts, caps, and other essential equipment.
Neville received his olive-green fatigues, sturdy combat boots, and a duffel bag to replace the one he'd brought. They were made to confirm that they had everything they needed and those who didn't, would need to get them.
Neville was shown how to properly roll his sleeves, how to lace his boots, and how to arrange his gear in his wall locker. Every detail was important, every fold and crease had to be perfect.
Following the gear issue, they went through a series of administrative tasks. They were divided into their respective platoons to be handled easier.
They filled out countless forms, confirming their personal information, emergency contacts, and other details. They received their temporary military ID cards( permanent ones would be processed and given to them within the week), the small metal dog tags that would identify them throughout their service. They were also given briefings on pay, allowances, insurance, and other administrative matters, a dizzying amount of information delivered in a short amount of time.
Throughout the entire process, Staff Sergeant Reyes and other drill sergeants were ever-present, correcting minor infractions, enforcing discipline, and drilling into them the importance of attention to detail. "Faster! Move with a purpose! There's no time to lollygag!" their voices boomed, pushing the recruits to move quickly and efficiently.
Neville, used to the structured environment of university, thought he would adapt relatively quickly to the rigid routine. He would focus on following instructions, keeping his head down, and avoiding any unnecessary attention.
Jarvis, with his more varied life experiences, seemed less fazed by the constant yelling and demands of strict discipline. He maintained a calm demeanour, offering Neville an occasional reassuring nod.
By the end of the, they were exhausted, both physically and mentally. They had been processed, outfitted, and indoctrinated all within hours (from 2pm to 2am).
Some of these would continue tomorrow and basic training begins officially on Wednesday.
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Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction based on the author's imagination. It is not intended to be a factual account of military basic training and may contain inaccuracies or exaggerations and outright misinformation. This was not intended to be a novel about the military!!
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