Let me set the scene here. I reupped. It's been a few years since I got out so they're making me go back to boot but it's all good. They're gonna send me to Irag so I can kill me some ragheads. And as much of a Buddhist as I am, I'm a BAD Buddhist. I like being violent. If I had been born a millenia ago, I would've created a sect of Buddhism and swept the world like Genghis Khan on amphetamines.I'm on the plane, telling the other recruits with me the horror stories of my first time through boot, really twisting the facts to scare them.
We're minutes from touch down and I'm putting the stewardess' number in my wallet. I may be dating Erica but it's not serious yet. I think. It may be for her but we haven't talked.
Once the plane is down, I shake my head following the others. They're all excited for what they'll learn. I could really care less. All I want is guide at the end. I'm a Lance Corporal now. If I have guide at graduation, I'll get rank of Corporal and I'll have my sword at graduation.
There are half a dozen others waiting also and we join them. Soon enough, a bus is coming. I toss the last bit of candy I'll get for fourteen weeks and wait in line, holding the bundle of info they gave us at MEPS. They saddled me with the temporary “command” since I've been there, done that, and got the shirt. Hell, I'm wearing it now. A crimson shirt with gold lettering on it. It's pretty old. I've had it since I was seventeen and enlisted the first time.
I hand over the info then sit on the bus at the back as the DI tells everyone what to do kindly. He's not our real DI though. He's just admitting.
He's yelling at us now but this is nothing. I'm standing tall and perfect on the yellow feet. Soon, we're heading to the building to get our gear then we're boxing up our civvies.
We're in the admitting barracks, waiting. The DI is going to take use to make our calls home but I could really care less at the moment. I've got the latest outline of a poetry book to work on.
Some people have mentioned the shit on my arm but I've ignored them for now.
Finally we're meeting our real DIs. Oue senior and the three assistant DIs are looking us over. Since I'm a pretty tall dude, I'm in front of Squad one, where the head of the Squad normally marches.
The SDI stops and looks at my arms, then narrows his eyes. “Recruit, what is all that junk on your arms?”
I spit out my answer, yelling. I remember so well what has to be done. “This recruit has Urticarial Vasculitis, sir.”
“What the hell is that, recruit?”
“An auto-immune disorder, sir. This recruit will always have it.”
“Can't it be cured, recruit?”
“Sir, it's an auto-immune disorder. There are no cures for things like that.” My voice has a hint of annoyance in it. Not on purpose.
“You trying to make a fool of me, boy?”
I can't help it. “No sir. The Senior Drill Instructor seems to be doing just fine on his own.”
Now I've done it. All four Drill Instructors are in my face, yelling at me from front, back, right, and left. Man, I missed this shit.