Hey guys, I just want to let you all know that many of the facts about military and such in this story are not true in our current world. I'm not in or related to anyone in the military, so all I have is some research. If it's wrong, then my idea is that in the future (roughly in the 4150s) some rules and ideas will have changed. Thanks!

Harry brushed his black fringe out of his face as he quickly took in the huge amphitheater-style room his squadron had just entered. The men stationed around the room were showing them to the front, nearest to the stage, but no one else was being allowed close.
Keeping his eyes and ears open, Harry saw his brothers- and sisters-in-arms tense as Captain Pitt was lead away from them. The wizard lightly clenched his jaw, hating the fact that Pitt has been right, but also hating the gall of this organization. Captain Pitt has been a solid stone for everyone in Harry's squadron to lean on ever since it was founded. He had been with them through all of the tough scrapes and solemn goodbyes. Obviously, the RDA didn't care if their future soldiers were comfortable or not, which could also be proven by the stiff chairs his cohorts and he were forced to sit in.
His fighter pilots were barely able to relax back before footsteps could be heard on the stage before them, and the lights around all of the many gathered soldiers began to dim. Talking fell to whispers as Harry's squadron sat, craning their necks up to look at the stage amid the crowd of hundreds of people.
"Soldiers! It is my pleasure to welcome you all to the Resources Development Administration's new training facility, where all of you will be residing for the next six months before taking your invaluable skills to Pandora," an unidentified man cried exuberantly, and polite applause followed his statement. Harry cursed his short height once more in his long life. "As all of you should already have been briefed, I will skip the boring stuff. While you are here, there will be little 'R and R'. The representatives from over sixty countries have pooled their resources to get all of you here so we can start as soon as possible, but we are still on a short time frame. Barracks are divided into sections for countries and rooms for each group. The mess hall is opposite of this room, through the double doors you all entered and straight across the hall. Breakfast will be served at 0600, lunch at 1200, and dinner at 1800 hours. Lights out is at 2000 hours and anyone found to be out after hours will be the reason their entire group gets to enjoy the sweet mercies of our admirals from 0400 to 0600 hours for a week. Meet at the mess hall for your individual country's schedule at breakfast tomorrow- and that's it. Go find your barracks and get comfortable, the trials to place your squadrons will start tomorrow. Everyone is dismissed."
Blinking in surprise at the quick speech and dismissal, Harry stood with his squadron and began the trek to find their barracks while thinking over what would probably be treated tomorrow in the trials.
He figured it wouldn't be anything much different than what Captain Pitt put them through, and so he threw any worry from his mind.
Turning his thoughts back to the moment at present, Harry realized his squadron has already found their barracks. Conveniently, the US barracks were the first in the huge building across from the building they were in originally. Probably because America topped every other country with its military power, even though they grappled with China often to claim that spot. Harry smirked when he heard the British troops walking deeper into the huge building. Which reminded Harry, as all kinds of different languages flooded around him, that he had made a promise to Pitt to keep his squadron safe.
Emerging in the into the hallway marked 'United States', Harry quickly walked over to the room labeled 'Navy Fighter Pilots' and entered, ignoring the random calls of soldiers trying to find their buddies.
Seeing the room in which Harry would have to reside for the next six months pleasantly surprised the wizard. He had expected something small, bland, and bare, as the navy was wont to do when furnishing their soldiers' barracks, but the RDA seemed to have other ideas. There were three bunk beds on the three walls in front of him with actual twin mattresses, a blanket, and a decent pillow. The woodwork of the bunk beds even had drawers carved into them for each soldier. In a corner of the room, between two of the bunks, there was a heater/cooling system, a small refrigerator and a microwave were in another corner, and an entire medical bag hung from the wall in the final corner.
Smiling lightly, Harry sat down on the bottom bunk of the bed on the right wall of the room, closing his eyes in meditation while his cohorts found their ways into the room and fought over who would get which bed.
By the time it was determined that the girls would take the bunk at the back of the room, the two boys would have the left-side bunk, and Harry would sleep with Captain Pitt, the wizard had settled protection and detection wards around the circumference of the room and thick translation spells on himself. It was best to know everything going on around you if you had the ability to, especially when it seemed that all the squadrons would be out to get each other to be the top dogs.
Speaking of which, Harry could hear his squad mates getting to know the other American soldiers. "So what- you think you're the best squadron? Please, everyone knows us Navy SEALS are the real deal. Just because you're good at flying your little planes doesn't mean jack shit." Harry rolled his eyes. Over the course of his long life, he had quickly learned that normal life was boring, and so, had joined the best military in the world. America had its fingers in many of the pies, as Harry quickly learned upon entering, so there was always something to do. He had jumped around to different sectors of the military when people started to get suspicious of his longer life, but his time as a navy SEAL hadn't been the most enjoyable. Many of the people in his group had been right pricks to the other units.
"Damien, come on, man. Back off." Well, most had been pricks. But Harry figured he knew how this was going to end up.
Hoisting himself up off his bed with a sigh, the ancient man appearing to be in his twenties walked from his room into a tense situation in the common room.
Grant Ergon stood nose to nose with a hulking man who fit the name Damien. He wasn't handsome by any means, and his face was tinted red in both embarrassment and anger. Another man of similar build, but more lean was trying to pull the SEAL back, but he was standing his ground.
Harry's pilot gave a sharp smile, blinding in its brightness against his darker skin, and replied, "No, thank you, but it's okay. I want to hear this. What did you want to say to me, Damien?"
The SEAL growled with a glower on his face, but backed off suddenly, as if struck by a 'brilliant idea'- one Harry had seen many of his cohorts pull during his time with the SEALs. The brute smirked as he challenged, "What I wanted to say is that I bet none of your stupid pilots can beat any of our seals in our monthly testing."
Damien smirked as he crossed his arms in front of his broad chest, but Grant didn't back down. He just smiled sadly as he questioned, "Is that so? I'm afraid I can't join in on this then, as I am most-definitely male. And I doubt our two female pilots would appreciate being 'tested' as you say."
The few other American platoons in the room laughed as all the SEALs' faces blushed in embarrassment. Though Harry spied their leader looking a bit close to bursting his seams.
And as Harry had predicted, the man stalked forwards, brushing past both stuttering SEALs to stand in front of Harry's pilot, who didn't so much as flinch as a meaty finger was jabbed into his chest by the taller, enraged man. "Who do you think you are, Maggot? Calling us bitches? I demand your officer's attention at once. He's got some kissing up to do if this is how you treat my soldiers."
Taking this as his cue, Harry stepped out of his room's doorway and made his way through the whispering crowd. Excusing himself quietly, the soldiers he passed threw his small frame dubious looks before making way for him.
"I believe that won't be necessary, sir. Ergon was simply defending himself and his squadron."
The large officer turned his blazing gaze onto Harry, scoffed, and turned back to Grant. "What, is this tiny bitch your officer?"
Harry stood at attention, having no qualms with letting his magic weigh on the people in the room as he released it.  One thing he had learned to never let go was insubordination. If this man was to be going to another planet with him, then he would need to learn to fall in line- behind Harry. "As a matter of fact, this 'tiny bitch' is. However, you may call me Commander Elner. What is your name, soldier?" All whispering stopped as every man and woman turned to look at Harry's small stature with surprise, noticing the Company Commander and Naval Aviator badges upon his uniform's collar when Harry dispelled the light notice-me-not charms he had put on them.
Shock filled the man's face as he turned around and stood at attention along with the rest of the room. "Apologies, Commander Elner. I am Ensign Whellman. I was not informed you would be here."
Harry waves his hands to dismiss the crowd's attention, but did not dismiss Whellman's. He couldn't be seen as too lenient, or he would lose some of his hard-earned respect. No one could get away with calling a higher-ranked officer a 'tiny bitch'. "Well, this was all rather sudden, wasn't it? But see to it that it never happens again, Ensign."
"Of course, Commander."
Harry turned to his soldier, ignoring the man still at attention in order to address his own pilot. "Well done, Ergon. I am pleased that you defended our squadron so ingeniously," Grant smiled lightly, "however, you and I both know of what they are addressing. What say you to a little friendly competition?"
Grant's smile widened as his face filled with mischief. "Why, Commander, I would be most pleased to oblige them, sir."
Smirking, Harry nodded to Whellman. "Ensign, your SEAL's challenge has been accepted. Our units will meet outside the building in five minutes to begin. You may be dismissed."
The man dropped his arm and retreated to his platoon's room with his proverbial tail between his legs, and Harry cracked a smirk as he turned to rally his troops, Grant following on his heels.

A large crowd of people from all over the world stood around two groups of navy soldiers outside a large building in the middle of a dessert. The heat was just abating as the sun dipped low in the sky, but no one paid it any attention, as all their focus was on the competition about to commence.
"Commander Elner, my platoon is ready whenever you deem fit. Would you prefer we start with the sit-ups, sir?"
"Perfectly fine, Ensign Whellman. We will do sit-ups for as long as we are able. Pushups next, then pull-ups, and, finally, a fast lap around the building."
Harry turned from the SEALs to look at his group, already on the ground with competitive smiles on their faces. Harry gave them a smirk of his own before turning to the whispering crowd around him, silently pleased to be able to understand all the conversations flowing around him. Harry had not always been the best at complicated non-combatant magic, but after moving to the Unspeakables Department in the Ministry of Magic due to the rousing suspicion of his appearance, he worked diligently on rounding out his magical knowledge.
Clearing his throat to grant him most of the crowd's attention, Harry asked, "Would anyone mind setting our cadence?"
A man from the British Royal Air Force if Harry remembered correctly- which he did- stepped forwards with a sharp British salute. "I would be honored, Commander."
Harry nodded with a smile as he replied, "Right, thank you..?"
"Flight Lieutenant Briggs, sir."
Harry laid down on the ground and assumed the military position for sit-ups. "You may begin, Flight Lieutenant."
And so the constant stream of 'up's and 'down's began, but, for which many soldiers were thankful, the Brit spoke with a bit of rapidity. This way, the officers wouldn't be standing, watching the skilled men and women for hours.
Somewhat surprising to many, the flight officers didn't drop out of the competition around fifty sit-ups, though everyone understood when the first person to drop was the older fighter pilot who stopped at the seventieth mark. It was when Briggs called the eightieth mark that a blonde woman and one of the more lean SEALs stopped, lying flat on their backs in exhaustion. Upon eighty-seven, one of the SEALs fell behind, and another American soldier watching called him out on it. The other female fighter pilot stopped at ninety, just after another SEAL fell to eighty-nine.
With three SEALs and only two fighter pilots left, the watching soldiers began to notice one participant not showing any signs of strain at all. The short and lean Commander was trucking away without any signs of stopping, unlike the grunts and gasps of the others.
At a hundred and one, the SEAL who started the whole competition fell, and the African American man he insulted stopped just four sit-ups later.
The crowd watched with respect and amusement as Commander Elner blew through a hundred and twenty sit-ups like it was nothing while the last regular-rank SEAL gasped and panted, having to stop to clutch his sides.
However, the Commander began to show he truly was human around the hundred and fourth-fifth mark, as his face began to get blotchy and sweat prickled at his temple. And it was only a few minutes later that the Commander won the sit-up competition as well, with the Ensign dropping out at one hundred and sixty-two sit-ups.
Applause met Harry as he finally stopped the workout around two hundred, standing up with his hands on his sides and sweaty hair in his face. A satisfied smile lay on his lips and Harry lifted up his shirt to wipe the sweat away before turning a happy smile to his competitors, knowing his team was already up and raring to go. Harry always gave his team enough time to recover before he stopped whatever training he was doing. It was one of his small gifts to them.
"Ready for push-ups?"
And so the cycle continued, though Briggs stepped down to let another British officer do the talking as the Flight Lieutenant was desperately in need of a drink of water.
In the end, Harry outstripped everyone with two hundred sit-ups, two hundred pushups, fifty pull-ups, and a five minute lap around the building to prove just how crazy he was, as soldiers watched in awe. The best anyone else of his and Whellman's units had was thirty-eight sit-ups behind him, fifty-nine pushups behind, twenty-six pull-ups behind, and two minutes behind.
As everyone settled in for the night, the sun having long-since set but 2000 hours having not yet passed, conversations and rumors about steroids, insanity, and Commander Elner circulated in every language like wildfire.

The next morning, when news of the competition broke, the trainers were less than pleased, and let those that participated know by giving them extra work to do during the trial periods. Harry's squadron took it all like champs, but the SEALs struggled through the drills added to their original testing.
More rumors spread as the other military officers watched the best squadron in the world prove its superiority. Back-to-back-to-back grueling workouts and the American men and women fighter pilots didn't so much as flinch. They all had to be doped up on something huge, and everyone wanted to know what. There was no way regular people could do what they were doing. It was like magic.