'Boot'

01-Nov-2030, 2300U

LCDR Percy Jackson, US Navy, Son of Neptune

Legio XII Fulminata (TDY)

Oakland, California, USA

I was going to hell when I died. Why, you may ask? Well, I was calling one of my men... in the dead of night... while we were on leave. Just like an asshole/dumbass commander/senior non-com.

Fan-fucking-tastic. I've become the very thing I swore to destroy.

But unlike a majority of those motherfuckers, I actually had a semi-valid reason as to why: I needed some serious help.

"Sir? Why in the hell are you calling me at zero-two?"

"Why in the hell are you even awake, Vader?" I countered.

"Eh... something's messin' with my head."

"Either you drank too much caffeine or you need to see a psychiatrist."

"Yessir," the sniper confirmed without missing a beat.

"God damn it, Vader," I laughed, rolling my eyes at his ever-so-slightly fucked up humor... probably the consequence of his career and marrying a nurse. "Well, I hope your memory's working."

"What's up, sir?"

"Tell me about bootcamp."

"... whaddaya mean?"

"I mean the one you went through for the Marines."

Remember what I said about Vader being a Marine before joining the Navy? While Recruit Training Command, Great Lakes was challenging (in everything but the water-based portions, to oversimplify it), I'm not stupid enough to think that it was the hardest. Every branch has its specialty, contributing to the military's combat capabilities in different ways, but the Marine Corps is well known for being—in Dad's own words—"tougher n' woodpecker lips" and having "the finest fightin' men in the world."

Yeah, you heard me right. Dad—who was an 82nd Airborne paratrooper, Army Ranger, and National Guard Green Beret (doing that last bit with a fucking prosthetic leg)—said that. He explained that while the Army has many elite warfighters such as the Rangers and D-Boys, the Marines are consistently solid and dishing out ass-whoopings just as good or better than soldiers. Granted, they don't have the same logistical support or manpower that's necessary for massive, long-term operations (such as locking down areas), but when it comes to pure, pound-for-pound combative prowess, it's difficult to beat the Marines ("there's a reason why they're called America's 911 force, son").

Hang on, now that I think about it, the 12th Legion is more like the Army in its traditional maneuvering, not the Marine Corps... eh, I'll let legion leadership work that out. Now, they just need some Marine-esque tough love.

"Why in the hell do you want me to tell you about bootcamp, boss-man?" Vader exclaimed, sounding incredibly confused. "You writing a weird-ass book?"

"Well, you remember how those two old friends of mine showed up at the hospital?"

"You mean the ones that seemed to just appear outta nowhere? About that: you said to get outta there... but while I was driving past that spot to leave the parking lot, you and your buddies disappeared... and your car was still in the parking lot."

Huh, guess he noticed.

"Well... long story short, they're running an organization and require a consultant," I explained, providing a half-truth. "There are some issues of skill, cohesion, and possibly morale. They knew about my time with the Navy, so they asked for my assistance. And I had to oblige 'em."

"Okay... so why do you wanna go all Gunny Hartman on 'em, sir?" Vader asked, sounding even more confused, albeit intrigued. "And what kinda organization is this?"

"It's a... personal development coaching institution with its roots in Ancient Rome."

"... the fuck?"

"Yeah, I know. It's weird."

"But why the bootcamp info, Sharky?"

"Just humor me, Vader."

"Okay then. Well... there were four phases in total. First was the basics: after Black Friday—when the DIs introduced themselves and IT'd (incentive training) the fuck outta us—physical fitness, CQC, Marine Corps basic info, and whatnot. Second phase was some team building and firewatch, along with some exams. Third phase was field ops training, rifle marksmanship, and some humps... three, five, and eight-milers, I think. Lastly was the gas chamber, Crucible—effectively a Marine's final exam—preparation for integrating into the Fleet Marine Force, and graduation. Basically had a bit of a crawl, walk, run approach, just... louder and kinda scary."

"What were the DIs like?"

"Best way I could describe it is that you oughta take your toughest RDC and multiply that intensity by three, 'cause those DIs were on some shit, I swear. They were basically disciplined Florida Men. Hell, I remember some of the females being even more batshit insane somehow. Either way, we got the piss smoked outta us... every... single... day," Vader groaned, sounding as though he was experiencing a traumatic flashback.

"So what, the DIs were just hardasses all the time?" I asked.

"Well... just about, yeah. Their task was to break us down and build us back up into Marines... but we saw their humanity from time to time, I'll tell you that. Hell, one recruit was an orphan, had no family to send him mail or even care about him. Then one day, he starts getting letters from some random old ladies and gents. Turns out they were fellow churchgoers of our DI, who learned about the orphan recruit and decided to send him some motivation—courtesy of the US Postal Service. Few of those old guys were Marines themselves, and really helped that guy out. He ended up being one of the best recruits in my platoon after that. Shoot, I didn't learn about the DI's involvement until a year later, when one NCO I met—another DI at the time—told me the story," Vader explained.

"Aww, you Devil Dogs are big ole softies under all that monster, huh?" I teased.

"I honestly can't believe some people actually thought that we had to kill a family member to earn our EGA (eagle, globe, and anchor). Hell, I remember once meeting a Japanese guy during a JCET and he asked me if that was true... now that I think about it, I probably shouldn't have said 'yes...'"

"... damn, Vader."

"If that dude's a rock, then everyone he knows and their mothers think the Marines are a buncha murderous psychopaths."

"Back to bootcamp, though..." I said, bringing us back on topic. "It's different phases throughout the training to build 'em up. Do the DIs change any?"

"Boss, the only way the DIs change is in what they're instructing us on. In my experience, they didn't ease up and never missed a chance to IT the fuck outta us," Vader chuckled. "They wanna turn us into Marines—into hard-as-nails motherfuckers, so... 'bout the only peace we got was when we slept, and even then we could be in for some shit. They do care in their own way: inspiring, educating, and motivating—maybe not the best way in the fleet, but in a way that's necessary with a fresh set of boots. And they always led by example."

"Interesting..."

We kept talking for about an hour more, going into every intricacy of Marine bootcamp possible. After that, I bade him good night and sat back in my chair, thinking. I already had the next day planned out—with the cadre all aware of what they needed to be doing—and now had to develop a crawl-walk-run plan for the following weeks.

It was probably the single biggest administrative task I'd ever performed—keep in mind, I never made chief before commissioning, and while as troop commander I've had my fair share of desk jockeying, I still haven't had to do paperwork for more than a couple dozen men. And writing out a big-ass training plan? Fuck that. This was some O-5 and above level bullshit... and yet I was doing it, for some dumbass reason. I hoped that my friends would compensate me for this somehow.

Time to put that college degree to work... as well as be a proper commissioned officer.

Sorry about the short update. It was hard to write a lot about the Marines' bootcamp—given the fact that I've never attended it myself—and all of what Vader talks about is stuff I got from the Internet. I've probably fucked something up, but eh, that's just a day in the life of a keyboard warrior. One thing's for certain, however: the legion is in for one helluva reeducation.

And regarding the whole Army-Marine Corps rivalry, I do have something here to make the soldiers happy: while soldiers are entrusted with the security and sanctity of one of the most sacred sites in the nation—the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier—Marines have to guard some fucking politicians in the goddamn White House.

Okay, maybe it wasn't a good idea for the keyboard warrior to start talking shit, because I can hear boss music right now. There's probably a shitload of armor, arty, and air locking on my position right now. Welp, it was nice knowing you all.

But I digress. Thank you as always for reading and be sure to leave your feedback! Summer is upon us, so always make sure to have water, fresh socks, Motrin, and PT belts on you at all times—it'll save you from dying by RPG, UAV, SUV, and STD.

And here's your mandatory fun—looking at my crappy memes. Laugh at me or with me, it's your choice (and yes, I'll look for more meme templates):

See you next time!

- ADF-2