'Swim'

11-Nov-2030, 0915U

Tribunus Angusticlavius Nathan Steele, Descendant of Mercury

Legio XII Fulminata

Oakland Hills, California, USA

https://youtu.be/IxA-_MWT_24

[Author's Note: This is where I got inspiration for cadences, by the way... pretty kickass.  Makes me feel like an actual cool person rather than just some Tier Zero armchair commando... oh well.  PSA: PLEASE REMEMBER TO GO OUTSIDE AND TOUCH GRASS!  And now, back to the story!]

I had to admit, I could really see the usefulness of the cadences: not only did they help with pacing, but when executed properly, they seemed to actually inspire some vigor in the troops. What started out as some boneheaded-looking, near-cultish military ritual became an excellent training tool in my eyes, and it had gotten to the point where I began looking up cadences on my Leobook and listening to them. And now one bright morning, after reveille, inspection, PT, and breakfast, we were beginning the next phase of our training... and we weren't walking to the training site.

"TOOOO ARMS!!"

"HEY!!"

"TOOOO ARMS!!"

"HEY!!"

"HOOYAH!!"

"HEY!!"

"HOOYAH!!"

"HEY!"

"HOOYAH!!"

"HEY, HEY, HEY!!"

"WHOA!!"

"WHOA!!"

"LEGION TWELVE!!"

"LEGION TWELVE!!"

"FEELIN' SWELL!!"

"FEELIN' SWELL!!"

"RAISIN' HELL!!"

"RAISIN' HELL!!"

"FIRED UP!!"

"FIRED UP!!"

"MOTIVATE!!"

"MOTIVATE!!"

"DEDICATE!!"

"DEDICATE!!"

"AND PERSPIRATE!!"

"AND PERSPIRATE!!"

"HOOYAH!!"

"HOOYAH!!"

"AH-HAH!"

"AH-HAH!"

"HOOYAH!!"

"HOOYAH!!"

"AH-HAH!"

"AH-HAH!"

"HIYAH!!"

"HIYAH!!"

"HEEEEEEEEEEY, CAMP HALF-BLOOD!!"

"HEEEEEEEEEEY, CAMP HALF-BLOOD!!"

"LOUD ROWDY CAMP HALF-BLOOD!!"

"LOUD ROWDY CAMP HALF-BLOOD!!"

"PICK UP YOUR SHIELDS AND GET MOVING!!"

"PICK UP YOUR SHIELDS AND GET MOVING!!"

"WE'RE THE TWELFTH, MADE FROM LIGHTNING!!"

"WE'RE THE TWELFTH, MADE FROM LIGHTNING!!"

"HEEEEEEEEEEY, HUNTERS!!"

"HEEEEEEEEEEY, HUNTERS!!"

"SHOOTIN' BITCHIN' HUNTERS!!"

"SHOOTIN' BITCHIN' HUNTERS!!"

"GET YOUR BOWS, START FOLLOWING!!"

"GET YOUR BOWS, START FOLLOWING!!"

"WE'RE THE TWELFTH, MADE FROM LIGHTNING!!"

"WE'RE THE TWELFTH, MADE FROM LIGHTNING!!"

"HEEEEEEEEEEY, AMAZONS!!"

"HEEEEEEEEEEY, AMAZONS!!"

"MEGALOMANIAC AMAZONS!!"

"MEGALOMANIAC AMAZONS!!"

"GET ALL YOUR FORKLIFTS ROLLING!!"

"GET ALL YOUR FORKLIFTS ROLLING!!"

"WE'RE THE TWELFTH, MADE FROM LIGHTNING!!"

"WE'RE THE TWELFTH, MADE FROM LIGHTNING!!"

"HEEEEEEEEEEY, NATURE!!"

"HEEEEEEEEEEY, NATURE!!"

"STICKY HIPPIE NATURE!!"

"STICKY HIPPIE NATURE!!"

"PICK UP YOUR SHIT AND START RUNNING!!"

"PICK UP YOUR SHIT AND START RUNNING!!"

"WE'RE THE TWELFTH, MADE FROM LIGHTNING!!"

"WE'RE THE TWELFTH, MADE FROM LIGHTNING!!"

"HEEEEEEEEEEY, OLYMPUS!!"

"HEEEEEEEEEEY, OLYMPUS!!"

"INCEST-FILLED OLYMPUS !!"

"INCEST-FILLED OLYMPUS !!"

"ZIP UP YOUR PANTS AND GET MOVING!!"

"ZIP UP YOUR PANTS AND GET MOVING!!"

"WE'RE THE TWELFTH, MADE FROM LIGHTNING!!"

"WE'RE THE TWELFTH, MADE FROM LIGHTNING!!"

"HEEEEEEEEEEY, NEW ROME!!"

"HEEEEEEEEEEY, NEW ROME!!"

"CALI-STABBY NEW ROME!!"

"CALI-STABBY NEW ROME!!"

"GRAB YOUR WEAPONS AND START MARCHING!!"

"GRAB YOUR WEAPONS AND START MARCHING!!"

"WE'RE THE TWELFTH, MADE FROM LIGHTNING!!"

"WE'RE THE TWELFTH, MADE FROM LIGHTNING!!"

"COHORTS, HALT!!" I bellowed, ending the run from the barracks to the lake. With me were the sweaty men of Cohorts VIII and IX, wearing "full battle rattle" (as Percy called it) for their swim qualification. Now, call it strange to be wearing all of your gear for swimming, but it made sense. Percy's memory from his history class was correct: all Roman military personnel, from infantrymen to cavalrymen to servants were, in fact, trained to swim. They even did so in armor, which is especially shocking from a modern-day perspective.

But that didn't mean that we weren't prepared for the possibility of drowners, as the 12th Legion never instituted any sort of swimming doctrine in the past century or so (and while we have flooded the coliseum for simulating naval battles, we still didn't engage in any formal swim training). All of Percy's Minions knew how to swim, and enough of them were knowledgeable in CPR and other lifeguard-related skills that we could ensure the safety of the troops. We would rotate the troops through a series of blocks: three cohorts would be in the flooded coliseum and lake each at a time, with all remaining forces being under the control of instructors that didn't have any sort of water rescue experience (they would be doing land-based activities such as marching, camp assembly and disassembly, etc.).

Now I know what you're thinking: "But Nathan, your math ain't mathing! You said there would be three cohorts at the lake, not two!" Well, there's a very simple answer for that: Percy... motherfucking... Jackson.

"PICK UP THE PACE, LADIES!! LET'S GO, LET'S GO, LET'S GOOOOOOO!!"

Enter the sadist of an ex-praetor as he, assisted by the instructors of Cohort X, ran towards us with the all-female unit in tow. Percy's Minions handled the group at large while the man himself seemed to be focusing on one probatio in particular: Tribune Matt Chen's little sister, or as Percy called her...

"PROBATIO TWIG, WHAT THE ABSOLUTE FUCK?! WHY ARE YOU SO FUCKING SLOW?! YOU BETTER STAY IN FORMATION OR I WILL I.T. THE SHIT OUT OF THIS ENTIRE COHORT AGAIN!!"

"Sir... yes... sir!" the tiny probatio gasped, struggling to keep pace with her larger comrades.

"SWEET MOTHER OF GOD!! LEGIONARY CARROT, GET YOUR BATTLE BUDDY'S SHIT AND MAKE HER RUN FASTER!!"

"SIR, YES SIR!!" the athletic redhead replied, taking some weight off the probatio and carrying herself, not appearing to break her stride in the slightest. To add insult to injury, Legionary Carrot even shifted her position, looping one of her arms through Probatio Twig's in order to keep her battle buddy at the same pace as the rest of the cohort. To say it was a bad fucking deal all around would be an understatement: Probatio Twig was too small and too light by a long shot, but she couldn't be kicked from the legion. All she could do was try to keep up.

Just by observing the rest of the cohort, it looked like they'd been running ragged for a while, way more than just from the barracks to lake... a "detour" as punishment for Probatio Twig's failure to keep up with the standard. The mass punishment was intended to make the troops police each other, in essence (minus being tattling pricks, of course), but I couldn't help but wonder if it'd go so far to a point as making trainees beat the shit out of each other. Yes, a chain is only as strong as its weakest link, but still...

Eh, what do I know? I just work here. Besides, nobody's here to hear me philosophize, they're here for some training.

Percy showed mercy and brough Cohort X to a halt, making them join the assembly alongside their brothers-in-arms. The exhausted personnel formed up while Percy and Cohort X's instructors joined me and the instructors of Cohorts VIII and IX.

"Alright, here's the deal! We're gonna start nice and easy! You're gonna jump in with your gear, and you gotta get rid of it within ten seconds, 'cause swimming in full battle rattle fuckin' sucks!" Percy began before pointing at the elevated platform—about 20 feet high and recently constructed by the cadre. "Next, you gotta get out and fish your gear out! Leave your gear on the deck and get up the ladder to the platform, then jump in! Tread water for four minutes, then you're out! Lastly, you're gonna swim 25 meters—don't worry, we'll give you distance markers—with your gear. And that will conclude your basic swim qual!"

I'm sorry, did he say "basic?" What the absolute fuck?

And the troops appeared to be thinking the same thing. That was some advanced-sounding shit, but Percy was the cadre commander and backed by the consuls themselves. Apart from maybe some extreme circumstances, his word was law.

"You'll notice that the cadre have those red rescue tubes you see the YMCA lifeguards and Baywatch motherfuckers carry! In the event that you're drowning and need to be fished out, hug that bitch like it's your lover and get your head above the water! We don't have the ability to retrieve your ass from the Underworld!" Percy added, gesturing towards his Minions, who were all wearing swimsuits with red rescue tubes slung over their shoulders and whistles hanging around their necks. Vejovis Hospital personnel—retirees and reservists who worked in New Rome—were also standing by, providing medical support. We couldn't necessarily rely on the legion's central field hospital group because they were too busy training themselves. Remember, everyone had to learn to swim—didn't matter if they were infantrymen, slackmen, engineers, or doctors.

"Any questions? ... good. Let's dance."

And so began the swim qual, with the cohorts spreading out to different parts of the lake. Small groups of personnel entered the water at a time while the rest were given a rare opportunity to rest as they waited their turn. To nobody's surprise, just about everyone had some sort of trouble with performing the tasks given to them.

This enraged Percy, who punished them severely.

"WHY THE FUCK DID IT TAKE YOU ALL AT LEAST TWENTY-FIVE SECONDS TO SHED YOUR GEAR?! DO YOU WANNA DROWN?! DROP AND BEAT YOUR FACE!! YOU'RE ALL DEAD AND P.T.-ING IN THE BLACKEST PITS OF PLUTOOOOO!!" he screamed, with the thirty drenched legionaries of Cohort IX (who just underwent the first section of swim qual and failed) dropping into the grass and doing push-ups. "MOTHERFUCKER!! NEXT TEAM, IN THE WATER!!"

"SIR, YES SIR!!" the second thirty-man group shouted, steeling themselves before leaping in and trying to succeed where their comrades had failed.

Meanwhile with Cohort X, the girls weren't being treated any better by their instructors... for some reason, Percy's female Minions seemed just as batshit insane as him, if not more so.

"LORD HAVE MERCY, PROBATIO TWIG!! GET YOUR ASS OFF THE DAMN PLATFORM BEFORE I COME UP THERE AND KICK YOU OFF!!" Instructor Morgan screamed from the ground as the tiny slackman hesitated to jump from the elevated platform. "I SWEAR TO FUCK, YOU AND YOUR COHORT ARE GONNA DO BURPEES UNTIL YOU'RE AT THE PEARLY GATES IF YOU DON'T JUMP RIGHT NOW!!"

One of the legionaries behind Probatio Twig—not Legionary Carrot, who jumped before her battle buddy—ended up shoving the small, skinny slackman off the platform. But miraculously, she was able to quickly resurface and stay afloat, despite her tiny size. Now, all she had to do was keep treading water for four minutes.

Throughout the lake, the cadre had to fish out two dozen legionaries already—male and female alike—who, as it turned out, couldn't swim in the slightest. The doctor and nurses from Vejovis Hospital were treating the waterlogged, shivering troops off to the side, wrapping them in blankets and checking their vital signs.

I'll be honest, I didn't have high hopes for this. We didn't really do anything near or on the water anymore. We had a few boats from the scuffle between us and CHB twenty years ago, but they were generally gathering dust, only being utilized by some of the veterans and consuls. It was no wonder that most were struggling to pass the swim qual and some couldn't even swim.

"Fuck, he's gone under, HE'S GONE UNDER!!" one of the instructors beside me suddenly shouted when he noticed that someone was drowning. I scanned my section of the lake, realizing that one of the Cohort XIII slackman—a young probatio fresh out of high school—wasn't visible anymore while doing the 25-meter weighted swim. Cursing, I jumped in with two other instructors, hauling ass to get the kid out of the water. They got there first, pulling him up and using the rescue tubes to keep him afloat and his head above the water. We swam back, carefully lifting him onto shore and calling for a nurse.

I began chest compressions, and it didn't take too long for the unconscious kid to awake, coughing up water. We turned him to his side as two nurses finally arrived, taking over so we could focus on lifeguarding the rest of the cohort. He was rattled, but he would be fine.

I personally fished twelve more men out of the water throughout the rest of the session. No, I'm not kidding. Swimming really wasn't prioritized at the 12th Legion... until now.

By the end of it, Percy was surprisingly merciful, telling the instructors to run the troops through some cardio to warm up before sending them to the showers and getting lunch. After that, the rest of the day was to be classroom time: stuff that could be learned from a desk. As the three cohorts were dismissed, I was left alone with the ex-praetor. I wanted to be polite, but I was too frustrated.

"Are you fucking kidding me, sir?" I asked, forgetting that he didn't technically outrank me.

"Nobody died."

"Many nearly did."

"That's why safety measures were in place."

"Don't you think this is somewhat unreasonable? Just because they did it in the old days doesn't mean we need to do it now!"

"You're not wrong, Steele, but consider this: war is the most primal and primitive part of man. There's a reason why, despite the hippies gaining power, we can't stop killing each other. When things go primal, we go primal too, falling back on our instinct, our muscle memory. The battlefield is constantly changing, and we need to adapt or die... maritime, coastal, littoral ops? Those have never been outside of a Roman legionary's mandate, and they never will be. Anything can happen, so we need to ensure mastery of fundamentals," Percy bluntly replied.

"Okay, but where do we draw the line?"

"You draw the line where you need it, Tribune. And yes, I know how cliche that sounds, but still."

"Fucking hell... so where do we go from here?"

"Maintain readiness, don't let anyone drown... maybe start a few swimming classes. Not like the YMCA though. We need to do it like John Wayne."

"... I'm almost afraid to ask."

"You want a demo?"

"Fuck no."

The evocatus smirked at that reaction, patting me on the shoulder before giving his thank-yous to the Vejovis Hospital detachment and walking off, presumably to meet with Prefect Kahale—who had effectively become Percy's partner-in-crime as the subject matter expert on everything in the legion and one of Percy's strongest supporters. Ironically, the two didn't even seem like they were good friends, just that they worked together very well.

It actually kind of reminded me of Adam Savage and Jamie Hyneman from Mythbusters: the evocatus and camp prefect could certainly get on one another's nerves, but they still remained professional and were doing an admittedly great job in running the legion through the hellish gauntlet of instruction. They were both hardasses on the job, which certainly helped. While Percy's little speech didn't get rid of all my reservations, I still believed that the plan he devised with Kahale would still be at least somewhat effective in improving the legion's capabilities, bringing them up to a level of combat effectiveness that Julius Caesar himself would be proud of.

Now, all we gotta do is make sure those two don't run the legion into the ground... or a watery grave.

Fuck zodiac signs, which federal law enforcement agency are you (and no, this list is not all-encompassing)?

IMMIGRATION AND CUSTOMS ENFORCEMENT: You're mistaken for someone else all the time, but are the more book-smart doppelganger

CUSTOMS AND BORDER PROTECTION: You're mistaken for someone else all the time, but are the more street-smart doppelganger

MARSHALS SERVICE: You're chock-full of experience, and are probably one of the older and saner members of your friend group—as such, you're decently well-liked

PARK POLICE: Despite your great experience and wisdom, you're often ignored or even forgotten... you're fairly limited in some manner, and potentially have an identity crisis

SECRET SERVICE: Despite what your friends think, you have more than one personality trait

FEDERAL PROTECTIVE SERVICE: You're the quiet kid (no, not that "quiet kid")... rarely noticed, but when you show up, you make a big impact

FEDERAL PROTECTIVE FORCES: You're a nerd that nobody knows about

FINANCIAL CRIMES ENFORCEMENT NETWORK: You're a nerd that nobody knows about, but at least your checkbook is balanced

DRUG ENFORCEMENT ADMINISTRATION: You probably have a fairly strict diet, and possibly annoy your unhealthy friends by encouraging them to eat better (no, you're not necessarily a vegan)

FEDERAL BUREAU OF INVESTIGATION: You have a smorgasbord of issues which, depending on who you ask, outweigh your good qualities... probably feel as though you have no one thing that you're good at... and are somehow not the worst creep on the block (unlike the NSA...)

BUREAU OF ALCOHOL, TOBACCO, FIREARMS, AND EXPLOSIVES: You're a cat person and size queen

But anyways, that is all I have for you fine people. Apologies for the short chapter (I'm busy as hell in the real world, unfortunately), but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. Let me know if you love it, hate it, blah blah blah.  And here are some memes to hopefully (partially) placate you mothertruckers who are ravenous for content:

Remember that throwaway joke I made in Chapter 40 about Percy and his SEAL platoon (while he was still at Team 2) worked with a Marine Raider team that was still operating despite missing more than half of its members?

Oh, and behold my modern art masterpiece (AKA, pile of shit/schist), which is likely the biggest monstrosity in the history of monstrosities, maybe ever:

And yes, I am aware that my editing skills are horrendous. Roast me as much as you please... the best burn will be featured in the next chapter!

Until next time,

- ADF-2