I stare out of the window of the bus, my gray eyes following the cacti of the desert as we pass by each little green prickly pear. The bus thumps hard every few feet, causing me to hop a few feet in the air by surprise.
I bet the Air Force buses are more nice, more high quality. This piece of shit rattles me like the snakes it runs over.
Every so often, the bus driver looks through his review mirror, staring at me like he is an angel and I'm the lost soul Lucifer.
I can't help but blame him; after all, I'm off to train as a Marine. Completely by mistake, of course. Air Force is more of my cup of tea, but I'm such a fuck up I messed up my application somehow. That's the last time I'm trusting school sign-ups. How am I supposed to know there are signs that specify which branch of military that hang above the sign up tables? Especially when hundreds of juveniles are rushing and shoving each other to be the first ones in line?
I think I understand why I was the only one in my line. Did I mention I'm a little short? There's no way I could have seen that sign.
I hug my bag closer to my dark gray chest, fighting tears from my choice that threatened to spill over.
My parents tried to fight back and redo my application, but it was already sent in and would be considered AWOL.
My father was a little disappointed, but both cried hard at my going away party. I won't see them until graduation two years from now, and I'll be a different mare by then. I'd be a Marine.
I could write, but it wouldn't be the same. Mom and dad got me a journal, which I reach into my bag and stroke the hard cover.
I'm not sure what I'd do with it. Some say write my experiences in them, but I failed creative writing twice.
The bus slams the brakes hard, jolting me from my thoughts. It let out a hiss, and I felt dread fill me as I realized I made my stop.
"November Whiskey Fo-wer Ate Tree," the bus driver calls, reading his clipboard. "You're here."
My name is Silver Hearts. Mama named me and papa signed for it. I was completely unprepared when they ripped my identity name from me. Now I'm November Whiskey Fo-wer Ate Tree. I was opposed to it at first, but dad told me about his phonetic name. He was Mike Charlie Wun-Ate-Nine. I always knew him as dad, so it was a little foreign to me.
I stand from my seat and shoulder on my bag. It weighs only a meager thirty pounds; they set a weight limit on things. I brought a shitload of books, which took up about twenty pounds.
I'm the only one on the bus, me signing up a little late for first day.
The bus driver gives me a sympathetic look as I glide down the stairs. Being a pegasi has advantages, such as being able to glide down stairs my legs are too weak to handle.
"Good luck, ma'am." The bus driver rumbles in an aged voice as the doors fold shut.
As the bus drives away, I know it's too late to turn back. Instead of having a simple basic camp to look forward to, I'm in the middle of the hottest desert in the world, which may just be named Satan's Crotch.
In front of me lays barbed fences stretching about a mile long. The whole scene feels like a prison, which seems fitting considering my situation.
Corporal Alpha's Marine Boot Camp lays on a plywood board, nailed above the entrances. The sign was written in red paint, which could have been the blood of the weak ones that didn't survive the camp.
The first words I thought of tumble out of my mouth before I know what's happening.
"Welcome to Hell."
I could faintly hear a shouting coming from the camp, and not just one voice. I wince as some shouts are audible enough for me to make out. To be honest, I feel really nervous about this whole experience.
I remember dad telling me about his days at basic.
"The drillers were meant to be cruel." He told me as we sat around the table to dinner. My dad always called his drill sergeants 'drillers'. "Once we saw an ounce of softness, but only because his daughter visited. He greeted her with affection, and that was it. He greeted her and it was back with the toughness. Even to his daughter.
"I never really complained, though. The cycles were awful, but it was all worth it in the end."
All worth it in the end. I can only hope that's true for me. I've seen Marines walk up and down the street, and they don't look too well. I mean, I'm grateful for all they do, but I don't know if I'm ready to see what they've seen. But my father served Air Force. It probably isn't wise to compare branches. If the Air Force drillers were cruel, then the Marine ones I could only imagine to be worse.
I'm snapped out of my thoughts as I see a squadron of ponies approaching the entrance. All females, lined up in such perfect sharpness I find myself doubting I could ever be that perfect. Still, even with their perfection, marching right next to the squadron was a built stallion, shouting insults about how disgraced he was to face such... Wow. I find myself blushing at his vocabulary. I know my language was a little vulgar, but this stallion's vocabulary was so colorful the town drunk Berry Punch would blush.
I flinch as he calls a right flank, a loud crack snapping through the air as his flight clicked their hooves together in perfect unison as they swiveled and marched.
I watch them a little as they march away to the right, still in perfect step. I sit on the hard compact dirt and watch them march away. Something starts to burn when I realize, "It's hot as balls out here!"
I swear to Celestia that slipped out of my thoughts and right onto my dry tongue.
"I assume you would have more respect for my weather once a week or so has passed." A voice behind me sounded, making me jump up so high instinct kicks in and I find myself hovering in air.
Just my luck, a stallion with a black, nearly bald buzz cut in Marine Core blues, flanked by two mares with in Digi BDUs, stood below me, staring up at me through metallic aviators, his expression unreadable.
They seriously heard me disrespect their desert weather, and now I'm up here flying like an idiot, staring down at a stallion I should be staring up up at. The authority radiating off of him weighed me down as I lowered myself back onto the ground. Again, either his authority or my shame weighed my head down as well.
I straightened up, and I felt panic rush over me as I realized I have no idea how this would go. Maybe I wasn't as educated as I thought...
"I assume you are the late recruit?" One of the mares standing left of him, the one with gray hair so tight into a bun I'm surprised it hasn't ripped her mane off completely, levitated a clipboard in front of her face, creasing her eyebrows as she struggled to read white paper against bright desert sun. I notice the bright and shining single silver bar shining on her collor, and I groan inwardly. If I stumble my words now the First Lieutenant would have a bad impression of me.
"New recruit Silver Hearts." I say as I bow before them, my bag which resided on my back slipped off and clupping loudly next to my side. I can feel the embarrassment course through me as I felt all three burn me with their eyes.
"Pick your bags up and follow me." The stallion in his blues growled down at me, poison dropping from his words as if I offended him in the worst way possible.
I take a second to recollect the few things that fell out of my bag and stuff them back in, taking note how they refused to wait for me as they trotted over to a small office building right outside of the entrance.
I sigh heavily and trot over quickly to catch up with them, my bag heavy and annoying as it clumped lazily against my wings with every step I took.
The stallion immediately stopped at the frosted glass windows as he looks like he's waiting for something. I urge him to hurry. The weather out here is like melting in Lucifer's nipple juice.
The unicorn mare who was left of him levitated the door wide open, standing at a respectable attention posture as the stallion entered the doorway. Next was the mare right of him, a black earth pony mare with the brightest blonde mane I've ever seen. I note the coldness that resides in her crystal blue eyes, coldness so sharp I might freeze in this hellhole if she ever scowls at me.
Way to fuck up in front of the Captain and First Lieutenant, Silver.
The First Lieutenant lets the door go as soon as the Captain entered, leaving me scrambling like a fool to get to the door before it shuts on me.
I heave the door open, it being heavier than I imagined. I haul it open, stepping inside and trying not to make it look like a struggle.
They aren't paying attention, and I guess I should thank whoever's watching over me as the door slams shut on my right wing. Thankfuk they didn't see, not so thankful as I heard a wincing crack sound at the tip.
I hold back what could've been the loudest scream if my father didn't teach me military bearing. Especially in the Marines. I honestly don't want to disrespect these people. While they were still turned away, I pry at the door, trying to fight the weight and the resistance of the AC's draft.
Suddenly, the door was wrapped in a unicorn's green aura and levitated open. I pulled my wing free immediately as I heaved a rather quiet sigh of huge relief.
But wait, I'm not a unicorn...
Quickly I flush as I snap back to the three superiors in front of me. Only the First Lieutenant is looking back at me, the other two sitting down behind a desk and searching through the portfolios on the desk.
The First Lieutenant smiles with a little amusement and reassurance, but the emotion is so quick I don't know if I imagined it.
"New Recruit Silver Hearts, please take a seat." The stallion gesturing to a chair in front of his desk, "You can leave your bag in the corner for now."
I felt his red eyes burn my back as I walked to the far left corner and shouldered off my bag. He's still watching as I walk to the chair and attempt to avoid any eye contact.
As I sit he finally clears his throat and breaks his stare. He ruffles through his paper as the two mares walk behind him into another room, stopping to salute him and the Equestrian United flag on the wall next to him. He nods his head in dismissal and the door shuts behind them.
"Recruited the Sixteenth of January, you have been admitted late due to the mix ups of your applications. In the end you end up here in my camp." The stallion begins. Wait, HIS camp? I immediately avert my eyes to his black uniform, and notice four silver stars gleaming from his collar.
The name 'Alpha' was carved into a platinum nametag which remained above his right peck.
I was talking to the General? General Alpha?? I wanted to scream, and not only from the hot pain still pulsing from my smashed wing.
"I welcome you to my camp." He continued, but the way he said 'welcome' made me think he used it as a synonym for damned.
He stared at what I assumed to be my papers. "Stationed in D #187, directed to Mess Hall #189 for meals." He read aloud to me, nice and slowly as if I'm stupid.
"And as for your name..." he began, and then he noticed my blank stare he sighed a little with disappointment.
"All new scum who enter my camp is renamed with a new name that makes their original seem bearable. Your name has been redesigned to a Phonetic pattern."
I remember my father's name. Of course I should have known what he meant. Still kind of rude he thought Silver Hearts was an unbearable name.
"Patterned forward through one thousand cadets, you are now to he reffered to as..." he paused and ruffled through the papers, "November Whiskey. Your reference code number is Fow-er Ate Tree. Welcome to my camp, November. You have a long year ahead of you."
