[ReCap] Book Of Blood: Episode I

"When it's your time to die, it's your time to die. Unless the
batteries in god's watch have died, then you may have afew minutes more while he
does a quick changeover"

"Rock Force"

[From the beginning of the "Book of Fire", on to the "AIT Dictionary" are all previous entries, being ammounted up to today. Most of these will not have dates on them because it was kinda hard
to think about writing dates on these entries when we spent most of our
time in the pushup position, or prone, firing a weapon, so please bare with me.
-Sayin]

"Welcome to Fort Jackson!" was the welcoming most of the civilians now wearing ACUs which I had come to know as my battle buddies not even three weeks before we were shipped off on this bus to tank hill from the 1-20th reception battalion which we'd all recived our medical records, shots, permenantly-issued TA50, and of course, our sets of ACUs. Although we had been more rudely welcomed to our reception battalion, people still didn't expect what was about to happen.

The welcome sounded more like "Get off my damn bus!, move, move, move!" among other loud comments sounding halfway like the movie-specific NCOs and Drill Sergeants we'd all come to know so well in movies like Saving Private Ryan, and other steriotypical movies of privates in basic training. After being hearded off the large white busses we'd come to know later as "Shuttles" with all of our stuff crammed into a green duffle bag, as well as one or two of our own personal bags (Bags we'd come from our hotels to 1-20th), we were "Instructed" (forced) to "off load" (rushingly dump) our bags in seperate piles by platoon number, then rush, rush, rush to a platoon-by-platoon formation (four column formations lined up beside each other, each formation representing the respective platoon, forming the later more familiar company formation.) There we stood while our drill sergeants gave their introductions, they sounded off with the seven Army Values, and the soldier's creed, then separating back to their respective platoons to commence to instructing us on a platoon level. At that time, the leadership was chosen based on prior experience with any training (JROTC, ROTC, playing army in your backyard, .ect). Due to the fact that I was one of three people who'd raised their hands when the drill sergeant asked who'd had any type of ROTC or JROTC before, I was given the role of 3 squad's squad leader.

From there, we were rushed out to get our bags out of the enormous cluster within the time limit of two minutes. Of course, it probably took longer than that, but they never told us, and to prevent getting smoked, we never asked. We all got put back in our neat little company formation, and told to drop our stuff where we stood. I stood between an interesting little chinese girl, and a black girl who looked more like she could give two shits about what was goin on at the moment, but was willing to follow along none the less. So we get something called a shakedown, more commonly known as dump-your-shit-so-we-can-make-sure-you-got-what-we-want-you-to-have-not-like-you'll-use-most-of-it-anyway. So, out of this formation, now turned dis-organized gaggle, we were re-situated with all our gear, with the exception of about fourty percent of us who were just as lost as shaggy and scooby before a commercial break, the shakedown not helping due to the fact that now certain things are missing because they got mixed in with someone else's stuff. Yet and still, we pressed on. We got familiar with our barracks, got assigned our bunks, the more fun part of the day because we actually sat down for more than two minutes, spending about fifteen there, talking to our senior drill sergeant, him showing us how to make and stockade our bunks, and re-hearding us outside for more introductions.

Everyone from the senior drill sergeants to the Lieutenant Colonel introduced themselves that day, and we got no sleep in between, so there wasn't one person who did not fall asleep during these onslaughts of instruction. Although, the most fun part about the introductions was when the CSM started ragging the drill sergeants, making most of us laugh the "I'm so fuckin tired, I could sleep on a bed of hot coals, oh and you're not funny" laugh, and start talking to us like he was a civilian, talking to civilians. Don't get me wrong, we were still civilians, ...kinda... but still, him being nice after hours of the drill sergeants ...it felt too wierd. Things easilly got back under control when we found ourselves back out on the drill pad, getting instructions on what to do next. We recived our linen, made our bunks, and then...

...went outside for more damn instructions. Here, they explained to us the phases, and why we may not make it out of red phase in the next three weeks like we were supposed to, which this, of course, we didn't take into accord untill the end of white phase, but that's another story.

So, by night, we were all too exhausted to even sleep, but tried anyway, getting ready for the next morning, where we'd wake up at about 03:45 in the moring to start all over again.

Till next time,
Sayin

Episode I: Before The Storm (Part V-II: The Last Day)

"If a life is torn from it's frame, no matter how the barbs in that
frame hurt, that life may one day long for that frame once again."

Today's my last day at home. I'll be (once again) saying goodbye to this miniature peice of heaven I call home. I'm not sure just how big the "leave" is going to be, but I do know this-- I already miss this place. There's a hotel waiting for me in about 2 hours, but I almost don't care... wierd, huh?

Anyway, I've been packing up, and putting away for the last hour or three, and nothing much has crossed my mind, I just figured I should put something of an update in for the readers. After this, my posts may be restricted, and in wider intervals, atleast for awhile.

I still say... this'll be interesting.

A home doesn't just have to be a house, and any house cannot just be a home.

~Yours Truely.

Episode I: Before The Storm (Part V: The Test, The Result, and The True Beginning)

"If you look past what everyone wants you to see, you may just see what you really want you to see. But if you only look at what you want you to see, it could conflict with what you need to see, and therefore could vastly distort what you will actually see."

Apparently, all of that studying paid off-- I passed the rank test with above a 92% score, promoting me to PV2, giving me an actual rank insignia to wear (The small chevron that is placed on a soldier's battle uniform, and dress uniform which designates their rank), and some room to breathe, therefore causing me to cheer for myself a bit. When I found out that I passed (This is the 3rd time I've taken the test, regardless of how long I'd been in A-JROTC), and frankly, it felt really good to know that I am actually making good progress. So far as the ship date goes (The date I have been setup to, for when I am moved to the base which I will start my basic training at), I have a solid one-- the coming Tuesday, giving me little, but some time to warm up to prep the family and friends.

So, I know you're dying to know what happened at the station as far as the other guys there, right? so here goes something for you (Yes, I always have at least one thing, simply because I like these guys-- and girl... sorry, Kbree).

Earlier today (Of course, I got in early, as always), the SGTs (Sergeants, called by the short version of their general ranks-- Sergeant, also could be used with Staff Sergeants, Sergeant First Classes, Master Sergeants, First Sergeants, Command Sergeant Majors, and Sergeant Majors of the Army) were passing jokes around as usual, giving boring day some meaning, when the phone rings. Now, being a REC station (Recruiting Station), the phones ring off the hook all day, just about every day, making it no big deal... but this time, something different happened. First, Mr. Nice Guy answered the phone, and began talking to the future soldier on the other line when a woman passes the front of the Station, somehow totally drawing his attention. This somehow was a bit different for me, as far as the way he usually acts. Now, for someone like our neighborhood insane recruiter; the aptly-named SSG Computer Expert, due to a certain incident which insisted that I taunt him about his ability to properly-operate his laptop. At any rate, on to the phone conversation, since I do love to get on and off-topic every now and then... it went something like this;

Phone Rings... Mr. NG Answers.

NG: Army Strong[tm], **********************, speaking. How may I help you?

Future Soldier: Asks a question about something moderately-important.

NG and he converse for awhile, regarding said important subject until the closing words.

NG: Okay, so that is great, and-- Oh wait, there's one beautiful blonde!

Me: What the hell...

Future Soldier: Apparently questioning his cut-off response

NG: She was... but yeah, that was multitasking, there

The conversation continues, somewhat as planned.

Now, I don't usually bother questioning the insanity that goes on at the station, because it's usually something regular, but that was something I'd never seen him do, and it almost surprised me (Which mind you, not to toot my own horn, but just doesn't happen). Also, I'd caught the shuttle (A bus transport that moves between the stations and basses to provide a general means of transport for soldiers) to the MEPS (Military Entrance Processing Station). When I got there, I went to have a little talk with the Liaison about my RENO (Military Contract Re-negotiation, which gives you a chance to change something about your contract, depending on the circumstance, as well as other, anonymous factors), which would allow me to leave soon, ultimately, finally getting us out of Episode I. When I talked to him, he'd run my numbers and things, and inputted my information, but realized that he'd taken it upon himself to put the information in before he checked wether or not it was already inputted by my recruiter, issuing us all an expression equivalent to a level-2 shin-ku hadouken to the forehead, as well as tossing my departure from the MEPS another 10 minutes. Once it was finished, he'd also taken it upon himself to play a little joke on one of the ladies in the office... just so happened, he used me to do it.

Liaison: (With a bare hint of normal giddy-ness in his voice, but still partially stern) Okay, it's all set. Go in there, and tell the Sergeant you're ready to RENO.

Me: Umm... (thinking Aren't you supposed to take care of that? but being obedient) Sure...

I walk into her office, and tell her that he'd told me to tell her I was ready to RENO.

Sergeant: (Scoffs some, giving off a bare snicker, catching my attention) ....Was he serious? I mean did he tell you to tell me that, or did he say "Go say this to her just to mess with her"?

Me: Goddamn it. Yes, he was apparently serious.

Sergeant: (After laughing abit) Okay, tell him I said this; "Go ahead and do it, then."

Me: Okay, sure.

I go back to his desk, sit down, and do as instructed.

Liaison: (Laughing) I just like to mess with her like that, don't worry about it, that's just how far back we go.

Me: Whoop-tee fucking doo~ Oh, alright (Laughing it off)

Sergeant: (Passing by) If he doesn't pay you, I give you the right to go crazy, I'm leaving in a minute or two!
Me: You bitch.

Now, ordinarily, I would go "Duke Nukem", and start harming people, simply because I hate being used... for anything, I hate being used... I can stand being tricked every now and then, and I can tolerate (with a very small tolerance) lying outright, but I above all, hate being used. Although this, somehow I saw as something I could just look past, mainly because I had something more important to do than sit there and bother to get irate with these two, but also because that liaison was the very same guy who had my contract currently in front of him, and had the power to change basically anything he wanted to, at almost any given moment. Knowing such, I quickly weighed my choices, and decided ultimately that the best route would be to leave them be, plus I was pretty sure it was all out of good fun, anyway.

So, I catch the shuttle back to the station and chill out there, while watching the business die down as the evening rode in like Texas Ranger on NOS, did menial tasks, and basically just waited around, talking with the SGTs about nothing, that is until Byrdman came in, who decided to be the one to take me home, seeing as we apparently live around the same area. So I get home, and notice the place is locked down... I do a quick assessment of the situation, and realize that they had to have all left while I was gone (I'd returned much later than usual, this time hanging out with them a lot longer than I usually do), so I used the other entrance, and called them to verify my assumption-- comes to find out I was right, and not only was I, but they were returning, and just now pulling into the driveway, at that. So I explain to them that I will be leaving this coming Tuesday, and all of the smaller details of my enlistment, as well as any updated things.

Now, with me, just hours away from my 18th birthday, and prepared to ship next week, We can finally say goodbye to this episode.

~I hope.

Don't forget your past, because if you do, you will loose your future.

Episode I: Before The Storm (Part IV-II: The Preparation)

"Humans are among the most logical known creatures this universe has see, as far as anyone knows. Being so, they are also the most unanimously-illogical beings across the span of the entire universe."

Okay, so for once, I am doing absolutely nothing but enjoying my day at home, eating. No PT, no forms to fill out, nothing.

Just how I thought I liked it.

Recently, since I'd really been getting into this "Joining The Military" thing, I'd been getting used to being more active-- waking up at 0350 hours (3:50 am, civilian time) every day, going out and doing a 1.2 mile run around my neighborhood, coming back maybe sometime later and doing 35+ push-ups, and 40+ sit-ups, then running through my Rank Structure (Study booklet for the Structure of ranks, Private, Private 1st Class, .etc). So, now that I am in chill-mode, I have way too much energy to sit still, and I'm also too used to being busy to consider doing something as miniscule as walking around the house idly, therefore I decide to pick up my study book, and do something, once again, that I don't normally do;

--Study.

This time, I re-taught myself the 8 Army Values;

Leadership, Duty, Respect, Self-less Service, Honour (Yes, I do spell it with a "U", simply out of habit), Integrity, & Personal Courage.

As well as brush up on my general orders, which I can't be too sure I can post, therefore I won't.

At any rate, with luck, I should have these things perfectly memorized by the end of today, and get myself better-acquainted with the "Warrior Ethos", a sort of code which the army lives by, not so simple as the army values. Study hard, and stay strong! If command gives you trouble, then like Az would say;

~Ganbare!

Well, with Thursday, fast approaching (It'll only be here in afew days), I can only hope that I will be prepared for ..."The Test" (Back to the test which was going to promote me to Private E-2, meaning a little more money added to my bi-weekly pay ...yay~)

Well, until next time;

You are what you eat, as long as you're a cannibal.

~Yours, Truely.

Episode I: Before The Storm (Part IV "Byrds Of A Feather")

"It is only uncommon for one to hate others for something they
have not yet seen in themselves. Humans are bred to hate what they see, but they only hate what they see within, or around them that is judged as hated by those around them. The ironic part is, those around them have been bred to hate something that one person has hated within themselves, it's just spread around. Then, it's no longer a hate, but a social fad."

Today was no different from the next Thursday I spent at the station, or so I thought. This time, I decided to go ahead and take the bus there, rather than waiting on someone to come and pick me up. I'd gotten there by way of bus... mostly. I got to a meeting point, and was picked up by the recent star of this story, Mr. Nice Guy, who had some other soldier there, who just so happened to actually be a soldier, not just getting ready to go in. The guy seemed to be about as silent as I usually am, but the silence was obviously so thick that we made it hard for Mr. Nice Guy to breathe, so he spontaneously engaged in conversation with both of us, basically at the same time. So there we were, talking about anything from the movie, Borne Ultimatum, to mindless journalists in the New york Times newspaper, at least until the guy was dropped off at his apartment, then the conversation died slightly, and we went on moving from subject to subject, so much that I cannot even remember anything specific at the moment.At any rate, at the station, I noticed again that it was mostly empty. Just me, him, and an SFC (Sergeant First Class, one rank and paygrade above Staff Sergeant), and the station commander as far as I know, aptly named Byrdman. There, I also noticed in his office, there was a child, every bit of 12 or 13 years of age, sitting on a chair as Byrdman did anonymous paperwork, seemingly attempting to live up to the average quota of tree murders they set on a daily.

So there I was, looming around the station looking for something, or maybe nothing, I couldn't tell what, exactly. Then, I noticed some guy sitting nearby, not the smallest guy you'd see in awhile, but at the same time, apparently didn't hold the ego that big people tend to. Just as I looked away, Mr. Nice guy came with a task which he'd asked me of on the way to the station-- glue some business cards to some calenders, so they can be taken to a nearby school (Which mind you, I did consider a job, probably for the child sitting in Byrdman's office, but accept, none the less... probably out of boredom, or out of a need for a sense of priority, I still don't know). This didn't seem to be a hard task, which I, of course like any person would, under-estimated.He'd shifted the task onto myself, and the guy sitting nearby, which to be honest, after doing it, I'm glad that he did so. So we got two boxes of calenders, and headed to the back room of the station to unpack them, and get started, this room of course being the most wide-open room not in use at the time.

When the box was sat down, I paid no mind to what would be inside, as the box was relatively small, just 12 x 24 x 5, probably (Length x Width x Depth in inches). So Mr. Nice Guy popped the box open for us, and we started going at it, which was when I realized just how much trouble I was in for-- forty calenders, fractionally smaller than the given demensions, with a small, outlined area for them to fit on. We got to working, and somehow started conversating at the same time, and ended up realizing we both shared one common thing-- our name. As we worked, I once again saw this child, except this time he was idly roaming the hall, back and forth as if he really needed something to do, and I couldn't help but think those very same words; "That kid really needs something to do...". So there we were, chatting about anonymous, random, and sometimes totally OOC stuff (OOC: Out Of Character), as I watched him roam around the station, I realized that he'd become more of my personal entertainment, in the place of the conversation we were having. By the time the task was finished, two more future soldiers had come in, and were waiting for FST (Future Soldier Training, training which is held by Mr. Nice Guy, which conditions inductees for the physical and classroom portions of Basic Training). So, we did training there, which reminded me that I still had to brush the dust off of the skills I'd learned no less than two years before, without training in between. When we got back in, I'd noticed Byrdman, and the boy were gone which sparked my attention a little bit, but not by too much, as the "Safety Brief" was being given at the time (Safety Brief is just a short briefing after FST, but before we all part ways, generally based on advising us to be safe in our endeavors outside of the station).

Later on, Byrdman and the little scout returned together, which caused an idea about the kid to dawn on me, but I still waited to verify it. I also noticed that he was getting quite the stirr of attention from the average traffic in the station which by now, had picked up as two other recruiters had come in, apparently bringing some noise with them. One specifically started to complain about some shirts that were delivered to the station by people of unknown ranks within USAREC, seemingly having to do with a function of some sort, insinuating that they had to wear them. The shirts themselves were gold-- one of the loudest, and most hated colors at the station, and bore an eagle on the back, as well as one on the chest, cradled by the phrases;

"Eyes on the Target" on top,
and
"Stay in the Hunt"

On the bottom, both in a spherical fashion. He'd continued on to mock them, starting with the phrase, making small, funny jokes about both, with the other recruiters chiming in. Soon, the jokes calmed down to one, every now and then with the occasional laughter or physical gesture, but still held in mind as we all shared idle chit-chat. Though I was sitting in Mr. Nice Guy's chair, which faced the opposite direction than Byrdman's office, where both he, and the boy stayed, I could almost feel his boredom which constantly called me to think the same thing over, and over again;

"That boy needs something to do."

Later on, Byrdman was tasked with the job of taking me home, and just so happens, he chose the "Soccer Mom" van to do it in (A blue Chevy van owned by the recruiting battalion, which resembles the cliche-ed vehicle, owned by the mother of a junior soccer player). Just so happens that the vehicle was packed with unnamed boxes of high size, and weight which blocked our path, requiring one of us to sit in the front, and the other to maneuver around into one of the back seats. The kid decides to take the back seat, for reasons I only realized would become clear after we started moving. I got in the front seat, and he, into the back seat and after afew minutes Byrdman got into the front seat, and cranked up the van.

There, I figured out why he chose to sit in the back.

Immediately, the AC blew, full blast, straight at my face (Note, the station stays at hospital temperature-- seemingly far below 30F), freezing me nearly to death. I endured this throughout the previous stop to talk to the aptly named Kbree, one of the other recruiters in the station (She's also known for her habbit of both smoking, and picking up recruits that smoke alot). So I made it home, and got an unusual welcome-- everyone actually wanted to see me. I mean, not like they hate my guts or anything, just that it's usual to come home, and everyone is in chill-mode (laid-back and/or resting, waiting to go to bed, or doing something minutely important.), give the general greeting, and we go on with the day. Instead, I'd gotten the unusual "hey!", and the need for everyone to see me.

--One thing I forgot to mention; I recived my test scores for the re-test today, and guess what? I actually passed.

"The day you die will be the day you truely live."

~Yours, Truely.

SubーEpisode 1: Contemplation-- What Future?

There's no need to predict the future, because it will soon be obvious.

A little bit different from my usual post, but I just felt I should get it up while It was sitting in my head.

Well crud, ...here I am, contemplating my position in later years. So far, out of 3 hours of contemplation, I have one word-- screwed. When you think about it, I have some pretty good deals coming my way, right? I get paid, room and board, and soldier training... a good deal, right? yes, and no. I took into account earlier what Mr. Nice Guy said a few days prior, quote; "If you play your cards right, you may find yourself at the top of someone's warehouse management company, making all sorts of money". It was cool at first, when I thought about the picturesque thought of being some big-time conductor of the symphony of transports that would move precious supplies from point A, down to point B, or C, or wherever the hell they were going, but ...he... stopped me, dead in my tracks, and bought me back to the true reality of the situation, and almost exactly just how deep it goes.

It goes something like this; To get in someone's sights, I need a record, including experience and training, be it special or not, most usually special. Also looking on another quote by Monty; "There, you can take college courses from any college the army offers", I had these diamond-luster eyes as I looked into the future of me, sitting in a classroom, learning to professionally do two of my favourite things-- draw, and manipulate 3d programs. For a moment, it felt like it could become a reality, then ...he... again interrupted me. Of course, it would be possible to get to the point where I could be doing such things... if only I didn't have a 1.60 GPA, and instead had a 3.0 or above, which is what it takes to get into any college for those types of majors worth going to... therefore ruling that out. It, if anything, will be likely that I will only be able to, with my 1.6, be able to complete my correspondence courses, and "hopefully" (notice the key word) gain a higher GPA by doing so, therefore allowing me something of a chance in that rose-covered frame I pictured myself inside of, only moments before this realization.

With college ruled out (only temporarily, I hope), I will not be able to get any special marks on my record for my all-star masters in whatever major I choose, and no special training in the MOS (The job you will be trained for to during your current term in the military.) which I have been, almost forcefully assigned to, which was another topic I wanted to get to. The MOS I currently have was given to me as a lee-way choice among two others-- 99Y, and 88M (99-Yankee -Forgot what it was, exactly-, and 88 Mike -Heavy Cargo Transport Specialist-). Since My current build is far too far below the considered requirements for 32m, and every hint in the world drew me away from the MOS, 99y, I had only 88H left (88 Hotel -Cargo management specialist-). The main reason I was only given 3 choices, apparently was because of two, stricken misdemeanor charges that came up during my evaluation, which cut my choices down from 10+ to 3... big difference, huh? I think so too. Anyway, Though I'm not fit for 88H either, I seem to be better fit to handle it than 88m, so it was a pretty good tactical choice, in my opinion. Still, I know that once I go in, I will be stuck in a hole, I can see the hole from miles away, but my feet are moving on their own, without me being able to change their direction, even slightly. I know I'm bound to run into the hole, and I know I'm bound to stay inside of it for awhile, maybe even longer than I bargained for.

Well, we'll see where this goes, but I can only hope I am right about the correspondence courses, and will be up on top of things soon enough.

幸運。。。 "Kouun..." (Good luck...)
Yours, Truly.