NaNoWriMo 2022

Buddy Time

American Kingdom: Day 13.2

Previous scene:

Annie may have only been at Camp two days but she knew her way around. Once we had dressed — we’d each been given three complete sets of camo fatigues and a dress uniform for evening wear (pants, blouse, and jacket, nothing too fancy or elegant) — she led me to the first aid room.

“I may be just a recruit in this outfit but I’m still a doctor and I’m running sick call instead of the office clerk. First thing I did when I crawled out of that stupid bear pit was to check the stock of antibiotics. Well, second thing actually. First was a good long shower and I vented a lot to Hazel while we washed the crud out of each other’s hair.”

“Every unit has some sort of hazing ceremony,” I said. “To be honest that was pretty mild compared to the shit they put Rangers through.”

“Oh, I accept that. And the symbolism is obvious. There are healthier ways of doing it than have the camp staff fill the pit up with feces. And god knows what else. This camp is under the direct control of Prince Jeff of Missouri and he and I are going to have words when I get his ear for a moment.”

In the medic room she opened up a cupboard, pulled out a roll of gauze, and sat me down while she wrapped up my elbow professionally.

“Any pain, weeping, itching, stiffness, let me know immediately. Dropping an open wound in that septic tank is just asking for trouble. Now open wide.”

She took a look at my throat, noted down temperature, blood pressure, weight and so on.

“You’re in good shape, Molly. Been working out?”

I told her about the bicycle tours. “That’s how I got the scrape and bruising, fell off my bike and slid into a pile of fresh horseshit.”

I nearly told her about Ted but I didn’t want all my private business made public on a recruit course. Time would tell who deserved trust or not.

Annie stowed all the medical paraphernalia away and locked the room up.

“Annie, just what kind of recruit course is this, anyway? I’ve only been yelled at and humiliated a little bit. Shouldn't we all be down in the dirt doing pushups and shouting out ‘Rangers’ with every second breath?”

“Perhaps this is a more civilised training regime than your Green Beret mud-chewing snake-eating? Naval Officer training was more about filling in forms and learning how to eat an orange with knife and fork. Wouldn’t you expect signing up in the service of our Heavenly King to involve a little more grace and dignity?”

“Well, yeeees, but so far the only examples of that I’ve seen have been you and Hazel. Are there any others around?”

“You’ll meet the men this evening, I think. They’ve been on the range all day. Nathan and Oscar. Nathan’s ex-SEAL, and Oscar’s a grouchy old lawyer.”

“Aww, no fair. When do we get to do fun stuff?”

She shrugged. “You want to go ask Sergeant Payne? She’ll find some fun stuff for you. Your best plan is to go get your rack squared away before evening quiet.”

I raised my eyebrow.

“Told you it was civilised,” she said. “We have half an hour at dawn and dusk to pray, meditate, read scripture, handle snakes, whatever your Southern heart desires. I share my thoughts with the Lord so if you feel the need to talk in tongues, please keep it quiet.”

“Not cool, Annie. There’s too much division in our nation already.”

She held up her hands in surrender. “Just passing on the glad tidings from above. Sir Duane wants to allow all aspects of faith on a personal basis. If you want to find a partner or two to sing the gospel with, that’s fine.”

I wouldn't mind belting out a few standards, to be honest. I was missing Leonie already. Her songs of praise were deep, full-bodied, joyous anthems and it was a pleasure to share in her reverence.

I was glad to see my cabin bag had turned up. I had a few precious things in there I’d hate to lose. My medals and badges, for one thing.

I stowed away all my kit as best I could. If we had room inspections it would all end up on the floor anyway until I complied with whatever chickenshit organisation was required.

Until then, I hung all my shirts facing the same way, folded my underwear, cleaned the windowpane, checked the locker tops for dust, made up my rack with hospital corners and a blanket you could bounce a dime off.

Hazel stuck her head in after a while.

“Laundry should be done by now. Want to come fold laundry?”

Well, no, not really, but that was an invitation I couldn’t refuse.

There were two industrial-sized dryers in the laundry room. All of our camo gear was tumbling around inside one with a timer showing the cycle was nearly done.

“This thing is really fierce; I pulled out our delicates.” She indicated our underwear pegged on a line. “They should be dry in the morning unless the men do something stupid with them.”

“Oh, is that likely? Maybe we should keep them in our rooms?”

“Oscar’s okay but Nathan’s a bit of a dick. Full of SEAL crap, you know the sort.”

“Yeah. There were plenty in the Rangers, too. Always trying to get into my pants as if they were something special.”

And, I thought to myself, sometimes they did, and sometimes they were.

My camo fatigues were the ones without an A or H on the tag. Hazel handed me a marker and I put MF on mine.

She smiled.

“Hey, evening quiet will be soon. I sit in my room and read my testament. Want to join me?”

“Sure. That would be nice. Annie seems to think that I might start handling snakes and testifying and stuff.”

“You don’t, do you?” Hazel asked, a furrow across her brow. “I mean, you are a Ranger. I couldn’t sit quietly if you had one in your pocket or something.”

“No, I’ll bring my Bible but I might just spend half an hour talking to the Lord. I have a lot to tell Him.”

Next scene:

The whole story (NaNoWriMo work in progress)

Notes

Well, I wanted to get into the menfolk of the camp here. Apart from staff — drivers, cooks, cleaners and the office clerk doubling as the medic — we have two other recruits, the camp commander — Sir Duane — and there will be a male drill sergeant whose name hasn’t yet arrived in my mind.

But I didn’t get around to it.

I’m trying to keep the chapters short so Medium shows them as three or four minutes reading time. These will have a far greater chance of being read than anything up around the ten minute mark.

I’m not sure if this means I’m less likely to ramble in a shorter chapter, or more so as I try to make one chapter into two or three.

Oh well, so far I’m enjoying myself and that’s all that counts, hey?

Molly