No Regrets

No Regrets

Fear. Palpable fear and now that cursed fly is crawling on my nose. I need to swat it but I can't.

Can I?

Standing at attention, without moving my head, I glance at the backs of green clad airmen. There is no sign of the TI. One last look and I brush the fly off my nose.

"Who said you could move, Airman Dipstick!"

Huh oh.

A barrel chested, red faced maniac appeared in front of me, the brim of his Smokey-And-The-Bandit hat bopping against my forehead as he screamed his spittle laced tirade.

"You want to move?"

"No sir," I squeaked.

He bent his ear to me. "I can't hear you!"

He turned his full glare on me, his eyes bugging out of his head. "Do you want move?"

"No Sir!" I shouted.

"I think you do." He turned and addressed the whole flight. "Airman Dipstick here wants to move. Maybe he needs more exercise." He looked at me and grinned. "We should help him out. Instead of chow we'll go for a nice five mile run."

He stepped back and bellowed. "About Hace!"

Our flight smartly turned around in a unified crescendo of crunching heels."

"Forward, Harch!"

In cadence to 'Left, Left...' we marched, leaving the chow hall behind."

"Double time, harch."

We cantered at a jog. From behind, I heard a harsh whisper. "Way to go, Airman Dipstick."

I started awake in the darkness, sweating.

Whew! Just a nightmare. I felt the rough blanket that covered me, a scent of polish and disinfect permeated the air. I turned towards the creak of springs from a cot next to mine.

"Where are we?"

I heard a sigh then a quiet chuckle. "Boot Camp, Airman Dipstick."

Oh God! What have I got myself into?