Make Something of Yourself

[Cody Seb]

James Young woke up the same as the last 3 months, before sunrise but accomodated to early awakenings. He spun his legs off the side of the bed and rubbed his eyes before getting up and walking to the bathroom. He supported himself by placing both his arms on the sink. His muscles didn't ache anymore, they had gotten used to the hard work he did, but at least it kept him in shape and he didn't have to work out as much. His long blonde hair was a mess, it was long enough that it had begun to flip out around his ears.

He undressed and stepped into the shower. Afterward, he dressed in work jeans and blue and white baseball t-shirt, brushed his teeth, applied some deodorant. On his way out he grabbed a banana and peeled it as he put on his work boots. Just as he was about to step out the door he tossed the peel into the wastebasket and grabbed his green John Deere mesh-back cap from the coat rack and put it on, closing the door behind him.

James hopped into his truck, a gray '93 Ford F-150. Those were the days that the 150's were more like 250's and drove like Behemoths. He pulled out of his driveway just as the sun cracked the horizon and orange crept across the sky. Everything he had done thus far was the same as the last 90 mornings, except from then on out.

Usually James would drive 10 miles to the big corn and wheat farm owned by Gerald Louis and do manual contract labor. He had done this every summer since his sophomore year in high school. It had kept him in shape as he had been the school's starting linebacker since then too, an athletic prodigy. James had always been 'the guy' at his high school. He had never had trouble getting girls, received decent grades and was well liked by generally everyone. Then again, he could have just used his dashing good looks for that.

But not today, today all of that became meaningless. His looks, his charisma, his popularity, he didn't need them where he was going. The gravel on the dirt road quietly crunched under the trucks tires as they brought him closer to the turning point of his life, the purging and death of his old self. Little did he know, however. What he also didn't know was that he was ready for the unknown trials ahead. He had always been a hard worker, honest and had genuinely cared for others. It would not be his strength, his speed or his intelligence that would make his life noteworthy, but these qualities. Anyone can become stronger, anyone faster, anyone smarter. It's a lot harder to make someone more honest or grow work ethic under pressure.

He thought about everything he'd be leaving behind. His mother, his father, his two brothers Jason and Vincent. Jason was 20, two years older than James and Vincent was 16. The three were arguably best friends, but that was about to change. He also had shared an emotional goodbye with his latest but admittedly longest lasting girlfriend Sandra. He was coming back. He didn't swear to her, he swore to himself.

As his thoughts drifted around, the truck found the parking space it was looking for. It was on the square of Callaway, Nebraska that he found himself, never so nervous or sure of anything in his entire life. The town itself was small, the square actually being most of the town and simply the main street, two rows of buildings, one on each side of the road. He took a deep breath and pushed open the door before him. The door swung closed behind him, the fresh lettering reading Confederated Ground Forces Recruitment Center.

The man behind the desk stood and walked around to James, straightening his uniform and shaking his hand, "Welcome back James. So I guess this means you're gonna do it huh?"

James smiled nervously, "Uh...yeah. Yeah."

"Good, good. Well we got your test results back, let me see here..." The recruiter sifted through the papers on his desk eventually finding a manila envelope, opening it and taking the sheets of paper out. "Your physical test was extremely impressive, and you also did quite above average on the written placement exam." The recruiter chuckled happily to himself, "Look, I've got some big news. You've qualified for something people try years to get into. Says here you are able to be placed in the Special Forces branch of the Confederated Ground Forces. 'Course, you can always decline and choose a position under that which, heh, just happens to be about everything. So whaddya say? Do you accept this charge?"

James was floored, the special forces. It seemed like only Missouri boys made that, he must have been a better shot than he thought (OOC: The marksmanship test takes place at a great distance, and recruits are not allowed to view their targets at the conclusion). "Ye-, Yeah. Yeah, I'll do it," James stuttered.

"Now James, I always have somewhat of a...personal...obligation to tell recruits this; this ain't no walk in the park, ya understand? We don't send you in there to become a soldier, we send you in there to become an efficient, well-oiled machine for any circumstance, ya got it?"

"Yeah, Yeah I get it."

The recruiter smiled once more, "Good man." The recruiter placed his hand firmly on James' shoulder and shook him, "Not everyday you see someone make this program, not every month...Alright. How 'bout ya meet me back here tomorrow and we'll send ya off, sound good?"

"Yeah, yes sir."

"Good, get some rest tonight, yer gonna need it."

EDIT- Couple Typos.

Edited July 25, 2009 by Cody Seb

[Cody Seb]

The bus ride the next morning was long and nervous. There were several other recruits on the bus. Since he had made the cut for the special forces, James and his fellow recruits were being sent into Missouri to train at a special camp. It took roughly nine hours to reach the destination and the ride had drained most of the young recruits' strength.

James had been given an olive-drab duffel bag to put personal belongings in and nothing else. It was for clothes, hygiene products and maybe pictures, that was it. Stepping off the bus, he caught view of a drill sargeant who walked up and immediately began shouting orders, "Line up recruits! Parallel to the bus, go, go, GO!"

He was tall, brown eyed and browned haired. He was very stern looking and small patches of silver hair grew at his temples.

The men did as they were told and lined up at attention, placing their bags to the sides. The drill sargeant began walking back and forth, surveying the recruits, "You boys signed yourselves up for absolute hell, I hope you know that. There's no turnin' back, no leavin'. This is it. Over the next month, you'll be conditioned, body and mind, to be the most unemotional, cold and calculating killers on the battlefield. You will learn to be the best men can make you and you won't like the process. I'm sure everyone's told you 'the next step in your life will be challenging' about everything. High school, college, getting in shape, your state football championship, whatever. No. Those are so cosmically insignificant compared to what you're about to experience. Grab your stuff and move inside, barrack 2A!"

"Yes sir!" they replied in unison, picking up their packs and running inside the barrack.

The sargeant shouted after them, "Get yourself back out here and ready to be processed in ten! BDU pants, combat boots and white training shirts, now!"

They followed orders and lined back up. Fellow recruits from other states joined them. "Alright boys, follow me."

The sargeant led them to another dismal concrete building, where they were all subjected to blood sampling, hair shaving and redundant physicals. Then there was a humiliating "smuggling check" that everyone had to endure. It was all such a rush. James was returned to his barrack, bald and without dignity, just as the other recruits were.

"Alright boys, savor the rest. The end of your lives starts tomorrow." With that, the drill sargeant slammed the door to the barrack closed and the old hanging lights went out.

[Subtleknifewielder]

OOC: Wow...another story from you!

[JEDCJT]

OOC: Oh my...interesting story!

Can't wait to read more!

Edited July 27, 2009 by JEDCJT