The air was cold and the sky was black. Two men sat outside a tent, squatting in the dirt as they held their rifles in their hands. As they exhaled a puff of smoke came from their lungs, the sign of a cold night.
The recruit checked his watch. It was 11:56 pm. With a grunt he shifted his weight from one leg to the other. It was freezing and he could softly hear the snores from the men inside the tent behind him. It was a small torture, to hear the slumber of those just out of reach, and yet not be one of them himself.
Beast week was supposed to make you or break you, was supposed to show you how to be a man of the military. In the weeks he had been there he had learned to disassemble and reassemble an M16 in 33 seconds, learned to no longer feel emotion when someone screamed in his face, had learned to disassociate himself from happy memories of full nights of sleep and meals that lasted longer than three minutes. All this training, and he still couldn't fight off the fucking cold. He set down his rifle and rubbed his hands together. His right hand slipped over his left wrist as he went to check the time again. 11:58 pm. His heart thudded loudly against his chest for a moment while he took a deep breath and gathered his rifle back into his hands. He looked over at the man next to him, a complete stranger, and yet on a night like this his only friend. His knees started to cramp from crouching and he rolled his neck up towards the sky. What he wouldn't kill for a cigarette. For a bar. For a set of warm arms to crawl into.
They told him on his first day of training that he would constantly question why he was there for the first few days, but that afterward it would start to feel like home. A dry laugh came from his throat as he realized that weeks had already flown by and he still felt lost and unsure. A smile tugged at his lips and he laughed again as he shook his head.
The man next to him raised an eyebrow in the dark and looked over at his companion. "The hell are you laughing for?"
The recruit looked at his watch again. It showed 12:01 am. He smiled sadly.
"I just turned 24."
The man next to him, at a loss of what to say, shook his head and replied; "Congratulations."
And after that, it was gone. Suddenly, it was just another morning.
Have Faith.
- Mal
- "Tell me a story—a small story, a true story (or as true as you can tell it)—a story from your heart, a story from your life. Tell me of a time when you lost something—your keys, your heart, your mind, your mother or father, your way in the world—or tell me about a small joy you had today. Tell me a story—and your telling it will change you—and your telling it will change me—and such stories will move us both closer to the light." -Lynn Nelson
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