BerettaNut92
Member
- Joined
- Dec 23, 2002
- Messages
- 9,723
Welcome to Black Mesa Training Center, North Chihuahua, Earth. Because the Terran Navy cannot enforce the law within the Asteroid Belt, that responsibility falls upon the Militia.
Eons ago when life was simpler, I was a Militiaman. Because we were so tactical and cloaked in secrecy, I thought you'd like a little peek into our lives.
Really, being in a place with a 20-to-1 girl to guy ratio sucked, but I got to shoot plasma rifles and fly spaceships, so whatever.
***
"ATTENTION ON DECK!" one of my classmates bellowed as the door cracked open and our lead PT instructor slipped into the room.
"As you were, as you were," our lead PT instructor said. I'll call him Mr. Apone.
Another of our classmates was at the front of the room, leading us in stretching before PT began. "Elbow behind your head...stretch...Arms out, small circles...." We continued stretching. "Spread your legs..."
"FEET APART!!! WE DON'T SAY 'SPREAD YOUR LEGS' IN THE MILITIA!!! and what kind of MAN says 'bend over?' That's between you and whoever...just save that nonsense for after hours, in your room."
"Yes sir. Feet apart...stretch your hamstrings." As we stretched, our two other PT instructors came in. One, Mr. Gorman, leads our section, and the other, Mr. Burke, leads the other section. Our class is split in half so we can have more individual attention. Speaking of individual attention, the instructors are still asking some guys for their names, but they've known mine since day two. Lucky me.
We were down one. "Where's Mr. Frost?" Mr. Apone asked. One of the guys in our class always moved slow when on company time, and is usually the last one in, or forgets something, or somehow gets the rest of the class in trouble. Frost ran in, looking a little apathetic and disheveled as usual, and fell into formation while we were doing the last of our stretches. Mr. Apone asked, "A little extracurricular activity in the locker room, Mr. Frost?"
After we finished stretching, we formed back up at attention, then went to parade rest.
Mr. Gorman, stepped to the front of the class. "Class 426, atten-HUT! Front lean and rest...MOVE!" We got into pushup position. He liked to hold us in pushup position while addressing us.
As he held us there, Mr. Apone walked by the line of shoes, canteens and gunbelts along the wall. "Ms. Vasquez, these are your shoes," he asked to our section's only remaining female, "you know how I know, it's because they're pink." He shook our canteens to make sure they were full.
Two guys had half-full canteens. Mr. Apone threw them into the room and had the two jokers run outside and fill them up while the rest of us were in front lean and rest. They fell back into formation and got into pushup position.
"Claaaasss....dowwwn, up!" "ZERO!" We always started at zero. I guess that was Apone's thing.
"Dowwn, up" "ONE!" "downup" "TWO!" "downup" "THREE!"
.......
"TWENTYNINE! THIRTY!"
"On your backs...MOVE!" We spun onto our backs. "Crunches...UP!" "ZERO!" "Up!" "ONE!" "Up!" "TWO!"....ok I know we just started but I began to get tired around fifty or forty something.
We kept going "Up!" "NINETYEIGHT!" "Up!" "NINETYNINE!" "Up!" "ONE HUNDRED!!!!"
Mr. Burke walks up to me and looks down, "HEAD OFF THE MAT!! OH, YOU WANT ME TO BRING YOU A PILLOW??!?! WANT ME TO PUT LITTLE HOTEL CHOCOLATES ON IT FOR YOU???"
Someone in the group farted. "DON'T CROP DUST IN MY MAT ROOM, NUGGET!!" Mr. Apone shouted.
My head fell to the mat. I popped it up with my hands and kept going, barely.
"Front lean and rest, MOVE!" More pushups. "Down up" "ZERO!" "down up" "ONE!" "down up" "TWO!" We kept gong. At this point I was sweating pretty good. Good thing I'm getting paid for this. The other section's instructor walked over and saw a nice pool of sweat under my forehead. "WHAT IS THAT PUDDLE UNDER YOUR HEAD, SIR, ARE YOU MAKING SOUP?!?!"
He walked over to someone else, "GET OFF YOUR KNEES! WE DON'T GO TO OUR KNEES IN THE MILITIA! HAVE YOU SEEN THE MOVIE WHERE CLINT EASTWOOD IS ON HIS KNEES?" the instructor alluded to the legendary actor. "No, sir," the trainee grunted. "THERE ISN'T ONE!! NOW START DOING THE EXERCISES LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!"
One of the trainees was getting up to throw up outside. "WHERE ARE YOU GOING!!??? Oh, you're not going anywhere. We're like Pizza Hut, we deliver!!" Mr. Burke placed a trash can beside him while the trainee tried to resume doing pushups.
"LOW CRAWL!" Since we were on the ground, we low-crawled to our next positions. "Aaaaaaaggghh...aaaaghhh!" The guy who was about to vomit had to push the trashcan with his head while he rotated. It was pretty funny.
We did another hundred crunches after that. Someone was probably strugging with the crunches more than me, if that is possible: "MR. HUDSON, WHY AREN'T YOU DOING THE EXERCISES, ARE YOU IGNORING ME, OR DO YOU NOT LIKE ME?"
"What?"
"I ASKED YOU A QUESTION, MR. HUDSON: YES, YOU ARE IGNORING ME, OR NO, YOU DO NOT LIKE ME??"
"Uh, I don't know, sir!"
"Ohhhh-h-h-h...MR. HUDSON, YOU ARE CONFUSING ME, THAT IS NOT EASY TO DO!!!"
"On your feets, MOVE!...Claaass 426, ten HUT!" Mr. Gorman put his watch and ballcap on, which probably meant we were going for a run. "Grab your canteens, put on your shoes, make a headcall, meet me outside."
We got our shoes on and formed up outside. I sweated so much in there I didn't really have to go pee. Our instructors came outside.
Mr. Gorman handed the AED from the mat room to put in the buggy, some diesel golf cart to haul injured trainees to the medical clinic. "Do you know how to use this, Mr. Gorman?" Mr. Apone asked Mr. Gorman, who shook his head with a smirk. "Me neither..I hope no one here has a heart attack."
Mr. Apone turned to face us, "Claaasssss,...running never killed anyone, okay? It's usually the heart attack you get when running. Heh."
"Sir, what's so funny," Mr. Apone said to my roommate, Wierzbowski, who must have had some kind of smirk.
"Just happy to be here, sir," my roommate cracked.
"Ohhh-h-h-h-h, Mr. Wierzbowski...Claass...426, ten HUT! RIGHT FACE!"...."Class, 426, DOUBLETIME!" Probably another base perimeter run.
"TAKE US HOME, SIR!" And with that, we were off.
****
To be continued.
Eons ago when life was simpler, I was a Militiaman. Because we were so tactical and cloaked in secrecy, I thought you'd like a little peek into our lives.
Really, being in a place with a 20-to-1 girl to guy ratio sucked, but I got to shoot plasma rifles and fly spaceships, so whatever.
***
"ATTENTION ON DECK!" one of my classmates bellowed as the door cracked open and our lead PT instructor slipped into the room.
"As you were, as you were," our lead PT instructor said. I'll call him Mr. Apone.
Another of our classmates was at the front of the room, leading us in stretching before PT began. "Elbow behind your head...stretch...Arms out, small circles...." We continued stretching. "Spread your legs..."
"FEET APART!!! WE DON'T SAY 'SPREAD YOUR LEGS' IN THE MILITIA!!! and what kind of MAN says 'bend over?' That's between you and whoever...just save that nonsense for after hours, in your room."
"Yes sir. Feet apart...stretch your hamstrings." As we stretched, our two other PT instructors came in. One, Mr. Gorman, leads our section, and the other, Mr. Burke, leads the other section. Our class is split in half so we can have more individual attention. Speaking of individual attention, the instructors are still asking some guys for their names, but they've known mine since day two. Lucky me.
We were down one. "Where's Mr. Frost?" Mr. Apone asked. One of the guys in our class always moved slow when on company time, and is usually the last one in, or forgets something, or somehow gets the rest of the class in trouble. Frost ran in, looking a little apathetic and disheveled as usual, and fell into formation while we were doing the last of our stretches. Mr. Apone asked, "A little extracurricular activity in the locker room, Mr. Frost?"
After we finished stretching, we formed back up at attention, then went to parade rest.
Mr. Gorman, stepped to the front of the class. "Class 426, atten-HUT! Front lean and rest...MOVE!" We got into pushup position. He liked to hold us in pushup position while addressing us.
As he held us there, Mr. Apone walked by the line of shoes, canteens and gunbelts along the wall. "Ms. Vasquez, these are your shoes," he asked to our section's only remaining female, "you know how I know, it's because they're pink." He shook our canteens to make sure they were full.
Two guys had half-full canteens. Mr. Apone threw them into the room and had the two jokers run outside and fill them up while the rest of us were in front lean and rest. They fell back into formation and got into pushup position.
"Claaaasss....dowwwn, up!" "ZERO!" We always started at zero. I guess that was Apone's thing.
"Dowwn, up" "ONE!" "downup" "TWO!" "downup" "THREE!"
.......
"TWENTYNINE! THIRTY!"
"On your backs...MOVE!" We spun onto our backs. "Crunches...UP!" "ZERO!" "Up!" "ONE!" "Up!" "TWO!"....ok I know we just started but I began to get tired around fifty or forty something.
We kept going "Up!" "NINETYEIGHT!" "Up!" "NINETYNINE!" "Up!" "ONE HUNDRED!!!!"
Mr. Burke walks up to me and looks down, "HEAD OFF THE MAT!! OH, YOU WANT ME TO BRING YOU A PILLOW??!?! WANT ME TO PUT LITTLE HOTEL CHOCOLATES ON IT FOR YOU???"
Someone in the group farted. "DON'T CROP DUST IN MY MAT ROOM, NUGGET!!" Mr. Apone shouted.
My head fell to the mat. I popped it up with my hands and kept going, barely.
"Front lean and rest, MOVE!" More pushups. "Down up" "ZERO!" "down up" "ONE!" "down up" "TWO!" We kept gong. At this point I was sweating pretty good. Good thing I'm getting paid for this. The other section's instructor walked over and saw a nice pool of sweat under my forehead. "WHAT IS THAT PUDDLE UNDER YOUR HEAD, SIR, ARE YOU MAKING SOUP?!?!"
He walked over to someone else, "GET OFF YOUR KNEES! WE DON'T GO TO OUR KNEES IN THE MILITIA! HAVE YOU SEEN THE MOVIE WHERE CLINT EASTWOOD IS ON HIS KNEES?" the instructor alluded to the legendary actor. "No, sir," the trainee grunted. "THERE ISN'T ONE!! NOW START DOING THE EXERCISES LIKE EVERYONE ELSE!"
One of the trainees was getting up to throw up outside. "WHERE ARE YOU GOING!!??? Oh, you're not going anywhere. We're like Pizza Hut, we deliver!!" Mr. Burke placed a trash can beside him while the trainee tried to resume doing pushups.
"LOW CRAWL!" Since we were on the ground, we low-crawled to our next positions. "Aaaaaaaggghh...aaaaghhh!" The guy who was about to vomit had to push the trashcan with his head while he rotated. It was pretty funny.
We did another hundred crunches after that. Someone was probably strugging with the crunches more than me, if that is possible: "MR. HUDSON, WHY AREN'T YOU DOING THE EXERCISES, ARE YOU IGNORING ME, OR DO YOU NOT LIKE ME?"
"What?"
"I ASKED YOU A QUESTION, MR. HUDSON: YES, YOU ARE IGNORING ME, OR NO, YOU DO NOT LIKE ME??"
"Uh, I don't know, sir!"
"Ohhhh-h-h-h...MR. HUDSON, YOU ARE CONFUSING ME, THAT IS NOT EASY TO DO!!!"
"On your feets, MOVE!...Claaass 426, ten HUT!" Mr. Gorman put his watch and ballcap on, which probably meant we were going for a run. "Grab your canteens, put on your shoes, make a headcall, meet me outside."
We got our shoes on and formed up outside. I sweated so much in there I didn't really have to go pee. Our instructors came outside.
Mr. Gorman handed the AED from the mat room to put in the buggy, some diesel golf cart to haul injured trainees to the medical clinic. "Do you know how to use this, Mr. Gorman?" Mr. Apone asked Mr. Gorman, who shook his head with a smirk. "Me neither..I hope no one here has a heart attack."
Mr. Apone turned to face us, "Claaasssss,...running never killed anyone, okay? It's usually the heart attack you get when running. Heh."
"Sir, what's so funny," Mr. Apone said to my roommate, Wierzbowski, who must have had some kind of smirk.
"Just happy to be here, sir," my roommate cracked.
"Ohhh-h-h-h-h, Mr. Wierzbowski...Claass...426, ten HUT! RIGHT FACE!"...."Class, 426, DOUBLETIME!" Probably another base perimeter run.
"TAKE US HOME, SIR!" And with that, we were off.
****
To be continued.
