So I thought I'd show I have had an interesting life, let me know what you think and if I've gone into the realm of TMI.
Ben Monroe
ENG 385
Bill Church
Word Count: 2670
Shattering of Femurs
"Alright Turd Merchants!" One of my Drill Sergeants yelled as we filed into the small trench. Its edges were lined with concrete. On the other side of the ramp leading out of the trench at least a hundred meters of sand awaited us. Machine gun nests aimed their barrels in our direction ready for the order to open fire. "About four or five cycles ago one of the soldiers decided to run out standing. He went home in a body bag. Low crawl!"
The round of the regular 'hoah drill sergeant' or "hoah drill sar'ent" as its bastardization had become went around the platoon. I smirked slightly despite the pain in my right hip. Why was it that it was always four or five cycles ago? The four-story tower without walls we had to climb had people die that same cycle. Same thing happened with the hundred foot ladder or Victory Tower. The most likely answer was that all the stories were made up but perhaps they just had a bunch of morons going through then.
Speaking of morons I turned to the man next to me. In a week's time he would be found with live rounds in his wall locker with drill sergeants names written on them but for now everyone just called him Gomer Pile off of Full Metal Jacket. The irony of that nickname would unfold soon enough. At this point in history he had been caught with bright orange civilian boxers somehow smuggled in until the end of red phase, managed to fall asleep in formation, and attempted to walk off the firing range without switching the safety on. But truth be told I forgot to once as well, so I can't hold him to that last one. Well on second thought, I can because well it's okay to be a hypocrite sometimes.
The whistle soon blew and out the nearly forty people of second platoon-Pit Bulls rushed over the edge of the trench. Machine guns on the other side of the sandlot opened up a hail of deadly fire over our heads. Smothering the side of my face against the sand I began to low crawl. The slow and as I soon found out agonizing pace of the low crawl meant that I was safe but the course sand slid under my BDUs (Battle Dress Uniform) to my elbows where it rubbed my joints raw. After dropping down a level I could switch to high crawl, which meant I could get it over with quicker but I crawled using the very same elbows with sand filing them to the bone.
I paused over head to watch the brilliant light show. Every three rounds the SAW and m60 machine guns fired was a tracer. Around me fake artillery sounded off and piles of dirt from planned explosions exploded. I couldn't help but laugh it was so awesome to watch. People were in a mix of crawling positions, some stayed low crawl, some crawled like a baby, but I was too attached to life to attempt that.
About a week prior I had participated in a night time firing with my pro-mask (protective mask) on. The look of the storm trooper from Star Wars only added to shooting bright points of light towards incoming forces. Now I was on the receiving end and the effect was beautiful. I suppose that if the bullets were aiming at me and not over head I would have second thoughts though.
Hauling my m16 along I finally reached the end line of the live fire. Staying low until the cease fire order came I stood. Straightening my arms I noticed just how raw I had rubbed them crawling along the mini-sandbox of hell. The larger sandbox of hell being where I was expected to go as soon as I graduated.
Standing on those shaky legs I wondered not for the first time if I truly had injured my legs. I had gone to sick call once after being ordered to and the awesomely trained corporal never looked up at me and just handed me some muscle relaxation. God do I love the army medical branch.
That night after our evening run my battle buddy, Murry heard I had a fireguard shift in the middle of the night. Now the battle buddy system was so that you didn't go anywhere without your battle buddy. Kind of like kindergarten but only we're trusted with high explosives but not to do the right thing. Fireguard was two people every 2 hours take turns watching 58 other people sleep in the barracks. It really should have been called AWOL (Away without leave) watch. It consisted of waking up the next shift and waking up yourself. Failure to wake up the next shift, as I discovered once, was two hours of the knee bender while being screamed at. Murry the bipolar bastard producer with two massive calcium bumps on his noggin that he was had the worse laugh imaginable. It was sort of a high pitch rapid fire screech and knowing I had fire guard his annoying bipolar side decided to laugh it up all night. On top of that I was beginning to get sick.
So the next morning groggy and feeling like I had a fever I decided to see if I had a temperature. After my morning 3 mile run, or hobble since I had two broken legs I didn't know about, I went to see if I had a fever. The small fever of 103 put me in the Sick Bay. Sick Bay was something straight out of the Middle Ages. While we got to sleep a lot while the other people were learning how to make a bunker the situation was eight of us crammed into one tiny room. Any and all diseases and sicknesses went to this white cold brick building. The joke was that you would go in with one disease and came out with three. Luckily some of the extremely injured soldiers were there to help, which allowed me to get some chicken nuggets from Wendy's and see one of the girl's tits, and after seven or eight weeks of running around in the mud was a treat in and of itself. I suppose the whole flashing themselves would mean that perhaps one of the three diseases in the joke was a reference to an STD. Once again I asked the doctor about my legs and his response was and I quote, "We don't care about that," he went on to say that since I came for a fever that's all they would bother with.
So once again reassured about the military medical care I return to my company. After the fun of having Gomer Pile's bullets fall out in front of the First Sergeant during a wall locker search and being evicted because people were caught gambling came the final FTX (Field Training Exercise). I was more than excited. That was the final march. After that came graduation. Loading up with my kevlar (helmet), BDUs, pro-mask, m16 and blank adapter, two spare magazines of blanks, my LCE (Load Carrying Equipment) which strapped around my torso, two quart cantines, a two quart cantine, 45 pounds of random shit crammed into a metal frame backpack, a tent half-army doesn't give full tents, and a bed roll I took off on a nine mile hike on two fractured legs. It wasn't all that bad but as usual my limping brought cadre attention.
Between the times that Drill Sergeant Barlow in full MOPP (Mission Orientated Protective Posture or hazard suit) with his ninety pounds of equipment came running up and down the lines shouting through his promask how much we suck one of my platoon drill sergeants took notice of my limping. He told the First Sergeant whom in turn ordered me to sick call once the march was over.
It was then that I received the news. PTRP (Physical Therapy Rehabilitation Program) would be my new home. There I was diagnosed, on my left leg, with two thigh splints, a stress fracture connecting the two together and a fracture the doctor couldn't identify on the rear of my femur. My right leg had the fun injury of a stress lateral fatigue fracture. A big way of saying my right femur had split down the middle. I also had a few shin splints but who doesn't get those? The shin splints like my thirteen blisters on my feet went into the cool war injury I'll probably never think about again category unless it's here. And I got to discover all these injuries through extensive x-rays and the injection of a radioactive isotope.
It was at PTRP or 'Soldiers Hurt in Training' as we called it (we liked the acronym that created more) that I met Mary Stone who I ended up going to college with afterwards. I met someone I went to high school and I met my first true love, Jessica.
I still remember when we first met. The thing about PTRP was they had a strict no fraternization with the opposite sex. We were stuck in the barracks or standing in line for hours for lunch in crutches and basically segregated. Because of this the love tale is not a normal one. So both hers and my first memory of meeting each other was actually through a pane of glass. Our eyes locked and it was kind of love at first sight I guess. Which now that I am older I doubt is actually love and is instead just lust.
For the next several weeks we would give each other the 'look'. It was always quick for getting in trouble for being caught with a woman wasn't pretty. Women like this girl Noll who liked me ( I thought she looked like a gnoll) would gladly turn in Jessica for moving in on her turf, shudders on my part included. Guys who were talk about starring at Jessica would gladly turn me in for moving in on someone they liked. It wasn't until July 4th that we got to say more than just a few words to each other for the first time. During a song of 'The Reason' at the touring Soldier Show we really connected.
It's difficult to describe how affection brews when no words could be spoken in public. At work the guys want me to show them what the 'look' looked like but it was a two party communication. Can't just stare at a girl to make her want you. You'd have a better chance of making her get a restraining order.
It was at the concert when we could talk, and even risk, dare I say, holding hands! I learned she was Jewish and we hatched a plan to meet up away from the prying eyes of Drill Sergeants. Only a few of the Drill Sergeants could be counted on to mind their own business at night. Two of them always stayed in the office, the rest were a gamble. Then Drill Sergeant Farmer would low crawl through the barracks late at night. A few of the women had complained about waking up with him laying in their bed starring at them. So until we learned the schedule meeting at the Synagogue seemed the best idea.
Going as a Jewish friend of mine's battle buddy I went through my first Jewish ceremony on a Sunday morning since everything is standardized. I admit I did pay attention and learned a little bit of Hebrew but both mine and Jessica's minds were elsewhere. Sitting a bit too close too each other we whispered during the entire ceremony. I admit, it was a bit disrespectful but I was young those four years ago.
After the service was over Jessica, me, my battle buddy and the girl he was after all went into the back. It was there that Jessica and I kissed for the first time. Hardly a word spoken in the two months or so we've 'known' each other and we were performing sacrilege. But it was fun sacrilege.
Breaking the kiss because of an approaching sergeant we smiled blushing at each other. It was then that we both knew we could out smart the sergeants and other cadre on base.
Over the next several months we'd avoid Drill Sergeant Farmer and do some pretty risky things on base. I suppose that is what led the excitement onwards was the fact that at any moment we could get caught.
And caught we did.
My battle buddy and his random ugly chick number four had thought of a plan where we would leave the door leading out of the barracks cracked at nights we knew we could get away with our nefarious plans. As time progressed I couldn't help but get a shit eating grin whenever Jessica and I passed each other in formation. Our eyes locking until the river of bodies forced us apart. Or when someone would comment about how they saw Jessica eat her ice cream cone. Yes they actually were watching her and I had to keep from bragging or saying some smart-ass comment. Oh and yes we did get ice cream in rehabilitation.
As the four of us were moved into what was known as Chapter Raptors. A platoon of people being chaptered out of the military for injuries I met Drill Sergeant Robbles who would give us the chance we wanted to spend a long time without getting caught.
Telling the nightly formation that the Nicks game was on and he wanted a peaceful night. My battle buddy as usual set everything up and had left the door to the third floor bathroom where we usually met up cracked open as before.
Around 10:30 after everyone had gone to bed and the Nicks game was firmly on my battle buddy and I made our way upstairs. Sneaking through the crowded barracks we made our way past the first door alarm, it having been cracked enough. Then we slowly opened the second door all the way
The whole company, nearly three hundred in all heard the sudden klaxon of the alarm system. The lights throughout the company sprung on illuminating the sleepy soldiers hurt in training.
Drill Sergeant Robbles angry voice came over the loud speaker demanding whoever sounded the alarm report at once to the PTRP office. It was then the jig was up. The next day Jessica was shipped home. My battle buddy and random ugly chick number four received two weeks of extra duty, two weeks of restriction, and a two hundred and eighty dollar fine. Jessica received no punishment since she was leaving anyway. And I only received two weeks of restriction. For some reason the Drill Sergeants couldn't fathom that I had been up for this and they saw it was my battle buddy forcing me into coming along and bringing Jessica too. Needless to say I didn't argue with them on that one. My battle buddy wasn't too fond of me afterwards but he got extra duty alone with the girl he got caught with so in a way he should have been happy.
Why did I do it Drill Sergeant Farmer asked once. "Drill Sergeant have you seen her? She's the standard, Drill Sergeant." I replied. Jessica and I parted ways slowly. Turns out she was engaged to some guy and I am horrible at calling especially in long distance relationships. She ended up leaving her fiancée though and we lost touch after a hurricane ripped through her hometown in Florida. Now from what I understand she's a Goth chick with a purple mohawk and a full blown lesbian who does internet porn. But for a brief moment when a panel of glass separated our broken bodies in rehab we were able to experience perhaps the most bizarre love story heard.
The stories I read for today's class were good. One was about racism another was about friends who died in a helicopter crash so I got some competition. I think it sure beats building a stupid shack in the forest or how some old guy you admire retired far as story telling skills.
I have to do some touch ups but this'll be my first piece of literature published in a magazine 
Ah well 