“How’s that for luck? I wonder who fucked up.”
“It ain’t us. I knew the Americans would be watchin’ over their precious battalion like hawks. We were careful as a virgin on prom night.”
Yonabaru let out an exaggerated moan. “Ungh, my stomach… Sarge! My stomach just started hurtin’ real bad! I think it’s my appendix. Or maybe I got tetanus back when I hurt myself training. Yeah, that’s gotta be it!”
“I doubt it will clear up before tonight, so just make sure you stay hydrated. It won’t last until tomorrow, hear me?”
“Oh, man. It really hurts.”
“Kiriya. See that he drinks some water.”
“Sir.”
Ignoring Yonabaru’s continued performance, Ferrell walked out of the barracks. As soon as his audience was gone, Yonabaru sat up and made a rude gesture in the direction of the door. “He’s really got a stick up his ass. Wouldn’t understand a good joke if it came with a fucking manual. Ain’t no way I’m gonna be like that when I get old. Am I right?”
“I guess.”
“Fuck, fuck, fuck. Today is turnin’ to shit.”
It was all playing out how I remembered.
The 17th Armored would spend the next three hours in PT. Exhausted, we would listen to some commissioned officer, his chest bristling with medals, lecture us for another half hour before being dismissed. I could still hear him threatening to pluck the hairs off our asses one by one with Jacket-augmented fingers.
My dream was looking less like one by the minute.
3
There’s an exercise called an iso push-up. You lift your body like you would in an ordinary push-up, then you hold that position.
It’s a lot harder than it sounds. You can feel your arms and abs trembling, and eventually you lose your sense of time. After you’ve counted something like the thousandth sheep jumping a fence, you’ll beg to be doing ordinary push-ups, anything but this. Your arms aren’t designed to be pillars. Muscles and joints are there to flex and bend. Flex and bend. Sounds nice just thinking about it. But you can’t think about it, or you’ll feel even worse. You’re pillars, hear me? Pillars! Nice strong pillars.