Bee and Bear

Day 2 - 4:00 AM

The barracks were eerily silent, the only sound was the labored breathing of sore and exhausted recruits. Suddenly, the tranquility was shattered by the blaring of sirens and deafening bangs. Drill instructors stormed in, armed with loudspeakers and megaphones, their flashlights dispersing the darkness and shining on the recruits' faces.

"Get up! Get up! Move it, pansies!" they screamed, their voices echoing through the barrack.

Startled and disoriented, the recruits scrambled to their feet, their bodies protesting with every movement. The instructors were relentless, shouting and barking orders as the recruits hurried to get ready.

Once outside on the familiar sandy field, the real torment began. "On your backs! Flutter kicks, now!" The recruits dropped to the ground, their legs moving in unison, the pain in their muscles intensifying with every kick.

"Switch! Wide push-ups, go!" The recruits obeyed, their arms trembling as they pushed against the cold, unforgiving ground. "Sit-ups! Let's go, 1-2-3-1-2-3!" The instructors yelled, their eyes scanning for any sign of weakness.

As if the physical exertion wasn't enough, the recruits were lined up and hosed down with freezing water, the icy liquid cutting through their clothes and chilling them to the bone. "Why are we doing this?" an instructor yelled over the sound of the water. "Because when the shit hits the fan, you don't have time to sip your coffee! You need to be ready to go from zero to a thousand in an instant. Suffer in silence, embrace the suck, we don't care. This is your new normal!"

They were ordered to do jumping jacks, their bodies shaking from the cold. "Warm up! Keep moving!" the instructors shouted, still spraying them with water. "The military isn't for everyone. You're coming from your cushy gyms and your 5Ks, but we're here to kick your ass. If you can't handle it, quit now. We don't need you."

Dismissed to dry off and change into their standard gear, the recruits donned green shirts, combat pants, and boots. They returned to the dining hall where MRE packs awaited them. "Eat, eat, eat. I know they don't taste great, but you need the calories. It's going to get cold. I'm begging you to eat them. You're going to need them. The storm is coming. Eat as much as possible, drink water, and make this process quick," an instructor urged.

Outside the dining hall, a recruit approached an instructor. "What's going on? What's the problem?" the instructor asked.

"I think I'm having a pancreatic attack. I've felt this pain before," the recruit began before being cut off.

"Why did you come here if you have chronic pancreatitis? You knew about these problems, so why come?" the instructor demanded, his face emotionless.

"I don't want my problems to define what I can do," the recruit replied, the air thick with tension.

"Don't want to quit? Then don't quit! I'm not going to med drop you. I saw you doing PE earlier. You're fine. You're using this as an excuse to leave. There's no wishy-washy here," the instructor pressed.

"I'm not, I-I..." the recruit stammered.

"You're 21 years old. You knew you had this condition before coming. You need to decide: Do you want to stay and can you stay? If not, take off your patch, hand it to Instructor Bee, and leave. Either continue on or give your patch to Instructor Bee," Instructor Bear said firmly.

The recruit, visibly emotional and perhaps in pain, reluctantly ripped off his patch and handed it to Bee. Bear walked away, followed by Bee.

"You just let him go?" Bee asked.

Bear replied, "That kid was looking for encouragement, but I'm not that guy. This isn't a movie. Medical complications can get him killed." Bee nodded, watching Number 3 walk away.

By now, dawn had finally broken, and recruit number 37, a short, light-skinned, and skinny recruit, who the instructors had little faith in, was escorted out by assisting instructors. His arms were tied behind his back, and a black hood covered his face. He was led to a dimly lit room with only a table in front of him, where Instructor Bear and Farmer awaited.

Bear, the burly head instructor with a buzz cut, black cap, and a growing grey beard, sat across from him. Farmer, a leaner man with a thick black beard and dark glasses, stood beside Bear. The atmosphere was tense.

"37, what's your name?" Farmer asked while Bear stared intently at the recruit, making him avert his gaze.

"Fred Onsomu, Instructor," he replied.

"Where are you from?" Farmer continued.

"I'm originally from Kenya, but we relocated here when I was young."

"Why did you move to America?"

"My mother believed it was a land of opportunity, sir."

"Is your family still around?"

"Basically, no."

"Basically no, or do you have anyone?"

"Well, it's complicated. I grew up on my mother's side in Kenya, but now they're all gone. My mom passed away due to heart failure. I have to make her dream a reality. I have to succeed."

Bear showed no sympathy. "Guard," he said coldly.

***********************

The recruits were lined up, and black bags were placed over their heads. They were escorted to the back of a vehicle, and out of the initial sixty, only thirty-seven remained. As they were transported to the beach, an assistant noticed one recruit, number 29, struggling.

"What's going on? Who is that? Number 29? Get over here. Take a deep breath and relax," Bee said to the clearly uncomfortable recruit.

Upon arrival, the recruits were led to the shore. Bee began, "30 seconds. Do not remove your hood. Remove your blouse. Pay attention. Remove your blouse without taking your top off. Interlock arms. Interlock your arms. Interlock your arms. Why can't you listen? The Pacific Ocean is mentally debilitating. You'll find out who the hard ones are and who's here for the right reasons. It's a rite of passage."

"16!" Bear called, and the current leader of the group stepped forward.

"You're fired. Get back in line. Number 23, come here."

"Yes, Instructor!" A blonde woman ran forward and stood before Bear.

"You're the new class leader. Got it?"

"I always want a full head count. I want to know who's in medical and who quits."

"Yes, Instructor!"

"Anything the class does falls on your shoulders. Got it?"

"Yes, Instructor!" she replied firmly each time.

Bee continued, "Can everyone hear me? We're going to test you mentally and physically to see how long you can withstand exposure to the cold. Follow me into the shore and follow my commands. There are two commands: Sit and on your back. Follow me."

"Yes, Instructor!" they replied in unison.