Private Bailey's Report. Part 1.
Mar 1, 2021 2:30:58 GMT -5
Trey Bouchet, Downfall, and 1 more like this
Post by Debra Monroe on Mar 1, 2021 2:30:58 GMT -5
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Ten Years Ago
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Ten Years Ago
Private Bailey sat Indian style with her back straight and head and eyes forward, exactly as her fellow recruits were doing in accordance with the directives given by Drill Instructor Debra Monroe. Bailey was happy for the break because her arms ached and her body screamed for rest. She hoped this next block of instruction didn’t require any more laborious activities like the day’s training had already provided.
To her joy it didn’t. Drill Instructor Monroe announced that it was “get to know you” hour. The Drill Instructor went about detailing her upbringing and background in the Marine Corps. Bailey’s ears were deaf to it though. Her mind was fixated on the cakes and pies she’d seen in the cafeteria at morning chow. Precious treats forbidden to them during the course of basic training. Oh how her tummy growled for them! Oh what she would give for a single crumb to fall upon her lips!
Soon the Drill Instructor sat into her chair and motioned for the recruits to share their stories, with great emphasis put on why they chose to join the finest military force in the world: The United States Marine Corps.
One by one the recruits stood and obliged. Most stated they were in the Marine Corps because their family had been. Others played it safe by claiming they were doing it for duty to their country. Others braved the stormy waters of the Drill Instructor by saying they were doing it for free college and better life in the civilian sector eventually.
When it came to her turn, Private Bailey shot to a stand at the position of attention and sounded off loudly.
”This recruit is Private Angela Bailey. This recruit joined for duty to her country!” She lied.
Drill Instructor Monroe stood up from her chair with such fury it skidded across the floor of the large bay.
”BULL MOTHERFUCKING SHIT!”
The recruits scattered as she stormed toward Private Bailey, nearly crushing fingers and toes of the scrambling recruits as she closed the distance. Bailey’s heart jumped into her throat. It galloped, the beat pounding in her ears. Monroe rammed the brim of her iconic Drill Instructor hat into Bailey’s forehead and seethed at her.
”SOUND OFF WITH WHY YOU’RE REALLY HERE OR I WILL FUCK YOU WITH A FUCKING BROOMHANDLE! YOU FUCKING LAIR. FUCKING TELL THEM, RECRUIT!”
Private Bailey’s ears rang from the volume of her anger, and through the ringing she swore she also heard the windows crack in the barracks. Bailey stammered. She didn’t want to divulge that part but knew she had to or suffer. Her knees lost will. Shaking.
”This recruit…This… Rec-” She hesitated, forgetting to use her big girl voice required of her to be a Marine.
”SOUND! THE! FUCK! OFF! LOOOOUUUUUDEEEER! TEEEELLLLLL THEEEEEEM!”
Bailey’s tummy knotted and churned with nervousness. She could see the blood vessels protruding in the Drill Instructor’s forehead just under the brim of her hat. She also noticed the muscles and veins in the Drill Instructor's neck going crazy, flexing and straining.
”This recruit…. This recruit joined because a judge ordered it.”
Monroe threw her hands up in mock relief.
”FINALLY THE FUCKING TRUTH. YOU’RE HERE BECAUSE A JUDGE ORDERED IT. YOUR FILE WAS FLAGGED. I READ IT, RECRUIT! YOU REALLY THINK YOU’RE GONNA JUST STAND UP HERE AND LIE ABOUT THAT SHIT? HUH? ANSWER-FUCKING-ME!”
Private Bailey felt faint. She was scared. Far more terrified than she had been during the prior few days since starting basic training.
”WHY DID THE JUDGE ORDER IT? WHAT DID YOU DO? OH DO TELL. OH PRAY TELL PRIVATE BAILEY!”
Again Private Bailey stammered. Her chest tightened. Breathing was becoming a little harder to do. She fumbled for words.
”This.. Um… recruit, um… this recruit was in a gang and did uh.uhh. Stupid gang stuff.”
The Drill Instructor slid her eyes off of Bailey and scanned the room, then motioned for Bailey to continue with more specifics for all to hear. Bailey swallowed hard.
”This recruit… jumped an old man in a hotel lobby with her gang. This recruit stole things with her gang. This recruit was a piece of trash with her gang. This recruit was given a choice of 5 years in adult prison or 3 years service in the Marine Corps.”
Any fool with a lick of sense would’ve taken the Marine Corps option. It’s not a deal often given to people anymore. It was perhaps Bailey’s young age of 17 at the time and lack of prior criminal record that made the Judge, who was a former Marine, extend her an out from prison life. She was lucky, that’s all she knew. Of course there were stipulations to it. Private Bailey had to receive an honorable discharge after the three years of service were up. If she didn’t? Off to prison she would go to serve the five years.
Private Bailey took a deep breath as Drill Instructor Monroe snapped her gaze back toward her and got in her face.
”And you LIED to your fellow recruits. And you LIED to ME.”
When the other Drill Instructors would get in her face so far, their eyes would be intense but focused and clear. The hazel irises that addressed her now were different from the others. These eyes were wild-born. Unstable. Flared with offense. Just a few days into basic training and Private Bailey had done what all recruits strive not to do. She’d gotten on the Drill Instructor's radar.
Bailey remained perfectly still as Drill Instructor Monroe got even closer to her, so that their noses were almost touching.
”I’m going to make sure you wash out of my beloved Corps. You’re not going to make it. You’ve already fucking desecrated the spirit and discipline of my beloved Corps today. You’re fucking toast, Recruit Thug-a-boo.”
Bailey wanted to cry. Having her screaming at her was horrifying enough, but more terrifying was the fact she was almost whispering to her with such animosity. And Private Bailey swore she smelled a trace of whiskey under the Drill Instructor’s heavily minted breath.
Drill Instructor Monroe spun away on her heels and scanned the rest of the recruits.
”FROM THIS DAY FORWARD, RECRUIT BAILEY WILL ONLY BE REFERRED TO AS RECRUIT THUG-A-BOO! SHE IS A THUG. THUGS LIE. THUGS CHEAT. THUGS STEAL. THUGS WILL THROW YOU ON A GRENADE. THIS IS WHAT SHE IS. DO YOU UNDERSTAND?”
Recruits (in unison): "AYE AYE MA’AM!”
”NOW SOMEBODY GO GET MY FUCKING CHAIR OR I’M GOING TO MAKE THE WALLS SWEAT WITH YOUR PAIN AND SUFFERING!”
They scrambled to retrieve her chair.
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Later that night Debra Monroe flicked on the light to her living room and grabbed the bottle of whiskey on the table as she headed toward the couch. She sagged onto the sofa and arranged eight shot glasses on her morbid coffin shaped coffee table. After placing each shot glass beside an etched and carved name of Marines killed in action during her tours with them in Afghanistan, she poured them full of her liquid mistakes.
One by one she downed the shots. With each shot she closed her eyes and pulled a memory of that particular person. Private First Class Colby’s party bus tours. Sergeant Seals cross dressing escapades at dive bars. Lance Corporal Williams’s hurling piss bottles at Afghanis throwing rocks at them. She kept going with the ritual until the only thing to remember was one of them clinging to her in their dying throes, hugging her for any sort of comfort while the corpsmen worked feverishly to stop the wounds.
They were her Marines. Her friends. Her brothers. They were more family to her than the blood she shared with her biological vacancies.
And whoever said combat engineers don’t see enough combat in war never met the unit she served in.
As she slunk against the back of the couch she thought about the shitbag she had encountered today. Private Bailey. Bitterness and confliction filled her. Had she been too hard on her by alienating the rest of the recruits from her?
End.