Empty Uniforms (wlw)

Ch 1: Thrown in at the deep end

The tale starts with a 17-year-old girl,

shaking like a leaf in her chair at the army recruitment office.

Her name is called up next and she raises from her seat on weak knees and trudges down the hallway to the doctor's office. Today is the final medical checkup before she is shipped out, her stuff sits in the lobby and the clock ticks down the 3hrs they have left until their bus arrives. The doctor is busied by the papers on her desk as she sits down. She picks at her fingernails, a bad habit she picked up as a kid. The doctor regards her with icy eyes staring at her over the rims of her glasses. "Evelyn Silver" her voice cuts through the silence, "can you confirm for me your date of birth and your address". Evelyn croaks out her response unable to look the doctor directly in the eye. She is then asked to strip to her underwear while the doctor checks for any visible health conditions, the lack of clothing makes Evelyn uncomfortable and yet she senses she going to have to get used to this.

Evelyn is given the green light on her medical examination and walks out passed the waiting area into the lobby with the other soon to be recruits. A torturous hour and a half go past and the remaining people have been examined, the group of them are herded to the front of the building where the bus and peoples families await. Evelyn spots her parents after she loads her luggage onto the bus for her final goodbyes. Her words are succinct and stiff much like her parents are, one quick hug to each of them and few words exchanged in promise to see them again. The truth is, its impossible to know when that will be. People began loading onto the bus and Evelyn turns unsure what else to say to her parents and makes towards the bus. She finds a seat and sits down gazing out the window at all the crying parents waving at their kids. Her parents are not amongst them, they were probably late for work. It hurts to be the only one on the bus not waving someone they love goodbye, but she is used to that by now.

The bus ride to the airport is short, and the flight even shorter, before she knows it they are stuffed on another bus. The air is somewhat suffocating, it's so thick with silence and thoughts, so much so that you could scoop it with your hand and hold it to your chest. Evelyn finds her mind to be empty like all the thought sand was drained from her it. Her body had gone dormant, just waiting for the inferno this three months would no doubt be.

They arrive at the gates of the 'Royal Training Battalion' as indicated on the pompous archway they pass through and a feeling sinks through every member on the bus, it sinks deep into their stomachs. There is no going back, they would not pass through those gates again for a small eternity.

The bus halts in front of the headquarters building and the initiates are unloaded from the bus, luggage in toe. Escorted into the building and lined up like cattle they wait. Army personnel in formal polyester uniforms stand at the front of every row, arms crossed behind their backs and feet splayed at shoulder width. A seemingly superior officer enters the building and the soldiers all shift positions so their feet are together and arms by their sides, chests puffed out like turkeys. A soldier with two circles on his rank approaches the officer rigidly and slowly stopping at arm's length away, raising his arm in a salute. the officer copies dropping his salute first and the latter follows. The officer addresses the group, he might as well be speaking in tongues as it falls on deaf ears.

The sounds of their hearts beating in their ears drown him out.

The group is split into platoons of 40, called off a list and directed outside like a lamb to the slaughter. Evelyn's ears prick at her name and she walks feverishly outside where her platoon is lined up. She wishes she hadn't when the noise enters her ears. The shouting has finally begun.

-=+=-=+=-=+=-=+=-

The platoon is shepherded into the accommodation referred to as 'platoon lines' and allocated rooms. 4 to a room with measly bunk beds and an overwhelming scent of starch. A bellowing voice echoed through the lines "Hallway 35", the command to stand outside their rooms and up against the walls. The soldier with two chevrons on his rank slide representing the rank Corporal, stood with his feet slightly wider than shoulder-width and arms crossed over his chest. "You have three minutes to disappear into your rooms and reappear with your phone and charger in hand", Shuffling was heard as they went to their rooms to fetch what was required of them. "HALLWAY 35" was heard again and the Corporal had not moved from his place. His voice raised a few decibels this time "You did not act on the word MOVE, the command is MOVE, do you understand?". A chorus of yes Corporal erupted, and Evelyn who couldn't remember the difference between Corporal and Colonel uttered a pathetic "Yes Colonel".

"MOVE" boomed down the hallway and everyone scattered into their rooms. Evelyn tore through her luggage searching for her charger and coming up empty. At this point, the three minutes was well and truly up. Evelyn spotted a pair of army boots a metre in front of her luggage, following upwards she realised they were attached to legs and shoulders and a shiny bald head. The soldier with the words Grant sewn into his shirt looked like a kettle about to boil over, and an expression of anger was etched across his face like it was chiselled into it since birth. The floodgates opened with his mouth as a bellow escaped it. "WHY ARE YOU NOT IN MY HALLWAY", he boomed. "I can't find my charger", she murmured, "Sir".

"I AM NOT A FUCKING SIR I AM A BOMBARDIER, NOW GET IN MY HALLWAY".

"Yes Sir", She whimpered, the stress had risen to the point where rational thought had left her.

"WHAT DID I JUST FUCKING SAY, I AM A BOMBARDIER", he spat

"Yes Bombardier", She breathed out rushing out into the hallway and flattening against the wall,  at this moment she wished she were an inch tall.