THREE - Denial and Doubts
POV - Mae Lorenzo
IF someone had ever told me that I would a combat soldier I'd say they had been drinking too much of the funny juice. Yet where do I find myself right now? Sitting in a conference hall with a private insignia on my shoulder and a sergeant in front of me talking about how I'm going to be one of the first American female combat soldiers.
I'd never pictured myself as a soldier. Hell, I never even imagined there would be a war. I remember walking around for a week after December 7, 1941 denying the fact that America was in a war, thinking it was all some big prank my family was pulling on me. Denial was sort of my go to when I was addressed with a problem that I didn't want to face. Over the years I have gotten quite good at it.
Though reality always had a way of catching up with me no matter how hard I tried to outrun it. The war was happening and watching my older brothers enlist only made it more real.
Being a soldier was not my goal in life nor did I ever hold any aspiration to be the first this or the first to do that. I became a soldier because as I got older, there was one reality that I could never outrun. The fear of not fulfilling my dreams. I never dreamt of being a princess or being rich or having some handsome husband. All I ever wanted was to travel. To get to see the world before my limited time on this earth was up. I knew I would never achieve my dream through waiting tables so I signed up for the military and figured as long as I was here I might as well become great at my job. With years of experience from carrying little siblings I easily got picked for the machine gun and lugging around all of its parts.
I trained, I listened to instructions and in a couple of weeks I found myself here. Sitting in a conference hall bored out of my mind.
I twirled my red hair around my finger, the sergeants voice becoming a dull buzz in the background. He was going on and on about the same stuff that my previous CO was talking about when he pulled some other girls and myself from training and addressed us on the topic. I ended up being the only one to say yes. My main reason was not because there was a progressive mindset to it, I just really wanted the extra 2,000 dollar bonus for signing up.
I began to indulge myself in daydreams to pass the time. I imagined what France would look like and England and Germany. I imagined hills and rivers and sunsets each more unique then the rest. I figured I would have to settle with the pictures my brain painted for me until I got to see the real ones.
"Bored?" I glanced over to the owner of the voice to see a blonde woman looking back at me. She had dark brown eyes, a couple of freckles on her face, and had a muscular upper body. She sat slightly crooked with a playful smirk on her face and her legs crossed.
"Agonizingly." I told her and she stifled a chuckle.
"I wonder if he ever gets tired of hearing his own voice." She muttered, her dark irises turning towards the sergeant.
"If he did then he wouldn't have signed up for this job." I muttered back. The blonde pivoted around in her seat so that she could face me while resting her chin in her palm.
"So," She began. "Do you come here often?" I snorted quietly as I subconsciously braided a couple of loose strands of hair.
She shifted in her seat again, this time to offer out her hand. "Private Rita Nolan of New York City."
I dropped the braid and shook her hand. "Private Mae Lorenzo of Toledo, Ohio."
"What do you do?"
"Machine gunnery." I answered, going back to my braid.
"No way." Rita whispered out, a smile breaking out across her face and her eyes sparkling with excitement. "Me too!"
I sat up a bit. "Yeah?"
"Yeah!"
"Huh," I said before tying off my braid. "How'd you get picked for that?"
"In New York I worked in a lot of factories after I graduated high school." Rita explained. "Nothing permanent, I'd just fill up a slot until someone else could. I worked all sorts of jobs, but every one had the same thing in common." She turned to me, holding up a single finger. "You got to carry shit around."
I laughed gently and she gave me a nudge. "How about you?"
"Well, from my experience I'd prefer the machine guns because they do not have a life or wriggle or scream in your ear when you pick them up." I told her. "Years of babysitting and carrying younger siblings."
"On your back?" She asked and I shrugged my shoulders. "I mean, it works."
"That's all you can ask for." Rita commented light heartedly.
"Shhh!" A girl in front of us exclaimed before turning back to the lecture. We paused, turned to each before slapping our hands over our mouths as we broke out into a fit of giggles.
"Shhh!" Rita mimicked, poking me in my side which only added to my laughs. "Stop being disruptive, Mae. Be a functioning member of society."
I only laughed louder, pressing my hands tightly against my lips as people began to turn to us. "No but seriously, shut up or we'll get in trouble." Rita said as we both snuffed out our chuckles.
After the sergeants lecture we were escorted to our barracks where we were told we had thirty minutes in total to move ourselves in and change into our PT gear. People immediately dived onto beds, claiming ownership the second the sergeant left us to our own devices. The building was a long rectangle, that had seven cots on each side. Everyone was clamoring and talking as women unpacked at different paces. I had already changed into my white shirt and shorts and was just now getting all of my personal items in order.
My bunk suddenly sagged and I looked over my shoulder to see Rita sitting on the end of it, lacing up her combat boots.
"Hey, I don't know if you heard, but the sergeant mentioned in his little speech that machine gunners have to carry their equipment while they run during PT."
My eyes widened and I immediately paused in my unpacking. "Are you shitting me!?" I exclaimed to which she looked up at me with dead eyes. "Not even in the slightest."
I huffed and fell back onto my cot. Great, just, great. "I mean, on the bright side at least they aren't making us do our push ups with it." I sent a glare over at Rita to which she winked back at.
"This is so unfair."
"This is the military."
"Did you hear that sergeant screw up that company clerks name today?" A Private who most addressed as 'Rooster' exclaimed in her thick Texas accent. Rooster was a lanky woman who towered above everyone else and was one of the resident sharpshooters. Rumors were already beginning to spread about her pinpoint shooting that went with her enormous ego.
"How hard could a name be if the army can't even pronounce it?" She said tauntingly whilst sauntering around the barracks. "Pretty fucking hard." Another voice commented.
Trapper was another nickname that had caught on quickly. It belonged to a shorter woman with blonde hair. She was already a pretty close friend to Rooster.
Trapper sat at the edge of her bunk, fixing her ponytail as she spoke. "It makes you wonder though what her real name is."
"I'll tell you one thing," Rooster said. "I intend to find out."
"That doesn't sound suspicious at all." Rita blurted out loud. Rooster turned around and teasingly flipped her off to which Rita happily returned the gesture just as the sergeant appeared at the door.
"All of you! Out on the field, NOW!"
We sprinted out of the barracks and onto the grassy knoll outside where we all lined up. At first we did about an hour of exercises, all warm ups to the big run which I was dreading the entire time through. When practice was over, the other ladies got a minute to breath while the machine gunners and mortar carriers were called over to collect their equipment.
The unladylike sound of a grunt escaped my lips as I hauled the machine gun onto my back, watching from my peripheral as Rita did the same. The weight against my back was a familiar feeling from all the training I had down beforehand, although this time I had the additional of the actual metal digging into my shoulder. In my past training we were given shoulder pads when we carried the machinery, here we wore nothing beside our PT outfit.
They were really taking the whole 'push you too a higher level' part really seriously.
My legs were wobbling about halfway into the run. Everyone was sweating profusely and huffing. It was probably above 80 degrees and the sun was beating down on us relentlessly.
I felt my sides ache with every breath I took. I tried to focus on my breathing to take my mind off of the shaking in my arms. It hurt, everything hurt, I couldn't do this I was stupid for ever thinking I could.
"Hey," A strained voice shouted and I looked up to see Rita in the row ahead, glancing back at me. "You okay? Don't go passing out on me."
I didn't even know how she was talking. I struggled to respond between gasps. "Really...heavy."
"I know, but we're almost there." Rita told me and I knew she was just lying for my benefit. "Hang in there. Think about the future. That's what I do. Don't think about how this is hurting now, think about the relief you will have when this is over. The story that this will make someday."
I was practically tripping over myself to keep up with the group, but I listened to Rita's advise. I imagined going out to a bar with my brothers after the war, laughing and swapping stories. I imagined doing a push up contest with them like we used to do when we were kids and how I would finally beat them. I imagined myself away from reality and I was safe.
For three whole miles we had to run with the equipment on our backs. Three fucking miles of several pounds of metal digging into your shoulder blades.
That night, I laid awake in my bunk, my entire body aching. Doc Cassidy, one of the medics, who was a tall blonde woman managed to find an ice pack that I had strapped to my back.
Rita was a bunk over in the same condition as I was, groaning in agonizing pain.
"You in as much pain as I am in?" She asked. "More." I replied.
The other women, who didn't have to carry multiple pounds of metal on their backs, were sitting on theirs beds chatting or playing cards. I envied their health.
"You imagined that it was going to do down like this?" Rita asked. "Nope." I grunted back, flinching as my body contorted from speaking. "This kind of sucks."
"Absolutely." I agreed. I never imagined myself as a soldier, so I never imagined that training would be like this. I never saw myself running miles with a giant gun on my back in the midst of summer. I never saw myself having to go to bed at night, on the verge of exhaustion while lying immobile from muscle fatigue.
I never saw myself being a soldier and now that I experienced reality, I wasn't sure if I could do it.